2018's First Update
I am still alive.
Since October, I have undergone 2 rounds of HIDAC, (High dose Ara-C) a chemotherapy regime, and have been hospitalised an additional 3 times due to fever. In end February, I started on another chemotherapy regime, together with radiation therapy, before the ultimate stem cell transplant. Was discharged about a month later in March but was warded again sometime in April due to another fever. There were times when I was at the trough. I recall one night when diarrhea was so bad I had to make 6 visits to the toilets in the middle of the night. Practically had no sleep at all. And meal times were a pain. My gastrointestinal tract was inflamed due to radiation therapy, and it hurt whenever I swallow, even saliva. In addition, I was nauseous and vomited easily, so I tried to eat slowly (not that I could eat fast anyway) and cautiously for fear of triggering a gag reflex that would in turn cause me to puke. On a few occasions, after I had painstakingly finished my meal, suddenly I would feel this tension in my chest and then, uncontrollably spew out what I had eaten. I could only watch the vomitus with frustration and helplessness.
Those have passed, and this is the period of convalescence, but I am experiencing some after effects of the chemotherapy and transplant. From minute ones like hair not growing (still less than half a centimeter now - last time I cut it was in February), to more serious ones like Graft-versus-host disease. It is currently having the greatest impact on my skin, having rashes mainly on my arms, and itch. When I get exasperated, or when the surroundings get too hot for me, I will feel as if a thousand tiny blades are tickling my skin. I avoided the use of "slicing" on purpose. Just imagine the blades, just brushing against the epidermis, enough to cause a sensation but not deep enough to induce bleeding or pain. Compared to this excruciating prickly itch, I'd rather experience pain. There is also slight itch in my eyes, and the doctor also deemed that my liver is somewhat affected by GVHD, as seen from the blood test result. Recovery is gradual, but as long as I'm still in remission and that I do not have to be warded for yet another fever, I should be glad.
Had to settle army stuff after my transplant. I had gone for a medical review on 11 April and I just received a new PES assignment. I'm feeling calm, neither is there a tinge of sadness leaving that so-called band of brotherhood, nor is there joy of being relieved from duties. As I did not take my IPPT, I had to go for a summary trial. Trust the officer to ask me "Leukaemia is an illness is it?" after I told him my reason. I also have mob manning which started yesterday, and despite emailing, getting a call back from the battalion HQ, getting an excuse memo, informing my superiors, I was still told to go through the route of applying for excuse through the NS portal. It's like doing the same thing twice. Anyway I did, and yesterday I got another call from the HQ asking me why I needed to be excused and telling me the memo did not specify for me to be excused when everything was clear in black and white. Sometimes I wonder how some people got their jobs while I fail to secure myself one.
This year, I added another Mitch Albom to the list of books I've read: Have a Little Faith. I prefer his earlier works as compared to a relatively more recent one like "The First Phone Call from Heaven". Although he likes to touch on faith in his writing, I like how he doesn't try to influence anyone into adopting a specific one. "Have a Little Faith" was written in the same vein as "Tuesdays with Morrie". He was tasked to write a eulogy for his dying rabbi, and through the frequents meetings they had, he learnt about values that he should hold dear. His rabbi only encouraged one to have a faith, and never imposed his beliefs unto others. This is a stark contrast to the deranged bishops, pastors, and whatnot that I often see or hear about.
I have extracted 3 parts from the book I personally like.
1)
"Call him! Call him!"
He was sweating, choking, fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. Finally the words were so tumbled and bumbled that it didn't sound like "Jesus" anymore, just syllabus and gurgling and mumbling, and groaning and saliva drooling from his mouth onto the newspaper. His voice and tongue and teeth and lips were melded into a shaking machine, gone wild with frenzy --
"JelesuksjesleuesJesuslelelajJelsusu--"
"You got it! He got it!"
And he had it. Or he thought he had it.
2)
The second death. To think you died and no one would remember you. I wondered if this was why we tried so hard to make our mark in America. To be known. Think of how important celebrity has become. We sing to get famous; expose our worst secrets to get famous; lose weight; eat bugs, even commit murder to get famous. Our young people post their deepest thoughts on public Web sites. They run cameras from their bedrooms. It's as if we're screaming, Notice me! Remember me! Yet the notoriety barely lasts. Names quickly blur and in time are forgotten.
3)
"Ask yourself, 'Why did God create but one man?" he said, wagging a finger. "Why, if he meant for there to be faiths bickering with each other, didn't he create that from the start? He created trees, right? Not one tree, countless trees. Why the same with man? Because we are all from that one man -- and all from that one God. That's the message."
Then why, I asked, is the world so fractured?
"Well, you can look at it this way. Would you want the world to all look alike? No. The genius of life is its variety. Even in our own faith, we have questions and answers, interpretations, debates. In Christianity, in Catholicism, in other faiths, the same thing -- debates, interpretations. That is the beauty. It's like being a musician. If you found the note, and you kept hitting that note all the time, you would go nuts. It's the blending of the different notes that makes the music."
The music of what?
"Of believing in something bigger than yourself."
No fancy words, but still able to reflect bare reality, strike common chords, and induce introspection (unless one has gone so deep that a bulwark has been formed to ward off any incoming attempts to present something different).
