In the matter of a few weeks, there have been a series of events that has led to a better relationship between David and me. Before I go on to tell you about these events, it’s important that I admit that I have always thought very highly of my relationship with David. We had never had an argument; we have the same hopes and expectations from our relationship; our silliness and cuteness and level of affection work well together. That second part is the most important: we want the same things and we know what we each expect from the other – that is probably the biggest reason for our success. Some couples don’t even talk about these things. And that’s why people get divorced – the other person didn’t turn out to be who you thought they would be. Ok, I’m just speculating, but I speculate that all divorces have a core of dishonesty (especially dishonesty with oneself). ANYWAY, as highly as I thought of my relationship, there was definitely room for improvement. I’m controlling and I can act more like a scolding, lecturing mom than an equal partner. There are reasons why I morphed into this type of girlfriend – David needed help growing up into a responsible adult, he’s forgetful, and he never talked back. I also just naturally want to be in control…in general, not every specific situation.

So the first event was when my cousin Annie and her friend Debra visited us. We went out to eat at Cattlemen’s (yummy prime rib and twice-baked potato). After David calculated the tip and total for the bill, I immediately (almost instinctively or habitually) asked, “Did you do the math right?” The 3 of them had the same reaction - “Dang, Jenny.” We laughed about it and it remained light-hearted, but it looked bad on my part and it was.

The second event wasn’t a single event, but also a series. After Annie and Debra left, one of my best friends Randy came to stay with me for a whole 8 days. He had work to attend to at UC Davis, so it was like he was our roommate. I don’t necessarily act differently with David in front of people, but I got especially comfortable with Randy. So he saw me be a snappy bitch several times. Yeah, I’ll use the word “bitch.” I’ll even use the words “crazy bitch.” I don’t even remember exactly what the situations were that led to such snappiness. But there were several, and the reaction from Randy was very familiar – “Dang, Jenny” or “Gosh, Jenny.” “Crazy bitch” is an appropriate term to use. I use it semi-jokingly because of course I’m still quite sane, but it’s appropriate because often times the bitchiness is nonsense. It’s not unprovoked but it is uncalled for. Examples: David left the cheese out all day, or David doesn’t look up directions to a place he’s not certain how to get to, or David didn’t make the bed perfectly (when we were getting paid to use our apartment as a model apartment). Sometimes I’m stressed over something else and bitchiness is my release, other times it’s a habitual bitchiness. So Randy’s third-person perspective gave me a lot of perspective. I had recognized before that my bitchiness was unnecessary, and I had apologized to David many times…but didn’t change. After Randy though, I felt so demeaning and emasculating…to a man that least deserved it in the world.

With Randy’s reactions in the forefront of my mind, I was very aware of my flaws. But coincidence wanted to make sure, so then I had a lecture on personality disorders. Dr. Servis (the psychiatrist) told us we’ll recognize ourselves in several of the personality disorders, but that fact alone is very healthy. People with personality disorders are restricted in their coping skills and defense mechanisms. Healthy people have a wide range. Dr. Servis said something to the effect of “you guys might be controlling and perfectionists here in medical school as medical students, but it wouldn’t work so well if you were like that in your relationships.” I thought, “uh-oh.” I left that lecture thinking David and I need counseling, but I really am sane and my insight was enough for us to be healthier.

Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder (not OCD)
•Perfectionistic, constricted, moralistic
•Rigid, formal, emotionally cool
•Driven, competitive, overly concerned with productivity and achievement
•“Workaholic”, unable to relax
•Need to be in control

Dependent Personality Disorder
•Excessive reliance on others
•Permits others to make decisions for them
•Subjugates personal needs to those of others
•Tolerates mistreatment
•Lacks assertiveness, helpless when alone

I resemble the first, and David resembles the second. We don’t fit those to a tee, but I definitely see ourselves in them. I don’t know if David was this way before I met him, I think those traits are specific to his relationship to me. I think I might have made him that way. He’s never been a real boyfriend before…he became the boyfriend I wanted him to be. God that sounds unhealthy. I’m the reason he’s dependent? Wow, it does sound like we need counseling.

