Re-thinking Rehabilitation/ Seeking Solitude

One very effective way of living between cities without losing humour, is to appreciate what each distinctively offers.  Back for the week in Singapore, I appreciate, solitude before the sun fully rises, and that it is warm enough, daily, for me to swim.

On occasion, I meet, the new neighbour.

Week 11, post-surgery, my arm is getting stronger!

I can still sort of touch my face, sort of touch my hair.  Not too long ago, I could not even lift my arm off a surface, no matter how hard I tried.

Bleh.

In anticipation of what's ahead in London, I re-imagined my rehabilitation needs, and gave myself, a day of complete solitude.

***

 I jumped into a cab.

I crossed the ocean, 

arrived at Mecca.

I changed quickly, and was given a tour of their facilities.

Perfect!  Hydro Therapy!

The water was warm- the ideal environment to do my extension and flexion exercises multiple times over!

Nobody else appeared.  I was alone to work my arm.

Bliss!

My day got better.

I was led to a private room, where the next four hours unfolded in luxury.  My body was brushed, scrubbed, wrapped, kneaded, kneaded again, and kneaded again and again.

Twice I was helped to take a hot shower, and the sheets on the therapy bed changed.  The pain in my arm, receded.

Then I was escorted to lunch.  While waiting for lunch to be served, I practised more exercises for strengthening my fingers, wrist, and muscles of the lower arm...

Ah.  Lunch.

A special surprise awaited me... a lunch date!

***

I think Singapore looks best dressed in her native colors- verdant and lush.

Beyond the green, the deep sea,

where

my grandmother is resting, watching over me.

48 hrs- A Tale of Two Cities

City #1, London Town

a.  Cheerleading

"He invented a rainbow but lightning struck it/ shattered it into the lake-lap of a mountain/ So big his mind slowed when he looked at it..."  Earle Birney, Wreck Beach 1951=  MOM!!!

MOM!  Please look at my essay!  Mom, what does he mean!  Mom, I've sent you the link to the grading scheme for English!  Have you looked at it yet?  MOM!!!

(Ssshhh.  Mom has to study.)

b.  Moving (Hotels)

Mom, Let me help you!  Mom, your arm is doing great!

Wow, Mom- you did it!  Carried all that heavy Christmas dishes!  I'm proud of you!

c.  More Cheerleading

photo credit:  House of Mutt

Mom!  I'm so sad that Bruno's gone away!  I miss him! 

 Mom?  I'm hungry.

d.  Rehabilitating (4 hours before flight)

...Lean against the door/wall, and you want to push the bones...Shall I make another appointment for you for next Friday?

(Yes.)

RM at Six Physio, 15 Young Street

*  3 Korean movies, 3 glasses of Riesling, 4 hours of sleep, and an undigested salad from Heston Blumenthal's The Perfectionist's at Terminal 2.  Finally, the familiar announcement that sinks spirits-  Welcome to Singapore, and to all Singaporeans, welcome home.  The weather today is 33 degrees...

City #2, Singapura, oh, Singapura

a.  Property Guru-Dragon Wife-ing

My wife is flying back from London and will meet you at the flat.  Please have a floor plan for her.

Does your wife need to see it before you...

You better speak to my wife.

b.  More Dragon-Wife-ing

 Do you have a lot of Chen Wen Hsi s?  What a nice piece!   Do you want to sell it, I can give you a price right now!  For that size...

(Angel:  Uh Oh.  She is saying all the wrong things and Mom will show her the door in 10 minutes.)

c.  Trophy-Wife-ing

Baby, Y has invited us for a BBQ dinner at his home.   I've told him you don't eat meat.

No, no, Baby, please don't wear campfire clothes!  We're not standing around some BBQ pit grilling the food...

d.  Rehabilitating (last few hours to my 48-hour experience)

Baby?  Thanks for coming back and taking care of-

How is Summie, have you spoken to her?

Inbox:  Mom?  I miss you!  Come back quickly!  I need you to take care of me.  I'm so tired of taking care of myself!

Old Habits

K's text-  "You went to ballet class as a STUDENT??"

Old habits die hard.  I realised this, when I arrived at the community centre in West Hampstead, half an hour before the class began, and found myself, locked outside.

It's a dancer thing.  You instinctively show up for rehearsal, for class early, because you need time to warm the body up.  

The night before, I took a pair of ballet shoes out of storage to stitch them.  I've had these unused pair for the last 12 years!

