Control Freak. So?

People might consider me a control freak, though no one's ever had the balls to say it to my face. Or they're too polite because they think it's an insult. But why is it a bad thing to want to have control over your life? Would you prefer the alternative - lack of control?

Control is the first thing you have to give up when you have cancer. First of all, because you now have a disease you have no control over. Those cancer cells will do what they want, and you and your doctors will do your best but cancer won't listen to reason and step aside just because you want to control those little microbits of death and destruction.

As you go through treatment and the attending pain and weakness, you have to give up more and more control of your life as you knew it. For me, the hardest thing has been letting go control over the kids. There; I've said it. Control over the kids. Today's parenting literature would tell you that we don't control our children, we guide them. Whatever. I'm not fooled by the language. In the end, it means getting our kids to behave the way we want.

But Toby yells rudely to his friend and gets away with it because I don't have the strength or breath to sit down and talk to him about why that's wrong. Josie makes a fuss about trying something new and I'm too weak and breathless to encourage her with smiles and funny jokes.

Before cancer made me so weak and breathless, I'd say eighty percent of my parenting was talking; now it's only about ten percent. I wonder what mute parents do? That must be so hard.

I think that's what lies at the heart of my loss of control: the inability to speak as much as I used to. I can't argue with Tony anymore, so he gets to decide almost everything now, from family finances to what the kids can have for dinner. I used to argue circles around him until he got so dizzy he just let me have my way. No more of that.

And then there's the control over my identity. I used to be a chatty, gregarious, out-going, entertaining person. If someone who didn't know me B.C. (before cancer) met me now, they'd think I was a dull, quiet, shy bore - in my mind, the worst thing a person can be. A piece of furniture. Background. Wallpaper. Ugh. That's what I've become.

I used to know every kid in our neighborhood by name. I used to know who took ballet, who was learning Chinese, which schools they all went to. Now I don't spend any time outside with the kids so I haven't kept up with their lives and can't ask them how their recital went or how their new baby brother is doing.

Same for Toby's kindergarten. I used to walk around the building and call out hellos to the kids. Sometimes they'd look surprised and delighted that I knew their names and asked about them - the way kids do when adults take an interest in them. But now I'm just this frail lady with a funny bald head.

So I've lost control over my persona, my kids, my husband, my body. If you lost all that, wouldn't you freak?

Third Anniversary

Today is the third anniversary of my diagnosis. This is the date I'll mark from now on, so that I'll know how many years I've survived cancer. And silly me, I forgot it until a reader sent me a congratulatory message.

I could consider it a second birthday, if I think of my life with cancer as a re-birth, a new chance at life with deeper knowledge of self and awareness of my mortality. Sounds good, anyway.

The medical highlights of this past year with cancer:

1) I learned my cancer has spread to my lungs, liver, brain, bones, soft tissue, and lymph nodes.

2) I had a lung biopsy that nearly killed me because I was mistakenly given more than twice the necessary dose of anesthetic during the procedure.

3) I had brain seizures caused by tumors in my brain and had whole-brain radiation.

4) I went through ten different chemo combinations.

Things I've learned this year:

1) I can drag out my dying for a while yet. We can't tell whether I'll last another month or another year.

2) Because of the above, it's still hard to take dying really seriously - for me and for people around me.

3) I've done something useful with this blog.

Dreams Versus Goals

I was commissioned to write an article for a lifestyle magazine here in Singapore (actually, I think it may just be online, not print). The topic was how I, as a cancer patient, am facing the new year. What are my hopes, dreams, and fears for the coming year. I was okay talking about my hopes and fears, but when it came to dreams, I had little to say.

The word "dream" has always tripped me up a bit. I never really had any dreams growing up. Kids dream about one day becoming a ballerina, an astronaut, or other glamorous characters they see in books and on TV. I never had that when I was a kid. Adults also have dreams of conquering some personal goal - owning their own business, climbing Mount Everest, finding their soul mate. I never really had these sorts of dreams either.

I think my inability to have such lofty dreams comes down to the word itself. A dream sounds so foggy and far away that I just don't like the feeling it gives me of its being unattainable. I prefer to think of dreams as goals. If I were going to dream of owning my own business some day, I'd just set it as a goal and then get it done. Why call it a dream?

So then, did I have any goals growing up? No, didn't have any of those either. As I look back on my life, I'd have to say that for somebody who thinks she's pretty damn smart, I haven't been very creative in putting my intelligence to good use.

