Better be numb than to feel anything at all

I almost fainted today while having my blood taken for some tests. No, I am not and have never been that squeamish with blood or any sort of gore, otherwise I would not have liked Dexter so much. It was torture watching the nurse wiggle her needle all around the place looking for my vein. I should have took caution the moment the nurse asked me to apply cold compress on the area even before she began her painstaking exploration. My God, she already knew in advance how lousy she was with the procedure that she gave me early warning. I know, I should have been touched by her concern…but it’s somehow different when after 3 minutes of poking and pricking, the needle has not found its target yet. During the whole 3 minutes while I was praying that each prick will be the last, I may have held my breathe and forgotten to breathe. I felt I was about to blackout! I wanted to cry and just ask her if I could just come back the next day. Today was the worst experience I had in all things medical related, far worse than the time I was examined by an OB along an open hall while women in labor wailed in grief in a nearby room, or the time I had my d&c. Why, during those times I never had the urge or reason to cry or faint (well, except for the time when my anesthesiologist actually put me to sleep for the operation). When my husband picked me up from the clinic, I burst into tears! The needle mark on each arm was enough explanation.

I know. I should have had more time these last couple of weeks to write to you and share with you what I have been going through. Truth is I have felt numb throughout this experience. I have shut you out as I have shut out myself and regretfully, God as well. Maybe it is some sort of defense mechanism I have resorted to to alienate myself from the pain. Staying in touch with myself and God opens doors of fear and of longing. Somehow, I don’t want to feel any of these now. Not before we go, otherwise I may never leave. It’s like bungee jumping, don’t think just take the plunge into the unknown, and pray that the ropes will be strong enough.

I picked a fight with my husband last night. I know, I know… I should not have but I guess all my bottled up emotions needed to explode! I thought not having work will lessen my stress. But I have come to realize that work helped me then. Work diverted my attention from the reality of my life. Work gave me a reason to not have time to care, to not have time to think. Now that all I have is time, it’s becoming more and more unbearable.

I told my husband last night that moving to Shanghai is a sacrifice. He was somehow hurt by this statement, but it is what it is. Yeah, I know what your thinking…I am mad and that I am a bad wife for not being so supportive, that living in Shanghai will be a great adventure and I bet some of you will probably jump at an opportunity like this. Before you judge me, will you please hear my side?

If you know me well enough, you would know how much I love my family. In all things, my family comes first. I am the youngest child. My mother had me when she was 47 years old. Doctors thought I was some tumor that needed to be taken out. But God intervened, and so here I am. Was I saved for a reason? I don’t know. You can probably label me as a “mama’s girl.” I am one and I am proud to be one. Afterall, my mother deserves to have someone at her age of 76. We have no relatives left --just me, my sister, and my folks. We have only each other to rely on. There is no one else out there for us.

Time is flying by so quickly, and I know that the time for goodbyes is near. I am filled with fear that each passing day may be the last. No number of pictures or videos can ever be enough to capture the memories, can bring me the same amount of warmth and comfort, to give me endless words and lectures of wisdom, can give me strength and reminders of faith and kindness. Yeah, I am such a sissy. But how can you claim you have truly loved when you feel no fear or grief? And so this is my greatest fear, and the thing that is holding me back. If you had already experienced the grief of losing a loved one, you’d probably understand my sentiments. I pray to God everyday . . . “not when I am not at their side.” I can hire the fastest of all jets in coming back, but we all know that it only takes one second. No amount of money, tears, cries, threats, or prayer can bring back what has been lost. I have tried before, it did not work, and there is no promise it will work next time it happens.

You know what’s worse? Whenever I look upon my mother’s face and see her sadness, I feel as if I am expediting the deterioration of her health. Old age is already starting to take its toll, and I feel as if somehow our move to Shanghai will contribute more pain and stress to her already aching body.

As she helped me pack the other day, I can feel her sadness. As always, she wanted to show me her support by sharing with me things that she has kept for us over the years…the blanket the she think will keep us warm during winter, the knives and silverware that we can conveniently use during our first few weeks…the knitted sweaters that was given to her by relatives in Canada that she knows she will not get the chance to wear, the pieces of jewelry wrapped securely in old napkins that she has saved for me over the years. I wanted her help. I wanted to bring that memory with me, the treasures she shared with me. They are the only parts of my mom I can bring with me forever.

And so, I am leaving with this fear. Each day I spend with them, I try to record and burn into my memory. I envy the people who are not burdened by this fear. How do you do it?

I am proud of my husband. There is no doubt in my mind that he will do great wherever he goes and whatever he decides to do. We are about to embark on our future. God has dictated my place when we got married, and I happily and proudly take my eternal position by my husband’s side. But as much as I am excited in the life that’s waiting for us, I am bringing along with me my fear. And so, this is my sacrifice, or perhaps it can be more appropriately called a risk, a possibility that materially dampens all excitement.