Earth Sheep / 1919, 1979
Righteous, sincere, sympathetic, mild-mannered, shy, artistic, creative, gentle, compassionate, understanding, mothering, determined, peaceful, generous, seeks security. Can be moody, indecisive, over-passive, worrier, pessimistic, over-sensitive, complainer.
We shared the same zodiac year and attribute. People can be of the same Vietnamese zodiac year but differ in the heavenly stem associated with that year. I wonder if that has anything to do with how close I feel to her.
Things I remember:
I never had hair past my shoulders as a child. I used to love watching Bà undo the tight chignon (bun) in which her hair was pinned. I don't know if she knew I was watching, but I always felt like I wasn't supposed to see her with her hair down. Her hair would unravel and reach at least her waist. And she would comb it with a straight comb, not brush, starting from her scalp all the way down to the ends. (We have good hair.) Apparently, that hairstyle had been associated with either French elegance or Vietnamese nationalist resistance at different points in history. Hm... I kind of think for my grandma it was easy and fashionable.
If I was being a fussy eater, Bà would take me and my bowl of rice/food to the front yard. There she would distract me by pointing and the birds and asking "what is that?" in Vietnamese. As my mouth opened in awe or to say WOW, in came a spoonful of rice. I fell for it every time until my meal was done.
Bà told me once that my forehead (five-head) meant that no one would be able to take advantage of me. Interesting.
After she moved out of the LA house and into the one in OC, I would occasionally bring food to her and my uncle. By this time she was strictly vegetarian, I was out of college, working in the area, and she was beginning to need help with day to day activities. So i volunteered to trim her fingernails and toenails. I would trim mine at the same time to remind myself that she was due for a trim--if my nails were long, so were hers. My Vietnamese isn't very good, but we were able to work out an understanding. I brought her food and mani/pedis, and she told me stories. She told me about how she used to hop over fences and eat fruit from neighbors' trees. She told me how the family used to have a cement company in Northern Vietnam until they had to move South. It was all so fascinating. I loved listening to her. She spoke with her hands and you could see every emotion come through her expressions: the excitement, the fear, the relief that they made it through. It was funny how she punctuated every sentence with a "Mô Phâ.t!" or a clap.
There is so much more; it would take days for me to recount every detail.
In her last days I tried to come by once a weekend (because the home health nurse didn't come on weekends) to change her diaper, get her out of bed, feed her. I got to know Bà in her most vulnerable state. I did things for her I never imagined I'd do for another person. Most of these interactions were done in silence because her hearing was so far gone she didn't wear her aids anymore. Crude sign language, eye contact and smiles. No stories. Just smiles. I watched her slip away more each time I saw her.
This morning we found out she passed away during the night.
One of my aunts gave me a big hug when she saw me and thanked me for helping to take care of Ba. I told her not to thank me and I meant it. It was all my pleasure... pure self-interest. I had the privilege of spending time with her. Being able to hear the stories. Doing for her what she did for me when I was too young to do it myself. To take care of her. To be with her. I should be the one doing the thanking.
Thank you Bà. I love you.
Showing posts with label Adventures. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Adventures. Show all posts
Monday, May 24, 2010
Monday, October 13, 2008
Long Beach Marathon: Post-race report
I rocked the Long Beach Half Marathon yesterday and I feel awesome. I jogged/ran the whole distance and according to the official race results, my average mile split was 11:18 and I was running at about 5.3 mph--that's better than a car in rush hour on the some LA fwys! I'm proud of me! Total time: 2h:28m:5s
Highlights? (1) I hit my high running alongside the beach (must have been in Belmont Shore) with small waves crashing to my right. (2) There was a water station at Mile 9 that was playing Pitbull's "Ay Chico (Lengua afuera)" and was so tempted to stop running and shake my booty. A little reggaeton can go a long way! (3) After Mile 10 the course looped back near the same water station and I was also able to hear MJ's "I wanna rock with you." (4) At about Mile 3, I passed a runner that had to have been older than 80, maybe even 90. He was accompanied by someone who was probably was his son and who told an inquiring dentist that the super-aged runner was a retired MD running yet another marathon. Can't get much more awesome than that.
Training could have been more rigorous but it was consistent: I signed up for a circuit training weight course at school that I attend two times a week and I have been running about 5 miles a week since May, increasing the mileage in the last month before the race. I have a few strange traditions and rituals I do/complete before a big run, some too private for the internet. I'll share one: I listen to music on the way to the race to pump myself up and to get a song in my head to mentally sing, kind of keeping a cadence. For this race, Viva! The Killers.
