This August is two years since my mum fell ill. I’ve written a lot about her. Her recipes. Her life. Her stories.

More recently, it has been about her ailments. Only because of how much it has changed my mum’s life. My dear mum’s Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD), heart failure and kidney disease have deteriorated. She is but skin and bones. For sure, she is under 35 kgs. I haven’t and cannot weigh her. Her thigh is the same size as my biceps, and I am not a large person. She is on too many medicines. Her appetite fluctuates. She is less hungry, more.

The upside is she is still compos mentis. She reads her Tamil books. Eagerly watches her Tamil soaps, including the news at 6pm. Her non-existing hearing means the volume must be turned up to 90+. That is mighty loud. She is generally a happy soul. She always laughs when I sing her ‘her’ song, and when reminded, she would pipe in with the chorus. We have chats. As does sister number 2 who is visiting and caring for our mum now. Sister number 2’s presence and help is also giving me a break from mum-related duties.

For sure, growing old and older is a long journey of myriad experiences. A rollercoaster of emotions. The coming together of family and extended family. Friends and other people. With different personalities. I cannot be sure but I think my mum was happier when she was very young, with her maternal family. Less so as a young wife and mother with too many challenges. And, probably happier with greater independence in her latter life. Visiting her daughters in the UK and Australia, and travelling to New Zealand, Japan, Paris, and Venice.

From her mum, Tulasi, she inherited asthma and arthritis. I remember the asthma attacks she has had over the years. The weak link is her lungs. The cause of her breathlessness then, and now. The mangled fingers and knobby knees reflect the dire state of her arthritis. And, her heart weakened in her late 70’s.

I knew she was growing older. I noticed the slow down, and yet I didn’t.  I remember stopping several times, taking several  breaths, wherever we went. During our trips to Kechara Oasis Vegetarian Restaurant, the days when my mum and I had weekly lunches, we used to stop every few steps or so. She could not manage the distance. The same person, who walked for an hour, with purpose, covering our condo floor area of 1600sq. ft. 

I used to poke fun and take photos of her sleeping in her wing chair just after she had had her shower. Worn out from the protracted hyper-cleaning, she would doze off while saying her prayers. When caught on camera, she would say she was praying with her eyes closed. I also have photos of her sleeping diagonally, head at the foot of the bed, and all over her queen-sized bed. Her naps were long-drawn afternoon sleeps.

She stopped cooking for herself. I prepared her meals. She gradually lost interest in even the once-a-week outing, we used to have. It became increasingly an effort for her. The only exception she made was to travel to Brisbane for her grandson’s wedding in late 2019. She was tired. Her heart and lungs were tired. Her body was tired. But because  she could still walk, albeit slowly, operate Astro adequately, was in charge of her personal care, and lived on her own in her condo unit, I didn’t ‘realise’ how old and weak she already was. 

It became very apparent after August 10 when she fell from her bed, not onto the floorboard, but the Tatami mattress that I had laid out for her. The softer landing did not matter. A lot of things changed after that. Gratefully, she has since recovered mentally. Sadly, not physically. There is a marked decline in terms of strength and energy. She needs support for any and all movements. Her lungs, heart and kidney are not cooperating. Lately, she has had episodes of temperature spikes, and fever. Her situation is not getting any better. 

Difficult. Delicate. Real. I have six siblings. All seven of us are senior citizens. At an average age of 68, and a grand total of 480 years. We have families – husbands, wives, children, and grandchildren. We have a range of chronic and critical ailments. Three of us live in the Klang Valley, the rest overseas. We love our mum.

My takeaway on getting old. It is ok to grow old. If you are generally healthy and self-reliant, like my mum was until just before her 88^th birthday. It is less ok  (very scary, actually) when you are dependent. Particularly if/when you need long term 24×7 personal, and medical care, and financial support from others. Hmm.