DAD: LET'S TAKE A WALK

Sunday, 12 April 2020

MY MOM, AH TOONG 3 + 1 WISDOM

My mom used to smoked when younger, and this picture from the movie kung fu hustle seems to fit the bill.


In the tapestry of life, parents often weave lessons into the fabric of our being, and my mother, affectionately known as Ah Toong, was no exception. While my earlier blog delved into the wisdom I gleaned from my father, this narrative aims to unravel the unique lessons embedded in the story of Ah Toong.

Unlike my father, who imparted knowledge through spoken words, Ah Toong's teachings were subtly interwoven into the tapestry of her actions and behaviors. Educated and well-versed, she embarked on her career as a State Enrolled Nurse, demonstrating resilience and resourcefulness that would later become emblematic of her character.

The first distinctive trait I observed in Ah Toong was her unwavering frugality. Despite a modest income and a pension of RM1,045, she managed to accumulate savings nearing RM100,000. Her secret? A savvy approach to market shopping. Ah Toong, a familiar face in the wet market of Taman SPPK, Pasir Puteh, knew that the best deals often emerged after 9 am. By negotiating skillfully and opting for second-grade fresh produce, she maximized the quality of her meals while minimizing expenses.

Her approach to the market was a microcosm of her life philosophy: negotiate, adapt, and don't settle for less. In the dance of supply and demand, Ah Toong recognized the sweet spot after 10 am when sellers were more inclined to accommodate buyers. It was a lesson not just in grocery shopping but a metaphor for navigating life - knowing when to press on, negotiate, and secure what you need.

Nature, according to Ah Toong, held the key to many of life's challenges. Her belief in the healing properties of natural ingredients, particularly those derived from pigs, manifested in her culinary remedies. When faced with ailments or challenges, she concocted dishes like pig's stomach with pepper soup for gastric issues or stewed pork trotters with mushrooms and black fungus for tired legs. However, she coupled these remedies with a stern reminder that no supplement could substitute for diligent effort and hard work.

The third distinctive trait was Ah Toong's belief in divine intervention during exams. In a unique negotiation with a temple deity, she promised offerings of a free-range chicken, American apples, and Sunkist oranges if I achieved stellar results. The ritual involved ingesting blessed ashes dissolved in water. While the results were not entirely as anticipated, this experience instilled a valuable lesson - caution in committing to rewards before the task is completed.

Ah Toong's adaptability was evident during Chinese New Year of 1978. Faced with conflicting advice on the orientation of the praying altar for welcoming the god of prosperity, she decided not to put all her faith in one belief. Instead, she divided the offerings, facing altars in both north-east and north-west directions. This scenario unfolded as a metaphorical lesson in diversification and avoiding overcommitment to a single approach.

Lastly, Ah Toong's refusal to accept defeat even in the minutiae of life revealed a resilient spirit. The episode during Chinese New Year, where she set up altars facing multiple directions, showcased her determination not to succumb to losses easily.

In conclusion, Ah Toong, my mother, was a living book, each page filled with lessons waiting to be learned and absorbed. Her life, a narrative of frugality, reliance on nature, negotiation with the divine, adaptability, and an unwavering spirit, continues to resonate in my journey, offering wisdom that transcends time. Every parent, a living book, imparts lessons that become the chapters of our own stories. What were the lessons from your mom and dad?

Thursday, 9 April 2020

MAN: YOU DIE FIRST


I found this amusing, when men are busy the have no time to die but.....

Started managing two nursing homes in 2000 . I noticed after a few years most if not all the men will be no more, gone, dead.

After 20 years I am very sure my statistic is quite accurate, that most men will die within 3 years of moving into a nursing home.

The funny thing is that we started each home with about 40% men and 60% women but by the third year all the original men were gone. Men generally last no more than three years in a home (that is my personal experience. 

When I shared this information during a talk for senior citizens on planning for retirement and how to select a nursing home, many pf the participants offered their views. One lady said it was due to their ego, because they became helpless at the centre and felt abandon.