Races are fun! Nothing compares to the energy of the runners lined up at the start line. My adrenaline rushes, my pulse races, my spirits are high. The half marathon distance (13.1 miles) is perfect for me. The distance is long enough for me to get in the zone (runner's high) and to hit a short yet surmountable "wall."
Unlike Revlon 5k run/walk, the LB marathon saw less people with tribute signs--the ones that pull at my heartstrings--but there was a good share of runners and walkers with the Leukemia and Lymphoma society. It's so motivating and inspiring to dedicate your run to someone who cannot be there themselves because of illness, injury or death. That seems starkly morbid, but I didn't know how else to put it. I didn't have anyone specific to run for, but I had a handful of people on my mind: a friend's father suffering from cancer and running a fever this weekend; another friend's baby whose corporeal heart shall one day be as strong as the love he gives and receives; my grandma and last living grandparent whose mental faculties and memory are slipping as her body gives way to age; and at the risk of sounding egotistic I run for my health, my future and myself.
I made it a goal of mine to run 300 miles between May and the end of the year and signed up for the half-marathon as a way to help myself keep up the mileage. For those of you who also visit my facebook page, the number in my status represents the number of miles I have run so far. Big thanks to those who openly (or telepathically) root for me and my running achievements. If you want to run, it's all possible.
Run, Baby, Run!
Highlights? (1) I hit my high running alongside the beach (must have been in Belmont Shore) with small waves crashing to my right. (2) There was a water station at Mile 9 that was playing Pitbull's "Ay Chico (Lengua afuera)" and was so tempted to stop running and shake my booty. A little reggaeton can go a long way! (3) After Mile 10 the course looped back near the same water station and I was also able to hear MJ's "I wanna rock with you." (4) At about Mile 3, I passed a runner that had to have been older than 80, maybe even 90. He was accompanied by someone who was probably was his son and who told an inquiring dentist that the super-aged runner was a retired MD running yet another marathon. Can't get much more awesome than that.
Training could have been more rigorous but it was consistent: I signed up for a circuit training weight course at school that I attend two times a week and I have been running about 5 miles a week since May, increasing the mileage in the last month before the race. I have a few strange traditions and rituals I do/complete before a big run, some too private for the internet. I'll share one: I listen to music on the way to the race to pump myself up and to get a song in my head to mentally sing, kind of keeping a cadence. For this race, Viva! The Killers.
Races are fun! Nothing compares to the energy of the runners lined up at the start line. My adrenaline rushes, my pulse races, my spirits are high. The half marathon distance (13.1 miles) is perfect for me. The distance is long enough for me to get in the zone (runner's high) and to hit a short yet surmountable "wall."
Unlike Revlon 5k run/walk, the LB marathon saw less people with tribute signs--the ones that pull at my heartstrings--but there was a good share of runners and walkers with the Leukemia and Lymphoma society. It's so motivating and inspiring to dedicate your run to someone who cannot be there themselves because of illness, injury or death. That seems starkly morbid, but I didn't know how else to put it. I didn't have anyone specific to run for, but I had a handful of people on my mind: a friend's father suffering from cancer and running a fever this weekend; another friend's baby whose corporeal heart shall one day be as strong as the love he gives and receives; my grandma and last living grandparent whose mental faculties and memory are slipping as her body gives way to age; and at the risk of sounding egotistic I run for my health, my future and myself.
I made it a goal of mine to run 300 miles between May and the end of the year and signed up for the half-marathon as a way to help myself keep up the mileage. For those of you who also visit my facebook page, the number in my status represents the number of miles I have run so far. Big thanks to those who openly (or telepathically) root for me and my running achievements. If you want to run, it's all possible.
Run, Baby, Run!
Saturday, April 5, 2008
A Day at the Races
Today was the Santa Anita Derby and Derby Day 5k. Part of my course was on the dirt of the race track itself... it was fun to pretend i was a thoroughbred. I ran with humans in the morning and watched horses run in the afternoon. Here are pictures from the pony races:
View of the infield, where there was a beer garden. I had a Blue Moon Belgian White and a Mirror Pond Pale Ale (yum).
Mmm. Hot dog. I know, hot dog buns have sugar. But I deserved it after the awesome job I did during the 5k run a few hours before. I still haven't looked up my time, but it was under a 10 min/mile pace.
Deserved the beer too. Yes, that is 3 glasses in one. BTW, they say it's customary for a lady to wear a hat when she goes to the races...
Me and the track.
The Santa Anita Derby is actually one race out of like 11 for the day. I think it was televised somewhere in the world. Look at the ponies go!
We were too late to place a bet, but I was rooting for Meeting with Destiny (30 to 1 odds). She came in second to last.
