Liver Enzyme

So antibodies (bless their souls) were not attacking my liver. That's the good news. The bad news is that my liver enzyme continued to inch higher. The doctors at the Gastroenterology Clinic were perplexed. Professor Chan, the leading expert in fatty liver could not figure out what went wrong. Suspecting fatty liver, they prescribed a liver tonic and vitamin E.

Back at Oncology, the doctors decided that I should continue with tamoxifen for the next four months. Statistically, I am in the 1% bracket of those whose liver might be adversely affected by tamoxifen.

It's a waiting game.

Ms Ping Pong

"I slipped and fell for the third time," Ms Ping Pong (not her real name) whined as she pointed at the top of her head. "There's a swell up here as big as a ping pong ball."

"That's terrible! Do be careful. At your age, it's dangerous to fall. Were you dizzy?" (I was pretty good at "dizzy" questions having asked them rather frequently during the six years my late father-in-law lived with us. (Why, I dreamt of the old man not two nights ago sitting at his customary spot, head bent low. In my dream, I asked him if he was dizzy. Very routine, almost methodical.)

"Nah. I have weak knees. And what is there to be careful? I have to work. I have no sons to feed me."

Ms Ping Pong is an odd job cleaner at the market food-stall. She cleared tables for the proprietor and return their crockery for a fee. I have seen her catching a breather at quiet corners, always looking pensively ahead as if reflecting on whether or not she should have lived her eighty over years any differently. Her silver hair framed a wrinkled doleful face which have seen much, perhaps suffered too.

The wet market was always packed during the weekends so it was often difficult to find a seat at the table on which one could finish one's breakfast. As such, Ms Ping Pong was often compelled to surrender her seat.

Not knowing how to console the poor tired woman, we finished our breakfast quickly and got up to go. Deciding on a suitable quantum was difficult. I had to settle for something small enough to spare her the embarrassment and big enough to be of any use. I pressed $50 into her palm. She smiled. I looked up just in time to see my husband smiled at me. I am reminded of a song I used to sing during my guiding years.

♪ ♫ A smile is quite a funny thing

It wrinkles up your face

And when it's gone you'll never find

it's secret hiding place

But far more wonderful it is

To see what smiles can do

You smile at one, she smiles at you

And so one smile makes two

He smiles at someone, since you smile

And then that one smiles back

And that one smiles until in truth

You fail in keeping track

And since a smile can do great good

By cheering hearts of care

Let's smile and not forget the fact

That smiles go everywhere ♪ ♫

(sung to the tune of Auld Lang Syne)

Phuket

... was a lot like Bali. The beaches were just as packed and vendors combed it to sell their wares. The sea was comparatively placid and the sunsets weren't quite as spectacular. Still, it was a lot more pleasant as there were less demonic stone carvings gawking from dark corners.

King Bhumibol Adulyadej

His grandfather, King Chulalongkorn was the firstborn of King Mongkut. (The King and I (1956)) There were many versions of this story but I liked the above best. Watch it if you haven't.

So I tried one of these SPA treatment. It was a great experience although I did not like the sauna room. The air inside was too saturated. I was unduly concerned about my missing pound of flesh but like my niece said, the masseurs have seen far worse. I slept better at night after the treatment and hey, I could get used to this.