A Walk In The Garden

During the months when I was poorly, my garden was neglected.  Most of my azaleas died. (Of the 16 pots I had, only 7 remained.) It was therefore encouraging to see this new bud emerging from one of the remaining pots. Life and Death surpasses each other in the unending drift of Fate.

Azalea

The Phalaenopsis below (white and purple) was bought last January. I was surprised to see it bloom this soon.

Phalaenopsis

Cattleya - almost always blooming

Phalaenopsis

Murraya Paniculata (below) (aka Kemuning in Malay) is commonly known as Orange Jessamine. The person who introduced me to this fragrant shrub was my mother-in-law who originated from a tulou in Guangdong. They had one of these fragrant shrubs growing in their central courtyard when she was a wee little kid. She told me how the fragrance from the plant's tiny blooms penetrated every nook and crevices of their extensive home.  For want of a better name, they called it Fragrance of a Thousand Li.

The seeds are a bright red and hugely favoured by the birds. I often found them perched on the shrub canopy pecking at the seeds. The birds leave their droppings behind and from these droppings new plants emerge. That is how they propagate naturally. It is rather difficult to propagate them from their cuttings or seeds.

Murraya Paniculata This (above) used to be part of the hedge on my fence. (Right) It was close to 6 feet tall at the time. We had it uprooted and forced into a rectangular pot. Some of the surface roots were damaged but it survived. Little mushrooms sprang from the dead surface root.

Orange Jessamine

Not sure if these are edible.

She slept on

The young lady (MORE HERE) is still unconscious. I heard that she had been transferred to another hospital. Her parents must be distraught by her condition. I don't know her name but I will pray for her in my crude simplistic manner.

I will pray that God blessed the hands of the doctors and nurses attending to her. And I will pray that she persevered. I hope that the Good Shepherd, busy as He is, will stop awhile to tend to this particular girl.

UPDATE HERE

Christmas Leftovers

Everything was wiped out except for the whipped potatoes and ham.  

On the morning after, I added anchovy to the whipped potatoes and shaped them into little patties which went into the grilling pan together with some sliced ham. Delicious.

If you don't know what to do with the whipped potato leftovers, here's another recipe I picked up from my late Aunt. (Ma's sister.)

DOUGH

Knead glutinous rice flour into the whipped potatoes. You know it's done when it looked like the dough consistency for Pan Mee.

FILLING

• Yam Bean (aka Sengkuas)
• French Beans
• Carrots
• Dried Shrimp (pounded on a mortar and pestle)
• garlic
• salt and pepper

METHOD

1. Shred the top three into thin strips. 
2. Brown the garlic in a little oil.
3. Add dried shrimp.
4. Add shredded veg.
5. Add salt and a generous sprinkle of pepper
6. Pinch a little of the potato dough, roll it out, fill it with the mixed veg above and seal it into egg-shaped packages.
7. Deep fry.

That's it. A simple quaint recipe. The original recipe required mashed sweet potatoes but whipped potatoes worked just as well.

Sleeping Beauty

The young lady in her late twenties (a friend's daughter) did not wake up. Her parents discovered her on Sunday morning still asleep in bed. They rushed her into the ICU of a private hospital.  She was put on the kidney dialysis machine. There is no change in the status quo today.

What could have happened?

I am reminded of an article I stumbled upon in months past while researching something unrelated. The article was submitted by a foreign university after research into this phenomenon called Sleep Paralysis.

Sleep paralysis is a phenomenon in which people, either when falling asleep or awakening, temporarily experience an inability to move.

It was suggested that Asians were particularly susceptible to this disease and succumbed to it although no statistics were provided. They died in their sleep never to wake up again.

I needed no statistics. The first time I had sleep paralysis was when I was a teenager. A dark shadowy figure fell upon me in my sleep and I could not move, breathe or awaken without struggling. By some miracle, I survived.  It was filed away as one of those unpleasant nightmares one experience in the business of growing up.

The years went by. I moved on from college life to become a working adult. At work, I met someone called Lydia who told me about the power of the word. Life is not a cul de sac. There is a way out of any situation. She taught me to put The Word to good use so I was ready the second time I had sleep paralysis.

It happened once again in my sleep before I was married. I yelled at the dark shadowy figure thrice. "In the name of Jesus, GO AWAY!" It did. Once again I woke up shaken by the experience.

Years later, when I was at the Merdeka Palace in Kuching, the sleep paralysis came a third time. I yelled the same words. Again it worked.

I wondered if the young lady in question is assailed by the same problem.

UPDATE HERE

Pass the salt, please!

Onion rings

Apple Pie for Dessert (Sister Lee's Speciality)

Merry Christmas! Hic! ~~~ And a Happy New Year! ~~~ BURP!!!

Grilled Cauliflower and White Sauce

Vegetables were never one of my favourites but for appearances, well, this one should do. The cauliflower was blanched. Grated cheese was spread over it. Fresh milk added before it was popped into the oven until the cheese melted.

Cauliflower with melted cheese

White Sauce is the sauce we're using with the whipped potatoes and pretty much everything else. Heat up two tablespoons of oil in a pan. Stir in two tablespoons of flour. Add fresh milk, salt, pepper and chicken stock.

Meanwhile the Ham's ready. Time to serve them up.

Whipped Potatoes for Dummies

I know some of you are looking for the perfect whipped potatoes recipe. Well, this one's for Dummies.  For the record, we're using Russet Potatoes.  Add salt to the cut potatoes and boil it till it's soft. Use a fork to test for softness.