Questions From Blog Reader

A blog reader saw the two documentaries about me that I've posted on my blog. She/he had some follow-up questions which I thought were pretty interesting so here they are:

1) Every human fears death. Once they hear the word "cancer", they think there's no cure & death will eventually come. How did you actually react & feel when you first learned that you had cancer?

I was completely taken off guard because my doctor had said the lump was a clogged milk duct. When the surgeon said, "It looks like cancer," I told him I'd like to call my husband to see if he could come and join our meeting to discuss what to do about it. I didn't cry or get scared. I went into information-gathering mode. I didn't know anything about cancer at that point so I didn't even know whether I should be scared.

2) How did you actually overcome your emotions & fears about your illness?

I tackled the problem with knowledge. I got control of the situation by finding out as much as I could about my cancer and learning how best to treat it to give me maximum time alive. I didn't get very emotional, except when I thought about my kids growing up without a mother. I'm not sure I could say I've been very afraid, either. Yes, I'm afraid of the process of dying - the pain and feeling of suffocation when my liver and lungs start shutting down. And then there's the pain and sadness I'm going to put everyone through watching me waste away or worse, writhing in agony. But I'm not religious so I don't think I'm going to Dante's Hell or anything like that.

3) Is there anyone whom you can talk to for advice & encouragement?

My husband Tony and my friend Michelle come to mind, but collectively, most of my friends, family, and even complete strangers through this blog. I also talk to myself a lot (in my head).

4) What are the things that made you overcome the fear of Death?

I don't think I ever really had a fear of Death, just the actual process of dying. Maybe I should. I'll try to think about it more and cultivate a healthy, human fear of Death because I see that it's beginning to bug people that I'm not terrified of dying.

5) What is your Motto & Motivation in Life?

Motto? I need a motto? If I had to have a one-liner that I could call my motto, I'd say it's, "You're stronger and smarter than the average bear so ACT like it!" Motivation in life? To leave this world a better place than it was before I got here, even if it's just a teensy weensy bit, say, in the form of two beautiful kids who will go on to do their bit also. And then their kids do the same, and their kids, and so on and so on until the math works out and the good outweighs and swallows up the bad and we all live happily ever after or at least learn and grow a lot while trying. And if not with kids, with the people we come in contact with and rub off on each day.

6) What do you think is the most rewarding thing that you have achieved or done in this life so far?

Having kids and leaving them with something worthwhile, i.e., this blog and the people who say that I've helped give them strength and inspiration in their own struggle with cancer.

7) What do you think is the most miserable thing in life?

Inhumane behavior, e.g., people who kill in the name of their god, people who hurt children, people who hurt themselves out of self-pity, any behavior that makes me wonder whether human beings really are superior to animals.

Sorry, but there was one more question that I couldn't post because I didn't understand the question. Can you re-send it please?

Didn't Your Mother Teach You?!

A number of years ago, in pre-kid days, I was driving down a two-lane street when I noticed that my lane up ahead was blocked by an illegally parked truck. So I signaled to move into the lane to my right. To my surprise, the car on my right didn't slow down to let me in, it actually sped up to come alongside me so I couldn't get into that lane!

When we'd both reached the traffic light up ahead, I rolled down my window and asked the driver of that wayward car if he hadn't seen that I was trying to get into his lane because my lane was blocked by the truck. He said he had. I asked why he hadn't let me in and he asked, "Why should I?"

I was baffled. "Because it would have been the nice thing to do," I said.

His response? "Why should I be nice?"

This guy was in his early twenties, gel in his hair, slave to metrosexual fashion trends. Not that I'm suggesting that his interest in his physical appearance is reflective of his self-centered view of the world, but I am... His buddy in the passenger seat cringed upon hearing what his friend said to me.

All I could think to say back to him was, "Your mother would not be proud of you!"

I know. That sounds like something an old lady would say to some kid trampling all over her geraniums. But that's the first thing that crossed my mind - that somewhere, this young man's moral education had gone awry and it was either his mother's fault or worse, she'd done her best and still he turned out to be morally bankrupt.

As parents, we think about teaching our children manners, basic common courtesy, and right from wrong. Because I might not live to watch Toby and Josie grow up, I think about this sort of thing more than the average parent.

When Toby and Josie don't greet visitors properly, when they don't say "thank you" and "please", when they speak rudely to adults, I can just hear people thinking, "Didn't their mother teach them properly?!"

