In Moments of Sickness

The night before I came down with, what translation tells me, "stomach inflammation," I briefly witnessed a burial ceremony, which took place a building over from Lily's parents' home.

My understanding is that the complex in which Lily's parents currently inhabit is highly populated with elderly people, so it was no wonder that this had been the third ceremony I've seen since I've been in China. Not to be funny, but that would make it 1 death for each month that I've been in China... I'm wondering if counting down the days until I come back is really such a good idea...

The beautiful side to this is the juxtaposition that the apartment's small park serves (yeah, the very same park that I had mentioned previously in my blog). In the center of this park, there is a statue which shows a mother reaching out to her newborn, something which might indicate "youth," or, at the very least, "happiness."

During times of reflection, we begin to think more about our existence, where we're going, where we're headed in life, and what we've done along the way. But, I was just thinking about life's cycle, how we're born into something which has been in place since time immemorial. I'm not just talking about culture and history, but the earth and everything around it. God only knows - quite literally - where all this stuff came from, how long it has all been around, and the future of it.

Just like an old abandoned building that once housed many people, but is now just a backdrop for Tianjin's scenery, we too, like the leaves, grow and fall from the trees. More so, our structure becomes brittle and we begin to slightly crumble. I too felt this last Sunday, when my body took over me and began to operate me, rather than I it. First the headache, then the bizarre burping, followed by a loss of appetite. One thing led to another, and very soon I was in bed, receiving I.V. from "san yi," Lily's third oldest aunt. By no means was it a "near death" experience; rather, just another shock I felt within culture...

As it turns out, I.V., which rarely seems to be in use in America (I remember only using it maybe once or twice in my entire life), is administered fairly frequently to people in China. I only had the chills and threw up a few times, but these symptoms were enough to have me slightly bed-ridden. I was also told that anything "cold" was out of the question; a breeze, a bottle of water, a hand, a look.

In China, much like the rest of the world, it is bad practice to mix warm and cold food. Yet, in America, we do it all the time. You walk into a hamburger place and usually, with some fries and a big fat greasy one, you "wash your whistle" with some ice cold coke. But, attention to the stomach, more than just a bad chemistry experiment of hot and cold, is crucially important within Chinese concept.

As a result, the blanket was not to leave my stomach under any condition. "Gai beizi, gai beizi" (cover your stomach with a blanket) was what mama had to say when I was lying on the bed. Of crucial importance are also the feet. Both of these - the feet and the stomach - should be warm at all times. If they aren't, then you didn't learn anything in med school...

As strange as it sounds, some of the best moments come when you're sick. I remember the time when I had my wisdom teeth taken out... my mom and were with each other in the living room, watching some crappy movie... I think it was "behind enemy lines." However, this moment in time for me is like a wine stain in a porcelain-white shirt. I remember witnessing the time go by, as my mom and were just sitting there in that living room, living.

Much in the same way, mama baba and I saw the sun set, making its way across the world, to rise once again, above the land where my mother is buried.

The enjoying moment came, when I had realized that, not just I, but mama and baba too had their eyes glued to the television screen, watching the latest development in the escape of Michael Scofield and Lincoln Burrows! Yeah, "yue yu" (Prison Break) will surely have you begging for more.

I think these moments of sickness give us a chance to remember how fragile life is. No longer are you caught up in the fast paced lifestyle of making it to work, working the day, and constantly gripped with what your next move will be. No; you are slowed down; you are living for each minute as your body recovers and regains its full health. Not only are you reminded of how great it is to be healthy, but you are equally reminded of how great is to be alive.
I'll never forget my mom, just like I will never forget mama baba, nor any of you...

Love,
Mike