Cait's commitment
Cait is going for extra gym practice on Sundays, having been identified by her coach and teachers as someone with 'potential' to do well in competitions. Next year would be the first year she can go for the nationals so this is the year to start preparing.
When Cait came home with the letter from her coach, I was in two minds over this. First thing that came to mind was: she's only 8. And she's already so busy. This extra gym practice will take away more of her personal time. The next question for me is: push or don't push? And is this more for her or for me?
We've had two or three long serious conversations about what this means. If she was serious about gym, she would have to work hard during training. This may mean she's extra tired or maybe sometimes, even incur some pain along the way. Training being on a Sunday evening means forgoing some family activities which she might enjoy. There is commitment and sacrifice to be made if she wants to pursue this seriously and she must be prepared to commit to this wholeheartedly. She cannot be half-hearted about this.
And then there is the issue of dance, which she loves equally as much. She learns fast and she is imbued with a natural grace and a strong sense of rhythm. In last year's year-end performance, she was among the three girls chosen to execute more complex moves than the others in the front and centre of the formation and according to her, it is the same again for this year's year-end dance performance. If she is shortlisted for dance, another core activity in IJ, what then? Might seem like I'm counting many unhatched chicks and being presumptuous. But I like to consider all possibilities and this one is very real. I've seen what she can do and each time KH and I see her dance, we're just bowled over. Where did all this come from? Not from us that's for sure! If we see this love and this talent, should we not as parents, support this, develop this?
But bottomline is, she can't have everything. Both gym and dance are core CCAs for the school and very demanding in their time and commitment. There is still academic work to consider too. While Cait is doing well in school so far, the work is still easy for now. What happens when the pressure builds in P4, P5 and P6?
So I outlined all this for her. She went away thinking about it. As recently as last night, I brought this up again. She said nothing but this morning when I came downstairs, she was poring over the gym form with her father and he was already signing his consent.
When I asked her in the car why she made this decision, she said simply: "I want to win. I want medals."
I can't describe how I felt. Cait is very different from her siblings in that she can be very ambitious and very driven. On one hand, I felt proud of her for knowing what she wants and being willing to work to get it. On the other hand, I wanted to protect her - from any disappointments that might come out of this. Does this mean I have no confidence in her to succeed? How disloyal is this lack of faith. Should I, as a parent, brush aside all my inner concerns and fears and just blindly believe too? Do I just egg her on in her self-belief and in her ambition? Or do I temper her ambition, water down her appetite for success?
It was on the tip of my tongue to say: "but you know, sometimes no matter how hard you try, how much you want it, you might still be disappointed because others might be better."
But caveats like this pour cold water and dilute the flip side of the equation, which is the belief that if you try your best, and you want it bad enough, you work damn hard for it, you will be rewarded for it. And this is the kind of fighting spirit we want to encourage in her which can only help her in her life.
KH is not very supportive either. He never was 100% in favour of Cait taking gym. And while he's proud of her, he would be happier to see her leaving gym and moving to dance. Likewise while he's chuffed to see her being recognised for her efforts, appointed leadership roles in class (believe it or not, terms like "subject reps", "class ex-co" roll effortlessly off her tongue these days), doing more in gym, ballet, dance etc, he's also pragmatic enough to worry about the impact that all this will have on her academic work. That, for him will always come first. While I am the first to applaud her achievements, push her and strategise with her, he views all this with some amusement and scepticism. He sees this as more of a 'pushy-mom' initiative than hers. But I disagree. I know how much Cait values approval, applause and accolades.
Maybe I find this all a bit scary - that I have this over-achiever of a child in my midst. Cait is moving so fast these days in a way that impresses and scares me. How to manage this?
I'm still thinking hard about this one.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Perfectly imperfect
KH bought me a 16GB Creative Zen on Sunday. So this is my new toy. Very excited about it and still trying to figure this out. But 16GB is a big improvement over my current player which is only a 1GB baby. So many possibilities! Now the kids are elbowing each other trying to be in pole position to inherit my 1GB player. I'd mentioned that I was running out of space on my player and my new fascination with K-pop and K-dramas meant that I was looking for something that would allow me to store my favourite K-drama scenes and K-pop videos. It was just a passing comment but KH noted that and on Sunday, he made it a point for all of us to go to the Creative store at Marina Square.
KH has been very sweet lately. Not just because of my new toy, but he's turned a tolerant blind eye on my latest craze for K-dramas. I think he can be exasperated by my antics - buying the umpteenth box set, blasting K-pop in the car, pulling all-nighters (I lasted till 3am once and he gamely sat with me to watch) and generally neglecting our children for the gogglebox. But I give him full credit for not scolding me for it or being scathing about it and taking interest in what I am watching. And then there are our Saturday brekkies in the park. I look forward to those. Actually I look forward to our daily brekkies when we go to work in the morning after we send the kids off to school.
Also he gets my deep emotional thanks for being there over the past few days when I've been crouching over our toilet bowl, puking endlessly. He was sweet enough to take me home from work in the middle of the morning last week when I puked four times in a row, send me to the doctor, stroke my back when I retched and retched and then taking the rest of the day off, making sure I took my meds and keeping the kids away from me. He did the same again yesterday when I was still violently sick. I guess when a guy can see you at your worst - and how elegant can puking over a toilet bowl be huh? - and still care for you, I guess it's gotta be love huh?
The MCYS ad making its rounds these days - depicting a woman's deep love for her husband through her moving eulogy made me teary more than once - in fact every time I see it. How many of us can see past all the imperfections? And I'm not talking about the snoring or the 'rear wind action' either. Though, with KH, I get plenty of that! Made me think what I would say about KH in a eulogy. And that made me reflect on my life with KH.
This blog has seen me through a time when I was very low and found marriage hard-going. Good friends will know exactly what I mean. I spent months in a funk. Contemplating painful and once unimaginable impossible scenarios. But you know what? I'm glad I did. Doing that was good for me. The very exercise itself threw open possibilities and scenarios that I walked myself through, and having done so, I know exactly what I could or could not do. What I could let go of, and what I could not. The knowledge gave me strength and peace of mind. And then days passed, then weeks, and the funk eased off. I saw things in a better light. Didn't happen overnight. Took me a long long time.
Today, a friend emailed me about how hard she was finding it - marriage.
Here's my take. I think we walk on life roads that take us through valleys and peaks. And right now, this is her valley. But it's not necessarily bad to be in the valley for a while. Sometimes, we just have to hang on for the ride. I did that. And I think I have emerged from that dark period - and I say this cautiously because I do not want to over-reach myself - with the certainty that while I can certainly live without KH and life will go on, life would be far, infinitely far less rich or complete without him. As I sat on my porch last night, I think of all that has come and gone - my life with KH, that MCYS ad, the K-dramas I watch, even Richard's death, everything came together in one jumbled mess and my only coherent thought is - I'm glad I hung on.
I don't say that to everyone. I don't believe all marriages are made in heaven and meant to last forever. Sometimes it would really be for the better for people to part ways. But I also think that these days, maybe most people give up very easily. The imperfections overwhelm. Or maybe that wall of pride is just insurmountable.
I'm not the best person for marital advice. But here's my two cents. I think there are people who are worth hanging on for and some who are better let go. Some whose paths are just utterly divergent from yours - you know then that perhaps its best to go separate ways. But there are some whose paths start out the same, deviate a little, take the scenic route but ultimately have the same destination as yours - those are worth keeping right? Worth hanging on for the ride - even though the ride might be scary and too fast for your liking and you feel as though you are in danger of being flung off.
For this second group - even with the most ferocious 'rear wind action' - you know you should hang on to them for dear life. I guess KH falls into this group for me. We've had our tough times. I'm sure we would have equally challenging times ahead. And no matter how I rant and rage, how many tantrums I throw on this blog about him from time to time, KH is still someone worth hanging on to for dear life. I actually think he's a much better person than I am. Maybe if I hang around him more, this might just rub off on me.
In case you're wondering, KH does not read this blog. And I am not the most emotionally expressive person around. We're both gruff recipients when it comes to mush and I cannot remember the last time we even told each other those three little words (which I think are over-rated anyway!). KH would probably roll his eyes! So if anyone has suggestions on how I can tell KH all this - without being too mushy, maudlin or sentimental, post it!
KH bought me a 16GB Creative Zen on Sunday. So this is my new toy. Very excited about it and still trying to figure this out. But 16GB is a big improvement over my current player which is only a 1GB baby. So many possibilities! Now the kids are elbowing each other trying to be in pole position to inherit my 1GB player. I'd mentioned that I was running out of space on my player and my new fascination with K-pop and K-dramas meant that I was looking for something that would allow me to store my favourite K-drama scenes and K-pop videos. It was just a passing comment but KH noted that and on Sunday, he made it a point for all of us to go to the Creative store at Marina Square.
KH has been very sweet lately. Not just because of my new toy, but he's turned a tolerant blind eye on my latest craze for K-dramas. I think he can be exasperated by my antics - buying the umpteenth box set, blasting K-pop in the car, pulling all-nighters (I lasted till 3am once and he gamely sat with me to watch) and generally neglecting our children for the gogglebox. But I give him full credit for not scolding me for it or being scathing about it and taking interest in what I am watching. And then there are our Saturday brekkies in the park. I look forward to those. Actually I look forward to our daily brekkies when we go to work in the morning after we send the kids off to school.
Also he gets my deep emotional thanks for being there over the past few days when I've been crouching over our toilet bowl, puking endlessly. He was sweet enough to take me home from work in the middle of the morning last week when I puked four times in a row, send me to the doctor, stroke my back when I retched and retched and then taking the rest of the day off, making sure I took my meds and keeping the kids away from me. He did the same again yesterday when I was still violently sick. I guess when a guy can see you at your worst - and how elegant can puking over a toilet bowl be huh? - and still care for you, I guess it's gotta be love huh?
The MCYS ad making its rounds these days - depicting a woman's deep love for her husband through her moving eulogy made me teary more than once - in fact every time I see it. How many of us can see past all the imperfections? And I'm not talking about the snoring or the 'rear wind action' either. Though, with KH, I get plenty of that! Made me think what I would say about KH in a eulogy. And that made me reflect on my life with KH.
This blog has seen me through a time when I was very low and found marriage hard-going. Good friends will know exactly what I mean. I spent months in a funk. Contemplating painful and once unimaginable impossible scenarios. But you know what? I'm glad I did. Doing that was good for me. The very exercise itself threw open possibilities and scenarios that I walked myself through, and having done so, I know exactly what I could or could not do. What I could let go of, and what I could not. The knowledge gave me strength and peace of mind. And then days passed, then weeks, and the funk eased off. I saw things in a better light. Didn't happen overnight. Took me a long long time.
Today, a friend emailed me about how hard she was finding it - marriage.
Here's my take. I think we walk on life roads that take us through valleys and peaks. And right now, this is her valley. But it's not necessarily bad to be in the valley for a while. Sometimes, we just have to hang on for the ride. I did that. And I think I have emerged from that dark period - and I say this cautiously because I do not want to over-reach myself - with the certainty that while I can certainly live without KH and life will go on, life would be far, infinitely far less rich or complete without him. As I sat on my porch last night, I think of all that has come and gone - my life with KH, that MCYS ad, the K-dramas I watch, even Richard's death, everything came together in one jumbled mess and my only coherent thought is - I'm glad I hung on.
I don't say that to everyone. I don't believe all marriages are made in heaven and meant to last forever. Sometimes it would really be for the better for people to part ways. But I also think that these days, maybe most people give up very easily. The imperfections overwhelm. Or maybe that wall of pride is just insurmountable.
I'm not the best person for marital advice. But here's my two cents. I think there are people who are worth hanging on for and some who are better let go. Some whose paths are just utterly divergent from yours - you know then that perhaps its best to go separate ways. But there are some whose paths start out the same, deviate a little, take the scenic route but ultimately have the same destination as yours - those are worth keeping right? Worth hanging on for the ride - even though the ride might be scary and too fast for your liking and you feel as though you are in danger of being flung off.
For this second group - even with the most ferocious 'rear wind action' - you know you should hang on to them for dear life. I guess KH falls into this group for me. We've had our tough times. I'm sure we would have equally challenging times ahead. And no matter how I rant and rage, how many tantrums I throw on this blog about him from time to time, KH is still someone worth hanging on to for dear life. I actually think he's a much better person than I am. Maybe if I hang around him more, this might just rub off on me.
In case you're wondering, KH does not read this blog. And I am not the most emotionally expressive person around. We're both gruff recipients when it comes to mush and I cannot remember the last time we even told each other those three little words (which I think are over-rated anyway!). KH would probably roll his eyes! So if anyone has suggestions on how I can tell KH all this - without being too mushy, maudlin or sentimental, post it!
15 minutes
Last night, I had a rare 15min of being alone in a house full of people. The kids were in bed. KH was coaching Isaac in Maths. The cat was out on the prowl. And I had 15 blissful minutes alone outside on the porch. In semi-darkness illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps, I sat, enjoying the breeze. It had been such a hot muggy still day and the house felt so stuffy - despite all our large windows flung open. It was sheer pleasure sitting there in the cooler outdoors, with earphones playing my favourite music stuffing my ears.
For once, I could sit and watch as lightning streaked and glowed across the night sky. I could see the resident bats swoop from one branch to the next, one tree to the other. My thoughts could roam where they will without interruption.
And then, came a voice plaintively calling: "Muu-uuummmmyyyy..." and my alone-time ended.
But for 15min - sheer bliss.
Last night, I had a rare 15min of being alone in a house full of people. The kids were in bed. KH was coaching Isaac in Maths. The cat was out on the prowl. And I had 15 blissful minutes alone outside on the porch. In semi-darkness illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps, I sat, enjoying the breeze. It had been such a hot muggy still day and the house felt so stuffy - despite all our large windows flung open. It was sheer pleasure sitting there in the cooler outdoors, with earphones playing my favourite music stuffing my ears.
For once, I could sit and watch as lightning streaked and glowed across the night sky. I could see the resident bats swoop from one branch to the next, one tree to the other. My thoughts could roam where they will without interruption.
And then, came a voice plaintively calling: "Muu-uuummmmyyyy..." and my alone-time ended.
But for 15min - sheer bliss.
Cherry blossoms
I've said before that I found a certain loneliness in Japan. And I feel for the place because I feel the same loneliness many times. Today, I'm seeing pictures of cherry blossom in Japan, in most places, the trees are now mostly green, the blossoms mostly on the ground already, the crowd thinning out. I used to think that the best time to visit Japan is during the height of the cherry blossom season. But now, I think otherwise. Perhaps the best time to visit Japan is really the end of the season. When the leaves turn green, when the wind blows pink and white petals hither thither and the ground is littered with trampled blossoms and the parks return to their quiet, crowdless state.
Cherry blossoms last only about a week or so on the branch. For the Japanese, the coming of the cherry blossom signals re-birth, fresh beginnings. And the very fleeting nature of the cherry blossoms signify the fleeting nature of life itself. There is a certain poignancy to this. So when the petals fall, perhaps that would be the best time to really savour the meaning of cherry blossoms.
I've always said Japan is a place I'd like to travel alone to. One day, when the kids are older (or is that only an excuse?) I'll take myself off to Japan and I'll be sure to go at the tail end of the cherry blossom season.
