He ain’t heavy, he’s my son
I was going to give the low down on my son on his thirtieth birthday. It would make a good giggle for his friends. Being the wonderful and sensitive mother, I sought his permission first. He refused to give it. So sorry folks. Christel, maybe I give you a copy as your birthday gift?? :wink-wink:
However, 30 years old is a milestone. I do want to write something to remember this event by. So here goes.
When Jonathan was a baby, we lived in Dover Close East on the 22nd floor. One morning, I did some marketing with him in tow. When we reached home, to our horror, the lifts had broken down. He was due for his milk soon, so this mother carried him in one arm, groceries in another and climbed 22 stories. Err and he was heavy after about 3 floors. Thankfully I was only 26 then, and though I was huffing and puffing, we made it home.
When he was 4, Alan won a ticket to Japan. We decided to bring Jonathan along. The trip included a visit to Tokyo Disneyland. At one point, Alan traipsed off to go on a killer roller coaster ride, and I was left with Jonathan. We were exploring the theme park, but after a while, Jonathan said, “Legs tired.” What could mum do but to pick him up and to carry him. Soon he noticed that I too was getting exhausted. He looked at me and said, “Mummy, you are tired too. Put me down. I walk.” My heart melted.
These two incidences remind me that having a child is physically tiring. A child can become heavy in our arms. However, bringing up a child is much more than physical exertion. Children can weigh us down emotionally. We are carrying them spiritually too. As a parent, we feel every roller coaster ride they are on. We are excited with them, rejoice with them, go through spiritual highs and lows with them. This is a never ending journey. It matters not if they are 3 or 30. We will still be carrying them in one way or another.
Nevertheless, they bring us much joy, much pride. No matter what we go through with them, they will always be the loves of our lives. And yes, they ain’t heavy, they’re our children.
Blessed birthday my son. And no I have not forgotten the child who ran to the gate every evening as I come back from work, shouting gleefully, “Mummy, Mummy!” That always made my day worth it. Nor will I forget the child who said he would hug his mummy every day.
To many more years of happiness with Christel as the primary woman in your life. Love her as you loved your mummy when you were a child, unconditionally and unreservedly. May both of you enjoy many years together. And you are not just lucky to have found each other. You are highly favoured of the Lord for he who finds a wife has found a good thing indeed.
By the way, Lucky is the first and only real song I’ve ever heard you sing!
Filed under: Health Challenge 2014 Part 2, Health Issues | Tags: cancer, philiippians 4:6
So after discharge from the hospital, I was really doing well. You cannot believe how wonderful it was not to be vomiting and to feel bloated all the time. Of course I had lost lots of weight and was pretty weak, not having eaten much in two months. I thank God that previous medication had made me put on a lot of weight, so even with the weight loss, I still did not look too haggard.
Just when I was happily recovering, I noticed issues with passing urine. The flow seemed a little less. I was also having some problems with bowel movement. The latter I put it down to post surgery recovery, since I thought it might take a while for the intestines to settle and resume normal function.
One evening however, though I felt the need to go to the toilet, I just could not pass urine. If it did happen at all, it was with great effort and the volume was small. I think I waited about 2 days before I told the family I needed to go to hospital to get a catheter in so that the urine could be drained. I chose Alexandra Hospital again.
I was upset as you could imagine. That started hospital stay 3. The doctors said that the best scenario would be that this was due to urinary tract infection. They tested and confirmed that I did have a urinary tract infection. However given my medical history, it could be due to spinal cord compression – the major challenge in 2013. They gave me antibiotics to clear the infection. The neurological team also came to see me and suggested that if I could not pass urine still, I would have to go back to SGH for my MRI because it would be easier for my oncologist, who is based in National Cancer Centre to follow up. True enough, after the infection cleared, I could not urinate. My husband and my maid had to learn how to use the intermittent catheter before I could be discharged.
Before going to the hospital, I was really dreading that I could have a nerve issue that might render me unable to pass urine permanently. Somehow after I was told this could be a problem, it did not bother me that much. I just refused to allow something that I did not have any power to change affect my spirits. So I got discharged and went home to a delighted dog which would not let me out of his sight.