Dish it out into a mixing bowl. Whisk it with a cake mixer. Add butter and fresh milk. Whisk till creamy.

Verdict: This one is good, really good, really, really, really good. I think its better than Kenny Rogger's and KFC's.

Grilled Vegetables Next.

Christmas Luncheon

Sister Lee joined us for Christmas Luncheon this year and showed us a thing or two about Christmas Luncheon (Texan style) minus the customary stuffed turkey with cranberry juice which nobody wanted. We started off with Grilled Cheese using Edam Cheese. Edam is a semi-hard cheese that originated in the Netherlands, and is named after the town of Edam in the province of North Holland. Edam is traditionally sold in spheres with a pale yellow interior and a coat of red paraffin wax What I particularly liked about this cheese is that it was chewy and not too saltish. Both sides of the bread was buttered before cheese slices were laid on the surface. The bread was laid on the grilling pan until the cheese melted. One word. Yummilicious! For meat, we're having pineapple ham roast. Nobody wanted stuffed turkey. Chicken is forbidden food. We had pork roast last year so roast ham seemed like the logical choice. We got one of these and popped it into the oven to heat it up. Whipped Potato is next.

Christmas Morning

Two distinguishable voices engaged in animated conversation at an unearthly hour wasn't exactly my regular wake-up call. I am a heavy sleeper.  However, when Xena joined in the conversation, it was impossible not to pay attention. 

I walked towards my bedroom window and peered outside into the darkness. As expected, there wasn't much to see. The streets outside were washed in dimmed neon lights and if anyone in the neighbourhood had had a Christmas Eve Party, it had to be long over.

It was impossible to follow the conversation once Xena is involved. She never respected the protocol of polite conversation where you wait for the speaker to pause before interjecting. Often, you find her bulldozing her barks into any casual neighbourly dialogues whether or not they were welcomed. In this respect, she is a lot different from Marcus.

Xena

Marcus

Marcus, the Silky Terrier. Died three years ago.

Marcus listened to the neighbourhood conversation, ears cocked and waited patiently for the intermission before interjecting a bark or two. A male of few barks, he often got his messages across and the frenzied exchange of barks soon died down, unlike with Xena where the barks seemed to escalate with a life of its own.

I called Xena my Haiku-Dog. That's because she's quite the 5-7-5 syllabic dog. In a typical neighbourhood dialogue, Xena's contribution usually goes: 

Woof-Woof-Woof-Woof-Woof!
Woof-Woof-Woof-Woof-Woof-Woof-Woof!
Woof-Woof-Woof-Woof-Woof!

Yes, I counted.

Venus, on the other hand can be pretty long-winded if she decided to partake in any deliberation. Her barks are usually disorganised and did not follow any syllabic rules.

Venus

Ginger rarely participate in the neighbourhood chats but when she did, she goes ballistic with rapid-fire barks which only she alone understood.

Ginger was thankfully silent this morning while the other two just let themselves go. It was eternity before the two men engaged in the loud conversation had the presence of mind to end it. Venus held her tongue. Xena followed her fine example. Silence claimed the darkness.

I looked at the wall clock. It was 2 am on Christmas morning.

A Sleepy Afternoon

It happened at about two in the afternoon. 

Two police vehicles chased a white car which stopped after the T-junction where I lived. The police parked their vehicles and walked carefully towards the two men in the white car. Suddenly, the car screeched into reverse gear, rammed into a car parked at the corner of the T-junction and sped off. The policemen were taken by surprise. One of them yelled. The other fumbled for his gun.  They piled into their respective vehicles and took off after the miscreants.

The darkening clouds continue to gather above. A mild wind rustled the nearby trees. The dogs stretched their legs as they stirred themselves awake.

Somewhere in the horizon, an aeroplane skirted the cloudy skies before landing.

Merry Christmas, Folks! And a Happy New Year.

If you're going to be away, be sure to fortify your abode.

5 Phase CT Scan

The last time I was here, they conducted the blasted fire drill. I remembered. I also remembered the she-trainee doctor who punctured me three times before successfully getting the IV needle in place. That was way back in August and if you have a thing for fire drills, you can read more about it HERE.

Why am I doing a second CT Scan?

Well, the first scan revealed a lesion in my liver.  They suspected liver hemangioma. (That's a cluster of blood vessels in the liver which is considered normal.) An Ultrasound was ordered. It ruled out hemangioma. What they needed next was a 5 Phase CT Scan which focused on the liver.

Once again, I was sent to see another young she-trainee doctor. She was nice but she had trouble inserting the IV needle into my veins. She went this way and that way. Miraculously, I did not suffer much pain. Prayer helps. Finally, when she thought she got the needle into the veins, she injected saline into it. It shouldn't hurt if the needle had been correctly inserted. She wasn't sure she got it right though. I was instructed to keep my hand straight and not to bend at the elbow. The needle might come out if I did so. What a frightful prospect!

Next, I was given a cup of water and told not to empty my bladder. They did not inject any contrast into the other end of me.  Also, no tampon this time.

When I was finally ushered into the machine room, I made a fuss about being instructed not to bend my hands. They laughed and told me to relax. The needle won't come out, its only plastic inside my veins, yada-yada-yada, the whole nine yards. Luckily, the she-trainee doctor came in to explain my position. They were a lot more accommodating after this.