I've said before that I found a certain loneliness in Japan. And I feel for the place because I feel the same loneliness many times. Today, I'm seeing pictures of cherry blossom in Japan, in most places, the trees are now mostly green, the blossoms mostly on the ground already, the crowd thinning out. I used to think that the best time to visit Japan is during the height of the cherry blossom season. But now, I think otherwise. Perhaps the best time to visit Japan is really the end of the season. When the leaves turn green, when the wind blows pink and white petals hither thither and the ground is littered with trampled blossoms and the parks return to their quiet, crowdless state.
Cherry blossoms last only about a week or so on the branch. For the Japanese, the coming of the cherry blossom signals re-birth, fresh beginnings. And the very fleeting nature of the cherry blossoms signify the fleeting nature of life itself. There is a certain poignancy to this. So when the petals fall, perhaps that would be the best time to really savour the meaning of cherry blossoms.
I've always said Japan is a place I'd like to travel alone to. One day, when the kids are older (or is that only an excuse?) I'll take myself off to Japan and I'll be sure to go at the tail end of the cherry blossom season.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Gobsmacked!
Ever watched the musical Victor/Victoria? About a woman playing a man playing a woman? I watched it once and emerged totally confused about the whole thing. I'm sure there were clever gags and insider smirks but those were totally lost to me.
I feel just as lost now when I think about Tigerlily.
Turns out that my Tigerlily is not a 'she' but a 'he'!
We'd sent the cat for spaying yesterday morning only to get a very abrupt call from the vet at 4pm. "Your cat... this Tigerlily... did you get it as a kitten or just adopted?" he demanded without much preamble.
I was a bit taken aback because he sounded a bit indignant. Before I could gather my thoughts, he went: "Did you know your cat is a male?!"
After my first "WHAT???" the whole car (we were in the car then, together with the children) erupted in a huge uproar and I could barely hear the man on thel ine. A few incoherent sentences later, we agreed to pick the cat up immediately and get the facts.
"Oy, the vet checked and said it was a girl cat what!!" That was the general shocked and upset mood in the car.
We all had trouble getting our heads around the fact that the 'girl cat' was actually a boy cat in disguise! And all this time we'd been calling her 'girl' and using all the female pronouns! Yikes!!
How could she be a he? She was growing breasts - so said Caitlin. No penis - show me a penis - demanded KH. No balls, daddy don't all boys have balls? Tigerlily has no balls - went Owain. "How can the vet make such a mistake? The very first vet said she's a girl... "(that was me repeating the same line dully over and over again) The only reasonable voice in the cacophony was Isaac's who said: It must be a mistake. Just bring the cat to another vet and get a second opinion.
To the vet we zoomed, all full of anxious questions. Cradling a very drowsy and tranquillised Tigerlily, he showed us the penis, a very teensy pink one that had to be probed and pushed out of the inner folds of the body. He also pointed out the vulva lips, part of the female sexual anatomy, but noted that there was no vagina and no uterus. The vet also showed us the scrotum, two tiny bulges just below the anus. They were certainly not like other adult male cats, whose scrotum hung outside the body. They looked like, forgive me, mangosteen slices instead. And when probed, there was nothing there. No scrotal sacs. It could be that the testicles were undescended but given the cat's age as an adult cat, this did not seem likely. Your cat, he said, is bisexual.
Owain yelled excitedly: We have a gay cat!
No! Apart from being very politically incorrect, that is just the wrong description of his/her condition. The vet said this was due to its mother cat's hormonal imbalances during gestation, that caused this strange development.
A hermaphrodite cat! Who knew?? Tigerlily has joined the ranks of snails, hamlets, earthworms and banana slugs in the genre of homogamy.
The vet was fascinated and said that in all his years, this was the second case he had seen. He took pictures of Tigerlily and her unique anatomy for his personal records. Very rare, he kept saying. But for the record, he said Tigerlily was more male than female. Even so, he could never impregnate other cats because he didn't have the hormones for sperm production and scrotal development. Despite the presence of a vulva (which was how the younger vet was hoodwinked earlier), there were no other female sexual organs - no vagina. So definitely can't get pregnant.
It ended with the vet refunding us the sterilisation fees and telling us that we were 'lucky' - this cat would never exhibit the tomcat-like aggressive territorial behavior of male cats (not enough male hormones) but neither would it get pregnant etc as a female cat. So no need to spay - for the moment. But if the testicles look like they are forming and the cat starts caterwauling, then I've got to bring it back for a second look. But, he said, this is not likely to happen.
We're all still a bit dazed by this development and we all still trip over the pronouns, so used were we to the 'she' and 'her'. And now, there's the big issue outstanding - what to call him? Whoever heard of a male cat called Tigerlily? Fairy stories aplenty! KH, pragmatically said, just call him Tiger. But he's such a gentle cat, certainly far from tiger-like, the name would not suit!
Family meeting tonight for sure - we need to talk about a name for our unique bisexual cat!
Ever watched the musical Victor/Victoria? About a woman playing a man playing a woman? I watched it once and emerged totally confused about the whole thing. I'm sure there were clever gags and insider smirks but those were totally lost to me.
I feel just as lost now when I think about Tigerlily.
Turns out that my Tigerlily is not a 'she' but a 'he'!
We'd sent the cat for spaying yesterday morning only to get a very abrupt call from the vet at 4pm. "Your cat... this Tigerlily... did you get it as a kitten or just adopted?" he demanded without much preamble.
I was a bit taken aback because he sounded a bit indignant. Before I could gather my thoughts, he went: "Did you know your cat is a male?!"
After my first "WHAT???" the whole car (we were in the car then, together with the children) erupted in a huge uproar and I could barely hear the man on thel ine. A few incoherent sentences later, we agreed to pick the cat up immediately and get the facts.
"Oy, the vet checked and said it was a girl cat what!!" That was the general shocked and upset mood in the car.
We all had trouble getting our heads around the fact that the 'girl cat' was actually a boy cat in disguise! And all this time we'd been calling her 'girl' and using all the female pronouns! Yikes!!
How could she be a he? She was growing breasts - so said Caitlin. No penis - show me a penis - demanded KH. No balls, daddy don't all boys have balls? Tigerlily has no balls - went Owain. "How can the vet make such a mistake? The very first vet said she's a girl... "(that was me repeating the same line dully over and over again) The only reasonable voice in the cacophony was Isaac's who said: It must be a mistake. Just bring the cat to another vet and get a second opinion.
To the vet we zoomed, all full of anxious questions. Cradling a very drowsy and tranquillised Tigerlily, he showed us the penis, a very teensy pink one that had to be probed and pushed out of the inner folds of the body. He also pointed out the vulva lips, part of the female sexual anatomy, but noted that there was no vagina and no uterus. The vet also showed us the scrotum, two tiny bulges just below the anus. They were certainly not like other adult male cats, whose scrotum hung outside the body. They looked like, forgive me, mangosteen slices instead. And when probed, there was nothing there. No scrotal sacs. It could be that the testicles were undescended but given the cat's age as an adult cat, this did not seem likely. Your cat, he said, is bisexual.
Owain yelled excitedly: We have a gay cat!
No! Apart from being very politically incorrect, that is just the wrong description of his/her condition. The vet said this was due to its mother cat's hormonal imbalances during gestation, that caused this strange development.
A hermaphrodite cat! Who knew?? Tigerlily has joined the ranks of snails, hamlets, earthworms and banana slugs in the genre of homogamy.
The vet was fascinated and said that in all his years, this was the second case he had seen. He took pictures of Tigerlily and her unique anatomy for his personal records. Very rare, he kept saying. But for the record, he said Tigerlily was more male than female. Even so, he could never impregnate other cats because he didn't have the hormones for sperm production and scrotal development. Despite the presence of a vulva (which was how the younger vet was hoodwinked earlier), there were no other female sexual organs - no vagina. So definitely can't get pregnant.
It ended with the vet refunding us the sterilisation fees and telling us that we were 'lucky' - this cat would never exhibit the tomcat-like aggressive territorial behavior of male cats (not enough male hormones) but neither would it get pregnant etc as a female cat. So no need to spay - for the moment. But if the testicles look like they are forming and the cat starts caterwauling, then I've got to bring it back for a second look. But, he said, this is not likely to happen.
We're all still a bit dazed by this development and we all still trip over the pronouns, so used were we to the 'she' and 'her'. And now, there's the big issue outstanding - what to call him? Whoever heard of a male cat called Tigerlily? Fairy stories aplenty! KH, pragmatically said, just call him Tiger. But he's such a gentle cat, certainly far from tiger-like, the name would not suit!
Family meeting tonight for sure - we need to talk about a name for our unique bisexual cat!
Just catching up
Back at work for a week now and I'm still adjusting. Luckily its term break now so things are very quiet and most people are on leave. Adjusting to a longer work week and getting some resistance from my inner self. After working 2.5 days for more than 7 years, it seems harder even to just work one more day a week! I'm sorely feeling my loss of personal time and half regretting the move to work 3.5 days. But I've just got to bite the bullet and do this. Pathetic as it may sound, Trin can use the money for her Nursery education.
Yes, we've decided to go ahead and continue her in Lumiere Montessori. KH was very reluctant but after thinking long and hard, I think its what is best for her. She's used to the place and to the teachers, the Montessori way of individualised learning is still what is best for her (particularly given her extra strong will and personality), it's also more convenient, etc etc. Have to say I visited the PAP kindy just to have a feel of the place and within five minutes, I pretty much decided against the mainstream kindy. I disagreed with practically everything I heard! So, feeling this way, I could not in all good conscience put her there - even if the disparity in fees is at least 3 times!
Trin's really cute when she goes to school. She eagerly puts on her uniform, takes her bag and bugs everyone to get ready when its time to go! She loves it there, so even though I hate working 3.5 days a week, it's worth the pain if she really enjoys school and if she grows and learns.
The speech therapist did another test with her and said that she shows signs of attentional deficit. She was fidgety during the test, could not seem to process information well and responded only to binary questions. Therapist recommended that Trin start language, not speech, therapy and to be further evaluated by an educational psychologist.
One part of me is so resigned - why am I not surprised? Given our experience with Gillian and Isaac, this does not faze me as much, but I still feel a big sigh coming. Asked myself over and over again - what did we do wrong? I kept ultrasounds to a minimum, had a natural unmedicated birth, delayed cord clamping, declined all vaccinations, breastfed until she was at least three. So what went wrong?
Then again, I'm not the kind to keep wallowing. So best to just do what needs to be done - I've pushed her paed appointment at KKH up two months to May, spoken to Eileen at Lumiere about this and asked for her observations of Trin. By the end of this term, I would have more information to feed the paed and push for a referral to an educational psychologist. Hopefully by the second half of the year, we would have embarked on some early intervention programme. I'm quite prepared to get Melissa back on board to work with Trin on attentional issues.
Owain - being a real gem of a kor-kor in school. He does a lot for his baby sister. They fight a lot at home but in school, he seems pretty protective. He reports to me on a daily basis what Trin does in school and it looks as if he wanders over to the Nursery section often just to check on Trin!
Caitlin is starting the new term well. She's been appointed Social Studies Monitor and earmarked to go for 'training' in a special leadership training workshop for student and CCA leaders in the school. She's doing well in gym and in dance. So I think there will come a day when she's got to make a choice between gym and dance as a CCA.
Isaac is rather quiet these days - I don't hear much from him. The doors of adolescence seem to have cracked open a teensy bit and there is a new sort of tension between him and KH. I can sense it whenever KH comes down on Isaac and I try to soften things whenever I can. From past experience I already know that Isaac will not back down from a clash of wills. So I try to deflect it or talk to him separately. He's not outwardly rebellious or rude or defiant. He's just very quiet about it and that is the scary bit - because a lot of how I approach him is based on my gut feel and less on what I actually know. He reminds me of an iceberg - quiet and still, a small piece showing above the water but massive on the inside. Lucky for me that our bond is still quite strong and we have a lot in common. That helps.
Gillian is... shining like a beacon these days. She is really coming into her own now. Today is the first day of the C Div Nationals for bowling. She was very psyched up and very nervous this morning - worried that she would pull her team's scores down. But I think she'll be fine. Yesterday she played three games under her grandad's eagle eye and she was scoring well above her targets. Saturday's training also saw her scoring on target. We had set these targets for her to reach as gradual milestones. She seems to be hitting her stride and once she plateaus, we'll push her harder again. She's slowly improving and we are happy that she has the focus and determination to do so - that really is what's most important to us.
Gill has also been shortlisted for the GEM programme in KC. We attended the first briefing and she's gone for the first camp already. Its a nine-month long programme filled with camps, workshops, meetings and so on. I thought it sounded like a good programme to build self-confidence, self-discipline, motivation etc. Already after the first camp, she told us that she had such a good time that she's made new friends (more positive ones than her usual gang in class - which I am trying to steer her away from) and she's inspired to become a mentor and return to serve in the camp next year. You don't know how happy I was hear this coming from her - positive role modelling, self-motivation growing - so different from the girl she was a few years ago. Even at home, these days when it comes to work, we hear fewer moans and complaints than before. She grumbles a bit but knuckles down to work more willingly.
Back at work for a week now and I'm still adjusting. Luckily its term break now so things are very quiet and most people are on leave. Adjusting to a longer work week and getting some resistance from my inner self. After working 2.5 days for more than 7 years, it seems harder even to just work one more day a week! I'm sorely feeling my loss of personal time and half regretting the move to work 3.5 days. But I've just got to bite the bullet and do this. Pathetic as it may sound, Trin can use the money for her Nursery education.
Yes, we've decided to go ahead and continue her in Lumiere Montessori. KH was very reluctant but after thinking long and hard, I think its what is best for her. She's used to the place and to the teachers, the Montessori way of individualised learning is still what is best for her (particularly given her extra strong will and personality), it's also more convenient, etc etc. Have to say I visited the PAP kindy just to have a feel of the place and within five minutes, I pretty much decided against the mainstream kindy. I disagreed with practically everything I heard! So, feeling this way, I could not in all good conscience put her there - even if the disparity in fees is at least 3 times!
Trin's really cute when she goes to school. She eagerly puts on her uniform, takes her bag and bugs everyone to get ready when its time to go! She loves it there, so even though I hate working 3.5 days a week, it's worth the pain if she really enjoys school and if she grows and learns.
The speech therapist did another test with her and said that she shows signs of attentional deficit. She was fidgety during the test, could not seem to process information well and responded only to binary questions. Therapist recommended that Trin start language, not speech, therapy and to be further evaluated by an educational psychologist.
One part of me is so resigned - why am I not surprised? Given our experience with Gillian and Isaac, this does not faze me as much, but I still feel a big sigh coming. Asked myself over and over again - what did we do wrong? I kept ultrasounds to a minimum, had a natural unmedicated birth, delayed cord clamping, declined all vaccinations, breastfed until she was at least three. So what went wrong?
Then again, I'm not the kind to keep wallowing. So best to just do what needs to be done - I've pushed her paed appointment at KKH up two months to May, spoken to Eileen at Lumiere about this and asked for her observations of Trin. By the end of this term, I would have more information to feed the paed and push for a referral to an educational psychologist. Hopefully by the second half of the year, we would have embarked on some early intervention programme. I'm quite prepared to get Melissa back on board to work with Trin on attentional issues.
Owain - being a real gem of a kor-kor in school. He does a lot for his baby sister. They fight a lot at home but in school, he seems pretty protective. He reports to me on a daily basis what Trin does in school and it looks as if he wanders over to the Nursery section often just to check on Trin!
Caitlin is starting the new term well. She's been appointed Social Studies Monitor and earmarked to go for 'training' in a special leadership training workshop for student and CCA leaders in the school. She's doing well in gym and in dance. So I think there will come a day when she's got to make a choice between gym and dance as a CCA.
