Beware. This will not be your regular happy family entry.

About a year plus back, when I was still doing my teaching practice in a primary school in the east, one of my fellow trainees asked me a question on the way home:

"What is the one thing that you wish you could do, but can't?"

My reply?

"I wish I could kill my mother."

Of course, such a reply or mere statement would most certainly shock everyone. *pause* Did it shock you? It certainly shocked the fellow trainee.

Another incident that definitely shocked two colleagues happened quite recently. I think it was just last Monday, after my homecoming jog, that I blurted out something in relation to my mother.

Said colleagues and I were having dinner, and somehow the conversation strayed to my family's flexibility at irregular dinner plans i.e. no dinner cooked at home. One of them asked the reason to that. I said that it was simple, that my mother doesn't cook (at least, not anymore). And the colleague then proceeded to ask why.

My reply?

"Oh, because she's half senile."

The atmosphere went totally quiet. I suppose I could guess what was going through their heads the second I uttered the above statement. A combination would include:

1. This girl has the audacity to say such a rude thing about her own mother, thus showing that she has little or no love for the mother.

2. Why did she say such a thing about her mother to people outside the family?

3. Isn't she ashamed of herself for having said such a thing?

4. This is a really awkward moment.

Okay, so those were the things I'd envisioned them to think.

So yes, exactly what do the two incidents show? That I don't love my mother? Yes, perhaps I don't. But really, I do love her, even if I don't say it. It's just that, sometimes, a resentment comes over me. Maybe it's what you might call a love-hate relationship. You love a person, and yet you hate him/her too.

I suppose I'm complicated in this sense but really, like I said, I resent the things she does/says. I know it's unfair and mean of me to say this, but after having lived with her senility for the past 7 years, I guess I'm just losing my patience already. (Or maybe have lost?)

The forgetfulness, misplacing things/clothes around the house (her own I.C. has been misplaced twice and now we don't know where it is even though it's probably somewhere in the house; a photocopy has been made though), mistaking people/relatives/old friends (she doesn't remember my age; she thinks I'm still 19 years old and studying in JC) etc.

The above are just the tip of the iceberg. If you are living/have lived with someone who has dementia (or part dementia), or have taken/are taking care of such a person, then you'd most probably understand my family's situation. By right, I should be more patient and tolerant of her condition, but being a teacher has somehow contaminated myself. I am becoming more and more short-tempered, cranky and snappy. Any little thing can trigger me off. So you can imagine the many little things at home that will most certainly trigger that little red button in my head. Things have definitely become more violent nowadays. *shudder*

Actually, she wasn't always like this, you know. Her senility can be contributed to the accident that she had many years ago, when I was about 5 or 6. She was walking on the zebra crossing opposite my paternal grandparents' block (then) when a speeding car driven by a youth fresh out of school hit her. My mother was flung off the crossing and landed on the kerb, where her head hit the stone.

As a result of the accident, she went into a coma for a week and broke her arms. Metal bars had to be inserted into her them for support and she had to stay in hospital for about a month. My father, who was working shift on a ship during that period (2 days of work followed by 2 days of free time) decided to send me to my maternal grandparents, until my mother fully recovered. I don't recall many moments in the hospital but I do remember seeing her lying down on the bed, her eyes tightly shut, her head bandaged and all sorts of tubes inserted into parts of her body.

My father had explained the details to me when I grew older, so that I'm aware of the impending effects that could happen to my mother in years to come. The doctor had warned him, that there would be some sort of brain damage to her, causing part dementia and senility in the mature years of her life.

So I understand why she's acting the way she is now. I understand how her current condition came about. I can't help but blame the person who had knocked down my mother, but I also blame my father for not having done enough to ensure the delay of her senility. He was younger and stronger then, he could have worked harder and have some sort of savings for her treatment. He could have held on to our first home in Tampines instead of having it sold and buying over this current flat, because right now he's using my mother's CPF money to pay for this flat. And that CPF money will only last for a few more years, where by then the house payments would have to be settled in cash. He could have done more to help my mother improve her memory.

Now that I'm older and working, I'm saving for her treatment and other emergencies. I know her state of mind is confused so I do my best to make her feel as comfortable as possible at home. I try to do most of the chores so that she doesn't have to bend her back or exert herself most of the time. She gets dizzy a lot, so I encourage her to have plenty of rest and drink more water. But looking at her now, she's a far cry from her old self many years ago.

Sometimes, I pray to God to help her regain her normal self or at least her happy memories. But I know it's impossible for her to make a 360 degrees turn. The doctor had said so himself. However, who knows? God is All-Powerful right? He's got a lot of power to change things.

At other times, I pray to God to help her lessen her burden. I don't know if she's suffering inside out. I can only guess. It doesn't seem very fun to confuse memories and have your own self be snapped at by your audacious daughter half the time.

To the outside eye, it doesn't look like I love my mother that much. I'm always patronising her, talking to her like she's a small child. But that's only because I don't want her to embarass herself. I don't really patronise her around maternal relatives because we're pretty close and they understand her condition. They give me a lot of advice on how to make her feel comfortable at home and tell me to be more patient towards her. However, my paternal relatives tend to be more patronising than I am. They are just too la-di-da for words! I really hate them at times, trying to be so pristine and concerned when in fact they don't care two hoots about my mother! I mean, you're certainly more well-off than my father, why don't you at least help us to improve her condition? Send her for therapy or something? At least my maternal side has done something for her by taking her to doctors etc. I don't see that coming from you?

Gah.

It's just painful seeing her like that day in, day out.

So now you know.