Pretty much the same thing happened. I was asked to breathe in, hold my breath, and then breathe normally three times before they injected the contrast. I felt the rush of heat going down my body as the machine whirred above me.

The results will be out in a couple of days but I won't know until my next appointment with the Oncologist which is in about a month's time.

Meanwhile, please continue to support me in prayer.

Note: That spot where the she-trainee doctor inserted the IV needle? It's blue-black now.

CT Simulation

The man in white is short and over-weight. He gave the impression of one who had been on the same job for too long. The surly expression on his face is typical of most administrative staff at the hospital. He preferred cash payments. We told him we're using a credit card.

"We'll have to go outside to swipe the card," he said, emphasizing on the word outside so we understand the significance of his inconvenience. Reluctantly, he got to his feet and lumbered heavily towards the main cashier at the Oncology Ward. He was right. Outside was quite some distance from where he was rooted, all thirty feet of it.

On the other hand, the young Radiation Oncologists at Radiotherapy were motivated and friendly. I'm not sure if age had anything to do with their states of mind but it certainly looked like it did.

The Radiotherapy Section at the Oncology Ward was quiet that morning. Most of the patients were there for their radiotherapy sessions. I was there for the CT Simulation which typically precedes all treatment.  What this simulation does is this.  It scans your body to identify the parts or area to be marked for the ensuing radiotherapy.

I was led into a room dominated by a machine bigger in size than the one used for CT Scans. A cylindrical bar wrapped in rubber with a diameter of about 5 inches lay across the middle portion of the sliding bed. That's for your derrière. Further up is the pillow. Beyond the pillow are two arm-rests and bars for you to hold on to.  I was asked to lift up my arm and lay them on the arm-rest beyond my head. I could not see what they were doing but it felt like they were laying paper tapes to demarcate the perimeter for the scan. Then they started drawing lines on my chest with a blue marker pen. They were polite and professional in their conduct.

When all the markings were done, they left to station themselves outside the machine room where a row of computers await their keystrokes.

The machine whirred to life. The bed slided into the hollow ring. The metal plate on the inner ring started to spin. I shut my eyes.

It was over in a squeeze of a lime.

The young doctors returned to make more markings on my chest. One of them read out the measurements while the other recorded them on what looked like a score sheet. I was given a few alcoholic swabs to remove the markings.

The leading Radiation Oncologist, a middle-aged woman spoke to me next. Since my lump went into the deep margin, they have decided to give me what they called the 5X Boost at that particular area of my chest where the cancer cells are most likely to recur.

I'm not sure what this 5X Boost will do to me so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Clumsy Clod

My fingers and toes still hurts. The good news is that I can touch anything hot and not immediately feel the pain.  On the other hand, I can't grasp anything small because I don't know if I've grasped it. I can't grip the zip slider on my jeans, for instance. This, I first noticed when I couldn't maneuver the hook on my necklace.

As a result, I've been dropping plates of dishes, keys and stuff all over the floor. I can tell you though. It's no fun dropping plates of dishes on the floor.

Did I mention I've been dropping eggs on the floor as well?

Millennium Powder Beverage

This product is selling like hot cakes. I placed an order about a month ago but it was out-of-stock and will only be available by early next year. Can there really be that many people on this?

Today I heard about the Millennium Powder Beverage Gold Edition! Would you believe it? Gold Edition! It costs a lot more and included cordyceps in its ingredient.

The lady who stumbled on this must have made a fortune.

UPDATE: Read Supplements.

Ginger is Home!

The apple of my eye is home. She stepped into the house amidst much cheering and whisked herself into a little tornado. (She does that whenever she's excited.) Then she climbed onto our laps, each in turn, and looked up at us with those adorable doe eyes of hers. Grandpa was immensely pleased to see her and they spent the next couple of hours cosied up on the couch.

Her blood count report is filled with asterisks. She's low on glucose, protein, red blood cells and a host of other components I'm not sure I know the meaning of.  The chronic purging caused some damage to her intestine so she's on all sorts of medication and required a high protein diet. Other than that, she's mostly tired on account of the low glucose and right about now, she's dozing off to La-La-Land.

And to think, we almost lost her.

The Strange Book

Outside my bedroom at the shophouse where I lived decades ago was a wooden altar which housed the ancestral shrine. This altar was about 4 feet high and occupied by a myriad of austere idols, urns and religious paraphernalia. Two colossal drawers occupied the side of this structure while the front piece was a curved wood carving featuring two 5-clawed dragons converging on a central pearl.

On the walls perpendicular to this altar was a large mural of a dragon and phoenix. The artist was Aunt Z's eldest son, since deceased. (So we had some artistic talent in the family.)

It was at this altar, inside one of the colossal drawers, the one on the left, that I discovered way down at the bottom, The Strange Book.  It was a book unlike any I had seen. The covers were white and unadorned. It was about an inch and a half thick, probably measuring ten by eight.  Its pages were filled with large texts and colourful illustrated images of winged men, mystifying and kindly in expression.  I could not read at the time so I searched the pictures for a story but could not discern any.

It was bound to happen. My Ma walked in on me one fine day and caught me pouring rapturously over the pictures. The book was confiscated and never seen or heard of again.

Adults can be ignorant. They never discern that children have ears which hears. (That rhymes, did you notice?) They spoke amongst themselves in conspiratorial tones which were picked up just as conspiratorially. (i.e. from the next room ~~~  *coughs*) From their whispers, I came to know that the book was found floating upon the sea at the harbour. It was picked up by my uncle (Aunt Z's husband) who handed it over to my Ma. 