Isaac is rather quiet these days - I don't hear much from him. The doors of adolescence seem to have cracked open a teensy bit and there is a new sort of tension between him and KH. I can sense it whenever KH comes down on Isaac and I try to soften things whenever I can. From past experience I already know that Isaac will not back down from a clash of wills. So I try to deflect it or talk to him separately. He's not outwardly rebellious or rude or defiant. He's just very quiet about it and that is the scary bit - because a lot of how I approach him is based on my gut feel and less on what I actually know. He reminds me of an iceberg - quiet and still, a small piece showing above the water but massive on the inside. Lucky for me that our bond is still quite strong and we have a lot in common. That helps.
Gillian is... shining like a beacon these days. She is really coming into her own now. Today is the first day of the C Div Nationals for bowling. She was very psyched up and very nervous this morning - worried that she would pull her team's scores down. But I think she'll be fine. Yesterday she played three games under her grandad's eagle eye and she was scoring well above her targets. Saturday's training also saw her scoring on target. We had set these targets for her to reach as gradual milestones. She seems to be hitting her stride and once she plateaus, we'll push her harder again. She's slowly improving and we are happy that she has the focus and determination to do so - that really is what's most important to us.
Gill has also been shortlisted for the GEM programme in KC. We attended the first briefing and she's gone for the first camp already. Its a nine-month long programme filled with camps, workshops, meetings and so on. I thought it sounded like a good programme to build self-confidence, self-discipline, motivation etc. Already after the first camp, she told us that she had such a good time that she's made new friends (more positive ones than her usual gang in class - which I am trying to steer her away from) and she's inspired to become a mentor and return to serve in the camp next year. You don't know how happy I was hear this coming from her - positive role modelling, self-motivation growing - so different from the girl she was a few years ago. Even at home, these days when it comes to work, we hear fewer moans and complaints than before. She grumbles a bit but knuckles down to work more willingly.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Random thoughts from Owain
This came from Owain. We were at the computer and he just started to say this out of the blue. I thought it was pretty insightful. So I wrote everything down verbatim. Dated 25 March 2009.
“You have to let go of stuff because you will die soon. And you have to say goodbye to everyone.”
What is the stuff you have to let go of? (This is what I asked him)
“The stuff that you like very much, like your mummy and your children. But soon you will meet each other again.
I think this up inside my mind.
Either you will go to hell or heaven but you don’t need to do anything in heaven but in hell, you have to work fast because hell wants to trick people that hell is heaven. The devil will treat you very bad but in heaven you will always be happy.”
Interesting take. I'm just wondering why he said this to me out of the blue.
This came from Owain. We were at the computer and he just started to say this out of the blue. I thought it was pretty insightful. So I wrote everything down verbatim. Dated 25 March 2009.
“You have to let go of stuff because you will die soon. And you have to say goodbye to everyone.”
What is the stuff you have to let go of? (This is what I asked him)
“The stuff that you like very much, like your mummy and your children. But soon you will meet each other again.
I think this up inside my mind.
Either you will go to hell or heaven but you don’t need to do anything in heaven but in hell, you have to work fast because hell wants to trick people that hell is heaven. The devil will treat you very bad but in heaven you will always be happy.”
Interesting take. I'm just wondering why he said this to me out of the blue.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Hooked
I've finally done what I swore I would never do.
One by one, friends have succumbed to this addiction and how I have scoffed and sniffed at them and their weakness. But as they say, the more you scoff the harder you fall. Or something like that.
It started in the hospital, when bedridden, thanks to the bloody urine bag, I was forced to watch, night after night of My Sassy Girl Chun Hyang - bubble-gum pop Korean drama dubbed into Mandarin. I can thank my drama addict Gillian for this.
Yes I could have surfed to a different channel, but anaesthesia does funny things to your judgement and I have to admit that the bubble-gum, as with all bubble-gum, is sweet goodnatured fun.
My disease progressed thus:
By the time I was discharged, watching the daily episodes had become a daily highlight I looked forward to.
By week 1, I had developed the habit of zooming straight into the drama synopses section of 8 Days just to get the plot of the week. Even that wasn't enough.
By week 2, on the day I visited my doctor, I took the opportunity to visit the video shop to surreptitiously suss out the boxset of My Sassy Girl. I told everyone who asked me (with that once familiar aghast look I once wore myself in similar situations) that it wasn't for me - it was for Gillian.
But who was I kidding?
And by the way, since it was a buy 1 - get 1 free deal, I nipped another box set. Full House - which had the awful-looking Rain and the very pretty Song Hye Geo in it. It came with rave reviews. I had descended to the point where I actually accosted virtual strangers in the shop to ask their opinions on what was a great K drama to watch. A really nice lady obliged my madness and we really bonded over 15min of recommendations and suggestions. It was good fun and I thank the lady who fed my thirst, though I never got her name!
By week 3, it was the school holidays and Gillian and I had polished off every disc in the My Sassy Girl boxset. For the first time, Gillian willingly came home early from school without the usual excuses for dawdling after school. By 3pm, both of us would be perched on the sofa, the dvd player humming and the familiar theme piping through the speakers.
The day I actually finished TWO discs back to back, I knew I was a goner. The telly was on from 10am to 6pm. I've never felt so guilty about electricity usage in my life. Lucky the kids were all at their cousins' for the day. Gillian was really sore with me for finishing two discs (8 episodes) without her!
Have to say Gillian and I really bond over the K dramas. We bitch about the villains, we sigh in sympathy when the lovers separate, we grin in delight when they reconcile. We have a lot of fun discussing what happened and what will happen next. Gillian and I have had many happy moments tearing away in front of the TV together. Its been great fun!
Unlike the heavy handed TCS dramas, the K dramas were light, frothy fun. There was no sex, and any on-screen kissing did not involve tongues. They were either chaste pecks on the cheeks or boringly dry 'chin' kisses. Any suggestion of a carnal nature in the series was met with wide-eyed horror by the main characters.
What's there not to like? The actors and actresses were all good-looking. Doe-eyed, bee-stung lips (and those were just the men!) Okay, so we know the plastic surgery rate in Korea is sky high and nothing you see there is really real or natural... big deal. Yes, we can tell who has had a perky nose job. So what? Everything about the K-drama is sheer fantasy anyway. The plots are often trite - boy meets girl, fall in love, meets with obstacles, enter a rival/s, they separate, they reconcile, overcome obstacles, live happily ever after. Not award-winning stuff, but just plain fun. Everything is just too cute. And rather than pathos and tragedy, I really enjoy the light bubble-gum flavours of the romantic comedies I have seen so far.
The characters are so likeable, I just can't help rooting for them, and of course feeling a twinge of pain when the sad bits hit. I've been so long out of the old romantic grind that watching stuff like that brings back nice memories of what it was like back then. All that teen angst! So fun! Man, I miss those days...
And finally, I've never met a K drama soundtrack I didn't like. They really know how to work those strings arrangements! Cue soulful violins and contemplative piano! So much so that Gillian and I have hit the CD stores and the video stores - looking for K soundtracks and for new box sets. We've even gone online to discover blogs and sites on K dramas! Which of course makes us more eager than ever to find new boxsets to sigh over.
So I guess I'll just go ahead and admit it - I'm now officially a K drama addict. There. I've come out of my closet and joined the K fan club. If anyone out there has a good suggestion for a delicious K drama for me to sink my teeth into, please send it my way.
Even better, fork over those boxsets.
I've finally done what I swore I would never do.
One by one, friends have succumbed to this addiction and how I have scoffed and sniffed at them and their weakness. But as they say, the more you scoff the harder you fall. Or something like that.
It started in the hospital, when bedridden, thanks to the bloody urine bag, I was forced to watch, night after night of My Sassy Girl Chun Hyang - bubble-gum pop Korean drama dubbed into Mandarin. I can thank my drama addict Gillian for this.
Yes I could have surfed to a different channel, but anaesthesia does funny things to your judgement and I have to admit that the bubble-gum, as with all bubble-gum, is sweet goodnatured fun.
My disease progressed thus:
By the time I was discharged, watching the daily episodes had become a daily highlight I looked forward to.
By week 1, I had developed the habit of zooming straight into the drama synopses section of 8 Days just to get the plot of the week. Even that wasn't enough.
By week 2, on the day I visited my doctor, I took the opportunity to visit the video shop to surreptitiously suss out the boxset of My Sassy Girl. I told everyone who asked me (with that once familiar aghast look I once wore myself in similar situations) that it wasn't for me - it was for Gillian.
But who was I kidding?
And by the way, since it was a buy 1 - get 1 free deal, I nipped another box set. Full House - which had the awful-looking Rain and the very pretty Song Hye Geo in it. It came with rave reviews. I had descended to the point where I actually accosted virtual strangers in the shop to ask their opinions on what was a great K drama to watch. A really nice lady obliged my madness and we really bonded over 15min of recommendations and suggestions. It was good fun and I thank the lady who fed my thirst, though I never got her name!
By week 3, it was the school holidays and Gillian and I had polished off every disc in the My Sassy Girl boxset. For the first time, Gillian willingly came home early from school without the usual excuses for dawdling after school. By 3pm, both of us would be perched on the sofa, the dvd player humming and the familiar theme piping through the speakers.
The day I actually finished TWO discs back to back, I knew I was a goner. The telly was on from 10am to 6pm. I've never felt so guilty about electricity usage in my life. Lucky the kids were all at their cousins' for the day. Gillian was really sore with me for finishing two discs (8 episodes) without her!
Have to say Gillian and I really bond over the K dramas. We bitch about the villains, we sigh in sympathy when the lovers separate, we grin in delight when they reconcile. We have a lot of fun discussing what happened and what will happen next. Gillian and I have had many happy moments tearing away in front of the TV together. Its been great fun!
Unlike the heavy handed TCS dramas, the K dramas were light, frothy fun. There was no sex, and any on-screen kissing did not involve tongues. They were either chaste pecks on the cheeks or boringly dry 'chin' kisses. Any suggestion of a carnal nature in the series was met with wide-eyed horror by the main characters.
What's there not to like? The actors and actresses were all good-looking. Doe-eyed, bee-stung lips (and those were just the men!) Okay, so we know the plastic surgery rate in Korea is sky high and nothing you see there is really real or natural... big deal. Yes, we can tell who has had a perky nose job. So what? Everything about the K-drama is sheer fantasy anyway. The plots are often trite - boy meets girl, fall in love, meets with obstacles, enter a rival/s, they separate, they reconcile, overcome obstacles, live happily ever after. Not award-winning stuff, but just plain fun. Everything is just too cute. And rather than pathos and tragedy, I really enjoy the light bubble-gum flavours of the romantic comedies I have seen so far.
The characters are so likeable, I just can't help rooting for them, and of course feeling a twinge of pain when the sad bits hit. I've been so long out of the old romantic grind that watching stuff like that brings back nice memories of what it was like back then. All that teen angst! So fun! Man, I miss those days...
And finally, I've never met a K drama soundtrack I didn't like. They really know how to work those strings arrangements! Cue soulful violins and contemplative piano! So much so that Gillian and I have hit the CD stores and the video stores - looking for K soundtracks and for new box sets. We've even gone online to discover blogs and sites on K dramas! Which of course makes us more eager than ever to find new boxsets to sigh over.
So I guess I'll just go ahead and admit it - I'm now officially a K drama addict. There. I've come out of my closet and joined the K fan club. If anyone out there has a good suggestion for a delicious K drama for me to sink my teeth into, please send it my way.
Even better, fork over those boxsets.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Over the moon!
I just came back from Gillian's parent-teacher meeting. I am totally, absolutely over the moon today! I've got a grin plastered on my face like a toothpaste advertisement. I can't remember how many times I told Gillian how happy and proud of her I am! So just bear with me while I give my proud-mama boast. Dodge the exclamation marks ahead if you can!
First - a bit of an explanation on the school's target setting. The MOE computer system set targets for the various subjects she would sit for and the teachers would also set their own targets for her accordingly. Because she scored 98 for the PSLE, the system expected her to hit at least all Ds for all her subjects. The school had set similar targets.
But this girl just took off running and never looked back and whacked those targets out of the window. She scored a C for English (which needs working on but looking at the previous year's grades, she is scoring better now). Wonder of wonders, she made it to a C for maths!!! Something she has never ever done in her life, having flunked maths for all her life since P1! I expected something like a borderline pass/fail grade but gosh, she actually leapfrogged past that. Her position in class for Maths scores was 10 out of 32 - which means the whole class probably sucked at Maths but the point was - what a big leap she made!!
She scored an A for Science, taking 4th place in the cohort, an A for Computer Applications at 6th position in class and another A for Home Econs coming in 1st in class. Her overall position - 7th place in class.
When I looked at her results over the last year, I could see her moving up the ladder slowly but surely. She started out in 28th place last year term 1, crawled up to 23rd place, then 22nd place and finally 14th place in the overall full-year scores. And today she's in 7th place. Her overall score has moved from 54% early in Sec 1 to 62% at the end of Sec 1. Today, she's hit 71%. So it looks like she's been consistent in moving up and on, but this first quarter results are just like a huge sprint up, let alone baby steps in improvement.
Why am I so overwhelmed? Because this girl has had such a hard tough journey getting here. We've been through so much. Among family, we've all commented that she seems changed in some way this year that we find hard to define. Quieter, less impulsive perhaps. She seems more focused. The results bear this out.
I think she's hitting her stride and I'm so pleased, so proud of her to make these great big leaps. For parents who have children who are naturally gifted, who always do well in school, they have every reason to be proud. But perhaps after a while, a sense of expectation and comfort sets in. But for people like Gillian and for me, it has never been easy. Never at all. So when she does a hat-trick like this and upend all our expectations on our ears, we are just so very puffed up full of pride. The victory is even sweeter.
This does wonders for her self-esteem. Plus the fact that she got into the school bowling team this year and is actually selected to compete in the coming C Div Nationals. Two days ago she came home and flashed her team t-shirt, happily beaming away, ah well... it was wonderful. And now this icing on the cake. She's in such a good place in her life now.
The sense of achievement and pride will give a different perspective to how she views herself, and how she views life. It will help keep her focused and less interested in the 'fun' that some of her classmates engage in. Now she knows - that she can do it, she's not dumb, hard work is all it takes. That this is not just something mummy mouths off about. Hard work does pay off.
We tried to keep our feet on level ground though, I reminded her that she should keep this going, don't lose the momentum and slack off and she soberly nodded. But there's just no getting past the giddiness we have right now. Family celebration ahead!
I just came back from Gillian's parent-teacher meeting. I am totally, absolutely over the moon today! I've got a grin plastered on my face like a toothpaste advertisement. I can't remember how many times I told Gillian how happy and proud of her I am! So just bear with me while I give my proud-mama boast. Dodge the exclamation marks ahead if you can!
First - a bit of an explanation on the school's target setting. The MOE computer system set targets for the various subjects she would sit for and the teachers would also set their own targets for her accordingly. Because she scored 98 for the PSLE, the system expected her to hit at least all Ds for all her subjects. The school had set similar targets.
But this girl just took off running and never looked back and whacked those targets out of the window. She scored a C for English (which needs working on but looking at the previous year's grades, she is scoring better now). Wonder of wonders, she made it to a C for maths!!! Something she has never ever done in her life, having flunked maths for all her life since P1! I expected something like a borderline pass/fail grade but gosh, she actually leapfrogged past that. Her position in class for Maths scores was 10 out of 32 - which means the whole class probably sucked at Maths but the point was - what a big leap she made!!
