Warning: lots of proud-mummy bragging coming up. So if you cannot stomach the glee and the gloat, skip this post.
We had a meeting with Gillian’s co-form teacher yesterday on her first term progress report.
I am VERY happy (no, ‘happy’ does not even begin to cover this. Over the moon more like!) to report that she is now 2nd in class, up from her usual seat at the 6th position. She has not left the top 10 for more than a year now, but she is moving on!
Out of the 5 subjects she took, she scored straight As for 4 subjects and a B for English. Even her B was 3 marks behind the maximum in class, giving her 3rd place in class for the subject. More importantly, it was far better than her previous grades in English, which had been steadily slipping for some time. So it came as a nice surprise that she was improving.
In all the subjects where she scored As, she was never beyond the 5th placing in class, except for Science where she took 10th place.
However, the biggest surprise came in Maths. She, who always, for as long as I can remember, struggled in Maths, failing most of the time, actually scored a brilliant 91/100, making her 3rd in class for the subject! Yes, I had to scrape my jaw off the floor when I saw that. KH was grinning from ear to ear!
So we are all very very proud of her. She has come a long way from those unhappy early primary and EM3 days when she was failing, feeling lousy and being sneered at by her peers. She is in a good place in her life now. She's hitting her stride, growing in confidence and maturity (her teacher says she's level-headed, staying far away from the trouble-makers in class, hangs out with a good crowd, is always polite and greets her teachers), finding her own unique niche in life. While we have the opportunity to push her up to the Normal (Acad) stream, we’re happy to keep her in Normal (Tech). I believe in the big-fish/small-pond concept. So better for her to do well in this stream and build her sense of confidence and self-respect.
The teacher shared about one of Gillian's classmates who had gone over to the Normal (Acad) stream in Sec 1 mid-year after doing very well. She could not cope with the higher acad level and had to return to Normal (Tech). But the net result was that she was so demoralised by her return, seeing it as a failure, that she reacted very badly, changing from the hardworking girl she was to one who made a series of rash, bad decisions in her behavior. That is sad to see and I am determined for that cautionary tale not to become Gillian's.
No, we will stick to Normal (Tech). I have learned the very hard way that certain kids just do better in a different academic flow. As I posted before, Normal (Tech) is not a 'bad' stream and certainly, the kids there are not 'stupid' or 'hopeless' as society would like to think they are. They are just a different bunch with different strengths and who can find their own interpretations of success. My child is not a label and I am happy for Gillian, that her successes have allowed her to re-define what she wants, opening new vistas of opportunities she would otherwise not have had.
Its early days yet but we have begun looking at ITE courses together already. With these excellent results, she can have her pick of any ITE course instead of being trundled to the bargain basement courses. And being in a better course means you are surrounded by like-minded kids who have also done well, this means a more motivated,driven cohort and less opportunity for mischief overall.
But I am getting ahead of myself. It’s only the first term so she’s got to show that she can maintain these results for the rest of the year. Still, it’s a great start and if she stays on the momentum that her triumphs have given her, she should have no difficulty in staying on course.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Monday, March 08, 2010
The Lord's Prayer: Owain's version:
“…give us today our deadly breath,
Forgive us our sins…”
“…pray for us enough, now and at the hour of our death, amen.” (The Hail Mary according to Owain)
“…as it was in the beginning and now it shall be, world without men, amen.” (The Glory Be)
“I will continue, O my God to do all the actions for the love of you.” Er, what actions?
Yes, all these gems came from Owain. I cracked up especially at the 'deadly breath'! He was proudly reciting all the prayers he had learned in school and rattling them off like he was catching a train. And I was trying to keep a straight face. He was so proud of being able to say all his prayers.
What a contrast this was to what happened a week ago.
The other day he called me sobbing and crying over the phone. The fellow was panicking over not knowing his Chinese hanyu pinyin spelling. He had procrastinated over the weekend, dawdled until it was too late to get any help in terms of the pronunciation, the tonal sounds etc. So on the phone that day, he sobbed hysterically - I could not get a word in edgewise and in any case, he was not really listening, just busy sobbing.
I told him to calm down and take deep breaths so that he could hear what I was saying and how I could help him. I tried to tell him that all was not lost - that he knew the tones enough and as long as he knew how to match those with the consonants and vowels, he would be fine. I also tried reminding him how I had gone through spelling with him the week before, testing him on unfamiliar words and he had no problem matching the tones with the vowels etc. But he was having none of that and working himself into a real cry-fest.
Nothing was getting through but I kept my cool and my sympathy remained intact until he said: "Its your fault. YOU knew I needed help and YOU didn't ask me to study!"
Wow that really made me see red.
When will he begin to learn that he has to take responsibility for his own learning? I read him a stern lecture, reminding him that I did tell him to revise over the weekend and even the night before, but it had fallen on deaf ears. He had chosen to ignore what I said and now he would pay the price. It was nobody's fault but his. I was really angry and did not realise I was getting louder and louder.
By the end of the phonecall, I realised that my whole office had fallen silent. Working in an open-concept office just meant everyone was privy to all the goss that would go around, and eavesdropping is not intentional but a given. Some gave me sympathetic looks and quite a few said, "Oh he's so young, be less hard on him!"
But I stuck to my guns: he needed to learn and he might as well learn, starting now that he would get no sympathy from me if he was not more responsible for his work. My colleagues clucked and said I was too strict and too hard on Owain.
By the day's end, they again reminded me as we said our goodbyes for the day: don't be so hard, use a softer tone, be more forgiving, etc. Truth be told, I was already reflecting if I could have done it in a different way. Yes, the message needed to get across, but perhaps it could have been more gently put. I felt sad too, over the phone, even as I spoke so harshly, that he was afraid and sobbing away and I did not offer any comfort. My anger had once again over-ridden my better instinct as a mother. More than that, I was sad that he had to learn this hard lesson right now - that he would not do well in this test. What would that do to his sense of confidence? And being so strong and distant in my anger that morning surely could not have helped him learn. So I was feeling regretful enough to be especially loving, resolving to comfort him for getting 0 upon 8.I was ready to reassure him that it was okay, he could try again and this time, we would do it together.
But then back home, he breezed through the door, saying slyly, eyes downcast: "I got zero upon eight! I'm sure you won't want to sign my paper!" Then he waved it at me and shouted gleefully: "Tricked you! 8 upon 8! Hahaha! Wahooo!"
I glared at him but was still quite pleased. I reminded him that he had done it all by himself, he hadn't needed my help after all, and he obviously knew his work enough to mix and match the sounds of hanyu pinyin despite not studying for it. That is what hanyu pinyin is about after all - not memorising the words for spelling, but being familiar enough with the tones and letter sounds to combine them successfully. It felt good to be responsible for his success on his own terms.
His perfectionist behaviour in P1 reminded me of Cait's early days in P1 too. The same desire for perfection, and the angst and anxiety when he might not achieve that. In certain ways, he is still very playful, still likes to suss out the better deal, the shorter route etc. But he has had a taste of good grades and success and he obviously likes it. For now at least, he seems more driven to achieve this.
“…give us today our deadly breath,
Forgive us our sins…”
“…pray for us enough, now and at the hour of our death, amen.” (The Hail Mary according to Owain)
“…as it was in the beginning and now it shall be, world without men, amen.” (The Glory Be)
“I will continue, O my God to do all the actions for the love of you.” Er, what actions?
Yes, all these gems came from Owain. I cracked up especially at the 'deadly breath'! He was proudly reciting all the prayers he had learned in school and rattling them off like he was catching a train. And I was trying to keep a straight face. He was so proud of being able to say all his prayers.
What a contrast this was to what happened a week ago.
The other day he called me sobbing and crying over the phone. The fellow was panicking over not knowing his Chinese hanyu pinyin spelling. He had procrastinated over the weekend, dawdled until it was too late to get any help in terms of the pronunciation, the tonal sounds etc. So on the phone that day, he sobbed hysterically - I could not get a word in edgewise and in any case, he was not really listening, just busy sobbing.
I told him to calm down and take deep breaths so that he could hear what I was saying and how I could help him. I tried to tell him that all was not lost - that he knew the tones enough and as long as he knew how to match those with the consonants and vowels, he would be fine. I also tried reminding him how I had gone through spelling with him the week before, testing him on unfamiliar words and he had no problem matching the tones with the vowels etc. But he was having none of that and working himself into a real cry-fest.
