You are currently browsing the monthly archive for October 2007.
I hope you feel better my dear, you know who you are. Just keep your head up high and keep on going, because I believe in you. You know we all do.
Vitamins M, R and J came on a Qantas flight over the weekend to surprise their ailing daughter/sister/aunt. They came armed not only with a whole stash of medicine from the family doctor, but with loads of laughter, sunshine and smiles.
I never knew pneumonia could be this great.
Thought I’d post this for posterity’s sake – the drugs that line my kitchen benchtop at the moment.
Top (L-R): Prospan (the only one that works for me), Strepsils (don’t even bother with this), Nyal (bought out of desperation when Strepsils didn’t work), Pei Pa Koh (bought upon insistence of K&R)
Middle (L-R): Erythromycin (2nd course of antibiotics and it’s working like magic now), Paracetamol
Bottom: Codral Flu&Cold – the kind that makes you drowsy, which I bought in a desperate bid to sleep at night.
And I thought the medical system in Melbourne was bad.
AN INQUIRY has been launched into the ordeal of a pregnant woman who was ignored by staff at a Sydney hospital before miscarrying in the emergency department toilet.
Jana Horska, who was 14 weeks’ pregnant and in acute pain, waited almost two hours for help after arriving at the Royal North Shore Hospital about 7pm on Tuesday. She was found by her husband, Mark Dreyer, covered in blood and holding a live foetus between her legs.
Read full article here.
After 5 days of an unrelenting fever, I think it’s pretty safe to say that I’m almost out of the woods (bless those antibiotics!). Apart from the cough-my-lungs-out cough that is still lingering and the occasional spike in temperature, I’m feeling well enough to take on a lot more things like stroll along supermarket aisles and wash dishes – things that I have taken for granted.
In the last 5 days I have also progressed from being disappointed with the medical system here, to being completely disillusioned. I’m not sure if it’s just the bad bout of doctors that I saw, but one could not be bothered to give me a checkup, another was fully booked out for the whole week, and yet another required a referral, which leaves me to wonder if I’ll eventually be left to die on the streets should I require urgent medical attention simply because I didn’t make an appointment a week earlier. No matter how “good” they claim the medical system to be, it’s far too primitive for what they call a first-world country in my very humble (and disillusioned) opinion.
I eventually managed to get myself an appointment with the Jman’s family doctor, and this was purely be means of association and “connection”. This doctor is so busy that he doesn’t take in new patients, so if I were to rock up to his clinic without having his mom calling up, I’d be left on the streets to die again. Nevertheless, this doctor was perhaps one of the best ones I’ve been to. Despite the poorly facade and the near-broken sofas that furnished the interiors, this doctor gave me a glimmer of hope in the integrity of the medical profession here. I walked out feeling a lot more comforted, and with a drug prescription to boot.
Thanks to the Cousin who saved the day with her stash of antibiotics, the fever’s completely subsided, I’m finally up and about and I managed to eat a proper dinner without feeling like it was all going to come out.
I don’t know how screwed up the medical system is here, but not giving me any meds when I’m burning at 39 degrees is a little bit much in my opinion. Seriously, even a kitty needs her meds!
One need never starve in 9X South Circular, as I’ve discovered in the past 24 hours. I’ve been camping out at the Jman’s house because of a raging fever and a niggly throat, and ever since I stepped into the house, I’ve been practically plied with porridge, chrysanthemum tea, barley and a whole host of other edibles (even achar!).
With all that homecooked goodness that I’ve been pampered with, it’s no wonder that my 39-degree fever has subsided so quickly and I’m feeling strong enough to walk more than 10 steps.
As I was just telling Da, you could even get fat while being sick here. Meanwhile, I’m feeling a little buggered that the damned virus will be keeping me off training for the next 2 weeks.
It is the funeral today. It is the day when the monks perform their last rites, where we say our final goodbyes, and then his physical body – that little comfort knowing that he is still around – will be no more.
He is my uncle. My god-uncle to be precise. He is my mother’s god-brother, or perhaps I should say my grandfather’s god-son. Though we’re not related by blood, he was perhaps closer to me than any of my other uncles were. And as if the god-related bonds weren’t strong enough, my sister married into his family too.
And in that regard, Mom and Kao Fu had a special bond. He taught her the tricks of the trade in gardening, showed her the ropes and our garden finally had flowers blooming in the flower beds. He is perhaps most remembered for his love for orchids, which Dad and Mom soon took on and we now have a shed full of orchids in our little garden back home.
Kao Fu was family to us in more ways than one. He cared for granddad when granddad was incapacitated, carried him up and down steep flights of HDB steps, took him out in the wheelchair and was as much a son as any of my uncles were, if not more. When granddad passed on, he was there. He made sure that everyone was taken care of.
Yet no matter how distantly related we are, the loss, the void that has been left in my heart, the pain…it has never felt more personal. He is like a second father to me. The fact that they live just 2 minutes away from me meant that we’ve spent many days together at each others’ houses. I’ve spent afternoons at his house hanging out. We’ve celebrated birthdays, anniversaries, fathers’ days and mothers’ days together. Our families celebrated every occasion together!
I remember him most for his kind-heartedness. They’ve treated me as family right from the very beginning even before sister married in. Whenever Dad and Mom go on holiday, I would go over for dinner. When I was studying in Melbourne, he knew that I loved his geong chou (ginger pork leg vinegar) and would prepare a huge pot for me whenever I returned for the semester break, every single time, without fail. We’d sit next to each other at dinner because we were left-handed and that meant that our elbows would clash with one less person. He taught me the right way of using chopsticks, and because of him, I’ve mastered it well.
I also remember him as an artisan – his craft work was top-notch. During the mooncake festivals, he’d make the most elaborate and the most exquisite handcrafted lanterns for his grandchildren. The kids would take them around the neighbourhood and everyone would marvel at his handicraft. He’s left his fingerprints around the house as well – a lantern here, a windchime there…he made his house a home. It’s a very old house, but it’s also very special.
I spoke to him about a month and a half ago when he was in hospital. He told me he’d eaten a chicken wing, and I told him that I thought of him whenever I saw flowers by the roadside – I knew he’d love them. I promised to visit him during Christmas, but as much as I knew he’d wanted so much to be with his wife, his body caved in.
So rest in peace, Kao-Fu, you may have gone from us but the memory of you and the fingerprints you’ve left in your house will keep you alive in my heart. But most of all, I will miss you – my left-handed companion at the dinner table.
If there were anything I remembered you by, it would be these.
Handmade lanterns, beautifully crafted
Earthen pots of thick, black ginger pork leg vinegar
Chopsticks
A left-handed companion at the dinner table
Orchids
But you mean all of that and much more to me. And I fail miserably as I try to piece the jigsaw puzzle of my scattered thoughts together, to find the right words that would encapsulate the essence of all that I want to say. My words, they’ve deserted me.
So for now, this will have to do. Rest in peace, Kao Fu, rest in peace.
