Snowdrops for Ike

    Recently, my mom gave a new nickname to my dad, Rok-ku. It means degeneration, aging, absent-minded, you’re-getting-old, anything along those lines. He’s only 55, but he’s been associated with all those when he’s starting to misplace his glasses. He doesn’t remember where he keeps my bank account book and has been searching for it a few years now. He has no recollection of my childhood, no memories of how i looked like then and the empty gap always fills him with guilt… and he always said to me, ‘I have not been there for you, where have i been in all those years you were growing up?‘. To which, I replied, ‘Dad, you’ve been there all the while, just that u don’t remember it. ‘

‘No..i remember when u were born, and the next moment, u’re this big!’

     Surely that was an exaggeration. Although it’s funny to laugh about his forgetfulness, I am worried the label will remain stuck on him. The Rok-ku label. ‘Your papa is getting rok-ku,’ my mom complained. And because of self-fulfilling prophecy, I am concerned my dad will allow himself to forget, allow himself to stop learning new skills.

‘Siau mei, nobody listens to me. Since you’re the youngest, you’re the only one who listens to my ramblings at the moment,’ he said. ‘But would you still sit down and listen to what I have to say if i really go rok-ku one day? When I don’t say things that make sense at all? Would you answer my repeated questions?‘

     I’ve across a few patients with dementia these months. There was one man in the nursing home who stays in bed all the time, unless he decides to roll off the bed during the night in his sleep. He has his mouth wide open and his eyes looked at his side all the time. No response to any triggers, any spoken words. And another old lady who sits in a wheelchair, with a difficulty of expressing herself. She couldn’t find the words to speak, but her eyes said it all when she reached for my hand to squeeze it, as if to say, ‘thanks for paying me a visit.’

     Of course, papa, I would. You have given me everything. As I stood there with the phone in my hand, I listened to my dad talking about the future. About having a library in the house, combining our books together to wow ourselves with. Me and him have a similarity, we buy books that we don’t read. My dad talked about doing what we used to do, eating ice-cream by the roadside. ‘Would you still do that with me after u’ve become a doctor? Would you buy me my favourite fruits even after i’ve gone rok-ku?‘

     But this man is far from becoming rok-ku! He intends to continue giving seminars after retirement (not too long from now). He gets more motivated after I told him the retirement age in UK is 65, 10 years older than his age now. A man who never fails to walk Ike every evening, who gives his wife a leg massage every night, who brings fruits to his daughter’s study room to freshen her up during a midnight revision.

     I love you, papa. Rok-ku, you are not! But for being a cute daddy who also pretends to bark, rok-ku seems to fit you for now. Hehe.

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