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Starting a business is hard. I started a local business my senior year in high school, which began as a one room operation with me, one other teacher,  and eight students. After four years, I have extended an offer to join the operation to many others, including a partnership offer to my younger brother. I thought everything was for the best; I could distribute the responsibility while mentoring my brother in this unique work experience.  Since I was going away to college, I needed people who were still in the area to continue the work.

However, things did not turn out as expected. My brother decided that I no longer had any right to make decisions since I was never around. He neglected my repeated advice and request for updates about the organization. He took everything in his own hands and refused to allow me any responsibility.

As a result, the organization regressed. Enrollment fell to less than half the previous year, and profits dropped from on the order of 5,000 to negative; that’s right, we didn’t even break even.

I suggested some changes, but after a furious email debate, it was evident that my brother and I had different visions of what the mission of the organization should be, and where the organization should go. Any normal professional disagreement would normally be settled through a bureaucratic process or civil discussion, but my brother and I just resorted to how we handle disagreements at home: name-calling and shouting. It got personal when he started crying about how he had always looked up to me and how I had abused him.

The result of the disagreement? I stepped down from the organization, handed over full responsibility to my brother, and, for the meantime anyway, have blocked all emails and chats from him.

You can fire those who work for you, you can break partnerships up, but you can’t sever your family.

Crystal,

You’ve come this far. You’ve prepared as much as you can for this exam. And you are prepared, you know it. Just take a look at your practice test scores and you’ll know that the real one will be a piece of cake. The only thing you can do now is to get in the right mood.

This exam will not be difficult. You should not be scared of this exam. In fact, it’s the exam that should be scared of you. It’s just a challenge, like a video game obstacle course, and you there to knock down all the questions. Think of the baffled look on the question writers’ faces when you’ve completed their game.

No matter what, mom, dad, grandma, grandpa, your brothers, your friends, they will all be proud of you and will always be there to support you. Look at your hand – see that ring grandma gave you before she died? She is watching you from heaven and will always guide you.

I’m proud of you too. Because you know what? You are going to be a great doctor. If this exam can help get you there, then great. But it doesn’t matter if it can’t, because you are going to follow your dreams no matter what, and you are going to do the best that you can do. In the end, tomorrow is not everything, and good or bad, its mere completion is just one step closer to your future.

Love,

Self

My grandmother died last night at 6:20 pm at 69 years old. She had finally lost the six month battle against gall bladder cancer. I’m relieved and happy for her death. In life, she was in constant pain, hanging on by IVs and medication. Still, she was strong. She rejected pain medication until the end, and held on for longer than anyone had expected. My grandfather and the rest of my family was in limbo, staying with her while she skimmed the surface between life and death, waiting for the inevitable. Death was a release for her and for everyone in my family.

At first, I felt guilty that I didn’t feel more sad. In fact, it was almost as if nothing had really happened. But that is because in my mind, I had been preparing for this moment for the past few months. I had already said goodbye to her months before she actually died.

I never got to go back to China after spring break. I didn’t want to. I wanted to remember my grandmother as she was when she was still able to talk to me, still able to tell me to take care of myself.   When I last saw her, she was waving and smiling to me as the hospital elevator doors closed. Three months later, in the pictures that my mom brought home, she had shriveled into what I imagine one of those polyps from Ursala’s lair must look like in human form.

I was similar to her in a lot of ways; she always said that I was her favorite because we were both dragons and my middle name is her maiden name, Yuan. Her home is full of her random collections: a vase from Beijing, a painting of mine, a backpack from ten years ago. She must have been the inspiration for my love of stuff, and everytime my mom came back from China she would have a suitcase full of surprises my grandma bought for me. I found this old website I had made when I was first learning html — but it shows a lot of pictures of my room and my stuff.

I regret not asking her to teach me to knit. I always wanted to learn how to knit – I had heard as a child that it helped with surgical dexterity. When I found out I had gotten into college, I called my parents in China. My mom told my grandmother, who was living with them at the time in Beijing, that I was accepted into Stanford. My grandma asked what school that was, and my mom replied that it was the best school in the US. Then my grandma was so happy she didn’t stop knitting scarves. I still have all 11 of those scarves, each one a different color, shape, and size, and each one beautiful.

15 year old me wearing all the knitted goodies my grandma made me: scarf, socks, sweater

Before I left the hospital, she slipped the gold ring off her finger and slid it onto mine. It was too big for me, so I had to wrap red thread around it until it fit snugly. It is not in a perfect circle, so I  keep bending and contorting it in all directions – but I only make it worse. I think this was her way of passing the torch, asking me to take care of those who she was going to be leaving behind; my grandfather, my parents, my brothers. I will, don’t worry.

I will miss her. She was the most happy, genuinely kind person I had ever known. She filled her life with what she loved. She is a model of who I aspire to be.

On the day of China's Olympic Opening Ceremony, she brought us these to celebrate

A family portrait three months before she died

Here is a video of my grandmother that I had made as a present for Mother’s Day

1. Color with felt tip markers
2. Play my favorite online game online
3. Catch up on favorite TV shows and Detective Conan manga
4. Take a shower and change into pj’s
5. Eat mint chocolate (esp Aero’s)
6. Listen to soundtracks from my favorite musicals (Les Mis, Wicked, Rent)
7.  Dance to my Ne-yo playlist on my bed when no one else is there.
8. Call my close friends and catch up over hour long conersations
9. Blog
10. Sleep!