Since October, I have undergone 2 rounds of HIDAC, (High dose Ara-C) a chemotherapy regime, and have been hospitalised an additional 3 times due to fever. In end February, I started on another chemotherapy regime, together with radiation therapy, before the ultimate stem cell transplant. Was discharged about a month later in March but was warded again sometime in April due to another fever. There were times when I was at the trough. I recall one night when diarrhea was so bad I had to make 6 visits to the toilets in the middle of the night. Practically had no sleep at all. And meal times were a pain. My gastrointestinal tract was inflamed due to radiation therapy, and it hurt whenever I swallow, even saliva. In addition, I was nauseous and vomited easily, so I tried to eat slowly (not that I could eat fast anyway) and cautiously for fear of triggering a gag reflex that would in turn cause me to puke. On a few occasions, after I had painstakingly finished my meal, suddenly I would feel this tension in my chest and then, uncontrollably spew out what I had eaten. I could only watch the vomitus with frustration and helplessness.
Those have passed, and this is the period of convalescence, but I am experiencing some after effects of the chemotherapy and transplant. From minute ones like hair not growing (still less than half a centimeter now - last time I cut it was in February), to more serious ones like Graft-versus-host disease. It is currently having the greatest impact on my skin, having rashes mainly on my arms, and itch. When I get exasperated, or when the surroundings get too hot for me, I will feel as if a thousand tiny blades are tickling my skin. I avoided the use of "slicing" on purpose. Just imagine the blades, just brushing against the epidermis, enough to cause a sensation but not deep enough to induce bleeding or pain. Compared to this excruciating prickly itch, I'd rather experience pain. There is also slight itch in my eyes, and the doctor also deemed that my liver is somewhat affected by GVHD, as seen from the blood test result. Recovery is gradual, but as long as I'm still in remission and that I do not have to be warded for yet another fever, I should be glad.
Had to settle army stuff after my transplant. I had gone for a medical review on 11 April and I just received a new PES assignment. I'm feeling calm, neither is there a tinge of sadness leaving that so-called band of brotherhood, nor is there joy of being relieved from duties. As I did not take my IPPT, I had to go for a summary trial. Trust the officer to ask me "Leukaemia is an illness is it?" after I told him my reason. I also have mob manning which started yesterday, and despite emailing, getting a call back from the battalion HQ, getting an excuse memo, informing my superiors, I was still told to go through the route of applying for excuse through the NS portal. It's like doing the same thing twice. Anyway I did, and yesterday I got another call from the HQ asking me why I needed to be excused and telling me the memo did not specify for me to be excused when everything was clear in black and white. Sometimes I wonder how some people got their jobs while I fail to secure myself one.
This year, I added another Mitch Albom to the list of books I've read: Have a Little Faith. I prefer his earlier works as compared to a relatively more recent one like "The First Phone Call from Heaven". Although he likes to touch on faith in his writing, I like how he doesn't try to influence anyone into adopting a specific one. "Have a Little Faith" was written in the same vein as "Tuesdays with Morrie". He was tasked to write a eulogy for his dying rabbi, and through the frequents meetings they had, he learnt about values that he should hold dear. His rabbi only encouraged one to have a faith, and never imposed his beliefs unto others. This is a stark contrast to the deranged bishops, pastors, and whatnot that I often see or hear about.
I have extracted 3 parts from the book I personally like.
1)
"Call him! Call him!"
He was sweating, choking, fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. Finally the words were so tumbled and bumbled that it didn't sound like "Jesus" anymore, just syllabus and gurgling and mumbling, and groaning and saliva drooling from his mouth onto the newspaper. His voice and tongue and teeth and lips were melded into a shaking machine, gone wild with frenzy --
"JelesuksjesleuesJesuslelelajJelsusu--"
"You got it! He got it!"
And he had it. Or he thought he had it.
2)
The second death. To think you died and no one would remember you. I wondered if this was why we tried so hard to make our mark in America. To be known. Think of how important celebrity has become. We sing to get famous; expose our worst secrets to get famous; lose weight; eat bugs, even commit murder to get famous. Our young people post their deepest thoughts on public Web sites. They run cameras from their bedrooms. It's as if we're screaming, Notice me! Remember me! Yet the notoriety barely lasts. Names quickly blur and in time are forgotten.
3)
"Ask yourself, 'Why did God create but one man?" he said, wagging a finger. "Why, if he meant for there to be faiths bickering with each other, didn't he create that from the start? He created trees, right? Not one tree, countless trees. Why the same with man? Because we are all from that one man -- and all from that one God. That's the message."
Then why, I asked, is the world so fractured?
"Well, you can look at it this way. Would you want the world to all look alike? No. The genius of life is its variety. Even in our own faith, we have questions and answers, interpretations, debates. In Christianity, in Catholicism, in other faiths, the same thing -- debates, interpretations. That is the beauty. It's like being a musician. If you found the note, and you kept hitting that note all the time, you would go nuts. It's the blending of the different notes that makes the music."
The music of what?
"Of believing in something bigger than yourself."
No fancy words, but still able to reflect bare reality, strike common chords, and induce introspection (unless one has gone so deep that a bulwark has been formed to ward off any incoming attempts to present something different).
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