And finally, the last event that confirmed what was already confirmed – spending 2 days with a couple that had similar dynamics to David and me. Trying to be as objective as possible, I observed that she had the ability to be a “crazier bitch” than me. Now I was Annie, Debra, and Randy. I felt sympathy for her boyfriend, which is probably what Annie, Debra, and Randy felt for David. The idea that I was the reason for people to feel sympathy for David was repulsive. He literally is always kind to me.

David and I had a great conversation about all this. I told him how I sincerely don’t think he deserves to be snapped at, but I’m going to slip sometimes because old habits are hard to break, so he needs to speak up and talk back to me when I do. It’s made a noticeable difference. I’m still the responsible one and he’s still the sweetheart. But we resemble those personality disorders a little less now.

The short 6 weeks we call "summer break" in between our first and second year of medical school was very, very eventful. Eventful is the perfect word. The month of May was one of the saddest of my life: bak long died, David and I put our ferret Jake down, and my big aunt got diagnosed with breast cancer. And though I didn't know her, David's best friend Justin's sister got into a horrible car accident in May that caused her to have to relearn how to do everything.

But the other part of my summer break was incredibly insightful, stimulating, awe-inspiring, maddening, but wonderful - the Summer Institute on Race and Health. Not only did I learn things that I would never learn elsewhere, but I grew as a person and gained some much-needed humility. I also built amazing relationships with amazing people. Dr. Jorge Garcia spoke to us applicants when I interviewed at UC Davis. He left such a mark on me that day that I felt like UC Davis was the perfect school for me (and now I'm here! I'm so fortunate). Then he spoke at our Induction Ceremony, and left a mark on David. And during the Summer Institute, I got to know Dr. Garcia and his wife Dr. Jann Murray-Garcia very well, and they even invited David and me to their home for dinner and a movie. I should have blogged about all the things I learned and my reactions to them. It would have been great to share with you, whoever you are. I think I will try to blog more often now.

And lastly, the last reason my summer was eventful - bak long's funeral. It's been nearly a month, and I will try to remember the best I can. David and I got to eat breakfast with Annie, her dad, her uncle from Macau, our big aunt and big uncle, and my sister Helen. I realize I used the term "got to" like it was a privilege or opportunity, but it really was. I miss my family so much, I miss having people nearby who love me so much. And I especially felt privileged to have shared time with Annie, her dad, and her uncle from Macau when they were so busy. When I got to the funeral home, I learned from Connie some heavy information. While Connie and Tammy were helping clean out Bak Long's clothes from the home (we put all her clothes and belongings in the casket with her), they found a letter. This was surprising because Bak Long didn't leave a letter, though she had before in her previous attempts. But as Tammy read it, she realized it wasn't a letter from Bak Long. It was a letter from Bak Fu (her husband) telling her how much he loves her and how everything is going to be okay - a love letter to his mentally ill wife. That is so hauntingly beautiful - I never think of my uncle as beautiful. When I think about this letter, I instantly cry at the idea of my uncle not giving up and trying so hard to hold on to his wife. It makes me happy that their love was so genuine, but also saddens me. So of course I instantly teared up when Connie told me this. Bak Fu saw me crying and patted me on the shoulder - the closest thing to a hug for Chinese people. I actually like the way we show love. Annie's uncle from Macau, who was Bak Long's only blood relative present (except Annie of course), sobbed throughout the funeral. We all noticed, he sobbed harder than any of us did. I wonder if it's because he barely ever got to see her for 20 years. Connie gave the English eulogy. It was really sad. Connie lived with Bak Long for a year. I gave her a hug afterwards even if it was a little awkward. I got to spend time with my mom one-on-one during the funeral procession, another privilege. I can not imagine losing her, nevertheless when I was 18. After the burial, we ate at the vegetarian restaurant. And the cousins caught up with each other, joked around. We got to spend time with our baby nephew Collin, which I'm pretty sure is rare for most of the cousins. Collin loved David, and even mentioned him afterwards about "nice guy talk about Cars." He's an impressive 2-year-old. When we left the restaurant, David hit the nail on the head when he said, "The reception after the funeral are always good because they make you realize that life can and will go on." I love being close to my cousins.