Another lady said, "We women are build stronger and better." Most men present at the talk kept quiet because they are not happy with the statistics that don't favour them. 


A gentlemen in his sixties came to me after the sharing and gave a me a very nice phrase which sounded more like a poem on why man die faster in nursing home. He said:


“See girl cannot touch,
can touch cannot do, 
got party cannot go, 
can go cannot dance, 
got money cannot spend, 
got good food cannot eat, 
got wine cannot drink. 
Like that better die”

The saying has a ring of truth in it…women usually last so much longer the longest client we had (some are still alive today) are over 12 years with the 20 year old homes.

And here is my take on why men die faster. I have read a lot on this subject and there are many-many information out there, but I want to narrow it to why elderly man die faster in a nursing home.

I want to touch on what I believe is the true reason why  men die faster and women live longer.

It is the BEING of a man and a woman.

Let's start with the being of a man. Men's being by our culture and societal context are known and defined by what they do, the titles they carry and the positions they held.

At the basic level most men are known by the job they do,  like Ali the mechanic, Ah Kau the farmer and Muthu the labourer. In Malaysia it is important to acknowledge the three races and in our textbook they are always Ali, Ah Kau and Muthu. Everyone of the men are known by their jobs they do they are not known as the father of Nora or Mei Leng or Kamala. Nor are they known as the husband of Azizah or Rose or  Gita.

Those with 'conferred' title like Tun, Tan Sri, Datuk Seri and Datuk will always be known by the title. In fact the title is used so often we sometimes forget what their names are. But the moment this people enter a nursing home, titles and power do not mean a thing. 

The last group are those  with positions like CEO, COO, CFO, Managing Directors and Directors of this and that board. These group will be the hardest hit because of the nature of the work life where they often command the hundreds and the thousands, managing a financial portfolio of millions and billions. For this group, the music will stop one day and when it does, they will find it hard to identify who they are. They will get depressed because when they are in the nursing home, they have no one  to listen to them. They have to people who are lower qualified than them, younger than them and they have not choice but to obey albeit grudgingly. That's when I see depression hits in for a number of them.

I have had in my life, GM's of Multinational Bank, Directors of many boards and people of high achievements living in my centre and they still die and usually not in a very dignified way.

Women's being,  on the other hand are defined differently. By culture, nature and design, women are made differently. Even at the pinnacles of their careers as CEO or carrying a title of Datuk, they at the core are still known as the mother of Nora or Mei Leng or Kamala. At the core the are still known as the wife of Ali or Ah Kau or Muthu. They even sometimes are known as the daughter of Makcik Nik or Aunty Rosy or Aunty Letchumi.

Women are also defined by the seasons of things they do, when like to bake, they are called the baker or the florist or sewing expert.

Women can put one thing down and move on to other roles sometimes 3 to 4 roles change in one day.

The difference I noticed was that men need something to look forward to, a challenge, a goal, women can jump from one need to another without being too attached. Perhaps God has given women one natural achievement that no man can never claimed, that is the ability to give life to another being.

Most women hearing this will laugh and be happy because they live longer and most men will dread that day when their being of a man is no longer what they can do.

My take on this?

Look at it this way. God gave women the ability to achieve the greatest achievement of giving live. But God is kinder to men for He does not want men to suffer the indignant journey of  ageing and bless us with early death.

Peace.










Friday, 3 April 2020

THIS DATO DON’T EAT PORK


Prosperity and fortune are words that hang right at the tips of Chinese lips. My dad is no exception. To the Chinese there are three ways to make the fortune and be prosperous.

The first is the good old fashioned hard work, if you work hard and focus you will make it big. The second is you know somebody who can help you or your business prosper. The last way is the by the power of divine blessing from above and beyond.

I will tell you the story of the fortune by the power from beyond, from the world of spirits.