The forbidden fruit always taste the sweetest.

My curiosity was stirred. What could have been hidden in that book to make it perilous enough to be confiscated? It seemed singularly important to seek answers. I began with the book shelves at school and discovered a whole new world of books telling stories I've never heard of before. They stimulated my sense of imagination and made my life a little less lonely.

Twenty two years later, I walked into a book store to browse for children fairy tales. It was then that I made a pleasant discovery.  The book which so piqued my interest way back when, was a children's bible.

Je suis une femme

I'm learning French!

That'll keep my mind occupied and suitably distracted.  I wish to circumvent the Depths of Despair and not go anywhere near it. I'm using an Android Apps called Duolingo.

Meanwhile, my fingers and toes are still hurting but I'll get by. It'll take a couple of months for the pain to dissipate.

Those of you who messaged and called me, thanks for your concern. I'm feeling much better now.

Update on Ginger

Little Ginger was discharged last Saturday when she looked promising. She did. 

However, by late afternoon, she became frail and listless. Hyperglycaemia, it's called, caused by low sugar because she hadn't been eating. When evening came and she was still refusing all food, there was only one thing left to do. She was readmitted under Dr Wong's care. They put her back on the drip and force-fed her. On the following day, Dr Wong called me. Little Ginger is looking good but still refusing to eat. They had to continue force-feeding her. She will be discharged only after she starts eating on her own again.

The house looked empty without her.

When it rains, it pours.

Ginger is in trouble. It started three days ago. I dropped an egg while trying to grapple with it. Its content spilled onto the floor. I called for the Garbage Raider. I usually do under similar circumstances. She mopped up the stuff and I mop up the floor after her. We never had any issue with that.

This time though, she started purging. She purged for two days and by then she couldn't stand on her feet. Her stool turned black which indicates internal bleeding, according to Dr Wong. I had neglected her for I was too sick.

Her condition is described as "critical" and she had been warded and will be at the hospital for the next five days. The vet suspect salmonella (from the raw eggs) so Ginger's blood will be sent to the lab. Poor lass is on drip now and my heart ached to see her in pain. It is my fault. I shouldn't have made her mop up those eggs. If you are feeding your dogs raw eggs, stop at once.

Depths of despair

The depths of despair is a bottomless abyss, a cesspool of dread. How deep it can be depends on how low you wished to go. It has room for just one so you can hear your grievances echo off its unyielding walls effectively compounding your troubles.

At the height of the pity party, you lose grip of reality and longed for the ultimate solution. Yet this solution does not come at will and you realized that a higher order of being is in charge.  Knowing that filled you with anger and a sense of injustice.  Next your search for reasons began. It always does but it never accomplishes anything so you returned to the primary misery in time to start all over again, each bout compounded by the momentum of the preceding one.

And that was where I went in the last couple of days until a message came most unexpectedly from my cousin-in-law. All Things Happened For A Reason. A word, a phrase or something intangible from the message lifted me from the doldrums and I rose once again to the surface for some air.

A Time To Moan

My fingers hurt but the need to write surpasses this pain. I have to give form to the thoughts in my head before it vanishes into the void.  It will be days before this post see the light of day. I can only write a few lines each day and there is so much spelling and grammatical errors to correct.

It is at times like this that you appreciate your fingers and be thankful for them. Consider what cannot be done without fingers. You can't brush your teeth or scratch yourself. You can't pick up that pill or handle this zip or button. You can't cook or scrub yourself. Forget the laundry or household chores. Virtually everything is off limits.

The pain worsen once the steroids wore off. This time it's different. Water retention made my fingers swollen and contact with water aggravates the sensation. It hurts even as I tapped on the keyboard, some fingers more than the others. Disposable gloves didn't help. It still hurts and twice as much when I peeled off the gloves.

Then, there's the flat of my foot. It hurts when I walked. I'm wearing bedroom slippers which helped to some extend. I kept wondering why my floors were dirty. It wasn't. I found out when I closely examine the flat of my foot. Certain parts had skin peeling off. It was grainy all over, specks of white sporadically placed. It's grainy in between toes too. These had to be dead cells from the massacre. I'm sorry. I should have spared you this graphic detail but you wouldn't know what I went through if I had.

Constipation was the next issue. Probiotics and prune juice proved futile. I discovered suppositories and stool softeners. It helped. Eight days after the chemotherapy, I went to the other end of the spectrum. I started purging once again. The eighth day is the worst because that's the time when your WBC is at its lowest and you are most vulnerable to infection. I did have a modest flu despite my self-imposed "confinement." My oncologist told me to lay off fruits, vegetable and anything high fibred to tame the diarrhoea.

I did not have any body aches since I laid off the fresh coconuts. Considering this, there must be some link between them. To each his own.

Due to water retention, the walls of your mouth becomes vulnerable so it is important to watch your diet. In previous treatment, I hadn't been quite as careful. If you take anything fried, it aggravates the walls of your mouth which quickly triggered an infection. The WBC count being where it is after the chemo, a simple infection will quickly take you to a full blown ulcer situation. Biotene is a mouthwash which helped prevent this. It contained enzymes and protein for some reason. If the damage is done, there's Bonjela. Still, it took about a week for the ulcers to ease away.

