Status Report

Exasperated looks exchanged angry vibes at the waiting area of the hospital. The dirty look from the young mother said "He's just a kid, for crying out loud.". Her kid was throwing a tantrum. It was the mother of all tantrums.

Mothers, it is YOUR fault when YOUR kid threw tantrums in public. Kids are not made to throw tantrums. They are made to purr delightfully and bask in the sweet innocence of childhood. If your kid is in the habit of bawling at the top of his lungs, something is wrong with you. Yes, you!

Why aren't you in control of the situation? Kids get bored and restless. Distract them. Tell them a story or two. Occupy them. Being a kid is not an excuse for bad behavior. And pushing an IPad into their greedy palm is not a solution.

I had such a head-dy-ache from all that yelling.

A businessman who was in a hurry once entered the sole elevator at his condominium. To his disgust, almost all the lights of the different floors were lit up. This meant that the elevator will stop at every floor. Inside the elevator was a young mother and her kid. She was beaming with pride. Her brilliant son had just demonstrated how well he understood the elevator system.

As the boy was about to punch more buttons, the businessman snarled. The defensive mother exchanged angry words with the man. "He's just a kid!" Well, this is one just-a-kid who will grow up to be quite-a-nuisance to us all.

Just saying ...

So I went for my first mammogram. They ushered me into a room where my pound of flesh was compressed between two plates on the mammogram machine, first horizontally, then vertically. It was over in a sec. My next session will be in a year's time. It appears that yearly mammograms are required once you're diagnosed with the big C. If not, it's once in two years.

The ultrasound was next. I have two small benign mass which will be monitored. The good professor wasn't concerned about it since it is rather "common".

I was told to watch out for weight changes, coughs and backaches. Coughs meant that the Beast had breached the lungs while backaches indicate that the bone is in trouble.

As she ushered me out of the room, she said that I was "looking good." I liked "looking good". It made me optimistic. My appetite is improving but my hair is still short. Did I mention I've dyed it light gold?

The nail on my fingers are "looking good" but my toe nail carried etched markings, a legacy from my chemotherapy days. The good news is that I no longer have to paint my finger nails. As for the numbness, it's still there though greatly diminished.

Some of you have been asking me to post pictures of myself here. What's the condition of my hair and all that jazz. I am painfully shy but yeah ... why not? I'll meet you halfway. Somewhere in the following posts, you will find me in one of the pictures or videos. So look out for me, buddies.

The current rage is dengue. Close to 4500 dengue patients had been admitted into the hospitals here.

I went back to church last Sunday. My cell leader and his wife missed me. They thought we've moved on to another church. Apparently, one of our pastor had breast cancer too.

Meanwhile, "looking good" (that's me!) is feeling good so I baked me some buns. Cheese and cranberry rolls. They're "looking good" too.

Before

After

That's about it, folks! Here's me "looking good" and signing off ... until the next post.