She scored an A for Science, taking 4th place in the cohort, an A for Computer Applications at 6th position in class and another A for Home Econs coming in 1st in class. Her overall position - 7th place in class.
When I looked at her results over the last year, I could see her moving up the ladder slowly but surely. She started out in 28th place last year term 1, crawled up to 23rd place, then 22nd place and finally 14th place in the overall full-year scores. And today she's in 7th place. Her overall score has moved from 54% early in Sec 1 to 62% at the end of Sec 1. Today, she's hit 71%. So it looks like she's been consistent in moving up and on, but this first quarter results are just like a huge sprint up, let alone baby steps in improvement.
Why am I so overwhelmed? Because this girl has had such a hard tough journey getting here. We've been through so much. Among family, we've all commented that she seems changed in some way this year that we find hard to define. Quieter, less impulsive perhaps. She seems more focused. The results bear this out.
I think she's hitting her stride and I'm so pleased, so proud of her to make these great big leaps. For parents who have children who are naturally gifted, who always do well in school, they have every reason to be proud. But perhaps after a while, a sense of expectation and comfort sets in. But for people like Gillian and for me, it has never been easy. Never at all. So when she does a hat-trick like this and upend all our expectations on our ears, we are just so very puffed up full of pride. The victory is even sweeter.
This does wonders for her self-esteem. Plus the fact that she got into the school bowling team this year and is actually selected to compete in the coming C Div Nationals. Two days ago she came home and flashed her team t-shirt, happily beaming away, ah well... it was wonderful. And now this icing on the cake. She's in such a good place in her life now.
The sense of achievement and pride will give a different perspective to how she views herself, and how she views life. It will help keep her focused and less interested in the 'fun' that some of her classmates engage in. Now she knows - that she can do it, she's not dumb, hard work is all it takes. That this is not just something mummy mouths off about. Hard work does pay off.
We tried to keep our feet on level ground though, I reminded her that she should keep this going, don't lose the momentum and slack off and she soberly nodded. But there's just no getting past the giddiness we have right now. Family celebration ahead!
Friday, March 06, 2009
Not quite back in the saddle
I think I spoke too soon about my recovery. I knew I must have hexed myself posting about how good I felt.
It started with a burning sensation when I peed and my lower abdomen felt uncomfortable - it ached and kinked up everytime I stood from a sitting position. Add to that a constant lowgrade fever that came every evening, left me in chills by 8pm and asleep by 9pm. A dipstick test showed high alkalinity and significant haemoglobin levels in the pee.
From the sound of it, it was a UTI. Thanks to the catheterisation of course.
Made my way to the polyclinic today with my fretting mother in tow who angsted over "why your belly so distended? Is it bigger than before? Maybe you are having a slow bleed inside!" to "that stupid doctor of yours, why didn't they discharge you properly, tell you what to look out for!" etc etc. Love my mom, she's absolutely on my side. A bit paranoid thanks to 40 years of nursing, but useful to have in a corner when dealing with the medical establishment.
The goondu doctor at the polyclinic at first brushed me off - "You're just 9 days post-op. Its not unusual to feel this sort of pain. Its major surgery you went through. Go home and if you feel worse, go to the A&E."
Huh??? Go home? I know what I'm feeling and you know how I feel about unnecessary interventions and tests and drugs etc. But my gut tells me something's not right. Otherwise why bother to make the trip to the polyclinic right? Duh!
I noticed my mother quietly walk across the room to stand beside me. Before she could go ballistic on the goondu doctor, I insisted that something was not right and he reluctantly sent me for a urine test and a full blood count. Turns out that there was a whole column of red on the screen when the results came back - white blood cell count elevated in the abnormal column, red blood cell count down, haemoglobin, haematocrits all down. Clearly signs of an infection.
But believe it or not, the goondu refused to prescribe anything and told me he would refer me back to the hospital. Argh!!
Back to the hospital I went. After looking at the test results, the doctor there said it was a clear-cut case of UTI and treatable. Mom was wondering why they ushered us in so quickly after triage. And one look at the referral letter by the goondu doctor and it became obvious - the guy had written - "suspected septicaemia"!! Huh??
To cut long story short - I am now on stronger antibiotics (there goes my gut!) . Keeping fingers crossed that the infection will blow over.
I think I spoke too soon about my recovery. I knew I must have hexed myself posting about how good I felt.
It started with a burning sensation when I peed and my lower abdomen felt uncomfortable - it ached and kinked up everytime I stood from a sitting position. Add to that a constant lowgrade fever that came every evening, left me in chills by 8pm and asleep by 9pm. A dipstick test showed high alkalinity and significant haemoglobin levels in the pee.
From the sound of it, it was a UTI. Thanks to the catheterisation of course.
Made my way to the polyclinic today with my fretting mother in tow who angsted over "why your belly so distended? Is it bigger than before? Maybe you are having a slow bleed inside!" to "that stupid doctor of yours, why didn't they discharge you properly, tell you what to look out for!" etc etc. Love my mom, she's absolutely on my side. A bit paranoid thanks to 40 years of nursing, but useful to have in a corner when dealing with the medical establishment.
The goondu doctor at the polyclinic at first brushed me off - "You're just 9 days post-op. Its not unusual to feel this sort of pain. Its major surgery you went through. Go home and if you feel worse, go to the A&E."
Huh??? Go home? I know what I'm feeling and you know how I feel about unnecessary interventions and tests and drugs etc. But my gut tells me something's not right. Otherwise why bother to make the trip to the polyclinic right? Duh!
I noticed my mother quietly walk across the room to stand beside me. Before she could go ballistic on the goondu doctor, I insisted that something was not right and he reluctantly sent me for a urine test and a full blood count. Turns out that there was a whole column of red on the screen when the results came back - white blood cell count elevated in the abnormal column, red blood cell count down, haemoglobin, haematocrits all down. Clearly signs of an infection.
But believe it or not, the goondu refused to prescribe anything and told me he would refer me back to the hospital. Argh!!
Back to the hospital I went. After looking at the test results, the doctor there said it was a clear-cut case of UTI and treatable. Mom was wondering why they ushered us in so quickly after triage. And one look at the referral letter by the goondu doctor and it became obvious - the guy had written - "suspected septicaemia"!! Huh??
To cut long story short - I am now on stronger antibiotics (there goes my gut!) . Keeping fingers crossed that the infection will blow over.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
After
Exactly one week ago, I was lounging around in my room in a white surgical robe, impatiently wondering why they hadn't yet called me into the OT. The op had been delayed for hours. I finally made it to the OT only at noon. Things moved swiftly from there. The anaesthetist after poking me twice to find a vain - big ouch - finally put me under in less than 10min. Have to say it was a really nice feeling to just drift off. Woke up at 3pm hearing someone call me from a distance. The rest of the day I just faded in and out of consciousness, letting people ask me questions, do things to me that I was only vaguely aware of. The pain and the cramps kicked in hours later when most of the anaesthesia had worn off and they fed me the painkillers. Which I have been faithfully popping since then.
Flash forward to today where I am sitting at home, Trin on the desk, writing this entry in the blog. I am feeling loads better today than a week ago. Day by day, I feel better, and stronger. I feel so physically and mentally, emotionally.
So yes, they've taken my womb. The doc asked me cryptically minutes before surgery: Do you want us to keep the womb if its a 50-50 situation?
And I go: Well gee thanks doc, for asking me this question now just mere minutes before cutting me open! I don't know. I feel sad about losing it but I have psyched myself up for this already, so either way do what is necessary.
He pats me absently, nods and says: Ah, a thinking woman.
Whatever it was, he said later that they pulled it as far as it could go and that was pretty far! So they took it out. Gave me a picture for it which I decided best not to post on the blog. Left my ovaries. Repaired the rectocele and the whole back wall.
Was it painful? Only when I tried to be a hero and wean myself off the painkillers. The one time I did it, I was awakened at 2am by the pain and had to crawl downstairs to get them. Not fun.
Today, maybe because I am getting more rest than I ever had even after birth, I feel rested and restored. I feel optimistic. Hopeful. Energised. I get the feeling there is a lot to look forward to, lots more that will be happening in my life. I actually feel renewed. My friends and family have played a major role in getting me back on my feet - spoiling me with home-cooked food, nourishing soups and sesame seed stews, bottle upon bottle of chicken essence. One friend walked in during dinner when I was in hospital and promptly, despite my protests, threw out the hospital curry dinner and bought me fish soup. She proceeded to deliver a stern lecture on what to eat for healing, then when the kids came, good-humouredly did the nagging and mothering I was too out of it to do. I feel so pampered!
And then there are the dreams. I have never dreamed like this in all my life. I don't know whether it is the anaesthesia or what, but I have had the lushest, fully-technicolour dreams in my sleep everynight. I no longer night-wake feeling my heart pound in my ears. I wake instead feeling rested with a strong sense of well-being.
Trin no longer actively nurses at night, and she nurses so seldom these days that perhaps this is really the season for letting go of that part of my life. I am careful about nursing also because I am pumped full of antibiotics and painkillers so I try to keep the rare nursing sessions that come, short as possible. At this point, is it child-led or parent-led weaning? I don't think it really matters. We have come to this point so gradually. Never forcefully, no tears. She seems ready and so am I.
I have one month at home before returning to a three and a half day work week which I applied for before going for surgery. So I will make the best of it - not by rushing around doing as much as I can but just by savouring it. Taking my time, doing what I feel is good and right. And its not as if I'm not looking forward to work - strangely enough, I feel ready and anticipatory.
To share one last vignette of life. Two nights ago at dinner, all of us around the table, under cheery yellow light, sharing food and the day's events. The cat curled up watchfully at the glass doors next to us. My family is complete and I felt utterly content.
Exactly one week ago, I was lounging around in my room in a white surgical robe, impatiently wondering why they hadn't yet called me into the OT. The op had been delayed for hours. I finally made it to the OT only at noon. Things moved swiftly from there. The anaesthetist after poking me twice to find a vain - big ouch - finally put me under in less than 10min. Have to say it was a really nice feeling to just drift off. Woke up at 3pm hearing someone call me from a distance. The rest of the day I just faded in and out of consciousness, letting people ask me questions, do things to me that I was only vaguely aware of. The pain and the cramps kicked in hours later when most of the anaesthesia had worn off and they fed me the painkillers. Which I have been faithfully popping since then.
Flash forward to today where I am sitting at home, Trin on the desk, writing this entry in the blog. I am feeling loads better today than a week ago. Day by day, I feel better, and stronger. I feel so physically and mentally, emotionally.
So yes, they've taken my womb. The doc asked me cryptically minutes before surgery: Do you want us to keep the womb if its a 50-50 situation?
And I go: Well gee thanks doc, for asking me this question now just mere minutes before cutting me open! I don't know. I feel sad about losing it but I have psyched myself up for this already, so either way do what is necessary.
He pats me absently, nods and says: Ah, a thinking woman.
Whatever it was, he said later that they pulled it as far as it could go and that was pretty far! So they took it out. Gave me a picture for it which I decided best not to post on the blog. Left my ovaries. Repaired the rectocele and the whole back wall.
Was it painful? Only when I tried to be a hero and wean myself off the painkillers. The one time I did it, I was awakened at 2am by the pain and had to crawl downstairs to get them. Not fun.
Today, maybe because I am getting more rest than I ever had even after birth, I feel rested and restored. I feel optimistic. Hopeful. Energised. I get the feeling there is a lot to look forward to, lots more that will be happening in my life. I actually feel renewed. My friends and family have played a major role in getting me back on my feet - spoiling me with home-cooked food, nourishing soups and sesame seed stews, bottle upon bottle of chicken essence. One friend walked in during dinner when I was in hospital and promptly, despite my protests, threw out the hospital curry dinner and bought me fish soup. She proceeded to deliver a stern lecture on what to eat for healing, then when the kids came, good-humouredly did the nagging and mothering I was too out of it to do. I feel so pampered!
And then there are the dreams. I have never dreamed like this in all my life. I don't know whether it is the anaesthesia or what, but I have had the lushest, fully-technicolour dreams in my sleep everynight. I no longer night-wake feeling my heart pound in my ears. I wake instead feeling rested with a strong sense of well-being.
Trin no longer actively nurses at night, and she nurses so seldom these days that perhaps this is really the season for letting go of that part of my life. I am careful about nursing also because I am pumped full of antibiotics and painkillers so I try to keep the rare nursing sessions that come, short as possible. At this point, is it child-led or parent-led weaning? I don't think it really matters. We have come to this point so gradually. Never forcefully, no tears. She seems ready and so am I.
I have one month at home before returning to a three and a half day work week which I applied for before going for surgery. So I will make the best of it - not by rushing around doing as much as I can but just by savouring it. Taking my time, doing what I feel is good and right. And its not as if I'm not looking forward to work - strangely enough, I feel ready and anticipatory.
To share one last vignette of life. Two nights ago at dinner, all of us around the table, under cheery yellow light, sharing food and the day's events. The cat curled up watchfully at the glass doors next to us. My family is complete and I felt utterly content.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Nerves
One more day to go. And I feel like a deer caught in headlights. I just feel like grabbing my womb and making a mad dash for it. Or picking up the phone to cancel everything. But then, in my mind, the same boring conversation replays itself over and over again in a tiresome loop. Goes like this:
"Hey, why fix what ain't broke? You're not feeling unwell. Its not cancer you know. Its bothersome and annoying to have fecal incontinence, to not be able to wear a tampon but what the heck, the prolapse is still manageable right? Its not too bad... What happens if you fix it and end up worse off? Now there's no pain, but what if you fix it and then there's pain? Not op pain but chronic pelvic floor pain forever after that? Or they sew you up so tight you can't ever have sex again? Or worse, what if you can have sex but CAN'T feel a thing because they killed all your nerves down there? Worse right??"
"Stop being so squeamish! You can't NOT do it. Don't do it now and then what happens next time when the prolapse is worse? Are you going to wait until everything drops right out of you? You've seen the picture, it ain't pretty. And when you're older? How well will you heal? Then the risk of recurrence is higher right? How many surgeries you want to endure for this? Better get it over and done with. Trust your surgeon to do a good job. You've done your homework. Relax. And anyway, what makes you think you're going to be worse off? You're going to have a brand new vagina! Just think of all the fun you can have with that!"
Both sides have logic and reason. But this is not about logic and reason. This is just pure emotion. And the one key emotion radiating through me is fear.
So what am I fearful of?
Making the wrong decision, making a mistake. Scared that I will end up worse off after the op. I'm not regretting a decision made or having trouble with this decision. I'm just fearful.
I'm also very, very sad.
I've been apologising a lot lately - to my womb.
Its worked long and hard for me over the years. Its the first home for all my children. And now I'm demolishing it. Its where they grew up, were nurtured for the better part of a year. Its housed my children, those here and those gone away and its offered me possibilities untold. So now that its served its purpose - thanks very much, but its got to go. I feel like a real ungrateful jerk for doing this.
So I've been apologising to it, saying how sorry I am.
My relationship with my womb has not been so lovey-dovey always. I've done my fair share of cussing in the early days whenever my period came. Cramped my style - in more ways than one! But over the past days, I've been relishing every moment. I can't remember exactly when I got my first period. Somewhere between 13 and 14 years old. But I guess I will forever remember the days of my last period. And even then, my womb has been good to me - it does not cuss me back when I cuss at it. I've had no endometriosis, no fibroids, no cysts etc. Even when I have my periods, recently at least, it only lasts 4 days max. It comes like clockwork and does not try funny surprises every month. There is a rhythm to all this. Its a rhythm I will no longer have and I find that strangely unsettling. No more cycles. You know the talk about lunar cycles, lunacy and wolves howling at the moon? We all live by certain cycles and this particular cycle that has marked my life month after month, will now be gone. I never thought I'd say this, but I will miss it.