General fatigue is inevitable. With the massacre going on inside you, your resources are being redirected to rebuild and reorganise. Plenty of rest is therefore crucial.

Then, there's the tongue.The Marie Antoinette Syndrome hit my tongue. It turned stark white.

Speaking of the Marie Antoinette Syndrome, it certainly did not look like my hair is going to turn black after the chemotherapy.  Let me explain myself. Myth substantiated or otherwise, many breast cancer survivors claimed that their white hair turned black once the chemotherapy treatment ended. One interesting report from a young lady will have us believe that her hair turned curly. I liked the idea of curly black hair so I looked forward to the end of the session. I'll keep you posted on this.

Shooting pains in my recent wound is something I could not explain. This happened after every treatment and raises questions I no longer answer.

Despite the thunderstorm and strong gusts of wind outside, I was on fire most of the time, feeling hot and stuffed up. The general malaise wore me down.

Gastric and heartburn, not to be outdone joined the unhappy foray. A steaming hot cup of Milo usually placates but not always.

With so many things going wrong, it was inevitable that I plunged into the depths of despair.

* WBC (White Blood Cells)

Chemotherapy 6

The good news were good but then again good news can't be anything but, can it?

1. I managed to maintain my body weight at 56.4 kg. I have heard of other patients who lost as much as three kg during the chemotherapy.
2. My red and white blood count is within the normal range. The WBC actually dipped below normal after the 4th chemo.(the blasted taxotere, oh yeah!) The therapy cannot go on if this count goes below a certain limit.
3. As for my cholesterol level which was hovering at 13+ three weeks ago, it is now 9+ with the recommencement of my cholesterol medication. Although some other people will hit the roof when their cholesterol is at the 9+ zone, I'm pretty comfortable with it. I've been worse.
4. I met a lady who underwent the radiotherapy and she laid my concerns to rest. She told me her skin did not develop any ulcers nor were there any burnt marks. She also recommended fresh coconuts during this therapy and confirmed that the body aches will come to delight us all. This sort of confirmed my earlier theory that fresh coconuts causes body aches.

Nothing untoward happened at today's session. Although the needle prick was slightly more difficult than yesterday, it was successfully administered.

That lady who underwent the radiotherapy, the one I wrote about up there? She had uterus cancer. Her uterus was subsequently removed together with 20 lymph nodes. The tumor in her uterus as well as 4 out of the 20 lymph nodes removed were diagnosed with Stage 1 cancer. Since hers is in the early stages, all she needed was radiotherapy and a round of chemotherapy with mild dosages of another type of medication. She's 38 and she hailed from Seremban. Her operation cost her $18K.

An elderly man in his 70s found a lump behind his shoulder. He ignored it. Later he developed a persistent cough. He ignored that too. Then he started to cough out blood. He went to see a specialist. After a series of test, they told him he had cancer. (Stage 3, I think. I don't recall.) His son drove him all the way from Kuantan to seek medical treatment here.

It gets better, doesn't it?

Blood Test - Chemo 6

The needle prick for the blood test today was painless although at some point, the nurse could not find my veins. I was praying silently at the time. I discovered later that my friends remembered me in their group prayer.Thanks, one and all. What will I do without your support in prayer.

The waiting list for radiotherapy is a long one so mine will commence only in three month's time. By then, my hair would have grown. I will require 23 radiotherapy sessions. This will be preceded by a CT Simulation scheduled next month. From what I understand about this simulation, they scan my body to see where the risk areas are, mark it and focused on it when radiotherapy commences.  I was told that the therapy will not hurt but it may burn my skin and cause skin ulcer. Then again, according to the oncologist, that's the worst case scenario and only apply if I have sensitive skin.

The radiotherapy may cause some damage to my heart and lungs. Given my high cholesterol, I may acquire some form of a heart disease and develop a permanent cough.

In a month's time, I will commence the hormone treatment. They have prescribed Tamoxifen and I will be taking a combination thereof for the next ten years. The long term effect of this drug is vein thrombosis and uterus cancer.

As for the shooting pain in my finger-tips, it may go off six months or a year after the last chemo.

I should be jumping for joy because the last of the chemotherapy session is tomorrow. Instead, I find myself in the depths of despair because the future looked bleak. It is the year-end. While others are planning their year-end vacation and company dinners, I am wallowing in self-pity.

Millennium Powder Beverage

Dang it!

It's back to the slaughterhouse tomorrow. Blood test followed by the dastardly taxotere on the following day. I've been hit by a round of moody blues for the past few days. It began when one of my relative told me how one of her relative had been struggling with breast cancer for twenty years, going for one treatment after another. It was a depressing thought. I started thinking about my expiry date. My days are numbered.

That I made it this far must be attributed to the Millennium Powder Beverage. I was mercifully spared all serious infection except for that unhappy incident at the beginning with the blasted sore throat for which I was given a round of antibiotics taken orally. I have had guests sneezing and coughing in my face during the pre-taxotere days. What could have given me this protective shield? I believe the Millennium Powder Beverage must have helped. (No, I am not a shareholder nor am I soliciting for any sales.)

The Placebo Effect? Perhaps.  Perhaps not. I don't know.

UPDATE: Read Supplements.

Garden Pictures

What I found in my little garden today.

mango

red mini cattleya

Purple Phalaenopsis

Dora's Father

Cucumbers

Boy and girl cucumber flowers?

Haven't heard of those, eh?