Thus began many trips to SGH. I had to do a bone scan and an MRI of my spine immediately. They were rather costly, I might add. The bone scan revealed a very weak left femur. I had broken my right femur in 2012 – the major challenge that year. Now the left looked dangerously weak. The orthopaedic surgeon insisted on immediate surgery to put a pin in to strengthen the left leg. That was hospitalisation no 4. Surgery was extremely smooth and I thank God for doctors who are so ready to help out at a moment’s notice, never mind that I am a subsidised patient.
Back to the MRI. You know that something is wrong with your scan results when instead of letting you off immediately after the scan, there is a lot of hush-hush consultation, and doctors are called in. I did have a collapsed vertebra –T12 in 2013 and a “cage” to protect the spinal cord had been put in place. In 2013, they also put in many pins to support other weak vertebrae. I jokingly told the surgeon after the surgery that I was a “pin-up” girl! In December I went for a follow up x ray and check-up. I was told that everything was ok, so I really could not believe that there was anything wrong with my spinal column. Unfortunately, I was told by the radiation oncologist on duty that a tumour had grown and was pressing against my spinal column in roughly the same spot. The anxiety that hung over that room was really quite depressing. He suggested that I might have to go through another surgery to have that tumour removed.
Lots of hush-hush consultations later, I was told that any surgery would be too dangerous. Instead I would have to go through targeted radiation in an attempt to shrink the tumour. In the meantime I was loaded with steroids and painkillers. Actually at that time, I was having quite a lot of pain each time I moved. The steroids worked wonders.
To cut a long story shorter, after the surgery on my left femur, I went through a series of radiation that made me extremely tired. I was really cheerful through it all though, probably supported by prayers of friends from everywhere. The steroids made my face bloat and I felt so ugly! Still, I was hopeful and trusting in the Lord.
On the last day of the radiation, I was elated. We went shopping and lunch out at Vivo City. It must have been the first time in years I went out shopping. You see, after I became less mobile in 2012, after the first leg surgery, Alan had gone to Myanmar to work. I was able to walk with a walking stick, so I did not have a wheelchair. That meant I could not walk far and shopping was out of the question. Furthermore, all the children were working and there was no one free to go traipsing with me in the off hours. As a cancer patient I prefer to avoid peak hour crowds as my immunity was challenged.
So just imagine the joy of just being in a mall for the first time in aeons. I bought some clothes to lounge at home – thank you Uniqlo. I had a great lunch at Madam Kwan’s for Penang food. I had my ear re-pierced-one of the ear holes had closed. I bought myself purple gold – for it was going to be my 55th birthday soon. When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I was only 41. I wondered then if I could live to 55 – the retirement age then. I made it, and was determined to buy something to commemorate this wonderful blessing.
I had a blast.
I was hoping that would be the end of my health trials this year. Alas, that was not to be.
Be anxious for nothing but in everything by prayer and thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God and the peace of God that passes all understanding will keep your heart and mind in Christ Jesus.
This verse will not exist if there are no situations that can cause anxiety. The key to rid oneself of anxiety is through prayer and thanksgiving – and if we are too weak to do it ourselves, thank God for brothers and sisters who will pray on our behalf! The end point is not necessarily the removal of the trial – but rather a peace that surrounds.
That is the verse that keeps me going this season.
Filed under: Embrace Life
We were having dinner the other day when my dear cousin Doreen made mention of the pain she is having. I smiled and asked her, “Are you talking to me about pain?”
An elderly aunt who loves me dearly showed me her walking stick. She is extremely sprightly but a recent fall has made walking difficult. “I told her, Nak Ee, you are doing so much better than me!”
I was certainly not the youngest of the two table crowd, but one of the youngest in my generation. However, I was the only one in a wheelchair.
In case you are wondering, my retorts were not bitter. They were said with amusement. I think the point I was trying to make is not so much come pity me, but come let us remember with thanksgiving what we already have and been given all these years.
The other night I dreamt I was shopping in a mall. I was walking freely. When I awoke, reality struck. I can barely walk 100m with a walking frame before I feel exhausted. I posted this on facebook, and I think some of my friends were worried I might get depressed or discouraged. Actually it did not affect me that much. I AM grateful that I can walk at all.