Nothing was getting through but I kept my cool and my sympathy remained intact until he said: "Its your fault. YOU knew I needed help and YOU didn't ask me to study!"
Wow that really made me see red.
When will he begin to learn that he has to take responsibility for his own learning? I read him a stern lecture, reminding him that I did tell him to revise over the weekend and even the night before, but it had fallen on deaf ears. He had chosen to ignore what I said and now he would pay the price. It was nobody's fault but his. I was really angry and did not realise I was getting louder and louder.
By the end of the phonecall, I realised that my whole office had fallen silent. Working in an open-concept office just meant everyone was privy to all the goss that would go around, and eavesdropping is not intentional but a given. Some gave me sympathetic looks and quite a few said, "Oh he's so young, be less hard on him!"
But I stuck to my guns: he needed to learn and he might as well learn, starting now that he would get no sympathy from me if he was not more responsible for his work. My colleagues clucked and said I was too strict and too hard on Owain.
By the day's end, they again reminded me as we said our goodbyes for the day: don't be so hard, use a softer tone, be more forgiving, etc. Truth be told, I was already reflecting if I could have done it in a different way. Yes, the message needed to get across, but perhaps it could have been more gently put. I felt sad too, over the phone, even as I spoke so harshly, that he was afraid and sobbing away and I did not offer any comfort. My anger had once again over-ridden my better instinct as a mother. More than that, I was sad that he had to learn this hard lesson right now - that he would not do well in this test. What would that do to his sense of confidence? And being so strong and distant in my anger that morning surely could not have helped him learn. So I was feeling regretful enough to be especially loving, resolving to comfort him for getting 0 upon 8.I was ready to reassure him that it was okay, he could try again and this time, we would do it together.
But then back home, he breezed through the door, saying slyly, eyes downcast: "I got zero upon eight! I'm sure you won't want to sign my paper!" Then he waved it at me and shouted gleefully: "Tricked you! 8 upon 8! Hahaha! Wahooo!"
I glared at him but was still quite pleased. I reminded him that he had done it all by himself, he hadn't needed my help after all, and he obviously knew his work enough to mix and match the sounds of hanyu pinyin despite not studying for it. That is what hanyu pinyin is about after all - not memorising the words for spelling, but being familiar enough with the tones and letter sounds to combine them successfully. It felt good to be responsible for his success on his own terms.
His perfectionist behaviour in P1 reminded me of Cait's early days in P1 too. The same desire for perfection, and the angst and anxiety when he might not achieve that. In certain ways, he is still very playful, still likes to suss out the better deal, the shorter route etc. But he has had a taste of good grades and success and he obviously likes it. For now at least, he seems more driven to achieve this.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
I had my own internal struggles and even today, still trying to accept it. You know Cait was in dance and in gym and I had written before about the struggle - to keep on with dance/gym etc. We found out that she had been skipping dance rehearsals for the flimsiest of reasons and actually outright lied to her dance instructor about leaving early during rehearsals because her "mummy says she has to go for tuition!" Even going as far to elaborate the lie: "Tuition in maths, science and english cos mummy says that is very important and i have to concentrate on that!"
Of course we had a major blow-up. Very major. Spoke to her gym coach, spoke to her principal, spoke to dance teacher etc. Hours of discussion, angst and anger, threats and cajoling, tears. Long and short of it was she decided to quit dance.
And THAT made me sad. I think secretly, I was thrilled to have a girl like her - someone so smart, so talented, that I was harbouring ambitious dreams of having an over-achiever kid. You know the sort - the ones who juggle three CCAs, win medals, are head prefects and score all A-stars and who are also kind, well-adjusted, articulate kids.
Yep - fell into the ol honey trap called over-ambition. I wanted all the accolades for her. I wanted her to keep on with dance, widen her horizons. I wanted a DSA in the SOTA on offer. I wanted Distinctions in ballet and medals in gym and A-stars in everything else. I wanted to bask in reflected glory.
I want, I want, I want.
I forgot all about what SHE wanted. And the answer was plain as day - she didn't want dance. She was so totally clued into gym that she does not want anything else. Could she be making a mistake in dropping dance? Perhaps. We won't know until all this recedes in the back mirror of history. Does she have talent in dance? Oh sure. Spades of it. Do I feel like its a big waste? Yep. But the little fact still remains at the end of it - she did not want it. And without that, what did everything else matter?
So I struggled with this - holding her up to my mirror, to society's definitions of success - and being able to walk away and say, okay, never mind. Do what you really enjoy and have my blessings while you do it. You know, I never knew that it takes a certain of strength to pry my death grip from Ambition.
I think KH is a better person and probably a better parent who is far more accepting. I didn't feel that he angsted over this as much as I did. In fact, we had a sharp and nasty blow-up between us about this which ended with me turning heel and walking out in the middle of a sushi lunch. I apologised later of course so we're good but you see the tension in all our lives at the point in time?
So she's quit dance. I think everyone is relieved that we've made a clear decision. The dance teacher is relieved - now the choreography won't be screwed up. The gym coach is happy - full speed ahead for the nationals! The principal is relieved - problem solved, irate mother appeased. Most of all, Cait is pleased and relieved - the lying has lessened (we think) and she seems happier.
From this point on, we can only look ahead.
Of course we had a major blow-up. Very major. Spoke to her gym coach, spoke to her principal, spoke to dance teacher etc. Hours of discussion, angst and anger, threats and cajoling, tears. Long and short of it was she decided to quit dance.
And THAT made me sad. I think secretly, I was thrilled to have a girl like her - someone so smart, so talented, that I was harbouring ambitious dreams of having an over-achiever kid. You know the sort - the ones who juggle three CCAs, win medals, are head prefects and score all A-stars and who are also kind, well-adjusted, articulate kids.
Yep - fell into the ol honey trap called over-ambition. I wanted all the accolades for her. I wanted her to keep on with dance, widen her horizons. I wanted a DSA in the SOTA on offer. I wanted Distinctions in ballet and medals in gym and A-stars in everything else. I wanted to bask in reflected glory.
I want, I want, I want.
I forgot all about what SHE wanted. And the answer was plain as day - she didn't want dance. She was so totally clued into gym that she does not want anything else. Could she be making a mistake in dropping dance? Perhaps. We won't know until all this recedes in the back mirror of history. Does she have talent in dance? Oh sure. Spades of it. Do I feel like its a big waste? Yep. But the little fact still remains at the end of it - she did not want it. And without that, what did everything else matter?
So I struggled with this - holding her up to my mirror, to society's definitions of success - and being able to walk away and say, okay, never mind. Do what you really enjoy and have my blessings while you do it. You know, I never knew that it takes a certain of strength to pry my death grip from Ambition.
I think KH is a better person and probably a better parent who is far more accepting. I didn't feel that he angsted over this as much as I did. In fact, we had a sharp and nasty blow-up between us about this which ended with me turning heel and walking out in the middle of a sushi lunch. I apologised later of course so we're good but you see the tension in all our lives at the point in time?
So she's quit dance. I think everyone is relieved that we've made a clear decision. The dance teacher is relieved - now the choreography won't be screwed up. The gym coach is happy - full speed ahead for the nationals! The principal is relieved - problem solved, irate mother appeased. Most of all, Cait is pleased and relieved - the lying has lessened (we think) and she seems happier.
From this point on, we can only look ahead.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
I thought I'd do the lazy way out of my blog by reproducing here what I posted on AP.
Education always elicits a passionate response from parents whenever a thread on streaming, academic success, The Education System (which almost always gets a bashing) is started on the parents forum. Once upon a time, I would find myself among the ranks of the bashers - bitter and upset. But call me mellow or resigned - but I tend to be more reflective these days.
A system is just a system - blind, deaf and dumb. It is the students, the teachers and we the parents who define it. I just get a bit ticked when we don't recognise the part that we play in The System and in making it what it is. I also get ticked that parents don't realise that they CAN choose to NOT participate in the rat race and instead of defining their children by other yardsticks, to learn to define the kids by their own. Mind you, I don't love the system and I am not a govt mouthpiece either but I think I'd like to offer a different perspective. So this was my spontaneous, off-the-cuff response to the usual system-bashing that goes on.