Annie and Debra came up to visit me during my first week back in school. I had to bring them to one class with me. As fate would have it, it was the one class that hits exactly close to home. It was a case study about bipolar disorder and major depression. I don't know what my aunt's official diagnoses were, but Annie recognized practically all the drugs. She recognized the generic name and even knew some of the associated brand names. She was so matter-of-fact about knowing these drugs and their side effects. She's amazingly strong. I felt a little guilty that I brought her to the one lecture out of all my med school lectures that she would understand the most. But she was fine, and she continues to impress me.

What I have experienced in the past few days has been a true out-of-body experience. When I think back to Wednesday May 11, 2011, the memories I see are like scenes from a movie or TV show or a dream. I see myself experiencing the events of Wednesday, rather than feeling like I experienced it myself. Reality has 2 parts: the part that actually happened and the part where your mind has to accept what actually happened. And if something happens that you can't believe, but know is true, everything feels like a dream.

I visited southern California last week for less than 4 days. With so many people to see, I set aside Wednesday as my day to visit family in the Baldwin Park area. On Wednesday morning, I called my sister Helen, she told me "let me call you back" and I heard a siren go off. I take the phone with me to the shower because I'm positive that the siren I heard meant bad news. I actually thought my uncle that Helen lives with needed an ambulance for some reason. That was the only possibility that occurred to me.

I distinctly remember putting shampoo in my hair when my phone rang. Helen told me our aunt had stabbed herself and she was being taken to the hospital. We call her "Bak Long" in Chinese, which means my dad's older brother's wife. This was definitely sad and traumatic news, but Helen didn't tell me she died, so I thought she was going to be okay. This was at least her third attempt at suicide that I knew of, and she's always been okay. Well, survived is a better word, because my aunt was not okay.

Before I left David's grandma's house in Fountain Valley (where I was staying), I talked to his Aunt Barb and his grandma about having a BBQ the next day. Yes, right after getting news about my aunt stabbing herself, I still thought having a BBQ would be okay. Not out of insensitivity, but out of extreme optimism. I was worried about my aunt for sure, but the only outcome possible to me would be normalcy.

When I arrived at Helen's house, she and my other aunt (big aunt) had not returned yet. I called my mom to tell her of the news, she said "yeah, I know, bak long has died." I responded, "What?! No she hasn't!" And my mom responded, "oh thank god." You don't take a dead person to the hospital, right? When Helen and big aunt returned home, then I got the story:

My uncle (my dad's older brother, Bak Long's husband, we call him "Bak Fu") had heard that Bak Long didn't show up to work that morning. She didn't answer her cell phone or the house phone. Since we've had suicide scares before, Helen and big aunt had a key to their house. So Bak Fu sent them over. The story big aunt described to me was out of a movie, which is why it's so hard to believe. Big aunt found Bak Long passed out on the bed covered in blankets. She shook her with no response. When she uncovered the blankets, that's when she saw the blood and two big knives. She screamed to Helen, "Call 911!" Big aunt said the blood looked dry, at least 2 hours old. Bak long's heart had already stopped when she was found, but the paramedics revived her. So they don't take dead people to the hospital.

With all this additional information, I still believed everything was going to be okay. Bak Long was in the operating room at USC Medical Center, they were going to save her. Bak Fu, my cousin Annie (Bak Long's only daughter and child), my dad, and my aunt Tammy were already at the hospital, there was no need for us to go also. So Helen, big aunt, big uncle, and I went on with our day.

We ran errands that we were planning on running before the morning's incident. We ate lunch. We even laughed. Not only did we laugh, but I found my big aunt more funny and witty than I had ever known her to be. We were listening to Lady Gaga, and my aunt complimented how nice-sounding American music was, while Chinese music sounded so whiny with people singing about "not being able to live without you." She also seriously advised me to advise David that he’s too smart and too pretty to be working on cars, and he should be a phlebotomist. I wondered if my big aunt's humor was freed after my grandma's passing last year. Anyway, I think the four of us all felt the same way - she's going to be fine like all the other times.

Helen and I get text messages that she's finally out of the operating room (after 4 hours) and in the ICU. That's good, right? That means she's alive, right?