Not including the hours I could walk just window shopping, I used to take morning walks along the river next to my apartment. When I was recovering from a broken leg, I used to walk up and down the corridor and chatting with neighbours through open windows. Now I only walk from dining room toliving room several rounds as my routine exercise. How art the mighty fallen.
Well does it get to me? Of course it does. I will be lying if I say it doesn’t. However I do not allow it to make me depressed. To me, being depressed and upset will not get me anywhere. I might as well get on with life as best as I can. Be grateful for what I can still do despite 5 hospital stays and 3 surgeries this year alone.
You see, we can focus on our problems. Or we can focus on living. If I nearly died 4 times this year alone, then God cannot want me to go to Him just yet. I have to continue living until my time is up. Do I live miserably? What’s the point? I may as well live as happily as I can. I’m grateful that I was able to walk before. Imagine if I were born unable to walk at all. I’m grateful I had the opportunity to travel, friends who care for me, who pray for me.
Do I feel sorry for myself at times? Sure I do. Sometimes when I see my facebook friends travelling with the husbands or their families overseas, I feel envy too. I wish I could travel with my family, to spend bonding time together. Travelling is not going to be easy for me for the time being. I feel bad that Alan has to give up working full time for me. I feel bad that I’m a financial drain. I feel bad that at this point of our lives, when we should be spending time just going for holidays together, I’m binding him at home so much.
I try not to dwell on these.
If I am a financial drain, I trust that God will be my provider. I refuse to be an emotional drain, though sometimes the flesh does get the better of me. There is still so much to be grateful for.
All of us have problems. My cousin’s pain is no less painful just because I am in pain too. My aunt’s frustration is no less frustrating just because I’m younger and less mobile than she is. There is no comparison when it comes to personal trials. It’s never about being who’s the more “poor thing”. That’s not the point. The point is really in knowing that there will always be someone who is in a worse position than you , yet is trying to live day by day. That person is usually an ordinary person who has to take one step at a time. The same can be applied to all of us. Take one step at a time. If we have to live, make a choice to live as happily as we can.
Right now I can hear the birds singing happily outside my window. I’m reminded of Matthew 10:29-31
“Are not two sparrows sold for a cent? And yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. “But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.”So do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows.
Let me leave you with a song
Oct 16 2014
Filed under: Health Challenge 2014 part 1
It has been an extremely difficult year. It started end of last year really.
Round about Christmas, (Dec 2013), I started vomiting. The assumption was that I was suffering from gastric flu. Then it stopped and was followed by a spate of coughing. I did not think too much of it. In January, it resumed again. The vomiting was a little strange because it was mainly water. I decided to see the GP, yes, you guess right, I’m adverse to going to the doctors. GP thought it was gastric, prescribed me some medication and that was that. That was just before Chinese New Year. I was so ill on the first day that I did go on the usual visitation to relatives. On the second day, dear friends who missed me paid me a visit. I was so fragile and pale. Around then, my cousin Weng Foon sent me an sms. She told me to check my blood sugar because years ago, a bout of vomiting actually signalled the onset of diabetes for her. I do have a sugar kit at home and a quick prick showed a reading of 33 plus. For those in the know, this was almost off the charts. I could have gotten into a coma. Clarence and Qin Qin who were visiting immediately decided to drive me to the hospital. – Near death incidence 1 from high blood sugar.
At SGH, I was warded, given insulin and had my blood tested. The doctors (Renal Dept) told me I could have damaged my kidneys. Apparently severe dehydration caused the high sugar count. In any case, by the next day, kidneys were functioning well. Thank God. The doctors said the vomiting was due to an infection. With the antibiotics, my blood test showed recovery and I was packed home with more antibiotics. Alan also returned to work in Myanmar thinking all was under control.