It's true.  The cucumber plant had male and female flowers on them. (See picture below.) The tiny yellow flowers on the left are girl cucumber flowers. The last two elongated structures are male cucumber flowers. (I mistook the last two for baby cucumbers.)

So I experimented with the cucumber plant some time last year and learned about hand pollination. Never heard of those, eh? 

If you leave it to nature, the garden insect visits the boy flower, (which appeared earlier than the girls) gets some of those magical stuff on its body which it then transfers to the girls. Now pregnant, the cucumber starts appearing behind the girl flower. Having served their purpose, the boys drop off.

Unfortunately, my cucumbers never reach maturity. They stopped growing at some point and turned yellow. This is due to incomplete pollination. Hand pollination is about using a paint brush to transfer the pollen from the boys to the girls.

So now you know everything there is to know about cucumbers.

Long Coriander

An old  friend messaged me recently to ask about the herb on the right. It is known by many names. I called it Long Coriander. The herb was featured in Astro's Asian Food Channel recently but they called it Saw Tooth Coriander. I might as well throw in a more impressive name. Eryngium foetidum. For more information read HERE. This herb is known to originate from the Caribbeans. It was brought to South East Asia by Jesuit priests. The herb featured prominently in Thai and Vietnamese cuisine, and a little less prominently in my kitchen.

Saw-tooth coriander

I used it for steaming fish dishes, not that I'm nuts about fish dishes but the herb does rid the fish of its fishy smell. Here's one of my favourite non-fish recipe:

Hard Tofu and Coriander

1. Cut two blocks of hard tofu into bite-size slices. Lightly fry them with a pinch of salt in a little oil.
2. Push the tofu to the side of the wok and add chopped garlic to the remaining oil.
3. Add peeled and veined prawns to the browned garlic.
4. Add a little water to this mixture and let it simmer for a while.
5. Optional: Add chicken stock or oyster sauce. (I don't add any of those. The prawn is good enough for me.)
6. Add shredded long coriander.
7. Voila! An aromatic and appetizing dish all ready and done.

Apart from its culinary uses, this herb is also used for traditional cures.  Burns, earache, fevers, hypertension, constipation, fits, asthma, stomach-ache, worms, infertility complications, snake bites, diarrhoea, malaria and epilepsy, just to name a few. Eric, a family friend told me how his grandmother used to chew on one of these in the morning. I can't remember what it was supposed to cure anyway.

The next time I make one of those char-siew pau, I'm going to add this herb into the ingredient just to see if it gets us anywhere sensational.

Coriander seeds

At the centre of the star-shaped structure is a short stalk covered with seeds. The seeds turn brown when it ripens.

It was said that these seeds were used in Indian cuisine but I know nothing about that.

Jittery again.

By this time next week, I'll be going for the next blood test, vexing over the availability of a suitable vein and worried sick about the side effects of the treatment on my hurting fingers. This pain is bearable mind you, but I'd rather drop the pain, thank you.

The blasted diarrhoea returned last week and I'm beginning to suspect that fresh coconuts may not have anything to do with it. 

Well meaning advisers and survivors said that it is important to drink lots of water during this period. The treatment had a "heating effect" on the body so water is required to cool it down. I honestly don't understand this talk about "heating up" and "cooling down" but I know for sure that the water intake served two purpose:

1. Flush out taxotere.
2. Keeps the veins supple enough for the next needle prick session. Insufficient water intake causes the veins to go brittle thus impeding said needle-prick. (I overheard a conversation between the nurse and one of her patients.)

Meanwhile, it is time to hit the garden.

The House on stilts

There was something about the smell at the harbour which enthralled me as a kid. The air was pungent and carried a composite of scents which collided into the harbour smell. A trip to Aunt Z's house during the school holidays had always been a treat for us kids. My cousins and I used to spend our school holidays together having loads of fun and not worrying about the business of growing up.  Aunt Z's house was built on the swampy banks close to the harbour.

The trip began with a short sampan ride from the jetty. We boarded the sampan gingerly and spread ourselves out to distribute the weight evenly. The scenery was awesome. The sampan carried us between huge vessels towering into the sky. Other sampans left these vessels loaded with goods so traffic in these waters were high.

We sat demurely in the sampan as it carried us to Aunt Z's House on Stilts. I remembered longing to dip my fingers into the cool green water as the sampan surged forward into the smell. A few knocks on the head, previously administered by my Ma took care of that. "There are crocodiles in there," she would proclaim at the beginning of each trip. So I was a gullible kid.

The approach was fascinating as the distant houses loomed larger. Mangrove ladders greeted us at the end of our sampan ride. These ladders had always been a hurdle for the gaps between the rungs were wide. Manoeuvring these steps weren't easy for me as I wasn't agile.  At the top of the ladder is a wooden gangway which led to Aunt Z's house.

The front door opens into a square living room which is spacious by today's standard. Bedrooms are situated on both sides while the ancestral shrine occupied the main wall which looked out through the front door. Behind this wall is an area occupied by a large wooden table. Further at the back is the kitchen and the toilet. The toilet was most extraordinary. It was a hole cut out from the plank floor. You drop your stuff through the hole and the fishes below snapped them up.

Aunt Z's speciality was the stir-fried curried catfish.  There is a reason why I don't like catfish or fish dishes in general.

Walking Tall

When I was a wee little kid, I used to think that Death followed a hierarchical order loosely based on your position at the family tree. I found out how wrong that was when my cousin died. He was the second son of my Aunt Z (not her real name) and this old matriarch had ten children. Only five survived today.It must be terrible to see half your brood gone before your time.

