Cancer – Beyond the Diagnosis

No one can quite prepare for the pronouncement.

“The biopsy shows the tumour is malignant.”

Sitting there, a million thoughts raced through my mind, or at least I assumed they did. I cannot even remember if I thought ahead and worried about a whole host of things, or I just sat there, bewildered and so traumatized my mind was a blank.

I was 42. To all intents and purposes, I should not be diagnosed with cancer. I had done all the right things – I was not on the pill, except for a few months right at the beginning of the marriage, I had children young, the youngest child was born when I was only 31, I breast fed all my children, I ate reasonably well, was mildly overweight – but that was about it. I did have a very stressful time in the year 2000. Surely that was not enough to cause this “sudden” tumour? Just in 1 year?

The “whys” and “how comes” soon gave way to thoughts of the children. My son was going to do his A levels the year after and my youngest should be preparing for her PSLE. Important exams and they certainly should not have to worry about mum on top of all that. What could I do to minimize their worries and their fears? In the midst of all that, I remember thinking it was a good thing I got married and had children young. Imagine if they were still toddlers!

After a harrowing time in the hospital, getting registered and signing forms so as to be ready for an almost immediate warding for surgery, it was time to go home to break the news to the children. That must surely be one of the most difficult things I had ever done in my life.

By the time we got back, it was almost dinner time. My husband and I forced ourselves to eat. After dinner, we sat the children down and told them the news. I was careful to mention people who had cancer and still lived to a ripe old age. Still, the silence that ensued was so uncomfortable and so unnatural. My husband was uncharacteristically quiet. The patient had to do something to alleviate the tension.

“It’s okay.” I chirped with a cheerfulness I really did not feel. “I have no intention of dying and leaving you to your father. I cannot trust him to feed you properly. He will only give you junk food, and you know I will not have that.”

Uneasy giggles and a mock protest from the husband followed. I could not bear the tension, so I said, “Now, let us go shopping.”

We went to the malls, a normal family on an evening out. It was the quietest shopping trip I had ever made, but it was better than moping at home. In any case, for the youngest one at least, it reinforced the idea that cancer was just an illness and one that could be controlled, if not totally cured. Besides we had God on our side.

Did I panic, did I cry? Of course I did. I did that when I was alone in the mornings. I prayed and complained to God. I verbalized all my fears.

It was not easy. I had to come to terms with death. I had to accept that possibility and to check my spirit if I really believed what I had been professing – that I believed in eternal life and salvation through Christ Jesus. I also had to surrender my children to the only parents I could trust them to – my God, and with His guidance, my husband. I had to convince myself that without me, their lives could still be amazing. It was immensely difficult, and there were upswings and downturns. By the grace of God, there were more ups than downs, and I found peace slowly being more dominant than fear.

With that settled, I began to fight to live. You see, I could only fight when the most negative outcome – death – had lost its sting, and when the most crippling emotion – fear, was replaced with calm.

I was not afraid of death, but I was not going to be cheated of life. I was not afraid of death, but I refused to allow my children to be deprived of a mother, if I could help it.

The fight continues today, ten years after the first pronouncement. How to fight? The most important battle is in the mind and in the emotions. I refuse to allow cancer to occupy my every thought. I refuse it to control how I feel. Sure a good medical report uplifts the spirit and a poor one can throw me into depression. I try though not to wallow in the emotions. I allow some time to work the issues out, but I have learnt not to allow negative emotions to dominate my life.

I have a life to live – and cancer is just an obstacle along the way. There are many other challenges in life, and some of these, especially when they involve the children and the husband must take precedence over needless anxieties and fears.

Many cancer survivors/patients talk about how cancer taught them to live life more fully. I have never felt that way. Cancer or not, I live life the way I would have lived life – in my own laid back manner. I do not give cancer any credit for the way I live, nor do I blame it for the not so positive aspects of my life. Yes I do have an issue with the medications I have been on – they really made me weightier! And yes it has made me more aware of healthcare and its attending costs. Nonetheless, cancer is just what it is – one of the ailments that afflict human beings, a nuisance we need to learn to live with until it can be eradicated for good.

I do feel immense sympathy for those cancer patients who suffer much pain and agony. I am by no means downplaying their suffering. But for those whose life is still fairly normal, and life can be almost perfectly normal, do not allow cancer to control you. Avoid moping. Acknowledge its annoying presence. Embrace the joys that surround you, if you will only open your eyes to see them.

And live on.

This was first published by  publichouse. For the record, MOS Tan Chuan Jin wrote me an encouraging email after reading this article. Thank you for the kind concern sir.