Near Death incidence 2 – wrong diagnosis at SGH
The situation improved slightly but the vomiting did not entirely stop. Two weeks or so later, I could not bear it any longer. At my daughter, Samantha’s suggestion, I decided to go to Alexander Hospital instead of SGH. This time I was seen by gastroenterologist consultants. They too suspected some form of gastric issues. I was to go for a scope and a colonoscopy. The latter required drinking 3 litres of fluid. I could not even down one glass of water without wanting to throw up. They cancelled colonoscopy and gave me the scope instead. The minute they inserted the tube down my throat, I threw up a storm. The consultant knew that I was not suffering from gastric diseases. It was more suggestive of an obstruction somewhere in the intestines. To locate the spot, I had to go for a CT Scan. The problem was I was allergic to the contrast fluid they needed to use to make the picture clearer. Without the contrast however, the obstruction might not show. So in order to have a clear picture, they injected several types of counter allergy steroids and had doctors on standby with me after the scan. I still developed rashes, but otherwise the reaction was mild.
As an aside from this very serious blog post, I was found to have an infection. So they sent me to an isolation ward. It was a fantastic room – an A1 room whereas I was a B2 (read 6 to a ward) patient. I had air-conditioning and a tv no less. Alan flew back from Myanmar just before the surgery and we enjoyed watching some Winter Olympic Games programmes together. There was also a fantastic view outside my window. Oh and did I mention immediately after the CT scan, I was bursting to go to the toilet, except I clearly couldn’t. The almost 2 month long vomiting has made me so weak I could not walk properly plus I was on a drip. I literally begged the CT Scan technicians for a diaper. I was never so grateful for a diaper in my life!
Anyway the scan indicated a small obstruction in the early part of my intestines. I was scheduled for immediate surgery. The removal of the little growth did wonders. I was on the mend in no time. Sure I missed out on all the Chinese New Year goodies. Believe me though, I was just so grateful that I was not vomiting that for once in my greedy life, I did not mind.
I am grateful to the doctors from Alexander Hospital for finding the real reason for my illness and the way they so courageously made me go through the CT Scan despite allergic concerns. While I’m on the subject of gratitude, I need to thank my cousin Weng Foon too for her timely reminder to check my blood sugar. And as if i’m at the oscars, let me thank Angi Gan for making a trip to see me at home when she sensed from my FB postings I was feeling down. I also need to thank the many people who constantly prayed for me.
Things however did not end there. There were more health challenges to come. That will have to wait another time.
Just know that by Feb/Mar 2014 I could have died twice.
I did promise to blog about my health issues. Today however, just at the tail end of lunch out with my son,
I received news of the demise of a church elder and friend. It was such sudden passing that I got quite depressed. I shall have to leave blogging about health until I’m in a better (lighter) frame of mind.
Blogging about Alan brought unexpected but very pleasant results. I received notification that someone was following my blog. The initials looked like Nim Chor’s – one of the two men I mentioned in my blog! My email registers my name as Sophia Tsang. Back in the old days, my friends only know me as Sok Liang. So in reply to my email enquiring if he is the Nim Chor, his reply was Sophia? Am I speaking to Sok Liang?
So that made me think of how I got the name Sophia.
You see, growing up, I never liked the anglicised version of my name. I mean, the surname Hng is so difficult to pronounce. As for the rest of it, even Alan took a long time to remember Sok Liang. I was horrified that I would be a butt of jokes when I start teaching … I mean Miss Hng would surely be open to all sorts of distortion … I shudder even to think about them. Fortunately I got married before I started work. Mrs Tsang was better than Miss Hng!!
I still remember that when I was in kindergarten, I could not recognise the sound of my anglicised name. My father was very proud of my Chinese name … 雪 亮. As a child, I was too. It certainly sounded nothing like Sok Liang. For the sake of my non-Chinese friends, it would sound more like Shueh Liang. Sok Liang was phonetically close to my dialect group, teochew – but I did not speak teochew, and papa always used Mandarin with me. So I did not respond when my teacher tried to mark attendance. I mean she did not call my name what?
The name in direct translation is Bright Snow. Of course the nuance of that name was lost on me. My Chinese ain’t hot. In later years I did wonder at the name. I’m no washing powder, so why would I need to be as dazzling as bright snow??? Apparently it meant glorious or radiance. So if used with the word “future”, for, instance, it would mean a brilliant future. Correct me if I’m wrong Chinese experts!