Aunt Z is close to ninety. She is also my oldest living relative on the paternal side. Her husband gave me a small strip of opium to ease my pain when I had a childhood accident. I was only about this high at the time and I declined his offer because it didn't look tasty. It was Aunt Z's family who discovered The Strange Book floating upon the sea at the harbour where they worked. But that's a story for another time.

Aunt Z isn't exactly our favourite relative but most of us were concerned and accustomed to sharing news about her.  Our interest is purely speculative, if you catch my drift. There was a time about thirty years ago when one of us who had the occasional touch of vision, dreamt about her death. It was almost surreal but it didn't happen.

A year or two ago, her eldest son (since deceased) bumped into Cousin Al (not his real name) who was another paternal cousin of mine. Cousin Al called me.

"Have you heard? They're taking Aunt Z home from the hospital. She must be close to ninety now. Pass the word, will you?"

I did.

About an hour later, Cousin Al called again.  "Have you passed the word? You have! Quick! Retract the word. She's still alive."

And she is.

She's still walking tall today.

The moral of this story? You don't want to mess around with The Word.

Walking into the shadows

They were married for something like fifty years. Theirs was one of those Love at first sight stories. Like two peas in a pod, they were never apart.

When he had heart complication, she was with him all the time, fussing and worrying, all of the 45 days he was at the hospital. It was a happy occasion when he was finally discharged but that happiness was short-lived. She was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. The chemotherapy treatment went well. For fifteen days, their hopes were high. They made plans to travel before she turned feverish. The fever came and went for a week. She was finally admitted into the hospital where the fever worsen. She died on the following day.

He was devastated. He searched the hospital for a door, any door. He was going to jump.

They took her body home. He stationed himself by her side. He wept as he sang her love songs.

I was touched by his story. In this time and age, married couples do not stay married for long and divorce rates were astounding.  Will he survive his grief? I am inclined to think not.  He didn't. He walked into the shadows last night. He was not my biological brother but he was almost as good as one.

I am reminded of another story I read about in the papers when I was posted to the east. The story goes that Mr Judge lost his wife. He wrote her a poem after her death and sent it to the papers. The poem was published. On the following day, he shot himself in the head because he couldn't handle the grief.

Death and Taxes.  In Life, Nothing Is Certain but Death and Taxes.

Fresh Coconuts, Boon or Bane?

"Fresh Coconuts? Too cooling an effect. It'll give you body aches."

The lady on the next couch looked a little youngish to be dishing out this ancient line. Then again, I've been proven wrong on a couple of counts. Take that time about twenty years ago when I was shopping for some dried perishables at the Petanak Market. I was in my late thirties and not looking the part of a respectable Homemaker. (A respectable Homemaker, if you must know, is one who carried out their affairs in a concise confident manner. She dips her fingers into the perishables and knew at once how much its worth. She lifts the gills of fishes and knew how long its been out of the water.)

The trouble with perishables like dried shrimp, for instance, is that all of them looked suspiciously ambiguous. Well meaning shoppers will tell you to buy the pink whole pieces because they're fresher while others will tell you those are tainted with food colouring and you gotta go for the broken pieces which are healthier. I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer when it comes to these perishables so I usually went with the cunning plan, which is to tail someone who looked like a respectable Homemaker and buy whatever she bought.

So there I was vexing over some dried stuffs in the gunny sacks at the Petanak Market. Rendered immobile by indecision, I stood there looking at the stuff while my mind debated over the issue. Viola! Along came this ancient looking thing who looked every bit the respectable Homemaker. She was well-dressed and in her fifties and she had two fingers sticking into the perishables. Ahah, I thought. Once again, I'll take the cunning way out. I'll buy the stuff if she buys it. Trying to look the part I dipped my fingers into other perishables in the next gunny sack. Consider my surprise when the respectable Homemaker turned to me and asked "Are these fresh? Should I buy them?"

So Age is not usually synonymous with shrewdness. I suppose Exposure enters the equation at some point and besides, some people are born sharper than the rest. In any case, if the youngish looking smarty pants on the next couch thought that fresh coconuts will give you body aches, I should take heed.

Laying off the fresh coconuts were the first thing I did right. There weren't any diarrhoea this time. The gastric was within control and what do you know? The smarty pants was right about the body aches.

The Merdeka Palace

Some said that The Merdeka Palace was financed by the Sultan of Brunei. Others said that a few skulls were sacrificed for the building of this hotel. And I say I won't be staying at this hotel a second time for this is what happened the last time I was there.

I was having my daily afternoon nap at about 2pm when I felt a dark shadowy figure attempting to snuff the daylights out of me. Well technically, I was sleeping so there weren't much of a daylight in me but you get the picture. I couldn't breathe or move myself but felt a desperation within me to fight this thing. My friend Lydia had long prepared me for such a scenario so I obeyed my instincts at once. I yelled out "In the name of Jesus, go away!" three* times and miraculously, the shadowy figure disappeared, and I woke up shaken and stirred by this experience.

* A note here about the yell. You had to utter it three times to make it work. It had something to do with Peter's Denial. Most of all, you need to have the faith for it to work in the first place.

Bala's Chalet

I wondered how many of you have heard about Bala's Chalet. It was a colonial  British Boarding School with very basic amenities. The roofs were covered with inches of moss but the chalets were surrounded by a nice interesting garden.