So many good memories with each stitch!  Trace and I seated side by side or across from each other, sewing the tips of our pointe shoes.

Mom?  Summie, surprised.  I didn't know you could sew!

I can't.

The sun like brush strokes on the old wooden floor.  The music meek, but sweeping away cobwebs and sorrow.  

God?  Thank you.  Thank you for the gift of song, of dance.  As it did then, so to it is now, healing and saving me.

Grateful, to dance.  Grateful to be anonymous in dance.  Grateful for a teacher who teaches with intelligence, warmth, and without ego.  Grateful that my mind did not wander into wanting to re-choreograph the class she offered.  Grateful. 

I think it's finally, spring.

Laundry & Brighton

Grief is a sneaky thing.  On Sunday, while gathering laundry, Popo's absence suddenly made it hard to breathe.  That sadness again, the colour of night.

Popo had someone help with the laundry.  But each of us was responsible for ironing our own clothes.  How very much I hated/hate ironing!  There were too many pleats on the convent uniform, and the white blouses creased too easily.  Often the iron also felt heavy on 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 year old hands.  It was only after I met Jon, that I learnt how to use the ironing board to flatten and lay a garment.  Jon taught me.  He said to think of the board as a torso.

I know my grandmother left in the kindest of ways.  She also left surrounded by so much love.  I try to hold on to these thoughts.  

But Grief is sly.  I'm walking Bruno and suddenly I feel an irrational fear, and sadness.

I tell Summie I need some time alone to grieve.  I can't do jet-setting Mommy-dom, when my heart is punctured.

Mom will be right back to feed you dinner, I promised her.

I just need to get on a train. 

Go someplace I've never been.

Wander around, and not be afraid to get lost.

Look at things from a different perspective.  

(Gosh- I see that while the king was in his counting house, counting out his money; the queen was in her parlour, eating bread and honey… and then he had the grand idea to build, Indian, by the sea!)

We walk on, the ocean right around the block..

Brighton is friendly, reminding me a little of the Bay Area, sans Bridge and the energy of the Pacific.

While lunching at the vintage-style Metrodeco Tea Room (38 Upper St James Street), the owner stopped by three times to comment on how incredibly behaved Bruno was.

When she said goodbye, she added, I should send my dogs to live with you!

Her words lifted me for a precious moment.  I was suddenly reminded of what I can do, what I love to do, no matter the magnitude of my loss.

I know how to live with a dog and take very good care of him, because we grew up with dogs.  

And, each other.

(photo credit-  A. Huang, with all my cousins, pier-side, sending Popo off to sea)

"When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing-

Wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king!"

Popo taught me, taught us, so much.

Keeping On

"You were born with wings, why prefer to crawl through life?" -  Rumi

Week 8, post-operation, Bruno is home; his sheer presence giving me a joyful boost in confidence with my wounded wing.  For starters, I can carry and cuddle him close!

Unlike in late January, when I could hardly lift him, leash him up, put his coat on, now I am able to fully engage my wing in his care.

Encouraged, I attempted pulling on, and buckling my jeans...

Mommy!  This is a milestone for you!  Summie exclaimed.

Indeed.  I am so pleased, I don't take my jeans off for the rest of the week.

Keep on keeping on- my therapist in Singapore kindly said to me.

 I keep on and on.  I wonder if the rehabilitation work is timely, in the face of death and loss.

photo credit-  A. Huang

Last night we had dinner with K.  Once seated, Bruno curled up in my lap, hanging his head over my good arm.  Without thinking, I reached for the wine glass with my bad wing.  With some effort, I managed to bend my elbow enough, to drink.  I practised this motion throughout the evening- bend, extend, bend, extend, drink, drink, drink.

Another milestone!

About 9 weeks ago, I sat very still in a room with three doctors, listening to doom.  One of the things said to me, was the reality of never being able to touch my face again.

This morning, I tried the unimaginable.

I can touch my face!  I told Jon.  I can kind of touch my face!

I played with gestures, articulating my fingers.

I managed to scoop my hair back, touch the sides of my head.

Baby, he said excitedly.  As soon as you feel stronger, you must get back on a horse!  It'll be good for you, for your healing!

photo credit-  HYL

I tried arranging my hands in prayer.

It wasn't as easy to do.  My hand lacks the strength for pronating, I can't yet bend my elbow deeper to draw my hands to my heart.

I'll just keep on, keeping on.  Besides, now I have a formidable ally in Heaven!

Popo?  Please hear my prayer.

photo credit-  Cousin B