Anyway, over time, I got used to my name. Alan wanted me to add a Christian (for non -Singaporean readers, read Western sounding) name, for after all, it would make it easier to introduce me and to get people to remember my name. I resisted. He even suggested that since our daughters’ names begin with ‘S’ I should have a name beginning with the same letter. Still I resisted. I felt that I would somehow betray my papa not to mention my Chinese heritage.
One evening, I was at a Christian seminar. The speaker was speaking of the importance of names. I believe his ministry was named Glory Ministries. He spoke of how he wanted to show the glory of God in his teaching. Along the way, he mentioned how his wife resisted getting a Christian name. One evening however, God impressed upon both of them a name for her, without them communicating with each other. When they spoke to each other later, the name that was revealed was Gloria.
Somehow just then, I got my name. Sophia – meaning wisdom- a quality that was very important to me. In the car, I told my husband, “I think I’m ready for a Christian name. Do you know what it is?”
“Sophia?” he asked.
There was no doubt. Sophia it was and still is today.
Good story for you, Nim Chor? and all my precious old friends who only know me by Sok Liang. I still answer to that name, and in fact calling me by my Chinese name dates you and our friendship, which like the best wine, gets better with age!
22 Sept 2014
Filed under: Family Stories and tributes, How I met your father/helpmate of 31 years, Uncategorized
I came down for tea at the hostel one afternoon and noticed a strange looking chap. He was kinda sloppy, with jeans all torn at the knees and unkempt hair. The most fascinating thing about this guy was that he wore a goatee! What student in his right mind would have a goatee?
He was sitting with my seniors who were members of the Varsity Christian Fellowship. They introduced us, and I was totally amused. Thereafter, I saw him once in a while. He loved our free tea, and one of us would sacrifice our cake for him. All in, he was quite the quirky character.
As exams drew near, I started revising in the library at Bukit Timah Campus. I studied on the mezzanine floor, near the biology section – the favourite haunt of some of my varsity friends. I noticed Alan, for that was his name, there as well. Apparently he was doing a dissertation on algae and paints so he had to come to Bt Timah campus for the biology references. He was a Building Sc Student from Kent Ridge Campus so the Bt Timah Library should otherwise not have been his haunt. Not that he would haunt ANY library. Whenever I saw him, he would have his hands folded over his tummy, book opened on the table, fast asleep.
One evening, I was feeling particularly homesick. For the first time in my life, academia challenged me. I could not fathom how Maths worked any more. I missed my carefree life in Penang, the food and the companionship of my ex-classmates, many of whom rode scooters. I longed for a motorcycle ride, just to get the wind in my face, a feeling of freedom and to a limited extent, perhaps a feeling of being home again. Walking back to the hostel, whom should I see but Alan on his bike. He was talking to two of my hostel friends, Nim Chor and my very protective friend, Ben. I ran up to him and laughingly asked, “Alan, could you give me a ride round the campus”
“Sure!” he answered immediately, to my glee. Of course I did not notice that Ben’s face had gone white. So off we went. Every time he took a bend, he would warn me to be careful. What I did not know was he was trying to frighten me. I just had the fun of my life. I needed that ride to get rid of the feeling of desperation at studies not going well, and a homesickness that would not go away. I thanked him after the ride, adrenaline all rushing. It was only later that I learnt I earned a huge respect from him as the only girl he knew who was not afraid. In fact he told Ben and Nim Chor later that his own knees were shaking.
No, we did not get together then. Ours was a slow build up. It was a relationship built on friendship, but of course the respect I earned on the motor bike helped. Four years later we were married. 31 years come Sept 17.
Alan is not the guy I imagined I would marry. I grew up on books with very English settings. I always imagined marrying a quiet man, sitting contentedly in a wing chair, reading a book and listening to nice, soothing music. I would be reading too. What an idyllic setting! In reality, Alan has to be bribed to read a book! To sit still for hours would be impossible for him. My friends assured me that my so-called ideal guy would have bored me to tears. I know they are right!! God knew better who should be my helpmate!