For the next race, I bet on the Longshot... Quiet Warrior, #7.
Uproarious laughter! This is my Quiet Warrior, my Longshot, in the paddock. Definitely looks the part. If you're curious whether her expression is normal, it isn't. She was the only one i saw who had her tongue hanging out like this.
My bet.
There she goes, Quiet Warrior, in last place! It REALLY would have been something if she won. A story for the grandkids. Alas.
I threw my ticket and my friend Steven's ticket on the ground in defeat.
Thought it was random.
What a winning horse should look like. Her name is Missit.
And she won! Steven gets to buy me In-n-Out now.
(Not my horse / bets.)
Took out my frustrations another way.
He's okay. No complaints.
View of the infield, where there was a beer garden. I had a Blue Moon Belgian White and a Mirror Pond Pale Ale (yum).
Mmm. Hot dog. I know, hot dog buns have sugar. But I deserved it after the awesome job I did during the 5k run a few hours before. I still haven't looked up my time, but it was under a 10 min/mile pace.
Deserved the beer too. Yes, that is 3 glasses in one. BTW, they say it's customary for a lady to wear a hat when she goes to the races...
Me and the track.
The Santa Anita Derby is actually one race out of like 11 for the day. I think it was televised somewhere in the world. Look at the ponies go!
We were too late to place a bet, but I was rooting for Meeting with Destiny (30 to 1 odds). She came in second to last.
For the next race, I bet on the Longshot... Quiet Warrior, #7.
Uproarious laughter! This is my Quiet Warrior, my Longshot, in the paddock. Definitely looks the part. If you're curious whether her expression is normal, it isn't. She was the only one i saw who had her tongue hanging out like this.
My bet.
There she goes, Quiet Warrior, in last place! It REALLY would have been something if she won. A story for the grandkids. Alas.
I threw my ticket and my friend Steven's ticket on the ground in defeat.
Thought it was random.
What a winning horse should look like. Her name is Missit.
And she won! Steven gets to buy me In-n-Out now.
(Not my horse / bets.)
Took out my frustrations another way.
He's okay. No complaints.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Planet Granite
I love the name of this gym! It's such an awesome place to spend Sunday morning. They have regular gym equipment like treadmills, elliptical machines, weight machines, free weights, medicine balls, pilates balls, etc. And they have boulders and walls for CLIMBING!
After much psychological deliberation (e.g. getting over fear of heights, having confidence in my ability, etc) I was able to get up on the first boulder. Lesson #1 Black pants + chalk do not mix.
Then the second, where the grips wrapped around the corner. Lesson #2: Have fun, don't overthink.
Lesson #3: Falling can be fun.
Success!
Ready for the walls and ropes, mental toughness needed for top roping on the 5.2. Steer clear of the first timer!
This will keep me from hitting the ground at 9.8 m/s2 (pretending i'm in a vacuum)
Success on the 5.6 Easy peasy.
On to the 5.7, I think I needed the excess mental toughness from the 5.2 for this one. My arms were already tired at this point. Yeah so, I DO need to use my legs more.
TENSION! Much needed rest.
Success. Whew! That was a doozie.
The photo does not capture the type of pain one can get rock climbing. Try running your palm against the grater next time you make shredded cheese.
The most comfortable position for my hand. This is one of the only time I will INSIST that a guy opens all doors for me.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Yummy!
Last night I worked my 10 clinical hours as an EMT student in the Emergency Department at UCLA Santa Monica Hospital. It was freakin' awesome. I had a hard time for a bit because I was insecure about my ability, but I'm sure that will go away with experience. My shift mostly involved observing, assisting, and a bit of actual EMT-scope treatment:
I took vitals for a couple of hours with the triage nurse: blood pressure, pulse, temperature.
I bandaged up a guy whose face was torn up--the doctor gave him stitches on the top of his nose. I had to clean up his dried and drying blood and apply bandages while he winced.
One woman sliced off part of her finger with an industrial-grade potato peeler at the restaurant where she worked. It was hard to control the bleeding on that one.
There was an 11-year old unconscious girl who came in via paramedics with her mother after having a seizure. I helped move her and get a gown on her.
I watched another doctor perform an abdominal paracentesis to drain a woman's huge abdomen, swollen with fluid. The National Library of Medicine says that this could have been caused by one of many things, including Infection, Tumor (cancerous or non-cancerous), Appendicitis, Cirrhosis of the liver, Pancreatic disease, Kidney disease, Heart disease, Damaged bowel.