My dad had a stall selling dim sum outside the now famous Ipoh Aun Kheng Lim Salted Chicken. This story happened in 1977 when I was 13 years old. Aun Kheng Lim in the seventies was a coffee shop. I knew the owner very well. The father of the current owner was a teacher, in fact a brilliant artist and a number of the pictures drawn in Perak Tong or cave and in Sam Poh Tong were drawn by him. I was told that the picture was so huge he has to modify a broom and commercial paint brush to paint it. The mother of the current owner was a lovely lady, my dad asked me to call her Ah Dor, it means aunty or something in the Hainanese language.
The circle and arrow indicates where my dad's stall was.

Aun Kheng Lim at night was the place where people from all walks of life gathered. Contractors, construction workers, taxi drivers, gambling den taikor, gangster and me. On the wall facing the main road were two big school size blackboard. Written on it in old Chinese were riddles and dreams. The people there will read and try to understand and guess the meaning or the image of the meaning. From the image the Chinese will refers to one of the 3 chinese numbers prediction book , one of them is Kuan Yin Book of lucky numbers, I cannot remember the other two. My dad had all three which I threw away in 2019. The book will associate the image to a 3 digit lucky number. For example, the number for python is 606, a cobra is 592 and the number for viper is 381.
Visuals take n from The StarOnline

To make it 4 digit, the pundit has to guess the fourth number which, usually is the first number ahead of the 3 digit.

How do they get the fourth digit? Well there is a simple reference e.g. if the person who guess the number correct is the only son, then the first digit is 1. If the image that represent the 3 digit is feminine like a wok, because women are the one usually using it, then the number is 8. Masculine number is 7.  So, the guessing games goes on this way.

Let me unpack these riddles and dreams for you. Apparently, the world beyond, the spirit world talks to us, sometimes through dreams, sometimes through visions and sometimes through the Chinese ‘fortune lots’ or ‘Kau Chim’ when one goes to ask the spirit personally.
Chien Tung or fortune lot sticks and container. To get the numbers the person performing the rituals will shake it until one number drops and to be repeated 3 times to get all the four digits.

And here begins my story of four friends whose name defines what they do and their roles in this escapade. Taxi Cheong (obvious), Mumbo Seng (the self-appointed Taoist priest), Fresh Fruit Fatt and Pau Lo Kok (my dad Pao is Cantonese for Chinese bun). Most Chinese knew somewhere out there are spirits who lived in rocks, old giant trees or cave.  My dad, Pao Lo Kok and his three friends heard there was a spirit of an old tree about 2 miles off the road to Lawan Kuda, Gopeng, Perak, a place located 13 kilometres from Ipoh.

All these spirits are usually known with the term of reverence ‘Dato’ and the Cantonese pronounce it as ‘LATUK’, besides ‘R’ Chinese cannot pronounce ‘D’. It was known to give 4 digit numbers accurately and many people they heard struck 4 digit numbers many times.

A bit of history about this 'Dato' spirits:
A "datuk" or colloquially known in Cantonese as "Latuk" or "latuk kung" are local deities           protecting a particular area. Just like Taoist gods, eg Guan Yu, the god of war, "datuks" are persons elevated to deity status after their deaths. Most of these "datuk" deities are powerful or respected Malay leaders or rulers with the title of Datuk (or Dato'). This is why "datuk" deities don't accept pork offerings. - information from Steven Lee, an old friend.

The date was set, it was a Friday night in November 1977, they were to meet at Aun Kheng Lim and move out from there to Gopeng. Unfortunately, Fresh Fruit Fatt cannot make it, but still my dad and two others went. The modus operandi was simple, Taxi Cheong drives, Mumbo Seng to perform the ritual, Fresh Fruit Seng to provide offerings and dad provide supper of Pao.

On arrival, they forgot that there was no offerings as it was always the duty of Fresh Fruit Fatt to prepare. But Mumbo Seng said never mind and ask for my dad’s pao or buns as substitute for offerings.  After that my dad and friends returned with an exact 4 digit number. The very next day Saturday, my dad and his friends bet on the 4 digits, buying from Magnum and Bookie (illegal black market 4 digit). The number given was 2417. That evening the number came out as 2416, missing by one digit.