Marriage to Alan has not always been easy. He is sociable to the max, but I am really a homebody at heart. My parents’ relationship was very poor, and I carried that baggage with me. It is true that we are soul-mates to each other in many ways. Still, there were some very rough times; times that made me contemplate divorce. Here is my word of caution to anyone who is at this stage. Marriage is never about two people alone, (check my previous blog post) and divorce hurts too many people. If the desire to get out of a relationship is out of pride, out of a selfish desire to please oneself, then think again. It may not be worth it.
Anyway it has been 31 years. This last year has been so difficult for both of us. I have been in hospital 5 times. I could have died 4 times. I have been in surgery 3 times this year alone. I am now barely mobile and incontinent. I had seen his worry each time I went into surgery. Alan gave up his job which was based in Myanmar because he could not leave me in Singapore unattended. This is the sort of sacrificial love a man gives to the woman of his life.
Alan has been a barrel of fun, a load of frustration. He has been frivolous when I want to be serious. He keeps silent when I need to talk to resolve disagreements. He has also made me laugh much of our time together. He made me an adventurer during our holidays when all I thought I needed was a quiet retreat. He brought me to way out places, like Rwanda, because his job was there. That was certainly not a work destination for just anybody. For Alan, it was yet another adventure. He enriched my life in so many ways. Most importantly, he has always been there when I needed him. He has cared for me not just because he is my husband and the father of my children. He has cared for me because I am important to him. For someone who has felt rejection so often in the past, his love is a balm of Gilead to my soul.
Right now, I feel I am such a burden to him, financially and physically. He assures me he does not find me a burden at all. He yanks me out to go shopping when all I want to do is to mope. Of course, he has fed me well too, which is a win-win situation seeing how he loves to eat. Without him around these past months, I would probably have been depressed and an emotional wreck.
God does send us the best helpmate we can ever get. The journey together can be heartbreakingly difficult at times. In my mind it is because the devil wants to break a good union – a family which will also ensure a secure next generation. I thank God for my three, wonderfully centred children. I was a broken doll because of the poor relationship between my parents. My children on the other hand, never witnessed such a thing in their lives. That’s the gift Alan and I gave to them. No matter what weapons of destruction come our way, if we stay focussed on God and allow Him to heal and mend, the marital relationship can and will get stronger. Both parties must be willing to put God first and each other second. It will not be a bed of roses, I grant you that. The end result though is something remarkably beautiful.
To quote from 1Cor 13:4-8
4 Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant 5 or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;[b] 6 it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. 7 Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 8 Love never ends.
Love in this passage is more about actions than emotions. To me Alan is almost there.
Alan, it’s been 31 years. I appreciate your love and care. I also want to tell you that I love you and thank God that you noticed me, all thanks to one unforgettable motorbike ride round the campus in the dead of the night.
So I broke my right leg in late October 2012. I was recovering very well until round about April 2013, when my lower left hip was giving me a lot of pain. Without painkillers, I could barely stand straight. A visit to the physiotherapist and both of us came to the conclusion that I was over compensating on the good leg and that my muscles were uneven in strength – hence the pain. It sounded logical and I did not think too much about it, and faithfully exercised as the physiotherapist had suggested.
Round about that time, I also had my scheduled visit to the oncologist. He suggested I did another CT scan, since the last was done about six months back. I am not very good with dates because I have had so many medical appointments that after a while, they’re just a blur. The day of the CT scan came. I was in quite a lot of pain. I could tell from the way the technicians spoke to me thereafter that this CT Scan probably did not yield good results – they were avoiding my eyes and telling me to be careful. This was quite unlike previous visits where they would bid me goodbye cheerily.
My ill feeling bore out the next morning when I received a call from my oncologist – it’s never good news to receive a call from your doctor so soon after any tests. He started by asking how I was and if I were in pain – definitely not good news. Then he said he was on leave that day – even worse news. I could feel fear gripping my heart. Then the real intention of his call:-
“I want you to go to the hospital this morning. I am on leave so I won’t be there. I have arranged for you to see the doctor in the walk-in clinic.”
“Why?” I asked.
