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The Eulogy

This post is for my dearest cousin – who in 6 months would have turned 25.

On Sunday morning, she passed away in her own bed. She had been in critical condition since Friday, but she insisted on leaving the gloomy hospital. Her lungs were no longer working and she could not move on her own.

When I went to visit her, she was attached to two clumsy oxygen concentrators and a morphine drip. The oxygen mask over her face was too big for her and it made her nose itch. She was literally gasping for every breath and the morphine made her hallucinate. The first time she was on morphine, she told us she saw Freddy Krueger in her ward. This time, it just made her very agitated. Partly because of her failing lungs, she could not even talk properly anymore and could only utter a few words at a time.

The doctor gave her 2 days. He even doubted if she could make it out of the ambulance.

That night, I sat down next to her and held her hand. My sister took her other hand and we just watched her as we sobbed quietly. She would fall asleep for a bit, and then startle herself awake. She would then turn her head to look at my sister, and then turn to me, before falling back to sleep. It was as if she was checking to make sure we were still there with her. It was as if she knew it was about time for her to leave us, but she was so afraid to go on her own she would rather hang on to our clammy hands. It pains me to think about how scary it must have been for her.

She was first diagnosed with leukaemia 5 years ago. Since then, she has had a slew of relapses, chemotherapy sessions, injections, medications and a few bone marrow transplants. She would get better for a while, fall sick again, go back to hospital and restart treatment. But the cancer would always find some way to one-up her the next time.

2 months ago – was her last relapse. It was probably the most serious one. There was a risk that she might not be able to make it through even with chemotherapy. If she did survive, she would still have to endure maintenance. So that was when she told her mother: no more. She had enough. It was time to live the life that she wanted. To do only the things that she wanted. Naturally, hospital beds and drips were banned from her bucket list.

She would return once every week to get a blood transfusion should her blood counts drop. She became susceptible to all sorts of infections, and something as insignificant as the common cold could kill her. But it gave her freedom to make the best of her remaining days. Not surprisingly, only a few of us supported her decision. Some challenged her faith. Some hounded her about why she could not just get chemo again. But then again, if she could just stay free of infections, there was a possibility that she could continue to live long and prosper.

Of course, that didn’t happen.

While we sat there watching her gasp for air, we asked her if she wanted us to read to her our eulogies. She had a very interesting perspective about that. Fuck the case that eulogies are usually read only at a person’s funeral. The person who died would not even be able to hear it, innit. So she wanted us to write our eulogies before her passing, so that she could hear our last words for her. Adorable request, but very morbid. I personally found it difficult to write something like that when all I wanted was for her to live long and prosper.

Anyway, it was all too late by then. She was drugged out and the room was spinning and she couldn’t concentrate. We couldn’t tell if she even understood us anymore. But at one point, she started to nod slowly, so my sister asked me to go first. I bawled like a baby throughout as I read, so I could hardly see her face. My sister told us later though that she saw her smile during my last paragraph.

For My Dearest Cousin

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Under The Knife

It has been more than a year since I last posted something. 24 hours ago, I was totally out cold in the operating theater – undergoing surgery to remove three benign breast lumps. What an adventurous day, I must say.

Now, you might be thinking. What the hell is wrong with this girl, being public about such a private health problem. Trust me, I find no joy in talking about boobs but dear ladies, we need to be aware. Plus, it was also my first time going under the knife so I’m still finding the whole thing a little unbelievable. Or perhaps I’m tripping on painkillers. Haha.

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The Last Day On Earth

What do you mean, this is THE END???

I spent the last day on Earth at home. I didn’t have to go to work because I had a few days of leave to clear before moving onto my new job. Of course, there would be nothing left for me to move onto by then since it was already the end of the world. But until that comes along, our lives still had to go on, right? As nobody had any idea what would become of us or exactly what time the ‘global catastrophe’ would strike, all we could do was to continue pushing on as if nothing was going to happen.

You could say that we were in denial, but in actual fact, as mere human beings, there was really nothing much that we could do to save ourselves since the world has decided to give up on us. Of course, there were the preppers, who believed that it was up to them to keep themselves alive. That something could be done to change the situation. Like hoarding so many centuries’ worth of supplies that it seemed like they were trying to rob the world of food and water and that could be how the world ends. Though their survival spirit was truly admirable, I would say. But I was pretty certain that alive was not what I still want to be when everybody else has died or turned into zombies.

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The Wannabe Goes To A Concert For The First Time

This is going to be a short post. Or so I believe. I always think I’m just going to write something short but it usually ends up almost like an essay of some sort. I guess what I lack in speech – I make up for it by writing astoundingly long posts that might not even make sense.