My dad’s friends said that it was strange because no one who ever went lost. So the four of them sat down in Aun Kheng Lim to analyse what went wrong. First to query was Taxi Cheong, “Did you all showered yesterday/” All replied. “YES.” And that is good. Fresh Fruit Fatt said it could not be his fault he was not there. All said “OK”. My dad asked Mumbo Seng, “Did you do the rituals according to the instructions?” (apparently there was an SOP for talking with spirits) Mumbo Seng replied, “Yes, exactly as instructed.” Then they asked my dad, “What Pao did you bring for the supper? (which, they conveniently used for the offering in the absence Ah Fatt’s fruits)” My dad replied, “Char Siew Pao.” (Pork Bun) Then Mumbo Seng exclaimed, “Cannot! This Latuk do not eat pork! It takes only fruits!”

Therefore, for your general knowledge, that there are spirits out there who don’t eat beef, some don’t eat pork but okay with chicken, some are vegetarians and some just like fruits.

Thursday, 2 April 2020

HOSPITAL COOKED MY SON


Fatherhood has a penchant to reveal man’s stupidity. I was a proud man until about 20 years ago. During the birth of my son I realised I knew nuts. When my wife was 6 and a half months pregnant, she developed a condition called PIH, Pregnancy Induced Hypertension, I wrote about this in my earlier blog. Dr Sheila from the Klang maternity hospital immediately asked us to go to University Hospital as it was an emergency and a matter of life and death for both mother and child.

I wanted both to be safe, it never occurred to me that I may have to choose the life of either one. But, what if I have to choose. Shall I choose the life of the mother over the child or should I choose the child over the mother. This was a question I was glad I did not have to answer, nor was it asked. At that very moment I was not even thinking.

Reflecting on it now, I asked myself what if I choose the mother over the child. I believe my wife will feel guilty and may not forgive me for the rest of her life. On the flip side, if I had to choose the child over the mother, I will not be able to live with myself. Being a Chinese I wanted both, just like most Chinese who bet the 4D will buy the same number from 3 different companies, Kuda, TOTO and Magnum. There was one more possibility, what if I have no choice and loses both.

But all the above did not happen at that time. My wife and I were too busy being worried.

My wife was so worried that the baby could die as it was as he was more than two months premature.

Myself I was worried because I do not know what I should worry about, maybe because baby was not in my stomach. The only thing I was thinking about was the condition of my wife.

The blessing was when we met the gynecologist who happened to be my brother in law’s ex classmate. His name was Dr Hanif, former doctor with the navy and later moved on to University Hospital. Dr Hanif’s sister was my wife’s friend. When he recognized my wife, he immediately move her to a better bed at a better location for easy monitoring. This was when I don't mind some benefits from connections.

Because my son was premature, he had to exit the sideway via caesarian, a method named after Julius Caesar, you can read it up yourself.

My mom and dad were there too during the day of the surgery.

My son was delivered in the morning of 28 March 1997. He was so small at no more than 1.89 kg and had to be placed in the Pediatric ICU. I can see the veins and arteries under his translucent skin. At the ICU I could see that my son was connected with no less than 10 wires to a few machines. He was on oxygen ventilator too.

The very next day, Dr Hanif met me in the morning of 29 March. He told me my son was too premature, his brain was not fully formed and he cannot breath on his own. So a special injection that will stimulate the brain to function was needed, and it cost RM1200 and I must pay by cash or cheque immediately. Dr Hanif told me that as a friend this is the cost price that was to be paid direct to the pharmaceutical company.

I didn’t think too much and said yes please go ahead with the injection and I wrote the cheque, good thing I had my cheque book that day.

Dr Hanif administer the injection and immediately after I can see my son’s brain moving and heart started to beat on its own.  What a magical drug it was, just RM1200 and it helped my son’s brain to function. I was thinking what if we order 200 plus such injections and gave to our parliamentarians.

On the 3rd morning at 8 am on 30 March, I went to visit my son in the ICU. Turning into his incubator I saw three ultraviolet lights trained on my son. Dr Hanif said it was normal that prematurely born babies usually develop jaundice. I left at 9 am for work.