“The CT scan showed something in your spinal column. We need to check you out – in fact we may need to ward you, except that tomorrow is a public holiday, and the weekend is just round the corner. There is a risk of paralysis.” Or words to that effect. He hinted that I had a fractured vertebra.
“Eh? How come I do not feel any pain on my spine?” I asked.
He said that it was possible. He also kindly added it was not life – threatening. I love my doctor – he really tries to be positive.
My daughters were in and hurriedly we made our way to the National Cancer Centre. The Medical Officer checked me out – good news, my limbs were in good working order – no sign of paralysis. After consulting with my Oncologist they prescribed me with some steroids to bring down inflammation of the nerves, and arranged for an MRI on April 30th. My oncologist also immediately contacted his colleague – an orthopaedic surgeon specialising in spinal surgery. You must remember that I am a subsidised patient with no right to select doctors. My dear oncologist did me a tremendous favour by selecting him for me.
Wow the steroids did wonders. All pains subsided and I was walking pain free – what a relief. I was sure it was a false alarm.
The minute the MRI was done, I could see everyone panicking. I was hastened back to walk-in Clinic – it was already 5pm. The medical officer was panicking. “Your spinal column is compressed to 50%.” It was clear she was scared. From thence, I was not allowed to walk and was sent by ambulance from NCC to SGH A&E to await a hospital bed so I could be warded.
I must count all blessings, big and small. The first night, I was given an air-conditioned room!! I am a subsidised patient and B2 is all I get- but this one was a former B1 ward recently converted to B2. It was not even orthopaedic ward –it was a haemolytics ward – whatever the spelling. But hey – at least I had air conditioning!
Next day was May 1, Labour Day. My surgeon came to see me in the morning – Public Holiday and all. He said that one of my vertebrae had collapsed and he needed surgery to strengthen my back, and to put in a cage to protect my spinal column. The usual tests confirmed I was not paralysed. He asked if I would be agreeable to surgery.
Did I really have a choice? Of course I agreed. I asked when. He said he could do it that day. So after numerous blood tests and goodness knows what else – he scheduled me for emergency surgery that very evening. I told him I had every confidence – because if not for my scheduled CT Scan, I would not even realise I had a spine problem. God had prepared the diagnosis in the nick of time, and He would not alert me just to let me down. He smiled. He also told me there must be two operations – one from the back and the other from the front. Of course the coward in me asked if he could do both in one sitting. He said he would try, but it would depend on the anaesthetist if I could go under for so long. He estimated at least 6-8 hours for both.
At about 5pm, I was finally wheeled in. My husband was in Mandalay and highly anxious. My girls were harassed by his frequent SMS. One went to a movie to wait the surgery out – no we do not believe in pacing outside the OT to await news like in the Chinese dramas. Imagine a top surgeon operating on a subsidised patient between 6-10 pm on a public holiday. If that is not blessing and favour of the Lord I do not know what is.
At about 11 pm I was awake and well. My girls came into the high dependency ward where I would be kept for the night. They found me smiling and immediately took a picture of me to send to my husband. The only problem was both my legs were in pain – sharp pain. They explained that during surgery some nerves could be inflamed and it would settle. They did though I do still feel pins and needles almost the whole day even now. They said it might take three months to totally settle. Such is the miraculous creations of God – our body is so interlinked that a pain in the foot has its origins in the spine. How accurate when Paul said that we are the body of Christ – if one part hurts, the whole suffers – paraphrased by Sophia. Hehe.
Alas, the second surgery was not done. I had to wait five more days – it was scheduled for May 6. Somehow, the nurses in the ward were quite drawn to me. They could not understand my cheer. One, a student nurse came up to me and said, “You’ve gone through so much but you are always smiling.” My reply, “I am grateful God saved me from paralysis.”
Another – a senior nurse came up to me and said, “You are so positive. I hope to be like you.” My reply, “Well, if I frazzle, everyone in my family will panic. No point. I only know that God protected me, and He would not allow me to know my condition in time, just to abandon me. Besides, this joy or positivity is a gift from God. It would be impossible without the grace of God.”
I put up prayer requests on my facebook status. All over the world good wishes and promises to pray came in. Before my second surgery, I told that to the surgeon.