I agree that children should not be seen as mere digits or products to be churned through a system as efficiently as possible. But the reality often boils down to funding (always limited) and the appropriate/ efficient/ productive use of funds, down to staffing issues, facilities etc. Like it or not, it is TRUE that laggers are resource-intensive. Sorry to be so blunt.
Inevitably and unfortunately, school is a really just a factory to churn out workers for the economy. This was how the concept of 'school' started in the first place, back in the days of the Industrial Revolution.
And Singapore being Singapore, we have to do this in the most 'productive' and 'cost-efficient' way possible. Even if that means the majority gets through and a minority gets channelled down the 'reject' conveyor belt, its 'okay' because the 'greater good' wins.
Like it or not, all education systems share the same fundamental pitfall - it cannot be tailored individually because it is for the masses - unfortunately though, every child is different. So we just have to live/work within it. Or homeschool. The Aussie Int'l School example Tracey gave - possible for them, why not for us? Simple - pay for it. These guys are paying upwards of $40,000 per year. Look at the teacher-student ratios etc. With that kind of money, its not impossible to have unique curriculum, small class sizes, different pedagogy etc.
But I have said before - stigma is in the eye of the beholder. So a kid has to do Foundation work, is that really so bad? Why is that bad? Or a kid makes it to Normal Tech - okay. After that, the ITE. And so? There is nothing wrong with the ITE. To me, it is just an alternative path for a different kind of kid. Just like poly. Or JC or Uni. Not the end of the world. Just a different world.
And while we lament the loss of self-esteem etc that these kids get tagged with, and blame it on the system, in all fairness, it is really NOT the system that perpetuates this but people - parents, relatives, teachers, peers, friends etc. My daughter got the hard brunt of it too, she had her share of name-calling and stigmatising. But looking at her today, I don't think her self-esteem suffered too much. Why? Because there were people around her who supported her and who believed in her, because she was lucky to have patient supportive teachers. I can't say the same for all the rest of her peers in NT.
If you read all the 'success stories' of kids who bucked the system - its not that they got a lucky break, or the system was kinder to them. It's because they were surrounded by people who believed in them and did not stigmatise them.
We argue for slow learners to be given time to catch up in the system, instead of being pushed up when they are not ready and perpetuating a vicious cycle of just lagging behind etc. I for one, also called for this once. But then sometimes, it is not about slower learners needing more time to learn the same things. That just presumes that everyone is created equal and everyone's ability is the same, just that some take longer.
But I disagree. I think every child has different abilities and different skills/talents. Some kids, no matter how long you give, just cannot make it through academia and perhaps they need a different path.
Not so long ago, and indeed in several parts of the world today, many kids learn tradecraft via apprenticeship at a young age. In our case, its the ITE at a not-so-young age.
Not easy for parents to accept that their kids might walk a different path. Everyone has their own idea of success and the thought that their kids might veer off this path is frustrating, disappointing, maddening. Unthinkable. So we lash out at the system. Certainly took ME a while to come to terms and work this out for myself. And even today, for all my different kids, I still struggle with MY own notion of sucess, society's idea of success and THEIR own ideas of success.
I don't know... I guess I've moved past the stage of denial, and I guess my anger at the system has pretty much been doused (for now at least). System is not perfect but I think its not easy tweaking it to please everyone. We all know our kids best and what they are capable of and with that knowledge, we just have to work within the system and do the best we can.
Education always elicits a passionate response from parents whenever a thread on streaming, academic success, The Education System (which almost always gets a bashing) is started on the parents forum. Once upon a time, I would find myself among the ranks of the bashers - bitter and upset. But call me mellow or resigned - but I tend to be more reflective these days.
A system is just a system - blind, deaf and dumb. It is the students, the teachers and we the parents who define it. I just get a bit ticked when we don't recognise the part that we play in The System and in making it what it is. I also get ticked that parents don't realise that they CAN choose to NOT participate in the rat race and instead of defining their children by other yardsticks, to learn to define the kids by their own. Mind you, I don't love the system and I am not a govt mouthpiece either but I think I'd like to offer a different perspective. So this was my spontaneous, off-the-cuff response to the usual system-bashing that goes on.
I agree that children should not be seen as mere digits or products to be churned through a system as efficiently as possible. But the reality often boils down to funding (always limited) and the appropriate/ efficient/ productive use of funds, down to staffing issues, facilities etc. Like it or not, it is TRUE that laggers are resource-intensive. Sorry to be so blunt.
Inevitably and unfortunately, school is a really just a factory to churn out workers for the economy. This was how the concept of 'school' started in the first place, back in the days of the Industrial Revolution.
And Singapore being Singapore, we have to do this in the most 'productive' and 'cost-efficient' way possible. Even if that means the majority gets through and a minority gets channelled down the 'reject' conveyor belt, its 'okay' because the 'greater good' wins.
Like it or not, all education systems share the same fundamental pitfall - it cannot be tailored individually because it is for the masses - unfortunately though, every child is different. So we just have to live/work within it. Or homeschool. The Aussie Int'l School example Tracey gave - possible for them, why not for us? Simple - pay for it. These guys are paying upwards of $40,000 per year. Look at the teacher-student ratios etc. With that kind of money, its not impossible to have unique curriculum, small class sizes, different pedagogy etc.
But I have said before - stigma is in the eye of the beholder. So a kid has to do Foundation work, is that really so bad? Why is that bad? Or a kid makes it to Normal Tech - okay. After that, the ITE. And so? There is nothing wrong with the ITE. To me, it is just an alternative path for a different kind of kid. Just like poly. Or JC or Uni. Not the end of the world. Just a different world.
And while we lament the loss of self-esteem etc that these kids get tagged with, and blame it on the system, in all fairness, it is really NOT the system that perpetuates this but people - parents, relatives, teachers, peers, friends etc. My daughter got the hard brunt of it too, she had her share of name-calling and stigmatising. But looking at her today, I don't think her self-esteem suffered too much. Why? Because there were people around her who supported her and who believed in her, because she was lucky to have patient supportive teachers. I can't say the same for all the rest of her peers in NT.
If you read all the 'success stories' of kids who bucked the system - its not that they got a lucky break, or the system was kinder to them. It's because they were surrounded by people who believed in them and did not stigmatise them.
We argue for slow learners to be given time to catch up in the system, instead of being pushed up when they are not ready and perpetuating a vicious cycle of just lagging behind etc. I for one, also called for this once. But then sometimes, it is not about slower learners needing more time to learn the same things. That just presumes that everyone is created equal and everyone's ability is the same, just that some take longer.
But I disagree. I think every child has different abilities and different skills/talents. Some kids, no matter how long you give, just cannot make it through academia and perhaps they need a different path.
Not so long ago, and indeed in several parts of the world today, many kids learn tradecraft via apprenticeship at a young age. In our case, its the ITE at a not-so-young age.
Not easy for parents to accept that their kids might walk a different path. Everyone has their own idea of success and the thought that their kids might veer off this path is frustrating, disappointing, maddening. Unthinkable. So we lash out at the system. Certainly took ME a while to come to terms and work this out for myself. And even today, for all my different kids, I still struggle with MY own notion of sucess, society's idea of success and THEIR own ideas of success.
I don't know... I guess I've moved past the stage of denial, and I guess my anger at the system has pretty much been doused (for now at least). System is not perfect but I think its not easy tweaking it to please everyone. We all know our kids best and what they are capable of and with that knowledge, we just have to work within the system and do the best we can.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Donations and sacrifices.
I guess that's the theme for this post.
Chinese New Year is the time for giving - and the school thinks so too, hence the boys all had to bring home a donation card to raise funds for their schools. They probably thought the usual rounds of visits would be very fruitful for fund-raising.
I would have thought my usually cheerful fishball would have no problem charming a few dollars from the many relatives and friends we would meet over the new year. But it was not so. He shrank behind his daddy and I, refusing to say even a word for his cause, leaving it to us to do the usual fund-raising speeches. Most people, in the spirit of the time, after failing to coax a word out of him, would just laugh, pull out their wallets and donate but both KH and I did not want to do Owain's job for him.
Finally in exasperation, Caitlin came up with this placard.
