Pre-death hallucinations (Singapore)

Reading up on terminal lucidity after writing the previous blog (of the same name), I come across this:

Quote Visual or auditory hallucinations are often part of the dying experience. The appearance of family members or loved ones who have died is common. These visions are considered normal. The dying may turn their focus to “another world” and talk to people or see things that others do not see. Unquote

My mother had a hip fracture in 2015.  Sat down too hard on the sofa — probably misjudged the distance, and broke her hip.  I was going to fly out to see her but then had a bad fall myself, breaking two fingers, so the trip had to be postponed.  In January 2016, I was told to make my way over as soon as possible, as she didn’t seem likely to last long.  The doctor had been asked to give her an injection to keep her going until three of her five children could get back from abroad.  After the second jab, the doctor said it wouldn’t be kind to keep giving her injections just to prolong her life.

During my time there, my mother’s Indonesian maid told this story of her last days.

My mother was in a ward with six or eight beds, but she was the only occupant at the time.  The maid Yanti was with her.  My mother suddenly said to Yanti, in Malay, “Banyak orang (Lots of people).”  Yanti looked around behind her.  Empty ward.  Yanti said, “Tak ada orang (Not have people).”  My mother insisted, “Banyak orang,” adding, “Satu perempuan (One woman).”

My mother’s sister died in 1988, her mother in 1989, so that lone woman could have been one of them.

I’ve heard stories about beings from the other world coming over to guide the newly departed soul to the other side.

(Singapore, 2016)

Terminal lucidity (回光返照)

Playing a Chinese crossword puzzle game on my phone, I come across a saying 回光返照 huí guāng fǎn zhào / “return light reverse shine”, from an 1120 A.D. compilation of the sayings of a Zen master.  This refers to clarity of the mind or brief excitement in someone on the point of death, called terminal lucidity* (coined in 2009).

This immediately called to mind something about my last landlord, Terry, though not to do with his mental lucidity, rather his appetite.  

He’d been diagnosed in Nov (2008) with lung cancer and had gone off his food.  Although I’d moved out (in 2006), I still went to see them every week, mostly Friday after work.  Friday being Fish Friday, I’d go along with a portion of fish and chips and try to tempt him into eating some.  Each time he’d refuse.  In January (2009), he suddenly tucked into my fish and chips, eating most of it.  I was rather pleased that his appetite had come back.  He died a week later.  (No, not from food poisoning from my fish and chips, in case you wonder, but from a heart attack.  Being a hypochondriac [his wife’s description], he’d probably frightened himself to death about his lung cancer.  Kinder this way, in my opinion, not having to suffer a long illness.)

Told an old English friend Simon about this.  He had a story to tell about his mother:

Quote

[She] didn’t eat or drink much at all in the 3–4 weeks before she died of Alzheimer’s. The nurses and I struggled to get anything more than a sip of water down her. The night she died was the hottest yet recorded here in the UK. That evening as I was leaving I tried one more time to get some water down her. She had not responded other than vaguely to anything other than touch for a good few days. She suddenly gulped all the baby bottle of water down I was holding up to her. She never woke again after that. I mistakenly told my brothers and the nurses I thought she had turned a corner.

Unquote

Another friend, Daisy from Hong Kong, said her parents had asked to be helped up into a sitting position after lying in the hospital bed for a fortnight or so.  Went into a coma the day after, then passed away.

*Terminal lucidity, also known as paradoxical lucidity, rallying or the rally, is an unexpected return of mental clarity and memory, or suddenly regained consciousness that occurs in the time shortly before death in patients with severe psychiatric or neurological disorders. This condition has been reported by physicians since the 19th century. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terminal_lucidity)

 

Google says:  Quote Some people experience a brief surge in energy in the hours or days before death. This may last from a few minutes to several hours. During this time, your loved one may talk more, be interested in engaging in conversation, or interested in eating or drinking. Unquote 

My landlord Terry fitted this last case.

Massaging (London)

I’ve been having a fair bit of success in my massages.  

People would tell me things like: 

“I didn’t even know I had a problematic spot there!!” 

or 

“How did you know where to find my problematic areas?!”  

Some of them even asked, 

“Which acupressure point is that?” 

or 

“Do you know all the acupressure points?”