I am truly sorry to say goodbye to my womb. I am saying goodbye to a time when I was every inch an earth mother, fertile, lush and ready to grow a baby and birth a baby. I am saying goodbye to the unexpected. I am saying goodbye to the possibility of another child. I am saying goodbye to all my clucky pangs.
Not that my clucky pangs ever go away. Over the weekend, I saw babies in arms, babies in slings and I felt a pang - I know that after this week, I will never be able to have another child - and all the adventures and emotions that that may entail. Even seeing slings make me sad. No longer will I be able to cradle a sleeping newborn in them. No longer will they graduate from cradle hold to sitting up like a sack of potatoes in the sling, and from there, to the usual hip-seat. My arms feel empty even now. All my slings have so many memories.
When I try to tell people how I feel about my uterus and my clucky pangs, they scold me - isn't it enough? You already have five!
Yes and no. I have said that five is plenty, and it is nice to have more time to myself. But I have never fully closed off that option of having more. Every month, I still hold my breath to see if my period comes and when it does, I do feel a mix of joy and regret. But now, I will no longer have that option open.
Its also not about the number of children you have. Its about losing a part of yourself, closing a door that can never re-open. So final and thats what makes it scary. Worse that I am the one making this deliberate decision to do so. I mean, if its cancer or life-threatening in one way or another, the issue of choice is pretty much taken out of your hands. But this is not the case.
I've read that depression after a hysterectomy is common. Particularly so for women who have not completed their family. So is my family complete? Doctors love to ask that question. "Have you completed your family?"
I know the answer to that one. "No, I do not complete my family. They complete me."
That's the smart-ass answer. But the truth for me has always been that I do not know how to answer this straight from the heart. I always hesitate. And maybe that alone is already the answer.
So now, no more womb. Will I be depressed after this? I guess if this blog starts showing more whiny, anxious, sleepless, weepy moments, you'll know. Actually, I think I AM already depressed.
I know, I know. I'm being maudlin - over-indulgent with the emotions, over-sentimentalising all of this. Humanising my uterus. What kind of crap is this?
But this is how I feel. I am acknowledging this. I am saying goodbye. I am mourning. I am grieving. That part of my life is over. That little pear-shaped pouch at my very core, silent but present and in its way, ever faithful, will soon be gone. My life will be different, I'm sure. Saying goodbye is very tough. Very hard to give this up. I have tonight and all of tomorrow to reflect and say goodbye.
Tomorrow morning, I will pack my bag. Take a bus, then a train, then the shuttle bus to the hospital. It sounds so normal - like I'm going shopping or off to a routine doctor's appointment. Instead, I will be checking into the hospital by 2pm. And sometime early the next morning, they will cut me open and remove my womb.
I will go alone. Or my mom might come. But it's alright. I don't mind being alone. All the better to think.
One more day to go. And I feel like a deer caught in headlights. I just feel like grabbing my womb and making a mad dash for it. Or picking up the phone to cancel everything. But then, in my mind, the same boring conversation replays itself over and over again in a tiresome loop. Goes like this:
"Hey, why fix what ain't broke? You're not feeling unwell. Its not cancer you know. Its bothersome and annoying to have fecal incontinence, to not be able to wear a tampon but what the heck, the prolapse is still manageable right? Its not too bad... What happens if you fix it and end up worse off? Now there's no pain, but what if you fix it and then there's pain? Not op pain but chronic pelvic floor pain forever after that? Or they sew you up so tight you can't ever have sex again? Or worse, what if you can have sex but CAN'T feel a thing because they killed all your nerves down there? Worse right??"
"Stop being so squeamish! You can't NOT do it. Don't do it now and then what happens next time when the prolapse is worse? Are you going to wait until everything drops right out of you? You've seen the picture, it ain't pretty. And when you're older? How well will you heal? Then the risk of recurrence is higher right? How many surgeries you want to endure for this? Better get it over and done with. Trust your surgeon to do a good job. You've done your homework. Relax. And anyway, what makes you think you're going to be worse off? You're going to have a brand new vagina! Just think of all the fun you can have with that!"
Both sides have logic and reason. But this is not about logic and reason. This is just pure emotion. And the one key emotion radiating through me is fear.
So what am I fearful of?
Making the wrong decision, making a mistake. Scared that I will end up worse off after the op. I'm not regretting a decision made or having trouble with this decision. I'm just fearful.
I'm also very, very sad.
I've been apologising a lot lately - to my womb.
Its worked long and hard for me over the years. Its the first home for all my children. And now I'm demolishing it. Its where they grew up, were nurtured for the better part of a year. Its housed my children, those here and those gone away and its offered me possibilities untold. So now that its served its purpose - thanks very much, but its got to go. I feel like a real ungrateful jerk for doing this.
So I've been apologising to it, saying how sorry I am.
My relationship with my womb has not been so lovey-dovey always. I've done my fair share of cussing in the early days whenever my period came. Cramped my style - in more ways than one! But over the past days, I've been relishing every moment. I can't remember exactly when I got my first period. Somewhere between 13 and 14 years old. But I guess I will forever remember the days of my last period. And even then, my womb has been good to me - it does not cuss me back when I cuss at it. I've had no endometriosis, no fibroids, no cysts etc. Even when I have my periods, recently at least, it only lasts 4 days max. It comes like clockwork and does not try funny surprises every month. There is a rhythm to all this. Its a rhythm I will no longer have and I find that strangely unsettling. No more cycles. You know the talk about lunar cycles, lunacy and wolves howling at the moon? We all live by certain cycles and this particular cycle that has marked my life month after month, will now be gone. I never thought I'd say this, but I will miss it.
I am truly sorry to say goodbye to my womb. I am saying goodbye to a time when I was every inch an earth mother, fertile, lush and ready to grow a baby and birth a baby. I am saying goodbye to the unexpected. I am saying goodbye to the possibility of another child. I am saying goodbye to all my clucky pangs.
Not that my clucky pangs ever go away. Over the weekend, I saw babies in arms, babies in slings and I felt a pang - I know that after this week, I will never be able to have another child - and all the adventures and emotions that that may entail. Even seeing slings make me sad. No longer will I be able to cradle a sleeping newborn in them. No longer will they graduate from cradle hold to sitting up like a sack of potatoes in the sling, and from there, to the usual hip-seat. My arms feel empty even now. All my slings have so many memories.
When I try to tell people how I feel about my uterus and my clucky pangs, they scold me - isn't it enough? You already have five!
Yes and no. I have said that five is plenty, and it is nice to have more time to myself. But I have never fully closed off that option of having more. Every month, I still hold my breath to see if my period comes and when it does, I do feel a mix of joy and regret. But now, I will no longer have that option open.
Its also not about the number of children you have. Its about losing a part of yourself, closing a door that can never re-open. So final and thats what makes it scary. Worse that I am the one making this deliberate decision to do so. I mean, if its cancer or life-threatening in one way or another, the issue of choice is pretty much taken out of your hands. But this is not the case.
I've read that depression after a hysterectomy is common. Particularly so for women who have not completed their family. So is my family complete? Doctors love to ask that question. "Have you completed your family?"
I know the answer to that one. "No, I do not complete my family. They complete me."
That's the smart-ass answer. But the truth for me has always been that I do not know how to answer this straight from the heart. I always hesitate. And maybe that alone is already the answer.
So now, no more womb. Will I be depressed after this? I guess if this blog starts showing more whiny, anxious, sleepless, weepy moments, you'll know. Actually, I think I AM already depressed.
I know, I know. I'm being maudlin - over-indulgent with the emotions, over-sentimentalising all of this. Humanising my uterus. What kind of crap is this?
But this is how I feel. I am acknowledging this. I am saying goodbye. I am mourning. I am grieving. That part of my life is over. That little pear-shaped pouch at my very core, silent but present and in its way, ever faithful, will soon be gone. My life will be different, I'm sure. Saying goodbye is very tough. Very hard to give this up. I have tonight and all of tomorrow to reflect and say goodbye.
Tomorrow morning, I will pack my bag. Take a bus, then a train, then the shuttle bus to the hospital. It sounds so normal - like I'm going shopping or off to a routine doctor's appointment. Instead, I will be checking into the hospital by 2pm. And sometime early the next morning, they will cut me open and remove my womb.
I will go alone. Or my mom might come. But it's alright. I don't mind being alone. All the better to think.
Monday, February 09, 2009
Tigerlily today
So its been more than a month and Tigerlily is more than ever, a part of our family. Even her name has stuck - 4 syllables not withstanding. She is now Tigerlily Chong, feline sib to Gillian, Isaac, Caitlin, Owain and Trinity Rose.
We've brought her to the vet for a prelim exam. She looks like she's about a year old and in good general health. We've dewormed her and given her her vax. And we're planning to neuter her within the next week or two.
She's made herself at home. She sleeps with Cait on the bed and I've spotted a guilty looking KH actually tucking her in with Cait's comforter! When I glared him for spoiling her, he muttered something lamely about the aircon being too cold for her. That man is putty in the cat's paws.
In the morning, she wakes Cait up by mewing and pacing the room. You know the research about mothers and babies sharing the same light sleep rhythm. Well looks like I now share the cat's rhythm! I wake up instinctively knowing I have to feed the cat. Usually its around 5.30am. Which is time for us to rise and shine anyway. Half asleep, I pad downstairs, and she eagerly follows, mewing all the way. I fill her bowl and let her munch eagerly away.
Then the kids get ready for school, give her one 'last stroke' for the day and leave. Tigerlily also usually heads out for the morning to visit her alleycat buddies too, now that she's a real lady of leisure! She comes back at midmorning to sleep on our sofa. If the kids are too noisy, she leaves and takes her nap in the neighbour's motorbike. By 4pm or 5pm, she's usually home. Like clockwork, she mews for food. We feed her, then brush her, stroke her and sayang her until she gets sick of us. Then she hangs around the garden practising her hunting skills. Usually flattening herself on her haunches in the stalk and pounce position.
I saw her fascinated with the twittering sunbirds in the neighbour's garden. She stealthily made her way to the wire fence before she realised: darn it, it was a fence! Then she slipped into the drain, trying to find her way next door unsuccessfully, only to return in minutes, looking a bit paiseh that her plans were thwarted.
By 9pm or 10pm, she comes indoors, runs upstairs and makes herself comfy on Cait's bed, ready to sleep.
Two weeks ago, the bad mommy that I am, I put some anti-flea drops on her. These were supposed to keep fleas and ticks away. She flinched a bit but did not bite or hiss. She just darted away as soon as I was done. I thought she just didn't like the liquid dripping on her neck. She didn't show up for the rest of the day, which was a bit unusual. By evening though, I realised what had happened. Her fur had fallen off at the patch where I dripped the liquid and it was raw with her scratching. Horrified, we brought her to the vet who prescribed antibiotics and anti-pyretic meds as well as a cream. Poor Tigerlily, must have been so scared and so itchy, peed and pooed in the cat carrier! Which traumatised the unhappy cat further since cats really hate dirtying up their space.
She ended up with a lampshade on her neck to prevent the scratches. But again, the next day she scooted off, even forgoing her meals. We were so worried. We thought she'd get stuck somewhere, or hurt, or hit by a car, or lost - since her whiskers were impeded. To our relief, she came back late at night and KH promptly removed the lampshade. Must say she looked so dang cute with the shade on though! Her skin wound has not healed though and she's still got that hairless patch there.
Tigerlily has made herself a part of our family and she's such a good-natured, gentle soul. She gamely lets Trin 'sayang' her, which is really a rough sort of caress, she yowls when Trin chases her around the place, but never holds a grudge. She's independent and comes and goes as she pleases. She's killed three fishes in the big dragon pot already and KH still seems very indulgent towards her.
We've also acquired cat paraphernalia in our house. A cat hair brush, cat food pellets (we buy the more expensive Science diet brand for her), she has her own water bowl and food bowl, a lovely collar and she has her cat carrier. She even has some catnip! Only thing we don't have is her litterbox. She does her toiletting outside. Not even in our garden because she loves to laze around in the grass there and cats always keep their toilet spaces away from their leisure spaces, so we know she does not poo/pee there. The one time she pooed indoors was in our laundry basket. We threw the whole thing out - ugh. I was happy to do that since the old one was ugly and mangy already. So thanks to Tigerlily, we got a new laudry basket!
Its been more than a month but I can't imagine life without her. I don't think any of us can. We're so used to coming back and calling: Where's Tigerlily? And when she hears the sound of the gates clang, she comes running back from wherever she was. We're so nuts about her in all our different ways. Isaac loves to stroke her whenever he can. For someone who is not very 'social' or 'emotional', this is very nice to see. Cait loves to carry her like a newborn baby and even though cats generally don't like this, Tigerlily patiently lets her.
And KH, whenever he comes home, his first question inevitably is: where's the cat? I've seen them both sitting down reading the papers, his one hand absently stroking her. Its not cheap to take care of her medically and vets are expensive (the two encounters with vets elicited vet charges of $140 each time!), but KH, though known to be stingy at times, says money is no object. He wanted to change vets for her sterilisation just because he did not like the set-up of the one we go to. "Have you seen the state of their holding area?" he asked me indignantly. "Pay a bit more and get a better vet please!"
And as for me, I find myself super-attuned to her sounds, my ears always half-cocked for mewing. Like new mothers with super-sensitive hearing that can pick up other newborns crying 5km away in the next town, I get the same intense awareness about the cat's mews. Ever so often, I would stop and say: oi, is that the cat again? Does she want food?
Cat-mad. Absolutely cat-mad...
So its been more than a month and Tigerlily is more than ever, a part of our family. Even her name has stuck - 4 syllables not withstanding. She is now Tigerlily Chong, feline sib to Gillian, Isaac, Caitlin, Owain and Trinity Rose.
We've brought her to the vet for a prelim exam. She looks like she's about a year old and in good general health. We've dewormed her and given her her vax. And we're planning to neuter her within the next week or two.
She's made herself at home. She sleeps with Cait on the bed and I've spotted a guilty looking KH actually tucking her in with Cait's comforter! When I glared him for spoiling her, he muttered something lamely about the aircon being too cold for her. That man is putty in the cat's paws.
In the morning, she wakes Cait up by mewing and pacing the room. You know the research about mothers and babies sharing the same light sleep rhythm. Well looks like I now share the cat's rhythm! I wake up instinctively knowing I have to feed the cat. Usually its around 5.30am. Which is time for us to rise and shine anyway. Half asleep, I pad downstairs, and she eagerly follows, mewing all the way. I fill her bowl and let her munch eagerly away.
Then the kids get ready for school, give her one 'last stroke' for the day and leave. Tigerlily also usually heads out for the morning to visit her alleycat buddies too, now that she's a real lady of leisure! She comes back at midmorning to sleep on our sofa. If the kids are too noisy, she leaves and takes her nap in the neighbour's motorbike. By 4pm or 5pm, she's usually home. Like clockwork, she mews for food. We feed her, then brush her, stroke her and sayang her until she gets sick of us. Then she hangs around the garden practising her hunting skills. Usually flattening herself on her haunches in the stalk and pounce position.