I think we have the makings of a street performing troupe. Isaac could clang the cymbals, Gillian call for attention, Owain walk one round with his placard, Cait perform some acrobatic tricks and Trin would make the rounds with a metal bowl for donations! Very useful to have five kids indeed - we won't starve!
Spring and renewal go hand in hand, so it was also timely that Lent started right after the first few days of Chinese New Year.
This is the first year that Owain is attending catechism in church and one of his assignments is to keep a Lenten calendar where he writes everyday (preferably!) the sacrifices he would make for the day in Lenten spirit.
At first, the crafty little guy offered to 'sacrifice' his computer time for Thursday - until I pointed out that he didn't get any computer on weekdays in the first place! So what was there to sacrifice? Sacrifice means giving up something he would value and offering it to God.
He's pretty serious about this. He's the only kid I know who sits and ponders what he could sacrifice. In his own human way, he tries to sacrifice something that does not give him too much pain, but the fact remains, he still tries. The fact that he even bothers to think about this really moves me - humbles me too, because I know I don't do this and I should.
So for today, being Saturday, he has agreed to sacrifice "fighting with Trin over the scooter" and
agreed to "give up computer time". Have to say, the last is very generous of him because his 15 minutes on the computer only comes during the weekends so to give up his computer time on Saturday is really hard!
Of course in the spirit of Chinese New Year there are many other people making donations and sacrifices too - to the new casino, at the mahjong table and over friendly games of blackjack in homes all over the island. I, on the other hand, stayed away. Uncharacteristically, did not even go near a mahjong table this year.
The best night I had during the Chinese New Year was when everyone went to my ILs and left me home alone and in peace to just marathon my night away with my K-drama du jour and a box of pineapple tarts. Bliss! Here's hoping for many other similar days in the rest of the year!
I guess that's the theme for this post.
Chinese New Year is the time for giving - and the school thinks so too, hence the boys all had to bring home a donation card to raise funds for their schools. They probably thought the usual rounds of visits would be very fruitful for fund-raising.
I would have thought my usually cheerful fishball would have no problem charming a few dollars from the many relatives and friends we would meet over the new year. But it was not so. He shrank behind his daddy and I, refusing to say even a word for his cause, leaving it to us to do the usual fund-raising speeches. Most people, in the spirit of the time, after failing to coax a word out of him, would just laugh, pull out their wallets and donate but both KH and I did not want to do Owain's job for him.
Finally in exasperation, Caitlin came up with this placard.
I think we have the makings of a street performing troupe. Isaac could clang the cymbals, Gillian call for attention, Owain walk one round with his placard, Cait perform some acrobatic tricks and Trin would make the rounds with a metal bowl for donations! Very useful to have five kids indeed - we won't starve!
Spring and renewal go hand in hand, so it was also timely that Lent started right after the first few days of Chinese New Year.
This is the first year that Owain is attending catechism in church and one of his assignments is to keep a Lenten calendar where he writes everyday (preferably!) the sacrifices he would make for the day in Lenten spirit.
At first, the crafty little guy offered to 'sacrifice' his computer time for Thursday - until I pointed out that he didn't get any computer on weekdays in the first place! So what was there to sacrifice? Sacrifice means giving up something he would value and offering it to God.
He's pretty serious about this. He's the only kid I know who sits and ponders what he could sacrifice. In his own human way, he tries to sacrifice something that does not give him too much pain, but the fact remains, he still tries. The fact that he even bothers to think about this really moves me - humbles me too, because I know I don't do this and I should.
So for today, being Saturday, he has agreed to sacrifice "fighting with Trin over the scooter" and
agreed to "give up computer time". Have to say, the last is very generous of him because his 15 minutes on the computer only comes during the weekends so to give up his computer time on Saturday is really hard!
Of course in the spirit of Chinese New Year there are many other people making donations and sacrifices too - to the new casino, at the mahjong table and over friendly games of blackjack in homes all over the island. I, on the other hand, stayed away. Uncharacteristically, did not even go near a mahjong table this year.
The best night I had during the Chinese New Year was when everyone went to my ILs and left me home alone and in peace to just marathon my night away with my K-drama du jour and a box of pineapple tarts. Bliss! Here's hoping for many other similar days in the rest of the year!
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
For more than a year, I have been putting up with pain in the arch of the foot. This is a throbbing ache that is centred right in the curve of the arch. For most of last year I ignored it. I had other health issues – the uterine issues etc. But over the last few months, it got steadily worse. I put up with it during the Japan trip and during the Malaysian trip. But over December and January, it got so bad that I was limping some days, and even when I was sitting and not putting any weight on the foot, I still got a burning throbbing localised pain. The spot was about the size of a 10-cent coin but gosh, it burned!
Google told me that very likely this was a case of plantar fasciitis. I guess this means orthotics – feet support via insoles etc. And ugly granny shoes for life. Though to be honest, I had not been wearing pretty heels for the longest time already since my feet are a cross between elephant legs and pig trotters. Pig trotters do not go well with kitten heels and stilettos. So I have been content to live in my Crocs for many years until recently when I ditched them for sensible but a tad more fashionable Hush Puppies sandals and shoes.
My parents were concerned about the huge ginormous stumps I have for calves. And to be honest, I was growing pretty obsessed (and depressed!) with comparing my legs with the legs of other women. It seemed that even the most obese people I see on the streets have thinner calves than mine! Everyone who has a look at my legs usually has a reaction of horror, sympathy and fascination. Most ask if they can poke it. So it must be bad. But no, its not water retention either. They are just incredibly bulky and heavy.
It could be due to:
a) hypothyroidism (which fits my symptoms)
b) medication (one of the known side-effects of my hypertension meds is to have swollen legs) or
c) I’m just fat.
The internist that I see in the hospital just raised his brows, measured my calves (these are body stats I would be better off not knowing) and wrote it in my notes. A colleague said: maybe the chi is not moving through your legs. Acupuncture might help.
While that kinda makes sense, I still do not have enough confidence in TCM, so no acupuncture (hate needles) and I opted to put my faith in mainstream meds and see an orthopaedic surgeon instead, figuring that maybe the guy can tell me what’s wrong with the cankles and fix the pain in the arch as well.
So last week, I went off to the consultant. And what a nightmare that was!
Before I could tell him more, he had flexed my foot, knuckled the arch which made me wince and yelp, and then swivelled his chair, plucked a model of skeleton foot and told me what’s wrong with my foot. Plantar fasciitis, he said breezily and added the words that ran my blood cold: “I need to give you and injection.” Note how he phrased it: “I. Need.” Nothing in there about me, the patient but everything about him the doctor.
“What? Now?” Panic set in.
“Yes. Now.” I could have sworn he had an evil glint in his eye.
I was caught off guard. I had heard about such injections but thought they were meant as a last resort. Clearly not for this guy. He was literally hurrying me to lie down so he can stick the needle in.
Did I have second thoughts? You bet! Third and fourth even. Everything in me screamed no. But like a rabbit caught in the cross-hairs of a gun, I just stayed helpless. Every question I feebly asked was heartily tossed aside in the ‘pshaw-I-know-best-cos-I’m-the-doctor’ tone I hate so much.
“Er, would this be painful?” Pathetic, stupid question, I know.
“No, of course not,” went he. “You went though childbirth, this is nothing.” Liar.
“Shouldn’t I see a podiatrist? Get an insole done first?” I blabbered in desperation.
“No need. This one, plus physio, will cure it. 95% are cured in three months!” Is it me or does he sound like a used-car salesman trying to push a lemon sale? And what happens to the other 5%? I never found out.
At no time did he tell me what exactly he would be injecting into me, explain the pros and cons etc. My thoughts were flying all over the place and I felt railroaded into the examination table. Mostly, I think I was just paralysed by fear.
“Wait. Have a look at my legs. Why are the ankles so swollen?” I blurted.
“I don’t know. I can’t tell you why. Could be due to your medication,” brushed off the doc. Huh? My numero uno reason in seeing this guy was just answered, just like that. What a waste of time. He barely looked at my pig-elephant legs.
I lay down reluctantly, terrified. I wanted to sit up to watch but he said no. “Otherwise I might have to stick you twice, haha!” Evil laughter.