At 6pm I went back to the ICU and went to my son’s incubator and saw the three ultraviolet lights still trained brightly at him. I looked at my son and he was all black. I quickly went to see the nurse and asked her to turn down the power. The nurse told me, "Sir that is not your son, your son is out of the ICU and moved to the normal baby care unit, that one ah, is an Indian boy."

It does not matter how many times I told this story; it still brings laughter to the audience and embarrassment to me.
Till this day I still feel stupid to think that the hospital will let my son cooked under the UV lights.



Wednesday, 1 April 2020

SILENCE-MY TEACHER



Silence, the strength to know there is nothing to control,
Nor were there any control to start with,
Silence is the strength to know that there is more to know,
Silence opens my comprehend what I already understood.

Silence teaches me to listen to nature,
To hear what she wanted to say and where she wanted be,
Silence says I don’t need to do more,
She says that enough is more than enough.

Silence with spouse teaches me agape love,
Silence with my children reveals my treasures on earth,
Silence with friends is my joy beyond words,
Silence with God is peace in the midst of treacherous storm.

Silence in day reveals the worthless work,
Silence in night illuminates the works that’s to be,
Silence in suffering is a needless toil,
For there are ears waiting in silence to hear and share your toils.

Silence in sleep is peace,
Dreams in silence is sacred,
Silence in action is precious,
Silence my silence my living teacher.

Silence of the aged is brushed aside,
Silence of the weak is trampled upon,
Silence of the strong is frowned upon,
Silence oh Silence will not be ignored for long

Silence in death is deafening,
Silence in mourning is heart rendering,
Tearing in silence is heart wrenching,
Silence oh silence is where it will all end.

Silence is not forever,
For triumphal rejoicing is just a promised away,
The creator and creation reunion awaits,
Till then my silence my teacher, till then.


Tuesday, 31 March 2020

DAD: LET’S TAKE A WALK


Besides his jokes, his easy going ways and his mahjong, I remember my dad’s next favourite to do things, taking me for a walk.

I had many walks with my dad ever since I can remember. Till the last days in his life, I had walks with my dad. Each walk with dad was different, each has a different purpose. Broadly I categorised my walks with my dad into five stages.

My dad started with the silent walk, and this took place when I was very young, he usually just took my hands or called me and say, “Let’s take a walk.” And we walk around my old housing estate of Jalan Brockman, Camay Park, Pasir Puteh, Ipoh. I must be around 5 to 8 years old. In those years I had many silent walks, my dad does play with me and sisters, but he was usually not talkative with me.

He was a businessman, making and selling dim sum for a living. He started in the business with my late grandfather. My family used to have a few restaurants but as time went by, many of the shops were sold as the seniors passed on and the money gotten was distributed. Dad worked hard and long hours, he usually rests once a year. So, whenever he had time, he will take me out for a walk. The walk may be silent, but dad’s presence was not. Each silent walk reminds me how important I am in his life.  

Very often the presence far outweighs words.

The next stage, I would call the showing walk. In these walks, my dad tends to show me what to say and what to do when meeting people in different places. I love this showing walks. Here, I will follow him out to the shop where he made his dim sum at 490, Jalan Pasir Puteh, Ipoh. The shop itself has an interesting history. It was once belonged to my grandfather, later he willed it to my dad. It was a long double storey shop house with three rooms upstairs where dad’s two elder brothers and families lived. The early agreement was that the brothers were to pay for the utilities but somehow the brothers who were less affluent than my dad did not do so. My dad got fed up and sold the shop to a friend and then got his brothers to rent the shop back from the friend. Family dynamics were everywhere.

I loved this part because here I get to meet all my dad’s friends and their interesting, vulgar and expletive filled conversations and stories. My dad will tell me to greet this uncle and that aunty. I will say good morning. Over time those uncles also played mahjong with dad and they called my dad ‘Sei Ngan Chai’ , directly translated ‘four eyes guy’ which was nickname for those with spectacles.