I texted Annie to see how she was doing. She texted back "I'm mourning, but idk." Mourning? Why? "At least your mom's still here," I text back. "They say she's not going to make it," she texts back.

It was probably less than 30 minutes after that text that we got the news she was gone. We were expecting it for 30 minutes, but only 30 minutes. This isn't like when my grandma passed. I had weeks to prepare for that phone call.

I got to see everyone that was at the hospital for dinner. We ate at a vegetarian restaurant, because it's custom to eat only vegetarian until after the funeral. Annie's eyes were red and she asked me to go with her to the bathroom. I later found out that she's scared of her mom's ghost. Connie and I bickered at dinner. I can't blame that all on her, but I'm disappointed in both of us. I told her that I want to go into Psychiatry, and she said, "Nooooo," and I said, "don't tell me what to do." "I'm not telling you what to do," she responded very defensively. Connie knows me well on some levels, but I don't think she understands my values. So I was upset at her presumptions.

Anyway, we went to the Taoist church after dinner where we met with Annie's best friend Debra. They greeted each other with a long hug, and I cried just watching. We chanted and prayed for Bak Long. Then the church members and us sat around to discuss the funeral arrangements. They spoke in Mandarin so I didn’t understand. But when my uncle was describing the day’s events, I didn’t have to understand Mandarin to understand what he was saying.
After we left the church, Annie, Debra, and I went to go talk. Just the three of us in Debra’s car. I had my tissues on hand. Annie opened up about everything she was thinking and feeling. One of the most difficult things from this whole experience was hearing Annie describe what she’ll miss about her mom: she won’t be there to cook soup for me when I’m sick, she won’t join me in bed in the morning and just hold me, she won’t tell me to wear a sweater, she won’t fold my blankets. It was perfect that the three of us were there together. Annie’s my favorite cousin and I’m hers. Debra is her best friend, whom I made my honorary cousin. I wasn’t there for my family when my grandma passed and I was okay with that. But I had to be there for Annie. The timing of my visit worked out perfectly. It kind of feels wrong to use the word “perfect” in this situation, but I believe I was meant to be there for Annie.
The other most difficult thing from this experience was waking up the next morning. As soon as I opened my eyes, I awoke to the reality that my aunt was gone and that she died so traumatically. I started sobbing the moment I woke up. David and I then went for a walk, and it helped stop the tears.
Our plans were to leave for Davis that day (Thursday). But not before seeing Annie one more time, and not before helping my family somehow in some way. And we did help out in a small, but meaningful way – we helped move the mattress on which my aunt had died out of the house. As we walked to the bedroom, I asked David if he was ready. He said no. There was some blood on the floor, and the mattress had a circle of dried blood. It was like a scene from a movie, and that’s what it felt like. A movie. Yes, there was a dark red circle on the mattress, but my reality didn’t believe that it was my aunt’s. It was a king-size mattress and as we maneuvered it out of the house, the mattress would fold. And that’s when we saw it. I remember staring at it in shock. The blood was bright red oozing out of the mattress. As fresh as the blood I see when I draw blood on patients. It makes sense considering she lost liters of blood and it had only been a day, but it’s a sight I never thought I would ever have to see. No one does.
Bak Fu also helped us move the mattress. He’s a very serious man, who does what needs to get done. Annie told me he cried at the hospital when he kissed Bak Long’s cheek and said goodbye. I’ve never seen him cry. I wasn’t there to see it, but the image of the strongest man I know crying as he kisses my unconscious Bak Long’s cheek still instantly brings a lump to my throat.
Bak Long’s purse and sweater were sitting on the couch in the house. Like she was home. I remember staring at it too, struggling to believe that she will never use her purse again.
This tragedy was not just any death. She stabbed herself in the chest, and the knife went through to her back. She leaves behind my favorite cousin, who is about to graduate high school. She was one of the sweetest women in my life. She was so loving and nurturing and caring. But she was sick and suffering. She hadn’t been herself in the past year, the mental illness consumed her. So I am terribly sad and will miss her so much. But I’m not asking “why?” There really are no questions to ask, we can only move forward.