I saw her fascinated with the twittering sunbirds in the neighbour's garden. She stealthily made her way to the wire fence before she realised: darn it, it was a fence! Then she slipped into the drain, trying to find her way next door unsuccessfully, only to return in minutes, looking a bit paiseh that her plans were thwarted.
By 9pm or 10pm, she comes indoors, runs upstairs and makes herself comfy on Cait's bed, ready to sleep.
Two weeks ago, the bad mommy that I am, I put some anti-flea drops on her. These were supposed to keep fleas and ticks away. She flinched a bit but did not bite or hiss. She just darted away as soon as I was done. I thought she just didn't like the liquid dripping on her neck. She didn't show up for the rest of the day, which was a bit unusual. By evening though, I realised what had happened. Her fur had fallen off at the patch where I dripped the liquid and it was raw with her scratching. Horrified, we brought her to the vet who prescribed antibiotics and anti-pyretic meds as well as a cream. Poor Tigerlily, must have been so scared and so itchy, peed and pooed in the cat carrier! Which traumatised the unhappy cat further since cats really hate dirtying up their space.
She ended up with a lampshade on her neck to prevent the scratches. But again, the next day she scooted off, even forgoing her meals. We were so worried. We thought she'd get stuck somewhere, or hurt, or hit by a car, or lost - since her whiskers were impeded. To our relief, she came back late at night and KH promptly removed the lampshade. Must say she looked so dang cute with the shade on though! Her skin wound has not healed though and she's still got that hairless patch there.
Tigerlily has made herself a part of our family and she's such a good-natured, gentle soul. She gamely lets Trin 'sayang' her, which is really a rough sort of caress, she yowls when Trin chases her around the place, but never holds a grudge. She's independent and comes and goes as she pleases. She's killed three fishes in the big dragon pot already and KH still seems very indulgent towards her.
We've also acquired cat paraphernalia in our house. A cat hair brush, cat food pellets (we buy the more expensive Science diet brand for her), she has her own water bowl and food bowl, a lovely collar and she has her cat carrier. She even has some catnip! Only thing we don't have is her litterbox. She does her toiletting outside. Not even in our garden because she loves to laze around in the grass there and cats always keep their toilet spaces away from their leisure spaces, so we know she does not poo/pee there. The one time she pooed indoors was in our laundry basket. We threw the whole thing out - ugh. I was happy to do that since the old one was ugly and mangy already. So thanks to Tigerlily, we got a new laudry basket!
Its been more than a month but I can't imagine life without her. I don't think any of us can. We're so used to coming back and calling: Where's Tigerlily? And when she hears the sound of the gates clang, she comes running back from wherever she was. We're so nuts about her in all our different ways. Isaac loves to stroke her whenever he can. For someone who is not very 'social' or 'emotional', this is very nice to see. Cait loves to carry her like a newborn baby and even though cats generally don't like this, Tigerlily patiently lets her.
And KH, whenever he comes home, his first question inevitably is: where's the cat? I've seen them both sitting down reading the papers, his one hand absently stroking her. Its not cheap to take care of her medically and vets are expensive (the two encounters with vets elicited vet charges of $140 each time!), but KH, though known to be stingy at times, says money is no object. He wanted to change vets for her sterilisation just because he did not like the set-up of the one we go to. "Have you seen the state of their holding area?" he asked me indignantly. "Pay a bit more and get a better vet please!"
And as for me, I find myself super-attuned to her sounds, my ears always half-cocked for mewing. Like new mothers with super-sensitive hearing that can pick up other newborns crying 5km away in the next town, I get the same intense awareness about the cat's mews. Ever so often, I would stop and say: oi, is that the cat again? Does she want food?
Cat-mad. Absolutely cat-mad...
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Surgery
And to update on the surgery option, it's scheduled for Feb 25. I will admit myself to the hospital on Feb 24 and hopefully if all goes well, I should be out by Friday or Saturday. So that will be it - a permanent end to child-bearing for me. I'm 40 going on 41 and about to say goodbye to a very important phase in my life, a very important part of what makes me a woman, what makes me me.
I'm feeling mixed.
My womb has housed all my children. So there is a sense of regret. There's also a bit of fear - about post-surgical pain, about the possible premature menopause I might find myself in. While I am keeping my ovaries, the risk of menopause is there due to the slowdown of blood supply to the area.
But yet, I know its got to be done. Its not going to get better. While I am in no discomfort, the condition has become annoying - in terms of the incontinence, in terms of the slack muscles. If I don't do this now, it will just get worse and when I finally HAVE to do it, the recovery will be longer and the risk of recurrence is much higher - as much as 30%. For menopausal women who do this, recovery is slower because of drier vaginal walls thanks to the lack of estrogen. So I think there is little point in waiting until everything really hangs out.
I've surfed websites that talk about posture helping etc but there are no randomised controlled trials for this and I honestly think there is a limit as to how much posture can help. It might help a situation not get worse so quickly but it won't improve things at all. Only surgery can offer the possibility of repairing the damage.
In a case of pelvic floor proplapse, prevention is much better than cure. This means avoiding episiotomies, avoiding purple or coached pushing, avoiding the whole cascade of interventions during labour and birth that lead to assisted births, birthing upright, actively doing kegels before, during and after pregnancy. C-sections are no guarantee against prolapse. The risks of C-sections far outweigh any risk for prolapse in a vaginal birth. So I tell my clients these days, among so many reasons for avoiding an episiotomy, this is one of them to think about.
I wish I'd known of all these before I had my babies. Now I just have to fix the problem and make kegels a way of life in the future. No point looking back. Just look forward. And look on the bright side. Come Feb 25, I'll have no more womb, but I'll have a brand new vagina!
And to update on the surgery option, it's scheduled for Feb 25. I will admit myself to the hospital on Feb 24 and hopefully if all goes well, I should be out by Friday or Saturday. So that will be it - a permanent end to child-bearing for me. I'm 40 going on 41 and about to say goodbye to a very important phase in my life, a very important part of what makes me a woman, what makes me me.
I'm feeling mixed.
My womb has housed all my children. So there is a sense of regret. There's also a bit of fear - about post-surgical pain, about the possible premature menopause I might find myself in. While I am keeping my ovaries, the risk of menopause is there due to the slowdown of blood supply to the area.
But yet, I know its got to be done. Its not going to get better. While I am in no discomfort, the condition has become annoying - in terms of the incontinence, in terms of the slack muscles. If I don't do this now, it will just get worse and when I finally HAVE to do it, the recovery will be longer and the risk of recurrence is much higher - as much as 30%. For menopausal women who do this, recovery is slower because of drier vaginal walls thanks to the lack of estrogen. So I think there is little point in waiting until everything really hangs out.
I've surfed websites that talk about posture helping etc but there are no randomised controlled trials for this and I honestly think there is a limit as to how much posture can help. It might help a situation not get worse so quickly but it won't improve things at all. Only surgery can offer the possibility of repairing the damage.
In a case of pelvic floor proplapse, prevention is much better than cure. This means avoiding episiotomies, avoiding purple or coached pushing, avoiding the whole cascade of interventions during labour and birth that lead to assisted births, birthing upright, actively doing kegels before, during and after pregnancy. C-sections are no guarantee against prolapse. The risks of C-sections far outweigh any risk for prolapse in a vaginal birth. So I tell my clients these days, among so many reasons for avoiding an episiotomy, this is one of them to think about.
I wish I'd known of all these before I had my babies. Now I just have to fix the problem and make kegels a way of life in the future. No point looking back. Just look forward. And look on the bright side. Come Feb 25, I'll have no more womb, but I'll have a brand new vagina!
Choices and school updates
School-wise, everything seems to be settling down into a rhythm again.
Gillian was selected to be in the school bowling team. She's so chuffed about it and we can't be more pleased for her. I'm proud that she made it and very glad that she did - what a great boost to her self-esteem! She's now got training 3 times a week, including Saturday mornings so that puts an end to our lovely couple-time lazy brekkie at Casa Verde at the Botanics. KH says we'll just have to look for another quiet nook somewhere on the east coast. But its worth it.
Isaac is also finally settling down. He tried out for the Vocal Ensemble and floorball, dabbled in some karate sessions but was finally given his first choice of floorball. KH and I were disappointed. Being the ever-practical, kiasu mother, I was looking at sound CCA choices that would make it easy for him to score an A1 or A2 grade for CCA. This would come in very useful when he gets his'O' level scores because and A grade means slicing off 2 points from his overall score - the lower it is, the better of course. To give you an idea, the best junior colleges take in kids whose scores are 6 and lower.
But I digress. We strongly believed that the vocal ensemble would give him a better chance at an A grade thanks to the many competitions, performances that the group has to go through. CCA grade aside, I thought singing and the training would also help build his lungs, give him confidence in facing a crowd, force him to face his fears and overcome them thereby building resilience and courage. Plus lets not forget the overseas trips to Japan, Hong Kong, Malaysia etc. sigh. As his mom, heh heh, I would be first in line to volunteer to go with him as 'chaperon'. Sooo many incentives!
But alas, the boy decided otherwise.
Then last week he was told that the Vocal Ensemble wanted him in. Yay - went KH and I!! A second chance. No more floorball! But for Isaac it was just one more dilemma he hated to solve. The thrill of being in a tug of war with vocal ensemble and the floorball group made him preen for the better part of the day. But after that, he was in a real fix!
On one hand, he liked floorball. Enjoyed it greatly. His hockey experience made it easy to grasp. On the other hand, there are so many uncertainties with floorball and CCA grades. If you're in the school team and compete nationally, it would be more likely that you could get an A grade. But how likely is this that Isaac will play for school? As KH bluntly put it, he's so small-sized!
I knew he was more into floorball and Isaac said that while his audition went okay, it was not as bad as he feared and there were 'worse' singers, he still could not enjoy performing on stage.
As a mom, I felt so exasperated! So many times I really felt like shaking him, and bulldozing him to my choice. But I also knew I had to do the PC thing and tell him its okay, we support you no matter what. So I did that. But I also let him know that personally, I was disappointed at his choice and thought he was making a mistake to go with floorball. But now that he has chosen floorball, we'd just look forward and move on and do the best we can for him.
I know some moms reading this will be horrified that I've told him this. But I think at 13, he's old enough to handle it that other people have thoughts, feelings and opinions and sometimes they would clash with his. He would have to learn how to deal with it. He told me that I 'made' him feel bad because I was so disappointed. But I pointed out to him that (as with the usual guilt issue in all formula vs breast debates) "no one can make you feel anything you don't want to feel." My disappointment with his choice, would be up to me to work it out. I would get over it sooner or later. But if he wanted floorball so badly and he'd weighed the pros and cons, then no matter how we felt, his own personal conviction would carry him through.
So floorball it is. Whatever my feelings or misgivings, nothing I can do. The kids are getting older and flexing their muscles in their own autonomy in making choices. All this just comes with the territory of letting go.
Caitlin is busy with school too. At P2, she's staying back 3x a week for ballet, supplementary classes in Chinese and for gym training. We tried out the public transport option for the first month, giving her a handphone, walking her through it, but due to public outrage (largely from her indignant mama), we decided to put her back on the school bus. Its still a one-way journey because we give her a lift to school in the mornings but 3 days out of 5, she would take the CCA bus home. This costs us $100 a month. Sometimes I feel like we are really at the mercy of the bus association! We'll give the public transport thing a try again next year.
Owain has started school too and its K2 so there is - horror of horrors! - weekly spelling! When we work on it, he has no problem. But the one week we didn't - thanks to Chinese New Year - he broke down in class after being unable to spell any word the teacher gave. So we've just got to be diligent about working on it. For Owain, his main difficulty is in reading. Phonics bores him to tears and is really uninspiring. So we do the whole word method. But even then, I find Trin gets it faster than he does. Its become sort of a mini competition between them to be the first to sound the word when I flash the card. His Math is fine - we're working on number bonds now and he seems to understand it, just a bit stumped with subtraction.
And finally, as for Trin, we're cutting back on speech therapy since the therapist thinks Trin is okay for now. But I have decided to put her into full-time school when the new term starts in March. Not in the montessori where she attends just one day a week now but in the PCF kindy near mama's place. I foresee lots of adjustment and stormy days ahead. But its just for a year and we'll shift her back to the Montessori next year. Why the big shift here and there? Simply because I can't afford to send two kids to a Montessori place. Its just too costly.
While I buy the whole Montessori concept, for practical reasons, this is not do-able right now. Maybe next year. Maybe if I work full-time. But no, not quite ready for full-time. Yet. Love my freedom too much!
School-wise, everything seems to be settling down into a rhythm again.
Gillian was selected to be in the school bowling team. She's so chuffed about it and we can't be more pleased for her. I'm proud that she made it and very glad that she did - what a great boost to her self-esteem! She's now got training 3 times a week, including Saturday mornings so that puts an end to our lovely couple-time lazy brekkie at Casa Verde at the Botanics. KH says we'll just have to look for another quiet nook somewhere on the east coast. But its worth it.
Isaac is also finally settling down. He tried out for the Vocal Ensemble and floorball, dabbled in some karate sessions but was finally given his first choice of floorball. KH and I were disappointed. Being the ever-practical, kiasu mother, I was looking at sound CCA choices that would make it easy for him to score an A1 or A2 grade for CCA. This would come in very useful when he gets his'O' level scores because and A grade means slicing off 2 points from his overall score - the lower it is, the better of course. To give you an idea, the best junior colleges take in kids whose scores are 6 and lower.
But I digress. We strongly believed that the vocal ensemble would give him a better chance at an A grade thanks to the many competitions, performances that the group has to go through. CCA grade aside, I thought singing and the training would also help build his lungs, give him confidence in facing a crowd, force him to face his fears and overcome them thereby building resilience and courage. Plus lets not forget the overseas trips to Japan, Hong Kong, Malaysia etc. sigh. As his mom, heh heh, I would be first in line to volunteer to go with him as 'chaperon'. Sooo many incentives!
But alas, the boy decided otherwise.
Then last week he was told that the Vocal Ensemble wanted him in. Yay - went KH and I!! A second chance. No more floorball! But for Isaac it was just one more dilemma he hated to solve. The thrill of being in a tug of war with vocal ensemble and the floorball group made him preen for the better part of the day. But after that, he was in a real fix!
On one hand, he liked floorball. Enjoyed it greatly. His hockey experience made it easy to grasp. On the other hand, there are so many uncertainties with floorball and CCA grades. If you're in the school team and compete nationally, it would be more likely that you could get an A grade. But how likely is this that Isaac will play for school? As KH bluntly put it, he's so small-sized!
I knew he was more into floorball and Isaac said that while his audition went okay, it was not as bad as he feared and there were 'worse' singers, he still could not enjoy performing on stage.
As a mom, I felt so exasperated! So many times I really felt like shaking him, and bulldozing him to my choice. But I also knew I had to do the PC thing and tell him its okay, we support you no matter what. So I did that. But I also let him know that personally, I was disappointed at his choice and thought he was making a mistake to go with floorball. But now that he has chosen floorball, we'd just look forward and move on and do the best we can for him.
I know some moms reading this will be horrified that I've told him this. But I think at 13, he's old enough to handle it that other people have thoughts, feelings and opinions and sometimes they would clash with his. He would have to learn how to deal with it. He told me that I 'made' him feel bad because I was so disappointed. But I pointed out to him that (as with the usual guilt issue in all formula vs breast debates) "no one can make you feel anything you don't want to feel." My disappointment with his choice, would be up to me to work it out. I would get over it sooner or later. But if he wanted floorball so badly and he'd weighed the pros and cons, then no matter how we felt, his own personal conviction would carry him through.