One uncle Keng told me to call my dad ‘old snake’, which I happily did. And my dad asked me to call uncle Keng ‘Pai Kah Chai’ or a spendthrift, but it sounded really bad in Cantonese. I happily called uncle Keng, Pai Kah Chai. When one is young, you can virtually get away with anything.

During this showing walk I learned how to drink and smoke. Okay dad did allow me to try both. I discovered I hated cigarette. Dad told me to light a cigarette for him, dad smoked. I happily did it and the coffee shop owner gladly passed me one cigarette, those days cigarette can be sold by stick. I put it in my mouth like dad, I lit like dad, I inhaled like dad, and I coughed, choked and my face turned blue, not like dad.

As for alcohol, dad let me drank a few pints of beer once during a free buffet meal. I was thirsty and since beer was free I had three. I was drunk and what discouraged me from drinking was I had rashes all over including parts that my hands cannot reached.

Dad liked to take me for a showing walk near our stalls which was located opposite the now burnt down Capitol cinema and on the verandah of the now famous Ipoh Salted Chicken shop. Yes , I knew the owner of the shop. Now the story of this Inn Kheng Lim salted chicken shop was that the successful boss was the most useless of all children. He did not know what to do with his life and always walking in and out of the shop. But one day during his travel he discovered the salted chicken recipe and rest as they say is history.

Back to my showing walk, my dad will walk straight to the Teochew porridge stall in Yau Tet Shin street. Dad will go straight to the salted fish jar and will take two pieces of Kurau salted fish, each the size of two chicken nuggets, for me and for him. We will both eat the salted fish like snacks, like your potato chips today. We then walked to the pasar malam or night market just to walk around and see how other businesses were doing. Dad will show me how other peopleweree also working hard for a living. He told me this as he gestured to the night market stalls;

”There is nothing wrong with what they are doing, working hard is part of life. You don’t need to follow dad and be a maker and seller of dim sum. You can do other things. But you should learn how to do dim sum because this skill is like a blanket in the winter, it can keep you warm.”

I never forget these words. This showing walk lasted until my early teens.

As I reached my mid and late teens, dad took me for another type of walk which, I called the teaching walk. This was when he started taking me out for evening walks and he will tell me stories. Stories about how he came to Malaysia, stories of him working in tin mines and got cheated by the employer, stories of him swimming across mining pool with bunched watermelons as floats. He later told me stories of how he lost the shop, how his brothers depended on him to pay for their weddings. And how his own brother betrayed his trust and stole money from the business.

I asked him once, “Aren’t you angry with your brothers for all theses things to you again and again?” My dad replied, “They are still my brothers. Friends I can choose, brothers I cannot.” From that I knew my dad’s stands when it comes to family.

My dad told me a story of how he lost our semi-detached house in Camay Park. It was because my mom’s eldest brother needed an immediate loan to pay an Ah Long who escorted my Uncle back from Singapore to collect his gambling debt. After taking a loan from a sikh money lender my dad business also suffered and eventually had to sell our beautiful house. My dad never told my mom why he had to take a loan and my mom’s mind conjured some nasty ideas of him gambling or worse, having a mistress, which, was common those days.

During this teaching walk, dad will tell me stories about him dating mom and how a man should treat a woman. He even told me that a man must take all responsibilities, whether it was my doing or not, as long as I am the head of a family or at work, we must take responsibilities for everything.
Dad taught me that money is important not the most important thing in life. Money was never for us to keep but to be used for better good.

The next walk I would call the friendship walk. After my returned from England in 1993, I had many such walks with my dad not as father and son but as friends. As usual my dad is not very talkative. We will walk around our house in Taman SPPK, Pasir Puteh, Ipoh. We will talk about the changes in the area and what was good to eat.

By then I was working in Kuala Lumpur and dad sometimes come out to stay with me in Klang. We always walked to the coffee shop near my house in Taman Berkeley , Klang. By then my dad was no longer working. We don’t talk much but just walk, like when I was young.