Let me tell you now, for the record, having gone through childbirth five times, the last two of which were drug-free, that childbirth is officially NOT the worst sort of pain in the world. Having a needle stuck in your foot and cortisone (he finally told me at the end, after it was all over) slowly injected in – is really right up there in the torture stakes.
That sort of stupid myth is perpetuated by doctors like him (who has never gone through childbirth by the way, so what does he know?) who tell cowering patients like me, that sort of lie. As he stuck the needle in and slowly pressed the plunger, I lay wide-eyed, in shock and in so much pain that I uttered strangled cries through gritted teeth, breathing fast and shallowly. It seemed to go on forever. At one point the nurse who stood beside me and gripped my hands (bless her) asked in concern: You’re not allergic to anything right?
Allergic to what? I didn’t even know what was going in! Maybe I looked like I was going into anaphylactic shock? Towards the end, I remember telling the doctor a bit hysterically: You’ve got to be kidding me! Oh you’re joking. This is bad. This is so bad. This is worse than childbirth!
Tears were in my eyes and after he had finished, I just lay there, in semi-shock. I couldn’t seem to bring myself to sit up and function. I think I was in a daze, can’t remember what I blabbered about. I went on auto-pilot mode after that, feeling a bit blank and wondering what the heck did I just put myself through?
For the first five minutes, I could gingerly walk. But after half an hour, the sole and the arch area had swelled up and was so tender I could not put any weight on it. I was supposed to take the train to pick Cait up from school. But I didn’t think I could make it and had to ask my mom to do this instead while I took a cab home.
For the rest of the night, and the next day, I hobbled. I could not walk upstairs but literally crawled up. The kids thought it was a hoot to see mummy on all-fours. Today, it’s much better. The swelling has gone down. The old pain is mostly gone but it does come back in twinges and this morning, the burning sensation was back too.
Looks like I went though all that for nothing after all.
Well, there’s always… acupuncture. After that horror story I lived through, how much worse can it get? Right?
Google told me that very likely this was a case of plantar fasciitis. I guess this means orthotics – feet support via insoles etc. And ugly granny shoes for life. Though to be honest, I had not been wearing pretty heels for the longest time already since my feet are a cross between elephant legs and pig trotters. Pig trotters do not go well with kitten heels and stilettos. So I have been content to live in my Crocs for many years until recently when I ditched them for sensible but a tad more fashionable Hush Puppies sandals and shoes.
My parents were concerned about the huge ginormous stumps I have for calves. And to be honest, I was growing pretty obsessed (and depressed!) with comparing my legs with the legs of other women. It seemed that even the most obese people I see on the streets have thinner calves than mine! Everyone who has a look at my legs usually has a reaction of horror, sympathy and fascination. Most ask if they can poke it. So it must be bad. But no, its not water retention either. They are just incredibly bulky and heavy.
It could be due to:
a) hypothyroidism (which fits my symptoms)
b) medication (one of the known side-effects of my hypertension meds is to have swollen legs) or
c) I’m just fat.
The internist that I see in the hospital just raised his brows, measured my calves (these are body stats I would be better off not knowing) and wrote it in my notes. A colleague said: maybe the chi is not moving through your legs. Acupuncture might help.
While that kinda makes sense, I still do not have enough confidence in TCM, so no acupuncture (hate needles) and I opted to put my faith in mainstream meds and see an orthopaedic surgeon instead, figuring that maybe the guy can tell me what’s wrong with the cankles and fix the pain in the arch as well.
So last week, I went off to the consultant. And what a nightmare that was!
Before I could tell him more, he had flexed my foot, knuckled the arch which made me wince and yelp, and then swivelled his chair, plucked a model of skeleton foot and told me what’s wrong with my foot. Plantar fasciitis, he said breezily and added the words that ran my blood cold: “I need to give you and injection.” Note how he phrased it: “I. Need.” Nothing in there about me, the patient but everything about him the doctor.
“What? Now?” Panic set in.
“Yes. Now.” I could have sworn he had an evil glint in his eye.
I was caught off guard. I had heard about such injections but thought they were meant as a last resort. Clearly not for this guy. He was literally hurrying me to lie down so he can stick the needle in.
Did I have second thoughts? You bet! Third and fourth even. Everything in me screamed no. But like a rabbit caught in the cross-hairs of a gun, I just stayed helpless. Every question I feebly asked was heartily tossed aside in the ‘pshaw-I-know-best-cos-I’m-the-doctor’ tone I hate so much.
“Er, would this be painful?” Pathetic, stupid question, I know.
“No, of course not,” went he. “You went though childbirth, this is nothing.” Liar.
“Shouldn’t I see a podiatrist? Get an insole done first?” I blabbered in desperation.
“No need. This one, plus physio, will cure it. 95% are cured in three months!” Is it me or does he sound like a used-car salesman trying to push a lemon sale? And what happens to the other 5%? I never found out.
At no time did he tell me what exactly he would be injecting into me, explain the pros and cons etc. My thoughts were flying all over the place and I felt railroaded into the examination table. Mostly, I think I was just paralysed by fear.
“Wait. Have a look at my legs. Why are the ankles so swollen?” I blurted.
“I don’t know. I can’t tell you why. Could be due to your medication,” brushed off the doc. Huh? My numero uno reason in seeing this guy was just answered, just like that. What a waste of time. He barely looked at my pig-elephant legs.
I lay down reluctantly, terrified. I wanted to sit up to watch but he said no. “Otherwise I might have to stick you twice, haha!” Evil laughter.
Let me tell you now, for the record, having gone through childbirth five times, the last two of which were drug-free, that childbirth is officially NOT the worst sort of pain in the world. Having a needle stuck in your foot and cortisone (he finally told me at the end, after it was all over) slowly injected in – is really right up there in the torture stakes.
That sort of stupid myth is perpetuated by doctors like him (who has never gone through childbirth by the way, so what does he know?) who tell cowering patients like me, that sort of lie. As he stuck the needle in and slowly pressed the plunger, I lay wide-eyed, in shock and in so much pain that I uttered strangled cries through gritted teeth, breathing fast and shallowly. It seemed to go on forever. At one point the nurse who stood beside me and gripped my hands (bless her) asked in concern: You’re not allergic to anything right?
Allergic to what? I didn’t even know what was going in! Maybe I looked like I was going into anaphylactic shock? Towards the end, I remember telling the doctor a bit hysterically: You’ve got to be kidding me! Oh you’re joking. This is bad. This is so bad. This is worse than childbirth!
Tears were in my eyes and after he had finished, I just lay there, in semi-shock. I couldn’t seem to bring myself to sit up and function. I think I was in a daze, can’t remember what I blabbered about. I went on auto-pilot mode after that, feeling a bit blank and wondering what the heck did I just put myself through?
For the first five minutes, I could gingerly walk. But after half an hour, the sole and the arch area had swelled up and was so tender I could not put any weight on it. I was supposed to take the train to pick Cait up from school. But I didn’t think I could make it and had to ask my mom to do this instead while I took a cab home.
For the rest of the night, and the next day, I hobbled. I could not walk upstairs but literally crawled up. The kids thought it was a hoot to see mummy on all-fours. Today, it’s much better. The swelling has gone down. The old pain is mostly gone but it does come back in twinges and this morning, the burning sensation was back too.
Looks like I went though all that for nothing after all.
Well, there’s always… acupuncture. After that horror story I lived through, how much worse can it get? Right?
Monday, January 25, 2010
Third week of January and things are really getting back into the old busy rhythm. Training for the kids have started in earnest so we’re back to Saturdays being super-packed.
8.30am Send Cait to gym training in school
9.05am Owain has Berries class
10am Gillian has bowling practice in Chinese Swimming Club
11am Pick Owain from Berries
12pm Pick Caitlin from gym
12.30pm Pick Gillian from bowling
1pm Lunch
2pm Gillian, Cait and Owain have catechism class in church.
3.30pm Isaac has catechism class in church
4pm Swimming lessons for Cait and Owain
5pm Isaac ends Catechism class and takes a bus home by himself
6pm Finally everyone is home!
This weekend I’ll have to practise splicing myself into two or three. Cloning would also be a good option. Or does anyone have a teleportation device to lend me?