Anyway, in case you’re interested (but chances are I would be more interested in finding out why anyone would even be interested), here’s what’s been up with my life.

UPDATE #1: Yes, I am still alive.

UPDATE #2: I found another job. Two years fresh out of school and I’ve already written two resignation letters. I hereby hang my head in shame for five seconds.

UPDATE #3: I spent last Saturday night doing something that most people actually do on Saturday nights. I went to a concert. My very first concert. I am still so excited so I thought I should write a post about it. Oh come on. People always make a big deal out of their first times, don’t they? Besides, what better way to convince you to believe that Update #1 is indeed true?

FangirlsI have always wondered how in the world can some people be capable of such a degree of excitement for another human being(s).

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6 Reasons Why People Should Never Go On Holiday

Hello rare readers. I realise it has been a sickeningly long period of time since I last posted something. Unfortunately for me, the reason for my absence has nothing to do with myself being on an awesomely long holiday or something like that. I understand that the title and this intro together can be really misleading. But in actual fact, I’ve just been busy with doing what seems like absolutely nothing now when I think about it, but it was almost everything back when I was doing it. Don’t you just hate feeling like this? It’s like slogging your entire life away only to realise later that there is no real reason for you to do so. Or at least, you haven’t found one yet.

As usual, I digress. Back to the point. I just came back from a holiday that lasted for about a week, but it is long enough to make me want to write this. The truth is, I rarely go on holiday. This one-week trip is the longest vacation that I had ever been on, and it is also the furthest that I’ve travelled out of my country. To this date, I have only been to four countries, including my own. It’s sad, I know. Which is why I’m really feeling these 6 reasons why I think people should never go on holiday. I apologise beforehand if you are someone about to go on one. I don’t want to be a wet blanket, so I seriously recommend that you save this post for later and read it only when you come back. That is, if you want to, of course.

On the other hand, an emphatic shout out to anyone out there who is still suffering from holiday-induced blues. You’re not the only one. I get them all the time and they can last forever (I still have mine from Christmas).

Photo Credit: Hillebrand Steve

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The Marooned Tooth Chip Story

Hello, rare reader. It has been a very long time since I last posted something. I almost find it refreshingly unfamiliar as I am typing this. But a lot happened when I was away, and I’ve got loads to tell you. Since you’re reading this, I shall take on the thick-skinned assumption that you are actually interested. Haha.

UPDATE #1: I found a job.

UPDATE #2: It was my official commencement in July.

UPDATE #3: I’m getting braces and I’m kind of regretting it. Yes, it is all happening at the same time and I am too old for this shit indeed, thank you.

UPDATE #4: I hate that I don’t write more posts. Always have been sorry about it but I really don’t want to be anymore. You know what I mean. Or at least, I think I do.

UPDATE #5: Actually, I don’t really know who I’m talking to.

UPDATE #6: Now that I’ve written it all down, it seems like nothing much happened after all.

UPDATE #7: Now I’m wondering what have I been up to all this while. Like really. What have I been doing? Did time even pass? Where did it go? Did anything even happen?

UPDATE #8: Now I can’t even remember what I wanted to tell you.

The Legendary Cocked Eyebrow Of Awesomeness

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The Wannabe Votes For The First Time | Polling Day Singapore 2011

This is not a political post, and I am not taking any sides (not obviously, anyway). I’m writing this simply because not only is it kinda weird for a Singaporean who blogs to not bother to mention anything in it about our elections; I also just want to. After all, here in Singapore, we get to vote or be vocal only once every 5 years. If you’ve got something to say or do, say or do it now because such times are the only times you’re gonna get someone to at least feign attention. I’m sure it’s the same in any other country with people who get to vote. Or in any other non-political situation even.

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The Rango ‘What Stage Of Life Are You In’ Guide (spoilers) – and a lost fork

I’ll be honest with you, rare reader. I am currently working on two other posts which revolve around sharing your sentiments about my whining problem but suddenly something happened and I simply must get this off my chest.

First.

I know you don’t really care but secretly, I hope you do even though I know you really don’t.

Did you know that I have a seriously ridiculous tendency to contradict myself?

Anyway, you are aware by now of what a little shit I am at getting things out quickly. To call this a ‘spoiler’ is nothing short of laughable. See, my mother says I am worse than a snail. I think I am worse than snail poo.

But that’s not the point of this post. Or maybe it will be.

I know for a fact that my horoscope depicts me as a drama queen who can cook beautifully. I am listening to Coldplay’s Lost as I write this so at least half of that is true.

I am so fucking lost.

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