The afternoon tea with scones and cream were the best I've ever tried.

There weren't much of a sleep for me here though. It was simply too dank and humid, but an experience worth trying just the one time.

And here's the part where I take you to The Merdeka Palace.

The Avillion

Chalets built out in the sea where all you hear all day are the waves lapping below you and the chirping of birds in the trees along the coasts. A dreamy holiday is what I called this place

The rooms are really comfortable too. You get a canopied king sized bed with another queen sized bed placed by the window where you look out at the sea water below. A glass door takes you to the open air veranda so you could watch the waves move at high tide. The bathrooms were covered  and an air well outside the bedroom allow you to ogle at the gushing sea water below, if you're into such things.

Like I've said, a dreamy holiday. There weren't any sleep for me here though. What if the Tsunami chose this moment to assail upon us?

But, I must tell you about Bala's Chalet next.  Really!

Eagles Ranch

This is another Team Building Resort where we were accommodated in individual log cabins with roofless bathrooms. Oh yes, it was disconcerting having to shower in a bathroom without any cover. You feel exposed is what you feel.

Its dark inside the cabin. Although windows allow some light into the bedroom, you are surrounded by dark brown wooden logs so how bright can you feel?

I like the veranda outside though. You are provided two cosy looking chairs with a coffee table between them. I spent hours there sipping on my cuppa, legs perched on that other chair, reading a book and listening to the birds chirp. Quite my cup of tea.

There weren't any sleep for me here though. All that dark woody logs reminds me of the bane of all creatures, the centipedes and I hate centipedes. Centipedes conceal themselves in the nooks and crevices between logs, don't they?

And guess what? This reminds me of The Avillion and I absolutely have to write about The Avillion in the next post.

The Tree House

I've never stayed at a Tree House so I was exhilarated when I heard that we were going to stay at one. It was one of those team building trips which brought us to Camp Permai many years ago and I am so in the mood to share this experience today.

The Tree House was built on wooden structures easily 30 feet in the air, if not more. Up in the bedroom, you are surrounded by glass walls on all three sides with the bathroom behind you. Bamboo blinds on the glass walls provide shade against the sun. You are actually among the forest canopies at the edge of the rainforest and perched precariously above the rocky coasts below. A small door in front opened to an outdoor veranda so you can take a closer look at that rocky coasts below. If that isn't near enough, wooden steps will take you further down.

It was a windy night when we were there and there wasn't much of a sleep for me. There were just two concerns on my mind:

1. Are the wooden structures strong enough to keep the Tree House from toppling into the rocky coast below?
2. Snakes climb trees, don't they? 

Still, it was some experience worth trying out for just the one time. But this experience reminds me of the Eagles Ranch, which I must tell you about in the next post.

P/s: Yes, these posts sort of digresses from the subject of this blog but I needed the distraction so please bear with me.

Chemotherapy 5

On my first session with the oncologist, she told me that although the chemotherapy session is scheduled on a 3 weeks cycle, it can be delayed by a week but can never be scheduled earlier.  That was great news. My current treatment (i.e. Biggie No: 5) was delayed by precisely one week. That gave me time to recuperate which was a good thing because my WBC is back to normal. (It had previously dipped below the minimum.)

However, my Total Cholesterol shot all the way up to 13.4.  I don't get this cholesterol thing.  My protein is low because I had cut down on meat. So where did all that cholesterol come from?  Nuisance is what I call them! I analysed the blood test report. Okay, the HCL was on the low side and I hadn't been exercising but the variance was quite modest by my standard.The LDL was way past the mark. We know that the LDL is affected by our diet so I don't get it.  I hadn't been feasting like a King since my Operation in July so what gives? Perhaps its all in the genes?

As for the ultrasound, it could not conclusively determine what that black glob in my liver was. A second more conclusive CT Scan will be scheduled at the end of my treatment.

The needle prick for the blood test was a breeze, It was over before I thought it started. The same goes for the chemo needle prick. These nurses are professionals. I guess my preceding prayers (and those of you who were praying for me) helped in a lot of ways. Thanks, pals.

The patients this time were mostly young ladies in their early thirties. I wasn't sitting near the chemo board so I couldn't see how many patients were scheduled for the morning session.

Midway through the session, an elderly Malay lady sitting opposite me complained about breathing problems.The nurses stopped the medication at once and called for her doctor. By the time the doctor arrived, the patient was shivering badly. They monitored her vital signs, allowed more room for her to recover and shot another round of steroids. Her session resumed after about half an hour.

The Chinese lady on my left discovered a 2 cm lump on her left breast in June this year. She went to Gleneagles to have the lump diagnosed. They advised her to remove the lump so she opted for the operation. It was a lumpectomy which meant that only the lump was removed and she retained her entire breast. In total they also removed 20 lymph nodes. When the biopsy report came out, she was shocked to hear that four out of the twenty lymph nodes removed were diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer. The lump in her breast meanwhile was a harmless fibroid.  What does this tell you?

I'm so proud of myself today. I exercised for TWENTY minutes!  That's double my usual ten minutes and I abhor exercising. On the bright side, I'm feeling fine this morning. Then again, I'm flushed with steroids, all sixteen of them.

Oh, and by the by, the fourteen days quarantine is back again so I'm not allowed to receive any visitors. Thanks buddies for all your fine wishes and concern. We'll meet again when all this madness is over. This morning, I feel optimistic.