KH would be away on his ‘company cohesion’ trip in Bintan, officially paid for by the company and touted to promote bonding among employees, but what really is just a thinly veiled excuse for lots of wine, golf, karaoke and pool time! I am left to hold the fort. I will have to sit down and carefully work out the details on who goes where and where I have to be at what time etc. It will be a finely tuned plan of precision and balance but I think I can pull it off!
So our days can be crazy busy but I don’t mind this. Or more accurately put, I like it. I like the buzz and the energy. I like the pockets of downtime I get when I am in transit between picking up x and sending y to z class. It used to hurt my head to think about who goes where and when but now, it’s a cinch. By the end of the day, we’re all running on very flat batteries as the adrenalin winds down but we feel like it’s been very productive and that’s a nice feeling to have.
But you know, I really would not have it any other way. While there are days when I just want to tear my hair out and fervently wish (or yell!) for some peace and quiet, I know I would miss the constant swirl of activity that surrounds me now. I know I would feel a sense of loss when it goes – when the kids grow up, prefer the company of friends and leave home for families of their own. I guess I’ll have plenty of peace and quiet then but how lonely it will be!
Already I get a taste of this – on weekdays from 10.30am to 1.30am, the kids are off to school, the cat takes a siesta and the house becomes still and quiet. So quiet I can even hear cricket sounds, when the very air feels drowsy and slow. At first, I am gleeful: so quiet! No fights to referee! I can go online without anyone looking over my shoulder and bugging me to go on Facebook to farm! I can laze on the couch and read! I can even snooze without someone flinging herself on me and shocking me out of my sleep! Bliss!
But then, after the first 30minutes, the stillness gets to me. Like the princess on her bed of mattresses with a pea far beneath, I get a vague, indescribable sense that something is not quite right. A sense of restlessness that I am missing something. By 1.30pm, I am listening expectantly for the sounds coming round the corner – the high-pitched excited chatter that tells me the Holy Terror Trinity is home. Then the noise level slowly builds back to normal as one by one, the kids come home, the school bags are flung carelessly on the ground, my nagging starts and by evening, its full-blown chaos once again. And what is that I feel? That warm fuzzy feeling? It can only be… contentment.
8.30am Send Cait to gym training in school
9.05am Owain has Berries class
10am Gillian has bowling practice in Chinese Swimming Club
11am Pick Owain from Berries
12pm Pick Caitlin from gym
12.30pm Pick Gillian from bowling
1pm Lunch
2pm Gillian, Cait and Owain have catechism class in church.
3.30pm Isaac has catechism class in church
4pm Swimming lessons for Cait and Owain
5pm Isaac ends Catechism class and takes a bus home by himself
6pm Finally everyone is home!
This weekend I’ll have to practise splicing myself into two or three. Cloning would also be a good option. Or does anyone have a teleportation device to lend me?
KH would be away on his ‘company cohesion’ trip in Bintan, officially paid for by the company and touted to promote bonding among employees, but what really is just a thinly veiled excuse for lots of wine, golf, karaoke and pool time! I am left to hold the fort. I will have to sit down and carefully work out the details on who goes where and where I have to be at what time etc. It will be a finely tuned plan of precision and balance but I think I can pull it off!
So our days can be crazy busy but I don’t mind this. Or more accurately put, I like it. I like the buzz and the energy. I like the pockets of downtime I get when I am in transit between picking up x and sending y to z class. It used to hurt my head to think about who goes where and when but now, it’s a cinch. By the end of the day, we’re all running on very flat batteries as the adrenalin winds down but we feel like it’s been very productive and that’s a nice feeling to have.
But you know, I really would not have it any other way. While there are days when I just want to tear my hair out and fervently wish (or yell!) for some peace and quiet, I know I would miss the constant swirl of activity that surrounds me now. I know I would feel a sense of loss when it goes – when the kids grow up, prefer the company of friends and leave home for families of their own. I guess I’ll have plenty of peace and quiet then but how lonely it will be!
Already I get a taste of this – on weekdays from 10.30am to 1.30am, the kids are off to school, the cat takes a siesta and the house becomes still and quiet. So quiet I can even hear cricket sounds, when the very air feels drowsy and slow. At first, I am gleeful: so quiet! No fights to referee! I can go online without anyone looking over my shoulder and bugging me to go on Facebook to farm! I can laze on the couch and read! I can even snooze without someone flinging herself on me and shocking me out of my sleep! Bliss!
But then, after the first 30minutes, the stillness gets to me. Like the princess on her bed of mattresses with a pea far beneath, I get a vague, indescribable sense that something is not quite right. A sense of restlessness that I am missing something. By 1.30pm, I am listening expectantly for the sounds coming round the corner – the high-pitched excited chatter that tells me the Holy Terror Trinity is home. Then the noise level slowly builds back to normal as one by one, the kids come home, the school bags are flung carelessly on the ground, my nagging starts and by evening, its full-blown chaos once again. And what is that I feel? That warm fuzzy feeling? It can only be… contentment.
Friday, January 08, 2010
They say that after 17 years of marriage that there is little that should surprise us about our spouses. Yet KH still manages to surprise me once in a while.
When you look at him, with his salt and pepper hair, his stern demeanor, his loud voice and Neanderthal ways, you’d never guess that underneath all that thick crust is really… a marshmallow!
Let me cite these two examples.
One Saturday last year, KH brought the kids to Catechism class. Usually he would just drop them off and go but that day he decided to hang around to wait for the kids to finish their class. An old woman came by and asked him where she could “collect money”. He asked her what she needed. Turned out that she always comes by faithfully every month to collect the monthly sum allocated to her by the folks at St Vincent de Paul but that month, she’d missed the collection date for some reason. Every month, the Society of St Vincent de Paul gives a sum of money to really needy households and families. It’s not a lot, about $70 per household. My mother volunteers for SVDP and she tells me how heartbreaking some of these lives are. For only $70 per person (slightly more for a whole family), it’s really not a lot but these folks really need every cent they can get. The money goes a long way to covering meals, groceries, utilities, transport, medical care and so on.
So this little old lady wanted to know where she could go to claim her monthly ‘allowance’. KH asked how much she usually got. He directed her to the church’s administrative office but just before she went in, he stopped her and fished out his wallet. “In case you missed the deadline and really can’t collect your allowance,” he told her, giving her $100, “Here’s something to tide you over till next month.”
She was surprised and grateful and thanked him profusely. When I told him how proud I was of him, he just brushed it off (though I could have sworn I saw a blush!) and told me simply, “What is $70 to us? But it means so much to her and she obviously needed it a lot. It was such a hot day and she was so old, yet she walked all the way to church just to collect $70.” As it turned out, the church was happy to give the old lady her allowance for the month and with KH’s contribution, it was more than decent for her for the month.
The second incident took place recently.
At the dinner table couple of nights ago Gillian was chattering away full of excitement for her upcoming trip to Malaysia with her class. But not all her classmates were going, even though this Sec 3 camp was compulsory.
One them was her classmate, whom I shall call Alice. Alice is from a single-parent family and her mom struggles to work to put food on the table and keep the family together. She’s not a close friend of Gillian’s but from time to time we hear stuff about her and we know the family has their share of problems. This time, Gillian said, Alice can’t go on the class trip because she could not get her passport renewed. Her mom says she cannot afford it.
KH was silent at first then asked: “How much does it cost to renew the passport?”
I said it was probably about $70 to $80 but might take a while and it might be too late since the girls were leaving next week already. KH said, “Look it up on the internet and let’s be sure. But if it’s not too late, I don’t mind sponsoring her renewal.”
Gillian looked at her father incredulously and I swore she saw him through new eyes. Dad, she said, you mean you’d actually pay for it? Pay for Alice to go? Really?
Turned out that it was not too late – just a bit of a touch and go, since both Alice and her mom had to do the paperwork by the very next day in order to meet the deadline. Both KH and Gillian spoke to Alice and her mom. Amid much excited squealing from both Gillian and Alice. Both Alice and her mom were very grateful and very touched. Apparently, Alice’s mom said she had made an appeal via the school’s parent-support group for financial assistance to renew the passport but no one came forward. We never got the appeal and had it not been for dinnertime conversation, we would never have known.