So floorball it is. Whatever my feelings or misgivings, nothing I can do. The kids are getting older and flexing their muscles in their own autonomy in making choices. All this just comes with the territory of letting go.
Caitlin is busy with school too. At P2, she's staying back 3x a week for ballet, supplementary classes in Chinese and for gym training. We tried out the public transport option for the first month, giving her a handphone, walking her through it, but due to public outrage (largely from her indignant mama), we decided to put her back on the school bus. Its still a one-way journey because we give her a lift to school in the mornings but 3 days out of 5, she would take the CCA bus home. This costs us $100 a month. Sometimes I feel like we are really at the mercy of the bus association! We'll give the public transport thing a try again next year.
Owain has started school too and its K2 so there is - horror of horrors! - weekly spelling! When we work on it, he has no problem. But the one week we didn't - thanks to Chinese New Year - he broke down in class after being unable to spell any word the teacher gave. So we've just got to be diligent about working on it. For Owain, his main difficulty is in reading. Phonics bores him to tears and is really uninspiring. So we do the whole word method. But even then, I find Trin gets it faster than he does. Its become sort of a mini competition between them to be the first to sound the word when I flash the card. His Math is fine - we're working on number bonds now and he seems to understand it, just a bit stumped with subtraction.
And finally, as for Trin, we're cutting back on speech therapy since the therapist thinks Trin is okay for now. But I have decided to put her into full-time school when the new term starts in March. Not in the montessori where she attends just one day a week now but in the PCF kindy near mama's place. I foresee lots of adjustment and stormy days ahead. But its just for a year and we'll shift her back to the Montessori next year. Why the big shift here and there? Simply because I can't afford to send two kids to a Montessori place. Its just too costly.
While I buy the whole Montessori concept, for practical reasons, this is not do-able right now. Maybe next year. Maybe if I work full-time. But no, not quite ready for full-time. Yet. Love my freedom too much!
Return of the Stones
KH fell ill two weeks before CNY. One morning while sending the kids to school, he suddenly had really bad abdominal pain. We managed to get to the A&E in Mt A. X-rays and a CT scan revealed a 6mm stone lodged in his ureter. Just like a microscopic dam, it was causing a major jam up in the upper ureter and in the kidney. The whole thing had swollen up and he was passing blood in the urine. The doctor arrested the pain with two injections to the butt (which he said hurt more than the stones!). But the best part was that insurance would not cover us if we decided to be admitted and the hospital called its own urologist. Thanks to the limitations of KH's company's medical plan, we were told to visit our own GP to get a referral to a urologist who could do something to get the stone out! It was an insurance snafu that left us fuming and later resulted in a letter to the Straits Times which was just published two days ago.
To cut the story short, we went to the GP who referred us to the SGH Urology Centre that same day in the afternoon. The specialist there immediately ordered an ESWL - a non-invasive procedure that uses shockwave therapy to blast the stone into fragments. The machine looked super high-tech and KH was made to lie down in a shallow bowl of water - the waves would pass through this medium. The x-ray pinpointed the exact location for the shockwaves to flow. He had to be sedated of course, but not fully asleep.
He's okay so far. A return visit to the doctor showed that there was only a smaller 3mm fragment left that had passed to his bladder and was floating about waiting to be peed out.
This was not the first time he'd had stones.
In 2000, we were in Cadaques, northern Spain. A pretty, whitewashed town that faced the Mediterranean with Salvador Dali's house nearby. Picture this. We'd just enjoyed an early dinner, a stroll on the waterfront and the lights were just coming on in the houses on the hills, the sun was setting and the ambience was so romantic when my dear husband decided to liven things up. He complained about agonising pain in his back. We managed to get back to the hotel.
The hotel proprietor called a doctor who promptly gave him a jab in the butt. And gosh, when I say jab, I mean JAB. She took the hypodermic needle, stabbed him once in the butt to the hilt, then screwed on the vial and pressed the plunger!! I was in awe. The ambulance came, we abandoned our rental car, I hustled two ginormous backpacks and sat in the ambulance with him. It was night. The road over the hills to the nearest hospital in Figueres was windy. I was disorientated. Prone to motion sickness. Add all that up and you've got one sick puppy. I managed to hold it in until the ambulance pulled up in the hospital. The minute the doors opened, I lost it. Bleah!! Spent the night puking, guarding the bags, trying to sit on hard plastic chairs while watching KH snooze on the gurney. Bah! It wasn't all fun for him of course. The Spanish medics had a hard time locating a vein and popped him 5 times before the IV went in. Remind me never to fall sick anywhere else in the world but Singapore.
Barely had he recovered from this episode then the next struck. Just last Saturday night, while at his friend's home to celebrate the lunar new year, he suddenly felt giddy and nauseous, throwing up in the bathroom. It got so bad that we had to call dad and Paul over, one to drive the kids home and the other to drive us to the hospital. Shades of Cadaques all over again as I tried to get some shut-eye in the waiting room, KH getting a shot (yes in the butt again!!) to stabilise the vertigo. The doctor could not say why he suddenly had this attack. The BP was normal. He hadn't had a stroke. Most likely it was some infection or imbalance in the hindbrain.
It was so sudden. One minute he was fine and the next, he was throwing up. This episode, plus the kidney stones episode just left me pensive and wondering. What's the plan B if something happened to KH, who is right now, pretty much the sole breadwinner in our house?
I think first of all, morbidly, lets talk about dying. I guess I would be extremely devastated. Even though the boy can be a real pain in MY butt sometimes. But when you've known each other for years and gone through so much, there are naturally bonds there. Mushily, I guess this is called love. I think I would also feel incredibly helpless since I really depend a great deal on him - too much actually. I need to be more independent!
Financially, I think we would not be too badly off. The house is covered by insurance that would cover the housing loan. His own personal insurance (yes, I made him insure himself generously because we have so many kids!) should tide us over for a bit but we'd definitely have to cut back and be prudent. I'd have to go back to full-time work. I'd certainly have to learn how to drive! In a practical sense, I'll be okay. But in an emotional sense, I think I'd be really... afraid. Yes, devastated and all... but largely, afraid. And my biggest fear? Being alone, being lonely for the rest of my life. But I suppose given time, we do adjust and move on.
But as I pondered further, I realised my biggest fear was not about if or when death would come, but what if death WOULD NOT come? What if I had to care for him for the rest of his life, my life? Could I stomach it? Could I be physically strong enough? Do I have the courage? I'm not talking about the emotional part of caring for someone bedridden, but the physical part - inserting feeding tubes, changing soiled diapers, clearing vomit, washing/bathing, carrying, bringing him to endless medical appointments etc. Am I unselfish enough to do so? Honestly, its not PC to say this but the thought leaves me feeling squeamish.
At what point does love degenerate into resentment? When does selflessness fade with fatigue? What is the breaking point? In sickness and in health. Till death. Can I do it?
I think I would. I might resent the hell out of it, but I would. I would feel like running away everyday but I would stay. I would fantasise about a better day but still live out this day. I would wish this all away every second of every day but I would do what I had to do. No pretty answer - just honesty.
On my end, I went out to mail the AMD I'd done. Finally. At least I know that if I am ever in the same limbo situation, no one is going to work too hard to save me. And if ever I am in a situation where death is likely or imminent, please, someone pull the plug. If I can't stomach the thought of being a permanent vegetable, dependent on someone else for the rest of my life, a burdensome figure, shadow of a memory of what he once loved, then I'd better do something while I still can. The AMD is my first step. Now to talk to KH about his AMD...
KH fell ill two weeks before CNY. One morning while sending the kids to school, he suddenly had really bad abdominal pain. We managed to get to the A&E in Mt A. X-rays and a CT scan revealed a 6mm stone lodged in his ureter. Just like a microscopic dam, it was causing a major jam up in the upper ureter and in the kidney. The whole thing had swollen up and he was passing blood in the urine. The doctor arrested the pain with two injections to the butt (which he said hurt more than the stones!). But the best part was that insurance would not cover us if we decided to be admitted and the hospital called its own urologist. Thanks to the limitations of KH's company's medical plan, we were told to visit our own GP to get a referral to a urologist who could do something to get the stone out! It was an insurance snafu that left us fuming and later resulted in a letter to the Straits Times which was just published two days ago.
To cut the story short, we went to the GP who referred us to the SGH Urology Centre that same day in the afternoon. The specialist there immediately ordered an ESWL - a non-invasive procedure that uses shockwave therapy to blast the stone into fragments. The machine looked super high-tech and KH was made to lie down in a shallow bowl of water - the waves would pass through this medium. The x-ray pinpointed the exact location for the shockwaves to flow. He had to be sedated of course, but not fully asleep.
He's okay so far. A return visit to the doctor showed that there was only a smaller 3mm fragment left that had passed to his bladder and was floating about waiting to be peed out.
This was not the first time he'd had stones.
In 2000, we were in Cadaques, northern Spain. A pretty, whitewashed town that faced the Mediterranean with Salvador Dali's house nearby. Picture this. We'd just enjoyed an early dinner, a stroll on the waterfront and the lights were just coming on in the houses on the hills, the sun was setting and the ambience was so romantic when my dear husband decided to liven things up. He complained about agonising pain in his back. We managed to get back to the hotel.
The hotel proprietor called a doctor who promptly gave him a jab in the butt. And gosh, when I say jab, I mean JAB. She took the hypodermic needle, stabbed him once in the butt to the hilt, then screwed on the vial and pressed the plunger!! I was in awe. The ambulance came, we abandoned our rental car, I hustled two ginormous backpacks and sat in the ambulance with him. It was night. The road over the hills to the nearest hospital in Figueres was windy. I was disorientated. Prone to motion sickness. Add all that up and you've got one sick puppy. I managed to hold it in until the ambulance pulled up in the hospital. The minute the doors opened, I lost it. Bleah!! Spent the night puking, guarding the bags, trying to sit on hard plastic chairs while watching KH snooze on the gurney. Bah! It wasn't all fun for him of course. The Spanish medics had a hard time locating a vein and popped him 5 times before the IV went in. Remind me never to fall sick anywhere else in the world but Singapore.
Barely had he recovered from this episode then the next struck. Just last Saturday night, while at his friend's home to celebrate the lunar new year, he suddenly felt giddy and nauseous, throwing up in the bathroom. It got so bad that we had to call dad and Paul over, one to drive the kids home and the other to drive us to the hospital. Shades of Cadaques all over again as I tried to get some shut-eye in the waiting room, KH getting a shot (yes in the butt again!!) to stabilise the vertigo. The doctor could not say why he suddenly had this attack. The BP was normal. He hadn't had a stroke. Most likely it was some infection or imbalance in the hindbrain.
It was so sudden. One minute he was fine and the next, he was throwing up. This episode, plus the kidney stones episode just left me pensive and wondering. What's the plan B if something happened to KH, who is right now, pretty much the sole breadwinner in our house?
I think first of all, morbidly, lets talk about dying. I guess I would be extremely devastated. Even though the boy can be a real pain in MY butt sometimes. But when you've known each other for years and gone through so much, there are naturally bonds there. Mushily, I guess this is called love. I think I would also feel incredibly helpless since I really depend a great deal on him - too much actually. I need to be more independent!
Financially, I think we would not be too badly off. The house is covered by insurance that would cover the housing loan. His own personal insurance (yes, I made him insure himself generously because we have so many kids!) should tide us over for a bit but we'd definitely have to cut back and be prudent. I'd have to go back to full-time work. I'd certainly have to learn how to drive! In a practical sense, I'll be okay. But in an emotional sense, I think I'd be really... afraid. Yes, devastated and all... but largely, afraid. And my biggest fear? Being alone, being lonely for the rest of my life. But I suppose given time, we do adjust and move on.
But as I pondered further, I realised my biggest fear was not about if or when death would come, but what if death WOULD NOT come? What if I had to care for him for the rest of his life, my life? Could I stomach it? Could I be physically strong enough? Do I have the courage? I'm not talking about the emotional part of caring for someone bedridden, but the physical part - inserting feeding tubes, changing soiled diapers, clearing vomit, washing/bathing, carrying, bringing him to endless medical appointments etc. Am I unselfish enough to do so? Honestly, its not PC to say this but the thought leaves me feeling squeamish.
At what point does love degenerate into resentment? When does selflessness fade with fatigue? What is the breaking point? In sickness and in health. Till death. Can I do it?
I think I would. I might resent the hell out of it, but I would. I would feel like running away everyday but I would stay. I would fantasise about a better day but still live out this day. I would wish this all away every second of every day but I would do what I had to do. No pretty answer - just honesty.
On my end, I went out to mail the AMD I'd done. Finally. At least I know that if I am ever in the same limbo situation, no one is going to work too hard to save me. And if ever I am in a situation where death is likely or imminent, please, someone pull the plug. If I can't stomach the thought of being a permanent vegetable, dependent on someone else for the rest of my life, a burdensome figure, shadow of a memory of what he once loved, then I'd better do something while I still can. The AMD is my first step. Now to talk to KH about his AMD...
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Smart-mouth
Did I say that I'm deeply madly in love with my smart-mouthed fishball boy? He can give me such pert answers that stump me but gee, how my heart melts! The boy has me like putty in his hands sometimes.
On Sunday he and his sibs were arguing about the ball. It's mine, he insisted. Both balls in the house belong to him, he said. Squabble squabble squabble.
Tired of the whining and the arguing from both sides, I said share or else. Boy refused. So I eyed him in exasperation and said, since the ball is yours, and you don't want to share, you have to keep the ball with you ALL the time for the rest of the day. The minute I find the ball away from you, it's mine.
He good-naturedly agreed and for the rest of the day, kept the ball with him. But by evening time, his patience wore thin and he came to me as we were preparing to leave for dinner.
Mum, he went, a bit whiny. Could I leave the ball at home?
No. Its your ball remember?
But mu-uuuum...
He sulked for a bit and thought hard. Then he brightened, looked at me craftily and said: If this is my ball... then I can choose to do what I want with it right? ...And so I choose to leave it at home!
KH said he check-mated me lock stock and barrel.
When he's not being cheeky, he's so sweet. The other day Eileen called me and alerted me that Owain had burst into tears during dismissal for no known reason, and suggested that I check with him because he'd refused to tell the teachers.
I called home and asked him: are you alright?
He told me, quite matter-of-fact: Its okay, mum, I calmed down already from walking home from school.
So why did you cry?
Because, he said, it was Nathaniel's birthday and he had goodie bags. I asked for two bags, one for me and one for Trin and when dismissal time came, one bag was stolen!! Someone took Trin's bag! Thats why I cried.
Ah, but when he returned home, the goody bag was found in his school bag. Eileen had placed it there so that he would not lose it. Happy discovery!
It's so heartwarming to hear how thoughtful he can be for his pesky baby sister - even though she drives him bananas many times. According to Eileen, he always asks for two bags during parties, even when Trin is not in school. He can be such a giving, generous little soul. And lets not forget that whenever Trin cries in school, Owain would be the one she looks for and Owain would be the one sitting with her, patting her shoulder and telling her gently: its okay Trin, don't cry. Only when she stops and seems happy to be in class would he then slip away to his own class.
Oh and did I say the smartmouth already has decided that he wants to go to RI??? Few months ago when we were flipping through the book on secondary school choices, Owain spotted RI's table of achievements, which were of course dotted with many icons of achievement. He noticed that other schools had noticeably less and deduced that the one with 'more pictures' should be the best school around. He eagerly told his brother about this 'good school' and seemed visibly disappointed that Isaac's score could not get him in. And that was when he said that one day, he would go there. To which I said: over my dead body!