Sunrise Sunset

Sunrise, Sunset

 

Sunrise in the Serengeti

Many years ago, far too many for me to want to remember, I was a freshie at Raffles Hall. Those were the days when “orientation” games were “optional”. I did not regret participating, though some of the games were really rough. It toughened me and certainly taught me EQ very quickly. I was a survivor then and I am a survivor still!

 

In any case, my seniors found out very quickly I could sing. One night, someone requested a song from “Fiddler on the Roof”. The song was “Sunrise Sunset”. I went on to sing this for the inter-hostel talent-time and won the second prize. That song somehow became my signature, and every now and then, someone would shout out to me, “Hey Sunrise. Can sing the song again?”

 

In the movie, the song was sung at a wedding, at the cusp of the holocaust. It was a bitter sweet moment for the couple and for the parents as they reminisced. It was a song about parents wanting to impart wisdom to the children, the passing of childhood, hope for the future – yes – it is an “emo” song. Now that my son is going to get married, this song and the lyrics are occupying my mind.

 

More than the wedding, this song reminds me of the glory of a wondrous sunrise, and the beauty of a splendid sunset.

 

We all love the sunrises of our lives – the birth of a child, the start of a new dream, our wedding day. We anticipate the moment, and we cherish these wonderful events. We look forward to the days after, nursing hopes and dreams. And so we should.

 

We often neglect to appreciate sunsets though. The chorus of the song goes:-

 

Sunrise, sunset

Sunrise, sunset

Swiftly fly the years

One season following another

Laden with happiness and tears

 

Between sunrise and sunset, we bask in the glories of success. Between sunrise and sunset, we toil in patient hope. Between sunrise and sunset we weep in desperation. The highs, the lows and the plateaus, we have journeyed through them all. If hopes and dreams are the ingredients for the wonderment of sunrise, then the journey through mountains, valleys and plains surely are the spices of the poignant sunset.

 

Too often we fail to appreciate sunsets. I was not there to see the sunset of my uncle. When I cleared the ancestral home before handing over to the new owners, I found stacks of letters I wrote to him when I was away. You cannot imagine how I felt then – I felt so loved. Yet I missed being there in the last years of his life. I missed witnessing how like the best aged wine, his journey had made him who he was, the love he showed in his quiet way, his fierce protection over his family, including his sister’s daughter, his sisters’ children.

 

I was not there for my mother’s sunset. Hers was a life of insecurity, of sacrifice and of love. I was not there enough to fully appreciate how that translated in the last years of her life. She died suddenly after a car accident.

 

My mother-in-law is now in her eighties. She’s a dream mother-in-law, always cheerful and encouraging. These days, she’s frail. Mentally alert still, and always enjoying food, one day she told my daughter, “Sarah, when you get a good job, buy crabs for your ma-ma with your first pay, ok?” My daughter said to me later, “Ma-ma is so cute.” Indeed she is. She is getting difficult now, probably frustrated by her lack of mobility. She can be trying and cranky. Thankfully, the joviality and warmth which characterize her life is still very evident and much appreciated by her grandchildren. They will sit next to her, talk into her ear since she is hard of hearing, laughing at her off-tangent responses because she misheard, stroking her wrinkled hands or allowing her to stroke their hair as they keep her company.

 

Yes, old people can indeed wear our patience. They can be exasperating and oh so unreasonable. If we can take some time to look beyond the difficulties, there is still much beauty, so many stories and so many lessons to learn. You can weave many a tale using the lines on the face and the hands. What you need is time and patience to appreciate the beauty of the sun getting ready to set, of a life that has journeyed part way with you.

 

Some years ago, I worked in an insurance agency. There I was exposed to the stark reality of death. One day, my boss decided that instead of just bringing some relief to widows and heirs, we should bring some Christmas cheer to old folks in homes and critically ill patients in hospices. We would be caroling and bringing some gifts. I still remember that one of the songs we chose was “ Yi Jian Li Wu” or  “A Gift”.

 

The chorus went

 

Sheng ming you xian, shi guang ye hui zhou, ru guo ni bu zhen xi, ji hui nan liu…..

li wu shui ran hao, ru guo ni bu yao, ni zhe me neng gou de dao, zhe me neng de dao.

This means life is fleeting, time waits for no one. If we do not appreciate opportunities as they come, they may be lost forever. No matter how wonderful a gift is, it is only as good as it is accepted and valued.

 

As we sang those lines, there was commotion from a room. The nurses were in a frenzy, there were shouts, then silence. A blanket covered a still face and tears streamed down my face.