So KH sponsored the renewal fees and the passport photography which roughly came up to about $100 or thereabouts. He said pretty much the same thing he did before: “It’s just $100 – what is $100 really? We think nothing of $100 these days, spending it so easily. But just for the lack of $100 and no passport, a girl could not go to camp and enjoy her time with her classmates, what is that? It’s such a pity!”
Ah that man, he warms the very cockles of my heart sometimes. Okay, most times.
The next day, Gillian accompanied Alice to see the teacher, who was also amazed and touched that someone had stepped forward to do this for Alice. Alice and her mom got the paperwork done. And next week, she’ll be on that bus with the rest of her classmates.
So what is a hundred bucks after all? A sushi meal, a dress, a concert ticket? Yes all those but so much more. A girl’s happiness at being included, my daughter’s new sense of love and respect for her dad, an old woman’s meals for a month...
What can $100 buy?
To me, plenty.
When you look at him, with his salt and pepper hair, his stern demeanor, his loud voice and Neanderthal ways, you’d never guess that underneath all that thick crust is really… a marshmallow!
Let me cite these two examples.
One Saturday last year, KH brought the kids to Catechism class. Usually he would just drop them off and go but that day he decided to hang around to wait for the kids to finish their class. An old woman came by and asked him where she could “collect money”. He asked her what she needed. Turned out that she always comes by faithfully every month to collect the monthly sum allocated to her by the folks at St Vincent de Paul but that month, she’d missed the collection date for some reason. Every month, the Society of St Vincent de Paul gives a sum of money to really needy households and families. It’s not a lot, about $70 per household. My mother volunteers for SVDP and she tells me how heartbreaking some of these lives are. For only $70 per person (slightly more for a whole family), it’s really not a lot but these folks really need every cent they can get. The money goes a long way to covering meals, groceries, utilities, transport, medical care and so on.
So this little old lady wanted to know where she could go to claim her monthly ‘allowance’. KH asked how much she usually got. He directed her to the church’s administrative office but just before she went in, he stopped her and fished out his wallet. “In case you missed the deadline and really can’t collect your allowance,” he told her, giving her $100, “Here’s something to tide you over till next month.”
She was surprised and grateful and thanked him profusely. When I told him how proud I was of him, he just brushed it off (though I could have sworn I saw a blush!) and told me simply, “What is $70 to us? But it means so much to her and she obviously needed it a lot. It was such a hot day and she was so old, yet she walked all the way to church just to collect $70.” As it turned out, the church was happy to give the old lady her allowance for the month and with KH’s contribution, it was more than decent for her for the month.
The second incident took place recently.
At the dinner table couple of nights ago Gillian was chattering away full of excitement for her upcoming trip to Malaysia with her class. But not all her classmates were going, even though this Sec 3 camp was compulsory.
One them was her classmate, whom I shall call Alice. Alice is from a single-parent family and her mom struggles to work to put food on the table and keep the family together. She’s not a close friend of Gillian’s but from time to time we hear stuff about her and we know the family has their share of problems. This time, Gillian said, Alice can’t go on the class trip because she could not get her passport renewed. Her mom says she cannot afford it.
KH was silent at first then asked: “How much does it cost to renew the passport?”
I said it was probably about $70 to $80 but might take a while and it might be too late since the girls were leaving next week already. KH said, “Look it up on the internet and let’s be sure. But if it’s not too late, I don’t mind sponsoring her renewal.”
Gillian looked at her father incredulously and I swore she saw him through new eyes. Dad, she said, you mean you’d actually pay for it? Pay for Alice to go? Really?
Turned out that it was not too late – just a bit of a touch and go, since both Alice and her mom had to do the paperwork by the very next day in order to meet the deadline. Both KH and Gillian spoke to Alice and her mom. Amid much excited squealing from both Gillian and Alice. Both Alice and her mom were very grateful and very touched. Apparently, Alice’s mom said she had made an appeal via the school’s parent-support group for financial assistance to renew the passport but no one came forward. We never got the appeal and had it not been for dinnertime conversation, we would never have known.
So KH sponsored the renewal fees and the passport photography which roughly came up to about $100 or thereabouts. He said pretty much the same thing he did before: “It’s just $100 – what is $100 really? We think nothing of $100 these days, spending it so easily. But just for the lack of $100 and no passport, a girl could not go to camp and enjoy her time with her classmates, what is that? It’s such a pity!”
Ah that man, he warms the very cockles of my heart sometimes. Okay, most times.
The next day, Gillian accompanied Alice to see the teacher, who was also amazed and touched that someone had stepped forward to do this for Alice. Alice and her mom got the paperwork done. And next week, she’ll be on that bus with the rest of her classmates.
So what is a hundred bucks after all? A sushi meal, a dress, a concert ticket? Yes all those but so much more. A girl’s happiness at being included, my daughter’s new sense of love and respect for her dad, an old woman’s meals for a month...
What can $100 buy?
To me, plenty.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Beginning of the new school year and we’re back to the harried life of waking at 5.30am, school runs, missing books, incomplete stationery, form-filling and orientation.
Owain started off on his first few days looking stoic and bored, grimacing everytime his trigger-happy camera-toting mother got in his face to take the umpteenth shot of him – well, he DOES look very cute in his new school uniform! Other than that, he seems enthusiastic and eager, having made a grand total of ONE friend (whose name he does not know) and pestering us to (a) send him to school on time (b) pack his bag for him and sign his forms and (c) choose the right storybook for him – he wanted to bring the bible at first, only for the reason that it was thick and impressive but I put my foot down. I wonder how long all this enthusiasm will last!
On the other hand, Isaac did not have a good start because both KH and I had refused to sign his report card for last year. He got an earful from me when I did sign and we agreed that there should be less slacking and more effort made in his studies for this year with the target of raising one grade at least this year. He can do much better, I am confident of that. I just need to find the right motivational trigger.
Caitlin got off to a good start, with gym training from the 1st day of school. Mr Lim has already warned us that this will only get more intense as training is ramped up over the weeks in preparation for the Nationals. We’ll have to make a decision soon re dance training too. On the academic side, the P3 girls were streamed into their new ability-based classes. They had ended P2 not knowing which class they would go to in the new year and when I asked last November, I was told the teachers had to meet to deliberate over this.
So on the first day of school, the girls were seated in the hall and names were called for the girls to join their classes. I was told that they did this in order of “the best to the worst” and Cait’s name being the 4th to be called, had been selected for Ixora, the best class. While I’m pleased and proud of her, I can’t help feeling that there’s got to be a better way of doing this. If Cait is right, and I have my doubts on whether she had exaggerated or not, then it must be quite morale-lowering to be told that you were in the bottom class. As mom to a kid like Gillian who struggled all through primary school and was clearly scraping rock bottom all the way, I can understand how painful this can feel – for the girls and their parents – to be told that your daughter was not among the brightest or the best. And to be told like this – in front of everyone? Ugh.
Gillian also started off well with being made science rep and environment rep for the class. The latter she protested that she did not sign up for and was arrowed to do it when she happened to raise her hand to open the window. The teacher pounced and said: “You have a pleasant and helpful face! You’ll do it then!” When I beamed in congratulations, she moaned, “But no one wants the environment rep job mom! I’ll have to lug down all the trash, all the heavy bottles, recycle them and so on you know!” Thankfully her good friend was also roped in as environment rep so the two girls will chatter while they recycle! Being in Sec 3, the school is kicking off the year with an overseas camp in Malaysia and she’s looking forward to that too. She’ll be back just in time to celebrate turning 15! So I’d say school started out on a bright note for her. Plus being in Sec 3 means she gets to lord it over the blur freshie Sec 1 girls!
On my end, I have moved office to a smaller space, a less private space. After five years of being in a room with a coveted window space, with a roomie who is so nice and accommodating, it’s going to take time to get used to this. I have been a bit depressed over this for a while but I’ve just got to learn to adjust, let go and move on. God always knows best and He’s given me this for a reason so I will learn to make the best of it and to move on.
Still, I can’t shake it but my gut feel senses rough seas ahead and I’m bracing myself for this. But I also try to be mindful and live in the moment and not worry too much over what has not happened yet. Even as I see dark clouds, there is also a lot to look forward to – bright patchwork pieces in life, such as my children’s gym and floorball competitions, bowling tournaments, lazy Saturday breakfasts with KH in the park, more of my favourite frothy K-dramas, sussing out new places to eat, meeting with old friends, travelling closer to home, hanging out more with my parents, perhaps a wedding(?) and just watching my children grow. I will hold these bright spots in my life and be thankful for all I have.