“It’s ok doc. I am praying for you and me. In fact we are surrounded by prayers from all over the world.”
This very quiet doctor smiled and said, “Yes pray for me.”
Of course the second surgery went smoothly. In the meantime, I had the opportunity to chat with some patients – including the patient on my next bed.
She had some issues with her intestines. The doctors wanted to do a colonoscopy. Then they decided to do an MRI first. They also wanted her to sign her consent form for the colonoscopy, and told her all the inherent dangers. That frightened her so much she was in a panic.
I turned to her and said that I would pray that her MRI results would be so good, she need not do colonoscopy. I also told her to forgive her in-laws who had hurt her tremendously. I told her to harbour that hurt was like taking a poison, and she could damage her health. She agreed.
On the morning of her MRI, as she left the ward, I told her cheerfully I would pray for her. The trouble was breakfast was served and then I was told I would be wheeled out to see the radiation oncologist to check if I needed further treatment, and a host of things happened. I could not remember if I prayed for her. When her MRI results came out, she was in the clear – no need for colonoscopy. She was delighted – and attributed it to my prayers. How to accept the praise when I could not even remember if I prayed? So I said, “Praise the Lord.” In my heart, I hoped it was because God heard my intention even if I did not pray.
It was a long stay in the hospital – 19 days. I am very grateful to the nurses of Ward 76 SGH. So many I wanted to commend, but there is not enough space in the feedback page. The doctors and other allied medical staff were amazing. I am particularly grateful to the Cardiac Thoracic Surgeon .. blast I cannot remember his name ..Dr Soon? He came at 9pm after surgery just to remove a drain from my chest. He said it would take only five minutes, and if he did not do it that night, I would have to stay in hospital one more day. That despite his wife’s many smses to chase him home. I am grateful to you, Mrs Surgeon to share your husband in after work hours with his many patients
How did I spend my time during that long stay? I did cross stitch to the amusement of staff and patients who came around to see the pattern. I also chatted with staff and patients. To their questions on my peace of mind – I told them it was because God was with me. Truly He was.
Today, I can walk unaided – though I can only take small, limping steps. It will take time to get back to normal. I have to wear a brace to stop me from bending. The bone graft needs time to grow. I am in some pain – but barely there. In less than a year, I had undergone 3 surgeries. I think enough is enough.
So on my birthday, on the 24th of May, I asked the Lord for my birthday present.
“No more challenges Lord. I need a sabbatical from the School of Trials and Testing. I must have passed the exams by now – I just need a very uneventful year of peace for myself and my loved ones. No health issues, no career issues for my loved ones, no financial worries – just a time of rest.”
I am sure He has heard my prayers
Oh – and I must add this. I just went to see my oncologist yesterday. I thanked him for what he did and the recommendation to see Dr John Chen. My oncologist – Dr Ooi Wei Seong said he was afraid I would scold him or blame him for my condition. Me, blame the angel who was instrumental in saving me?? I assured him I was grateful. In fact so was my sister-in-law who gave him a bottle of home-made marmalade to show her thanks. He took one look and said, “Wah looks good!” A doctor who loves food and after my own heart! As he stood up to examine me, I saw him pulling up his pants.
“Hey. You’ve lost weight.” You should see the delight in his face. He beamed!
“You noticed! I did so many things to lose weight you know. I jogged, cycled. Then I overdid it – I joined the marathon. Now I might need a brace too. Let me check out yours.”
I love this doctor. Haha … and I had no heart to tell him that he was still a little tubby – and he should remain a little tubby – for that suited him more than being lean and mean.
If there’s anything I’ve learnt through these years of seeing doctors – oncologists in particular – the patient, when she is well, should learn to ask after them, and not expect just to be examined. It makes the doctors feel like a person, and not a prescription delivery auto bot- or worse a harbinger of bad news. The relationship becomes more balanced – and it is two human beings touching base, with the patient in need of medical advice which should be given with sensitivity and care, and the doctor in need of a casual relationship from a patient who knows what it means to be grateful and to show concern for a doctor who is probably overworked and stress.