 

Sunset Serengeti

As we come to terms with an aging population, do we even try to make sunsets as beautiful as they can be? When we talk about increasing our young by importing foreigners, we are concerned about the economic viability of our country. These foreigners will probably miss the sunsets of their loved ones back home, just like me with my uncle and my mother. Here inSingapore, the struggles of life, the insufficiency of affordable elderly care will cloud the sky and mar the sunsets of our own elderly or sick. What are we doing with regards making it easier for the younger ones to look after their aging elders, their chronically ill family members? We are human beings before we are citizens, we need help.

 

How many photo moments have we lost, when we got there too late, and the sun had already set? The same is true of life. After sunset is darkness. We need to make a concerted effort, as individuals and as a country, to try to be there.

 

Cheer up! It’s not all gloom and doom. There is still the moon and the stars – the memories that we have, that lingering on can still encourage us and move us. Still, try not to miss sunsets, for they are beautiful.

 

As for me, I am going to enjoy a glorious sunrise…my son is getting married!!

 

First published by Publichouse.

 

Creating Thinkers and Pioneers

Like Adam Khoo, read hereI too have had the opportunity to compare local students with foreign ones, specifically in my case, Taiwanese and Chinese students. The foreign student typically starts off weaker than the local, but before too long, she surges ahead. Like Adam Khoo, I, too attribute this to an intense hunger, a need to justify the price the family paid for giving them this opportunity. Unlike Adam Khoo, while I am pleased with their results, I do not see this necessarily as a good thing. At least not all the time.

 

I cannot speak for other races, given my limited knowledge of their culture, but for the Chinese, since ages past, education is the way to move up the social ladder. Centuries ago, the imperial exams can turn a pauper student into a powerful magistrate. It is hoped that the truly intelligent and gifted will be found to serve the country. This is something we have believed for centuries, and form the basis of meritocracy.

 

The question is how relevant is this today?

 

Since education has been largely subsidized, almost all children can afford to go to school. Parents skimp and save to send children to extra classes. They buy practice worksheets, or what we locally call assessment books, look for sample exam papers and make the students practice endlessly. Practice does make perfect, and it is frightening how many are scoring distinctions these days. Doubtless we are more and more adept at answering exam questions. Does it necessarily mean that the children are smarter?

 

This is the problem. The examination system is not an error-free indicator of intelligence or knowledge. It is a pretty good indicator of diligence and perseverance. That is why the foreign student scores very well. Most of them know they have too much to lose plus they subscribe to the adage, hard work never killed anyone.

 

We are motivated by success, and will pursue the same paths that gave us this success. Is there any surprise that in general, Singaporeans are credited with being extremely industrious, but also seen as people who essentially only toe the line? We work doggedly, uncomplainingly, efficiently. Typically too, there is very little risk-taking involved – hence the “kiasuism” that is so prevalent – we just do not want to rock our boats too much.

 

The foreign students who studied here are likely to have a similar attitude as they join the workforce. We have replicated a newer model of ourselves. There are added incentives for the foreign students. They have seen the hardships of their parents. They know that with a good education, they can go places in their own country, when they eventually return. Or else, they can use the reputation ofSingaporeto gain them entries into other more advanced countries such as theUS.

 

The local student on the other hand, probably enjoys a pretty good life in the first place. Even with a local degree, this merely translates to run-of-the mill work, with the same old small percentage making it to the top. This small percentage is likely to be reduced with the increased intake of “foreign talents”. What incentive is there is there left? They may not even better their parents’ achievements despite having so much more. For those rich enough, they may just hope for daddy to pay for an overseas education. Who knows, maybe even migrate there for a richer, more interesting life.

 

Furthermore, given the increasing affluence of the country, is it any wonder our young ones clamour for more, but with minimal effort please? Don’t our leaders, our parents, our employers also want instant gratification and success? For instance we want instant population increase, instant cost cutting by employing cheaper foreign workers, fare increases to instantly maintain profit of a public transport company?  Why should we expect the children to be different?

 

We label the children based on a system that needs to be improved. The brilliant student may really be an impractical academic. The dunce may be the one who is pure genius. I know students who perform poorly at academic studies, but score brilliantly in the SATs or are star performers in logic courses. These students tend to be “out-of-the-box” thinkers and are probably who we need in a rapidly changing world.

 

Andrew Loh is a good example of someone who “did not make it” yet he writes better than most university graduates I know. How many others are there out there? Will they be even recognized, given our examination system? [Andrew founded The Online Citizen and now heads publichouse.sg as Editor-in-Chief. He only has four "O" levels and nothing more.]