My smartmouth fishball... For now I can still hold him, he can still sit on my lap (fights with Trin over lap space!) and he still comes to me for his snuggles and cuddles and kisses. He happily gives me hugs and kisses, tells me I'm his best girl in the world. He thinks the world of me now. I wonder how long it will last. While I can't imagine a strapping man of 30 professing such love for his old mother, I do wish I could prolong these moments for as long as I can. He's growing so fast I'm already missing him.
Did I say that I'm deeply madly in love with my smart-mouthed fishball boy? He can give me such pert answers that stump me but gee, how my heart melts! The boy has me like putty in his hands sometimes.
On Sunday he and his sibs were arguing about the ball. It's mine, he insisted. Both balls in the house belong to him, he said. Squabble squabble squabble.
Tired of the whining and the arguing from both sides, I said share or else. Boy refused. So I eyed him in exasperation and said, since the ball is yours, and you don't want to share, you have to keep the ball with you ALL the time for the rest of the day. The minute I find the ball away from you, it's mine.
He good-naturedly agreed and for the rest of the day, kept the ball with him. But by evening time, his patience wore thin and he came to me as we were preparing to leave for dinner.
Mum, he went, a bit whiny. Could I leave the ball at home?
No. Its your ball remember?
But mu-uuuum...
He sulked for a bit and thought hard. Then he brightened, looked at me craftily and said: If this is my ball... then I can choose to do what I want with it right? ...And so I choose to leave it at home!
KH said he check-mated me lock stock and barrel.
When he's not being cheeky, he's so sweet. The other day Eileen called me and alerted me that Owain had burst into tears during dismissal for no known reason, and suggested that I check with him because he'd refused to tell the teachers.
I called home and asked him: are you alright?
He told me, quite matter-of-fact: Its okay, mum, I calmed down already from walking home from school.
So why did you cry?
Because, he said, it was Nathaniel's birthday and he had goodie bags. I asked for two bags, one for me and one for Trin and when dismissal time came, one bag was stolen!! Someone took Trin's bag! Thats why I cried.
Ah, but when he returned home, the goody bag was found in his school bag. Eileen had placed it there so that he would not lose it. Happy discovery!
It's so heartwarming to hear how thoughtful he can be for his pesky baby sister - even though she drives him bananas many times. According to Eileen, he always asks for two bags during parties, even when Trin is not in school. He can be such a giving, generous little soul. And lets not forget that whenever Trin cries in school, Owain would be the one she looks for and Owain would be the one sitting with her, patting her shoulder and telling her gently: its okay Trin, don't cry. Only when she stops and seems happy to be in class would he then slip away to his own class.
Oh and did I say the smartmouth already has decided that he wants to go to RI??? Few months ago when we were flipping through the book on secondary school choices, Owain spotted RI's table of achievements, which were of course dotted with many icons of achievement. He noticed that other schools had noticeably less and deduced that the one with 'more pictures' should be the best school around. He eagerly told his brother about this 'good school' and seemed visibly disappointed that Isaac's score could not get him in. And that was when he said that one day, he would go there. To which I said: over my dead body!
My smartmouth fishball... For now I can still hold him, he can still sit on my lap (fights with Trin over lap space!) and he still comes to me for his snuggles and cuddles and kisses. He happily gives me hugs and kisses, tells me I'm his best girl in the world. He thinks the world of me now. I wonder how long it will last. While I can't imagine a strapping man of 30 professing such love for his old mother, I do wish I could prolong these moments for as long as I can. He's growing so fast I'm already missing him.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
This is Trinity stroking Tigerlily. Tigs would just lie down and wait for a nice sayang session. She's very very manja! She's also very gentle with the kids, including Trin, who can be quite cheerfully rough with Tigs. I've told her not to pull the cat's tail and to stroke her gently but Trin sometimes forgets. Luckily Tigs is quite forgiving!
She's lying down waiting for me to sayang and instead I whip out my camera for a few shots!
I really like these few pictures of her. She looks so regal. At night she likes to hop up on the gatepost to just sit there staring out into the night, like some Egyptian hieroglyphic cat.
We've brought her to the vet which costs as much as an expensive paediatrician's visit. Apparently she's just over a year old, and considered an adult cat. The vet said she is in good general condition. We gave her her vax and a deworming tablet. But last night, dunno whether because she was traumatised because of her visit to the vet, she disappeared into the night the minute we came home and let her out of her carrier.
She was gone all of today too, which worried me greatly. I was fretting because of the loud caterwauling going on around my house area. From the sounds, I knew that a female was in heat and some mating was going on and I didn't want Tigs to mate before I could get her neutered.
Luckily, to our relief, she came home this evening, devoured her dinner then curled up on Gillian's bed for a nice long nap. While it would be nice to keep her indoors, I wonder if this would be cruel because her nature has always been to wander and she's been a street cat for so long.
Seems to feel like she's been a part of us for a really long time even though its really just been over a week. I guess that's how they grow on you. Even pet-averse KH has taken to sitting with her, discussing cat issues with me etc.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Tigerlily - the beginning
We didn't choose Tigerlily. She chose us as her pet-family.
I've meant to post the following account of how Tigerlily came to be part of our family but didn't get round to it. Its been more than a month since she's joined our tribe. I wrote this the day after she came to us. Here's a look at how it all happened...
Yesterday I was on my way with Trin to see the speech therapist. As we stepped out from our gate, Trin pointed across the road and said: look, cat! Then she started making 'meow meow' sounds. Amazingly the cat responded with meows and came towards us. And I knew instinctively that this little animal wanted to come over for some stroking and cuddling.
So the cat came over to us and immediately lay on the ground, feet up, belly exposed and waited for us to stroke her! I've never seen cats behave like this before. I thought they were always haughty and standoffish but this little one was very friendly. It also did not seem wary of humans as I thought most strays would be.
We petted her for a while but as we stood up to leave, she stood up too and walked with us. So I tried backtracking into our garden, thinking that maybe she would be too wary to go into the grounds. But I was wrong. In she came, rolled over on the ground, Owain and Trin stroking and cooing in delight.
We really had to leave, so I carried Trin and went to the gate. The cat accompanied us but this time I kept on walking. After a while, the cat stopped several metres from my house and watched us go. Then it turned and went back in.
According to Lolita, the cat stayed in our house (or actually, the porch area) for several hours until Owain left for school and the house was locked up. We thought we'd seen the last of it, but not so. She (Lolita discovered it was a girl cat) came back in the evening. We didn't have cat food so we gave her bread from a curry bun and she finished everything.
The kids were thrilled, particularly Cait, who loved to spend hours outside with the cat just stroking it. Every once in a while, she would go out, sit outside, or sit on our ledge, but she would always come back and play and manja a bit. Even with me and KH, the cat would come, curl around our legs and mew. She didn't seem scared at all.
Occasionally, when she sat outside looking into the distance, I got the feeling that it was waiting for something/someone, sort of expecting somebody. Her stance looked watching and maybe even, a bit protective. It reminded me of the story in Neil Gaiman's book "Smoke and Mirrors". I read it sometime ago and that story really stuck with me. It was about a stray cat who battled nightly demons to protect its adopted human family. I remember liking it so much I made a photocopy of it and later on, bought the actual book. This little cat's watchful stance reminded me of this.
KH, who has always been resistant to the idea of any pets, seem won over or resigned to the fact that the cat seems to like us. But as I pointed out, we didn't choose it. It chose us. That's got to count for something right? Why did it choose us? And as KH jokingly said: "what on earth did Trin say to it! Either way, since it has chosen us, we cannot turn it away. We will do the best we can for it."
Last night, when everyone had gone up to bed, we last saw her settling down for the night on our comfy cushioned seat out on the porch. The next morning at 6am, which is today, the cat was still around. As usual, when we left, it accompanied us to the gate, sat there and watched us drive off. Cait forgot something so we turned back. When she ran in to get her stuff, the cat again tried initiating play - rolling around on the ground (you'd almost think it was like an excited puppy wanting to play all day!) . Cait gave it one last stroke and said bye-bye. Again, it followed her to the gate, sat outside and had a puzzled look as to why she was leaving again. Then it promptly went back in.
When I called home at 1pm, I was told the cat left when Owain went to school. It only came back in the mid-afternoon.
I don't know how long the cat will stay. I think being a street cat for so long would make it hard for it to remain housebound. With my big windows and doors perpetually open, with the gate slats wide enough for her to slip through, I think it would be near-impossible to keep her house-bound. We just have to accept that she will roam. We just hope she will return. My friend did warn me that she might one day go away - street cats sometimes did - and if it did, it might or might not return. So that is something we need to get used to. As Isaac warned us last night: don't get too attached. Remember what happened with the pigeon?
The pigeon was our first 'pet'. It limped to our house one fine day, one wing damaged. It could not fly so we put it in a cardboard box, gave it food and water, brought it to the vet. Despite the fact that the pigeon pooped all over the house when it was well enough to wander around, it was still a companion of sorts - watching tv with the kids, hopping out into the garden when the kids played etc. Isaac was really attached and he was very sad the day the pigeon was well enough to fly away. It never came back.
But anyway. We hope the cat stays - more or less. I've just bought her cat food pellets, her own bowl for water and another for food, and finally, her own little collar with a bell. I won't put it on her for now though. We will put food and water out for her and let her know she's got a home with us. But we will not restrain her indoors or cage her and we do know that she's quite the independent roamer so she will come and go as she pleases.
If she is still with us beyond a week, I will buy a cat carrier and transport her to a vet for an examination and sterilisation. Even if she does not stay with us, being sterilised can only be good for her and for the community. She does not look malnourished and her fur is nice and thick. Her head looks small and her eyes are huge - pale green jade colour. Her ears are big and perky and overall she looks like a juvenile cat, not quite an adult yet. She also has a jaunty tail which sticks upright whenever she approaches us. A friend told us this means that she has identified us as her family and she is comfortable with us.
Tentatively, we decided to call her Tigerlily, the Indian princess from Peter Pan, 'tiger' because of her black tigerish strips set in her tortoise-shell patches and 'lily' because of her snow-white chest and paws. I was told though that the name is too long and cats are more likely to recognise and respond to names that are max 2 syllables long. So we'll think about it again.
For now though, Tigerlily stays.
We didn't choose Tigerlily. She chose us as her pet-family.
I've meant to post the following account of how Tigerlily came to be part of our family but didn't get round to it. Its been more than a month since she's joined our tribe. I wrote this the day after she came to us. Here's a look at how it all happened...
Yesterday I was on my way with Trin to see the speech therapist. As we stepped out from our gate, Trin pointed across the road and said: look, cat! Then she started making 'meow meow' sounds. Amazingly the cat responded with meows and came towards us. And I knew instinctively that this little animal wanted to come over for some stroking and cuddling.
So the cat came over to us and immediately lay on the ground, feet up, belly exposed and waited for us to stroke her! I've never seen cats behave like this before. I thought they were always haughty and standoffish but this little one was very friendly. It also did not seem wary of humans as I thought most strays would be.
We petted her for a while but as we stood up to leave, she stood up too and walked with us. So I tried backtracking into our garden, thinking that maybe she would be too wary to go into the grounds. But I was wrong. In she came, rolled over on the ground, Owain and Trin stroking and cooing in delight.
We really had to leave, so I carried Trin and went to the gate. The cat accompanied us but this time I kept on walking. After a while, the cat stopped several metres from my house and watched us go. Then it turned and went back in.
According to Lolita, the cat stayed in our house (or actually, the porch area) for several hours until Owain left for school and the house was locked up. We thought we'd seen the last of it, but not so. She (Lolita discovered it was a girl cat) came back in the evening. We didn't have cat food so we gave her bread from a curry bun and she finished everything.
The kids were thrilled, particularly Cait, who loved to spend hours outside with the cat just stroking it. Every once in a while, she would go out, sit outside, or sit on our ledge, but she would always come back and play and manja a bit. Even with me and KH, the cat would come, curl around our legs and mew. She didn't seem scared at all.
Occasionally, when she sat outside looking into the distance, I got the feeling that it was waiting for something/someone, sort of expecting somebody. Her stance looked watching and maybe even, a bit protective. It reminded me of the story in Neil Gaiman's book "Smoke and Mirrors". I read it sometime ago and that story really stuck with me. It was about a stray cat who battled nightly demons to protect its adopted human family. I remember liking it so much I made a photocopy of it and later on, bought the actual book. This little cat's watchful stance reminded me of this.
KH, who has always been resistant to the idea of any pets, seem won over or resigned to the fact that the cat seems to like us. But as I pointed out, we didn't choose it. It chose us. That's got to count for something right? Why did it choose us? And as KH jokingly said: "what on earth did Trin say to it! Either way, since it has chosen us, we cannot turn it away. We will do the best we can for it."
Last night, when everyone had gone up to bed, we last saw her settling down for the night on our comfy cushioned seat out on the porch. The next morning at 6am, which is today, the cat was still around. As usual, when we left, it accompanied us to the gate, sat there and watched us drive off. Cait forgot something so we turned back. When she ran in to get her stuff, the cat again tried initiating play - rolling around on the ground (you'd almost think it was like an excited puppy wanting to play all day!) . Cait gave it one last stroke and said bye-bye. Again, it followed her to the gate, sat outside and had a puzzled look as to why she was leaving again. Then it promptly went back in.
When I called home at 1pm, I was told the cat left when Owain went to school. It only came back in the mid-afternoon.
I don't know how long the cat will stay. I think being a street cat for so long would make it hard for it to remain housebound. With my big windows and doors perpetually open, with the gate slats wide enough for her to slip through, I think it would be near-impossible to keep her house-bound. We just have to accept that she will roam. We just hope she will return. My friend did warn me that she might one day go away - street cats sometimes did - and if it did, it might or might not return. So that is something we need to get used to. As Isaac warned us last night: don't get too attached. Remember what happened with the pigeon?
The pigeon was our first 'pet'. It limped to our house one fine day, one wing damaged. It could not fly so we put it in a cardboard box, gave it food and water, brought it to the vet. Despite the fact that the pigeon pooped all over the house when it was well enough to wander around, it was still a companion of sorts - watching tv with the kids, hopping out into the garden when the kids played etc. Isaac was really attached and he was very sad the day the pigeon was well enough to fly away. It never came back.
But anyway. We hope the cat stays - more or less. I've just bought her cat food pellets, her own bowl for water and another for food, and finally, her own little collar with a bell. I won't put it on her for now though. We will put food and water out for her and let her know she's got a home with us. But we will not restrain her indoors or cage her and we do know that she's quite the independent roamer so she will come and go as she pleases.
If she is still with us beyond a week, I will buy a cat carrier and transport her to a vet for an examination and sterilisation. Even if she does not stay with us, being sterilised can only be good for her and for the community. She does not look malnourished and her fur is nice and thick. Her head looks small and her eyes are huge - pale green jade colour. Her ears are big and perky and overall she looks like a juvenile cat, not quite an adult yet. She also has a jaunty tail which sticks upright whenever she approaches us. A friend told us this means that she has identified us as her family and she is comfortable with us.
Tentatively, we decided to call her Tigerlily, the Indian princess from Peter Pan, 'tiger' because of her black tigerish strips set in her tortoise-shell patches and 'lily' because of her snow-white chest and paws. I was told though that the name is too long and cats are more likely to recognise and respond to names that are max 2 syllables long. So we'll think about it again.
For now though, Tigerlily stays.
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