I even tell the kids that people will think that. I tell them that if they have bad manners or behave badly, people will think they had a bad mother. (This is the passive-aggressive guilt technique that Korean and Jewish parents are famous for.)

For some reason, lessons in manners and basic codes of behavior seem to be the province of mothers, not fathers. I didn't tell that twenty-something driver that his father would be appalled by his behavior. It was his mother I blamed.

Maybe Toby and Josie will be given a pass in this area of their lives. When they burp in public, when they let a door slam into the face of the person behind them instead of holding it open, when they walk into an elevator before the other passengers get off, when they don't use their signal lights in the car, when they don't let pedestrians have the right of way, when they treat shop clerks or waiters with disrespect, when they don't clear their own litter in public eating places... people will whisper to each other, "They don't know any better. You see, their mother died when they were very young." And people will nod their heads knowingly, with sympathy.

Grim Reaper Dream

I had a dream about the Grim Reaper last night. I should put it in context. Before bed, I saw a brief snippet of a TV show, "Dead Like Us", where Reapers go around collecting dead people's souls. It's a comic drama, rather than a serious scary show that the topic may imply.

In my dream, I saw a teenaged hoodlum across the street bothering somebody - a little old lady or somebody defenseless. He was wearing a black hood, jean jacket, blue/brown plaid shirt, too-big jeans (a la gansta fashion), and sneakers. I ran across the street and grabbed the urchin by the neck and raised him into the air - he was surprisingly light, weightless even.

As I did that, I could see inside his black, pointed hood into a dark void. There was no face in there. Then it hit me that I was dealing with the Grim Reaper. But I was still annoyed with the audacity of this gangster boy bothering a little old lady so I smacked him around anyway. Slap, slap, slap. He didn't respond, just floated up there as I held him up by the neck. I finally let him down and told him he could hang around as long as he didn't bother anyone else. And that was that.

Lessons In Listening

The other night, Josie needed help in the bathroom after Toby had gone to sleep. The two of us had to be quiet so we wouldn't wake up Toby (the bathroom is inside the kids' room). When Josie was finished, she started opening the door, letting out the light and the noise while I tried to tell her several times not to open the door. She just ignored me and opened the door anyway, which really annoyed me.

I told her to step back into the bathroom and asked her, quite irritated, why she'd done that. She looked completely puzzled and explained, "But Mommy, I didn't know what you were saying to me. The toilet flush was making a noise and the sink water was on and you were talking to me at the same time so I couldn't hear what you were saying." Then it occurred to me that she had a legitimate explanation, but here I'd gone and gotten all annoyed at her because I thought she was intentionally ignoring me.

Then I wondered... what if I hadn't given her a chance to explain herself? I would have just assumed she was being a brat and ignoring me. I wonder how many times a day we do this to our kids? We just assume we know what our kids are thinking, doing, or intending, so we just don't listen to them or give them a chance to explain themselves. I wonder how much we miss as a result?

I've noticed something that all parents do. We ask our kids a question, then don't listen to the answer. Or they talk to us, go off on long-winded explanations and we say absent-mindedly, "Oh? That's great! Uh-hum. Really? Right." Meanwhile, we don't make eye-contact with them or really listen to what they're telling us.

Sometimes, when our kids repeat the same thing over and over again, we get annoyed and yell at them, "Okay! I heard you already! Will you just give me a minute?!" The thing is, if you'd answered him or at least acknowledged in some way that you'd heard him, he wouldn't have said it over and over again until it got annoying.

I know we do this with adults as well, especially between spouses or among family, because we're used to being with each other and ignoring each other.

But with kids, this type of behavior is really baffling. What are we teaching them? How to be annoying to adults? How to be ignored? How to keep saying the same thing over and over again, each time louder than before?

One very fortunate side-effect of my cancer is that I've become a better listener - not because I've gone all Zen and reflective, but because the cancer in my lungs makes breathing difficult and I can't talk as much. So for once in my life, I listen more than I talk.

Now, I find I pay much more attention to my kids. Toby has recently discovered the art of monologue. He can go on and on about who-knows-what, whether somebody is listening or not. And when I stop and listen, really listen to him, I'm often rewarded with imaginative, funny stories and priceless peeks into his mind that I wouldn't have otherwise. From eavesdropping on his ramblings to himself, I've gotten to know a side of Toby I would have missed. To think... I would've missed this about him.