 

If we want to move on, we need to seriously look at our education system and our examination methods. We should review how we rank schools and not just base it on how students fare in their public examinations. We should not rate teachers according to the percentage of distinctions the students get alone. We need to foster thinking, problem solving, people skills, imagination and independence. We need to rethink meritocracy to include skills that may not be academically based.

 

Importing foreign students, then praising them for their better results, is to stay in the same old rut. We will produce the same old “intelligent” people who will restrict themselves to same old pet solutions, who will follow work manuals to a “t”, who are willing to work long hours. The stars of the show, the ones with impeccable university results, demand astronomical salaries – they think they deserve that for their sacrifice in spending the better part of their childhood years studying. We will keep reproducing the same “scholars” and stagnate while the world moves on. Sometimes I wonder if the local students, in defying this mould, are actually symptomatic of a people ready for the challenge of the changing world, a world that demands different skill sets.

 

I am not saying good results are unimportant. They are important because they are the tangible fruit that all can see. The process of getting good results however is even more critical. It is this process that will produce thinkers and pioneers instead of  mere workers and followers.

 

This is first published in PublicHouse http://www.publichouse.sg/categories/features/item/74-creating-thinkers-and-pioneers

Marriage is a crowded dance

Who can forget the expression on Princess Diana’s face as she said softly, “Well, there were three of us in this marriage, so it was a bit crowded.” There was so much pain reflected in those eyes, in the slightly bowed head, the pursed lips. Hers was a pain of rejection, but it did not start with her marriage breakdown.

 

We have been misled. When we were young, the ending of fairy tales tells us that after marriage, we will live happily ever after. The romantic comedies tell us that marriage is about two people. We have been taught that “Two is company, three is a crowd. We hear pet statements like, “I am marrying you, not your mother.”

 

I hate to be a party pooper – but marriage is about crowds.

 

If you read about Princess Diana’s life, you will discover that her family expected a son. When she was born, they had no name ready for her. She got her name two weeks later. She was baptized in the local church, with commoner godparents, whereas her brother was baptized in Westminster Abbey, with Queen Elizabeth II as the principal godparent. Her sister dated Prince Charles before her. Her parents’ marriage failed. She was a poor student, failing her ‘O” Levels twice. This was a girl who experienced rejection after rejection from people who mattered. She was almost an afterthought at key points in her life. Hardly the CV of someone likely to succeed in anything.

 

The painful truth is Diana brought a crowd into the marriage, just as Prince Charles did. So do the rest of us mere mortals.

 

We bring into our marriage our parents and our upbringing. We bring into marriage the culture we grew up in, and how that culture shaped our expectations. We bring into marriage our hurts and our successes. We have to accept in-laws and understand that they had a hand in moulding our spouses. The more we understand them, the better prepared we will be. We have to live with at least two sets of crowds, crowds who ordinarily may not even choose to mingle.

 

When children come into the picture, it gets even more crowded. There are dependents to consider – their demands and our expectations to balance.

 

I was surfing the net for samples of marriage vows and samples of what an officiating pastor might say. I found this one really refreshing. This is taken from A Wedding Notebook.

 

For life is a dance, and marriage is the choosing of eternal partners for that dance.

 

I know, I know. The romantic in us will see the perfect waltz, the flouncy skirt swirling gently as the love-struck couple gaze deeply into each other’s eyes.

 

Can I burst that bubble again? Dancing, especially for the inexperienced dancer, means frequent stepping of toes, bumping into other dancers or having some one else trying to cut in your dance. The music might change. Just when you get used to the waltz, all of a sudden you are required to dance hip-hop.

 

Sometimes there is confusion as to what dance is being demanded of you. One could be dancing the salsa, and the other the quickstep. Even with the same song, many things could go wrong. That is why I love Perry Como’s song – “Papa loves Mambo”.

 

Part of the lyrics go:

 

He goes to, she goes fro

He goes fast, she goes slow

He goes left, she goes right

Papa’s looking for mama, but mama is nowhere in sight.

 

And don’t forget the crowds that refuse to leave. If life is a dance, and your spouse your life partner, then the dance is one where there are many people holding on to your garment as you gyrate to the song. The tricky part is how to still stay together as partners.

 

Just like marriage is not about two people alone, divorce is not just about you. When the principal dancers fall, the entire crowd holding on will trip and stumble too.

 

Sometime this month, I would have been married for 28 years. I am still learning how to perform the perfect dance. The crowds we brought in have more or less settled to the routine. Some have added interesting variations to the dance. Others have tried to dominate, and if not checked in time, could have caused the dance to fall apart.

 

Even now, occasionally, a member of this mini dance troupe might suffer arthritis, and cause me to lose my step. Even now, the dance is not perfect, and that keeps me on my toes! One thing is for certain – this dance has enriched my life and brought many more smiles than tears.