My answer:  “If the recipient starts screaming, I’ll know I’ve found the right place.”

(London, 2022)

Chinese sayings: 01 (倾巢而出; 囊中羞涩)

Some of my favourite Chinese sayings:

1. 倾巢而出 qīng cháo ér chū / “tilt nest and exit”, sometimes 倾巢出动 qīng cháo chū dòng / “tilt nest exit move”.  

倾巢而出 / 倾巢出动 are defined as “turn out in full force”, for a military campaign.  

My perverse sense of humour has this graphic image for it:  the birds are sitting happily in the nest, all settled down; a hand comes along and tilts the nest, tipping them out (thus forcing them into action).

2. 囊中羞涩 náng zhōng xiū sè.  The online dictionary gives it as “to be cash strapped”.  I love the literal breakdown of the phrase:  “pouch inside shy astringent”. 

羞 xiū / “shy” is easier to imagine: there’s not enough money for the inside of the pouch to be seen, hence “shy (to be seen)”.  

涩 sè is a trickier word to convey adequately in English but common in Chinese.  It’s most often used for the feeling on one’s tongue if one’s eaten fruit that’s not fully ripened.  Not tart / acidic / sour / sharp like unripe mango or apple.  Rather, more like unripe persimmon (kaki / sharon fruit / 柿子 shìzi), so that it furs up one’s tongue, giving it a slightly rough feeling.  Another definition of 涩 is “unsmooth”, like the furred-up feeling on the tongue, which is closer to 涩 than tart / acidic / sour / sharp.  It is this “unsmooth” quality to the inside of the (money) pouch that makes me laugh: there’s not enough money to be moved smoothly (out of the pouch).  

Calling the inside of the pouch 羞涩 / “shy unsmooth” is such a euphemistic solution for describing being cash strapped, haha.

Victim of my own success (London)

The dementia lady I’ve been massaging (left leg which had no strength, and sciatic point) now lifts her feet when she walks instead of dragging them along.  She even recognises people at the Chinese community centre, it seems, as she smiles at some of them. 

Unfortunately, she’s now regained enough brain activity and awareness for her to feel jealous of me, as I’ve been massaging her carer husband (neck for his Bell’s Palsy and bad shoulder from holding her up when they walk).  She growls and snarls at me, especially when I’m massaging him.  

On Monday, I was at the table in front of hers in the karaoke corner, minding my own business.  She got up and pulled my hair, growling at me, murder in her eyes.  

It’s good that she seems to be more aware now than her previous zombie state, but I’m getting worried about my already diminishing amount of hair...!

(London, 2022)

Quick identification (London)

There’re so many similar looking/colour suitcases around in the market that some people tie something like a small strip of ribbon/cloth to theirs for easy identification when at the carousel claiming their luggage at the destination.  This was the tip given by my aunt when I took my first flight out of Singapore as a teenager.

The syntax module of my MA Linguistics course at SOAS (School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London) had 120 (150?) students, with the different colleges (SOAS, UCL, Birkbeck) pooling their students.  

The professor would set homework each week.  He’d then put the stack of 120 (150?) pieces of marked homework on the corner of his desk, for us to go up and retrieve at the end of the lecture.

A long queue would build up as each student took ages going through the pile.  A4 sheets of paper all look the same.

After the first time, I came up with a fast way.  I snipped off the corner of an envelope that is not white (often brown, sometimes electric blue or red if it was for a special card), slotted it into the top right hand corner of my A4 sheet of homework, and stapled it.

It’d take a second to retrieve, as I could see it from miles away and just pull it out of the pile.

(London, 1992)

Giving people a chance to give too (London)

Whenever I went away on holiday, I’d bring back something for then-landlord and landlady, Fred and Nora:  chocolate from Switzerland, caviar from Sweden.

One day, Nora gave me a little bottle of red wine that she’d got free on her flight back from their timeshare in Portugal.  

In my typical-Chinese-politeness way, I immediately protested, “Oh no, keep it for yourself!”

She said, “YOU are always giving people things.  You must let people have a chance to give you something sometimes.”  Yes, indeed. 

Since then, I’d relate this story to people, especially when I’m giving them a free massage, and say,  “Thank you for accepting my massage and making me feel useful.”

(London, 1980s onwards)