This May, I made a resolution to make the most of dealing with my grandmother’s cancer. She is currently in the late stages of gall bladder cancer, and within the past few months has progressed quite quickly. However, I never really know how bad it is, because every time I call, she uses all her effort to sound cheerful, and does not let on how tired and weak she really is.

Read a previous introspective post where I grapple with the difficulty of saying goodbye to my grandmother for the last time here.

I started a twitter poll asking others how their lives have been affected by cancer, and pledged to donate 1$/response to the American Cancer Society. I hoped that this contest would not only raise awareness about cancer, but also form a support network for me. It’s comforting to know that so many others have gone through this, to whom I can seek advice.

Here are the responses to the question: How has your life been affected by cancer?

RT@ redrobinrockn oh sweetie, so sorry 2 hear that. I understand. I lost my beloved brother 2cancer. I wish I could hug you right now

RT@ mckayzoo1year breast cancer survivor.Life is good& I have hair again!

RT @lmyeaney 1 grandmother passed from throat cancer, and the other is a lung(12yrs) & breast(3yrs) cancer survivor!

RT@bnax: my mom has been fighting cancer for nearly 16 years

RT @ChoosingChange my mother has lost two close friends to cancer. When I was a teen a friend died from lung cancer

bnax@troubledcrystal my mom has had cancer for 15 years going on 16 soon and she is still fighting it every day

karebear3261@troubledcrystal My husband went into a major depressive episode after being his mother’s caregiver…she had lung cancer

inedia_bella@troubledcrystal My grandmother died from it. My aunt had a double masectomy because of it.

ChoosingChange@troubledcrystal my aunt is battling breast &now possibly blood cancer. Her amazing attitude encourages those that should be encouraging her

ChoosingChange@troubledcrystal she was diagnosed after her husband finished such intense chemo treatments that they were not allowed to use same washrooms

alicencrazyland: Lost both parents to cancer thus my mental health issues. Smoking is no joke!

That’s 10 responses for 10$

Thanks to everyone who responded!

I just finished making this present for my mother and grandmother.

Sorry for those who can’t understand Chinese. The beginning is a poem about mothers, the song is called “Invisible Wings” by Angela Chang, and the end says “Mom, Grandma, you are my invisible wings” “Happy Mother’s Day!”

Let me know what you think

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VxsxJcAiCYg[/youtube]

If you haven’t checked it out yet, a piece I wrote was featured in American Goulash, a blog about growing up in a cross-cultural environment.

Also please reply to my poll in the feedback page to let me know what you would like to see more of!

Full moon overlooks Jericho neighborhood

solitary midnight biker

Hotel worker in kilt uniform gets off work and greets his friend on bike

last bus of the night takes midnight commuters home

Street lamps light up a panel of ghost houses

homeless man uses store light to read

Kabob vans serve hungry late night customers until 3 am

a girl, a mailbox, and a sign post

What do you say to someone you will never see again? I only had the few minutes it would take for the elevator to come to the tenth floor of the hospital to think. There was part of me that wanted to cry and hug her and never let go, and another part of me that wanted to curse at the injustice of it all. But I swallowed both parts with excruciating effort, because you see, my grandmother didn’t know that she was dying of gall bladder cancer.

A long-time sufferer of gallstones, my grandmother consistently rejected our pleas to undergo surgery. Instead, she spent years trying various traditional Chinese medicine regimens that got her nowhere. Eventually, the pain forced her to give in. When the surgeons opened her body, they found a tumor that had already spread to other organs in her body. The surgeons discussed the situation with my grandfather, and my mother and her siblings. They decided not to tell my grandmother.

She is only sixty-nine. I don’t know who her killer is, whether it is the tumor or the stubborn faith in Traditional Chinese Medicine. The doctors say she has about a month left to live. Every morning and night she receives nutrients through an IV because she is too weak to ingest food. Every day her body is weaker, her hair thinner. She often lays in bed moaning because of the pain, but she refuses to take painkillers — she believes that pain is the body’s way of communicating to her. My parents call her stubborn; I call her strong.

We haven’t told her, and we never will. But she knows. She knows that her time is running out. When we visited her parents’ grave I overheard her praying while kowtowing. She said to herself, “Mother, father, I will be joining you soon”.

So there we were, in front of the elevator, my grandmother, my grandfather, and me; all aware of the fact that it was the last time we would all be together, but suffocated by the necessity to pretend that it wasn’t.

She removed the gold ring from her middle finger and slid it onto my hand.

I said, “Waipo, I will come to see you again and when you are better I will take you to America.”
“Yes, Waipo will get better.” She smiled reassuringly.

The elevator doors opened. I exerted all the energy in my facial muscles to force a smile as I waved goodbye. As soon as the doors closed, the tears fell.

—- To spread support and awareness for cancer, I started a poll fundraiser. Answer the question: how has your life been affected by cancer? either in the comments or on twitter, and I will donate 10 cents for every response received by tomorrow to the American Cancer Association in the name of my grandmother. I will also synthesize the responses and post them for all to read.

Me with my grandmother this summer

My grandmother during Spring Break, well into the disease