 

So before you get married, take a good look at the crowd you cannot shake. Can you learn to dance with them? While I like to watch Discovery Channel’s, “Say Yes to the Dress” I know that marriage is not about saying yes to the dress alone. It is about saying yes to the spouse and his entourage.

 

No matter what Mr Lee KY says, the marriage institution is not to be entered into lightly. Yet, don’t be too afraid. Just be prepared.

 

Cue Music!

First published in Publichouse http://publichouse.sg/categories/features/item/70-marriage-is-a-crowded-dance

when the going gets tough…

This was first published in publichouse under the title Things to praise, not things to curse … http://publichouse.sg/categories/highlights/item/50-things-to-praise-not-things-to-curse

reposting here for archives.

I was on my way for my regular check-up. I was not feeling confident, to say the least. The last half year had not been easy. I had to change medication, since my body was getting immune to what I had been taking for nearly 3 years. The next drug I was put on gave me bad side effects, and I had mobility issues and horrendous water retention problems. So I had to change meds yet again. The previous drugs had made me put on a lot of weight over the last 6 years. With this latest change, I was losing weight – finally! However, to lose 6kg in 2 months was bound to give my oncologist the jitters. So I was dreading the visit.

At the mrt station, I saw an old couple. They had streaks of white, between grey-looking tufts of hair. The man had on a pair of sunglasses – the very yesterday, two-toned kind. He looked incongruous, in his baggy short-sleeved shirt and trousers that had seen better days. The old lady had on the typical middle-aged style blouse, the kind that my mum used to wear when she hit fifty. Strange how, though I am already 52, I never dreamt of wearing this style of floral print, loose blouse with collar and short sleeves that can be found in almost every store in Chinatown.

Why did I notice them, you ask? Aren’t these typical, especially in mature estates like Potong Pasir? Yes, in appearance they are typical. What made them stand out for me was that they were holding hands.

No, they were not holding hands to give each other walking support. They were walking well enough. They were holding hands and swinging them as they walked, very much the way that good friends do. There was such an aura of care and affection that I stared at them for a while, a smile slowly widening on my face. I wish I had a camera with me, but I knew the lens could not capture what exuded from within. There was an air of comfort, an air of acceptance that this couple shared. It was quite evidently the fruit of a lifetime of being there for each other, whether life served durians, bittergourd or rambutans. This ease that they shared really made my day.

This made me pause and think. Most of us, if we have lived long enough, would have had our share of sorrows, our challenges. Life is not getting easier either. The young couple worry about having a home of their own, the middle manager is constantly anxious about being retrenched and replaced by a cheaper, foreign talent, the less healthy worry about healthcare costs, those approaching 55 wonder if their meager savings will see them through retirement…

We can choose to focus on our troubles, allow them to constantly overwhelm us. We can even try endlessly to help those in need and wonder if we can ever make a difference. We can get frustrated at the government, and lay all our ill-will at their feet. We can choose to be bitter and be consumed by angst.

Or we can choose to balance our life by looking out for situations that bring hope. In the midst of despair, many have risen and overcome, but many of us choose not to see these victories.

For me, this couple represents one such situation. They do not appear to be affluent. The lines on the faces show that their life could not have been easy. Yet, they have made it together. They are still there for each other. They hold hands when younger couples, a few years into marriage, often neglect to do. Perhaps in the middle of their journey together, their differences almost split them up – I have no way of knowing. What is important to me is that they give me hope that marriages can survive, with or without wealth.

On the way home, I complained to my husband that though I could move better, I was so slow, and tire so easily. Then we both saw an old man, shuffling along, cane in hand. He was on his own, and my husband, a tinge of admiration behind the jest, remarked that he must be moving at the speed of 5 cm per minute. Well, we could see his disability – but my husband and I saw his determination.

Success need not mean wealth. Victories are not measured by accolades. These two simple examples illustrate this.

Whenever I was depressed by how tough life was, I used to look out the window of my apartment, and stared at all the windows in the neighbouring apartments. I told myself to shut up, because there were people in worse positions than me. I thought I was clever to have found a way to console myself.

Now however, I have a different approach. I will look at the simple triumphs of everyday people. Then I will tell myself the when the going gets tough, the ordinary person can get going, one step at a time.

While we do not deny the struggles we go through, we need to give ourselves hope. Worrying and rage seldom bear fruit. Hope does. Being thankful is the best way to chase away bitterness. The good book teaches that we do best by filling our minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious – the best, not the worst, the beautiful, not the ugly, things to praise and not things to curse.

I cannot summarise it better.