Needless to say, there were some interesting aromas floating around from the unkempt homeless guy whose clothes were saturated with the smell of BO and urine to the constipated patient who needed a special enema. Clean-up in that room was not so pleasant.
I think I'm going to lose half my blog readership if I continue to post messages like this one. What would that be? Down from two people to one?
This is all to say that working in the ER is neat-o. I leveled up from being a volunteer. Emergency Medicine attracts people of a certain disposition: those that are not surprised by much, who can find humor in any situation, and can hold it together when things get harry and be somewhat detached. Oh yeah, and they should be smart.
I think I've got something here. It's a match! Nursing, here I come.
Term of the day: Throckmorton's sign
I took vitals for a couple of hours with the triage nurse: blood pressure, pulse, temperature.
I bandaged up a guy whose face was torn up--the doctor gave him stitches on the top of his nose. I had to clean up his dried and drying blood and apply bandages while he winced.
One woman sliced off part of her finger with an industrial-grade potato peeler at the restaurant where she worked. It was hard to control the bleeding on that one.
There was an 11-year old unconscious girl who came in via paramedics with her mother after having a seizure. I helped move her and get a gown on her.
I watched another doctor perform an abdominal paracentesis to drain a woman's huge abdomen, swollen with fluid. The National Library of Medicine says that this could have been caused by one of many things, including Infection, Tumor (cancerous or non-cancerous), Appendicitis, Cirrhosis of the liver, Pancreatic disease, Kidney disease, Heart disease, Damaged bowel.
Needless to say, there were some interesting aromas floating around from the unkempt homeless guy whose clothes were saturated with the smell of BO and urine to the constipated patient who needed a special enema. Clean-up in that room was not so pleasant.
I think I'm going to lose half my blog readership if I continue to post messages like this one. What would that be? Down from two people to one?
This is all to say that working in the ER is neat-o. I leveled up from being a volunteer. Emergency Medicine attracts people of a certain disposition: those that are not surprised by much, who can find humor in any situation, and can hold it together when things get harry and be somewhat detached. Oh yeah, and they should be smart.
I think I've got something here. It's a match! Nursing, here I come.
Term of the day: Throckmorton's sign
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Finding things
I found my rollerblades. The adventures continue: I huffed and puffed up the hill near my house to capture a picture of a mini-goal for the season:
(It's not as majestic in the photo as it was when I saw it in the light of dawn.) Goal: I must make it to the mountain this season. Even though this is a picture of/near Mt. Baldy, any mountain will do. I am going to attempt to land several jumps. Hopefully I will not have to go alone in case I break a bone and can't drive home.
Sidebar:
In high school I had this fantasy of riding a motorcycle (a sporty one, not a Harley) and beating the boys when I raced them. They'd think they were racing a really hard-core dude, but after they crossed the finish line dejected and defeated, I'd pull off my helmet, release my long wavy raven locks and then wink at them just to rub it in. Funny, now, that it sounds like a scene or two from the modern Charlie's Angels movies.
I've never voiced it this way before, but I think I am still on this quest to be the most attractive tomboy I know. Here's to bending gender lines!
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Sweet Home Alabama?
I really cannot understand how anyone could sing this line. Though steeped in Civil Rights history including the Montgmery Bus Strikes, Montgomery definitely does not have the answer.
Usually when I travel to different cities I look into things to do, sites to see and food to eat. All the excitement builds up and I end up really liking the place (Chicago, New York, Bozeman, San Jose) and can imagine living there if I ended up there. Montgomery definitely does not have that effect on me. Not sure what Lynard Skynard saw in Alabama, but I guess it's as expected as a non-white, non-black person who's used to living a multicultural life in a major metropolitan area.
Usually when I travel to different cities I look into things to do, sites to see and food to eat. All the excitement builds up and I end up really liking the place (Chicago, New York, Bozeman, San Jose) and can imagine living there if I ended up there. Montgomery definitely does not have that effect on me. Not sure what Lynard Skynard saw in Alabama, but I guess it's as expected as a non-white, non-black person who's used to living a multicultural life in a major metropolitan area.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Tripping
Many of these pictures could have turned out better if I actually stopped and took a few minutes to compose and take the shot. But when you're in the car for over 4 hours, a few minutes can mean you can get 5 miles further to your destination-- even if though I was going under the posted 75 MPH speed limit. So, I did not stop for many of the pics. When I did, I had to set the timer-- which feels weird, but hey. It's what you do when you're alone right?
After a week, 3000 miles, many many sights and cities passed, have I gained any insight that would make me feel better? Maybe. Not really. At least I know that my sadness and pain results from the heartbreak and not a sense of lacking in courage, independence or sense of self.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
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