Very often silence was golden and it spoke volume.

The last stage is what I would term a gratifying walk. Every moment I could walk with him and take him out for dim sum and Chinese tea or to a coffee shop for his favourite Cham Glass Besar or coffee and tea mixed beverages was precious.

Again not much words just precious silent moments. Probably the most gratifying walk was when I took him back to China, specifically to his home town Panyu in Guangzhou on 8 Dec 2008. My dad 's face lit up when he saw his old village which, was more like a town than village. He left that place in 1937. He never thought he could go back before he dies.

I can still recalled my dad’s joyous cheerful smile as he walked the streets of Guangdong with his hands holding a bowl of hot beef tripes or the moment he ate sugar cane the old fashion way. He even taught my children how to eat sugar cane the old fashion way.

Those moments on his face are carved into my mind like it was just yesterday. But my dad’s greatest joy was when he saw my younger brother getting married in 2012. Now my brother was a source of dad’s penultimate worry. This younger brother of mine had many ups and downs in his life ad my dad was worried that he will suffer in life. But all that changed when my brother landed a good job and found a wife. Dad's joy was compounded when my brother became a father. In dad's mind, my brother's life and success was sealed.

During this last walk, my dad talked more than usual, he was actually sharing his feelings which, was not that evident in my earlier walks. He told me his worry for my brother and he also told me that he was concerned that no one can live with my mom if he dies first. He told me that he hoped that my mom will go first, read my earlier post about my mom.(click on the linked word). 

In this last walk, I was gratified that my dad was there to teach me that as parents we will always worry for our children and as a husband we will always worry for our spouse.

I developed this let’s take a walk philosophy from my dad. Till these days I like to take my spouse, my children, my friends and staff for a walk. It could be a silent walk, a showing walk, a teaching walk, a friendly walk or a gratifying walk. It does not matter which types of walk, there is always a lesson to be learned, a relationship waiting to be built.

Monday, 30 March 2020

AUNTY CELINE DECEPTIVE CHECK IN



A thank you note from the son of Aunty Celine
Most family members, children, brothers and sisters suffered the burden of guilt when exploring and deciding on the fate of their loved ones.

To send their loved ones to a centre is traumatic and unsettling. Here is a story of Aunty Celine whom me and the son resorting to deception to bring Aunty Celine there.
There many more such stories but lets start with Aunty Celine's.

Sometime last year June Aunty Celine's son, Jules came to me with his wife to check out m place and to discuss about the possibility of checking his mother into my centre.

Jules started by saying, my mom is okay, standard statement, I get it all the time. My mom can walk she can do certain things herself, she was a bit forgetful.
She is generally healthy with some minor medical conditions. 

I then asked Jules, she seems ok, best for her o stay at home. I personally always held on to the believe that your own home is the best place. No money can turn our centres to be etter than your home.

Then Jules slowly opened up by saying that her mom can live with his wife, they have tiffs and make his middle man position very difficult. Mom on one side and wife on the other. This i understood but that was not a good enough reason to put your mom in my place.

Jules then told me that he had to travelled to Bangkok towork for a few months and won't be able to play the middle man role. But he will come back every few weeks or month.

So Jules asked me this question, "How shall I get my mom to move into your centre?" I said, "Easy, just tell your mo that you are going to work in Bangkok ad you won't be around for 3 months." 

Then I told Jules this truth. "Women regardless of their mental conditions somehow in their hearts understand what they want for their children. Women are also very practical, children able to make money overseas is something they can grasp. So do tell her the truth."

So Aunty Celine checked in. About a month later Jules called and said, "I am back in KL I want to talk to mom, but I told her I am back only 3 months later so what can I do?"

I said, "Oh we just do face time on your phone with mine, you can just talk to your mom. Just pretend that you are still in Bangkok and make sure the facetime video don't show anything from your home."

After about 8 months, things are more settled and going smoothly.

One of our job in caregiving is to reduced the trauma and stress of family members who had to make such a decision.

For all the children out there, don't feel bad.