2009 has taught me these lessons (1) life can flip on its end overnight. Case in point – dad’s sudden but long illness with pancreatitis, (2) life means letting go and carving out a new path, leaving your crutches behind – my hysterectomy and my inner struggle with identity as a woman and a mother, letting go of any more babies that might have come my way and changing the way I see myself. Sometimes resisting only makes it harder. But if you let go and let God, maybe you’d have a different life, not a bad life, just one that is different.
Owain started off on his first few days looking stoic and bored, grimacing everytime his trigger-happy camera-toting mother got in his face to take the umpteenth shot of him – well, he DOES look very cute in his new school uniform! Other than that, he seems enthusiastic and eager, having made a grand total of ONE friend (whose name he does not know) and pestering us to (a) send him to school on time (b) pack his bag for him and sign his forms and (c) choose the right storybook for him – he wanted to bring the bible at first, only for the reason that it was thick and impressive but I put my foot down. I wonder how long all this enthusiasm will last!
On the other hand, Isaac did not have a good start because both KH and I had refused to sign his report card for last year. He got an earful from me when I did sign and we agreed that there should be less slacking and more effort made in his studies for this year with the target of raising one grade at least this year. He can do much better, I am confident of that. I just need to find the right motivational trigger.
Caitlin got off to a good start, with gym training from the 1st day of school. Mr Lim has already warned us that this will only get more intense as training is ramped up over the weeks in preparation for the Nationals. We’ll have to make a decision soon re dance training too. On the academic side, the P3 girls were streamed into their new ability-based classes. They had ended P2 not knowing which class they would go to in the new year and when I asked last November, I was told the teachers had to meet to deliberate over this.
So on the first day of school, the girls were seated in the hall and names were called for the girls to join their classes. I was told that they did this in order of “the best to the worst” and Cait’s name being the 4th to be called, had been selected for Ixora, the best class. While I’m pleased and proud of her, I can’t help feeling that there’s got to be a better way of doing this. If Cait is right, and I have my doubts on whether she had exaggerated or not, then it must be quite morale-lowering to be told that you were in the bottom class. As mom to a kid like Gillian who struggled all through primary school and was clearly scraping rock bottom all the way, I can understand how painful this can feel – for the girls and their parents – to be told that your daughter was not among the brightest or the best. And to be told like this – in front of everyone? Ugh.
Gillian also started off well with being made science rep and environment rep for the class. The latter she protested that she did not sign up for and was arrowed to do it when she happened to raise her hand to open the window. The teacher pounced and said: “You have a pleasant and helpful face! You’ll do it then!” When I beamed in congratulations, she moaned, “But no one wants the environment rep job mom! I’ll have to lug down all the trash, all the heavy bottles, recycle them and so on you know!” Thankfully her good friend was also roped in as environment rep so the two girls will chatter while they recycle! Being in Sec 3, the school is kicking off the year with an overseas camp in Malaysia and she’s looking forward to that too. She’ll be back just in time to celebrate turning 15! So I’d say school started out on a bright note for her. Plus being in Sec 3 means she gets to lord it over the blur freshie Sec 1 girls!
On my end, I have moved office to a smaller space, a less private space. After five years of being in a room with a coveted window space, with a roomie who is so nice and accommodating, it’s going to take time to get used to this. I have been a bit depressed over this for a while but I’ve just got to learn to adjust, let go and move on. God always knows best and He’s given me this for a reason so I will learn to make the best of it and to move on.
Still, I can’t shake it but my gut feel senses rough seas ahead and I’m bracing myself for this. But I also try to be mindful and live in the moment and not worry too much over what has not happened yet. Even as I see dark clouds, there is also a lot to look forward to – bright patchwork pieces in life, such as my children’s gym and floorball competitions, bowling tournaments, lazy Saturday breakfasts with KH in the park, more of my favourite frothy K-dramas, sussing out new places to eat, meeting with old friends, travelling closer to home, hanging out more with my parents, perhaps a wedding(?) and just watching my children grow. I will hold these bright spots in my life and be thankful for all I have.
2009 has taught me these lessons (1) life can flip on its end overnight. Case in point – dad’s sudden but long illness with pancreatitis, (2) life means letting go and carving out a new path, leaving your crutches behind – my hysterectomy and my inner struggle with identity as a woman and a mother, letting go of any more babies that might have come my way and changing the way I see myself. Sometimes resisting only makes it harder. But if you let go and let God, maybe you’d have a different life, not a bad life, just one that is different.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
My dad is a real survivor. I think he will really make it to his 88 years as he wanted!
Once again, as it was 2 years ago, he has made it against the odds. After more than three months in hospital, he finally made it home. He made it through stints in the High Dependency, in the ICU, the episodes of near renal failure, the "messy op" (doc's words, not mine), the many side trips into complication-territory and so on... its amazing but he's done it. Came out in one piece minus his gall bladder and came home with still one drain left but he's still done it. To be honest, there were moments when I doubted he could make it, but he did!
Best of all, his personality seems to have undergone a bit of a change. Early days yet but I hope I'm right. I see a softer side, more interest in the family, a readiness to engage us. Case in point - he's actually joining us for Christmas Eve dinner, which he has not done for many years. I'm very happy about all this.
A big thank you to everyone for your well wishes, your prayers and your thoughts. I don't think dad would have pulled through without all the silent and unseen prayer warriors here.
A bigger, heartfelt thank you to my mum - the unsung hero in all this. I know he certainly would not have made it if not for her and her untiring efforts to keep him comfortable, get him the best possible care and so on. I hope he realises what a wonderful wife he has! And me, always thankful to have a mum like her.
What a year 2009 has been! Its come and gone so fast. In just a couple of days the kids will be back at school, a new cycle would have started and we've zoomed off to another year. But if I've learned anything this year, more than ever, its not to take for granted the big and little things that God has given you. Big would be health, our jobs, our homes, family, friends, stability, security but small would be the little unseen gems that pass unnoticed when we slip from one day to the next - a quiet hour with a book, breakfast in a park, my Korean dramas, Trin dancing when she's in a good mood, kids laughing at the dinner table, a nice afternoon's chat with friends and so on.
I'm greedy so I hope God will send more gems my way next year. But I also pray to remember the lessons learned this year - not to take anything for granted - you really never know what can happen, and to be strong enough to accept things and move on if or when the bad stuff really happens.
So a Blessed, Merry Christmas to everyone! May you be blessed with robust health and an unending stream of happiness for the coming year!
Once again, as it was 2 years ago, he has made it against the odds. After more than three months in hospital, he finally made it home. He made it through stints in the High Dependency, in the ICU, the episodes of near renal failure, the "messy op" (doc's words, not mine), the many side trips into complication-territory and so on... its amazing but he's done it. Came out in one piece minus his gall bladder and came home with still one drain left but he's still done it. To be honest, there were moments when I doubted he could make it, but he did!
Best of all, his personality seems to have undergone a bit of a change. Early days yet but I hope I'm right. I see a softer side, more interest in the family, a readiness to engage us. Case in point - he's actually joining us for Christmas Eve dinner, which he has not done for many years. I'm very happy about all this.
A big thank you to everyone for your well wishes, your prayers and your thoughts. I don't think dad would have pulled through without all the silent and unseen prayer warriors here.
A bigger, heartfelt thank you to my mum - the unsung hero in all this. I know he certainly would not have made it if not for her and her untiring efforts to keep him comfortable, get him the best possible care and so on. I hope he realises what a wonderful wife he has! And me, always thankful to have a mum like her.
What a year 2009 has been! Its come and gone so fast. In just a couple of days the kids will be back at school, a new cycle would have started and we've zoomed off to another year. But if I've learned anything this year, more than ever, its not to take for granted the big and little things that God has given you. Big would be health, our jobs, our homes, family, friends, stability, security but small would be the little unseen gems that pass unnoticed when we slip from one day to the next - a quiet hour with a book, breakfast in a park, my Korean dramas, Trin dancing when she's in a good mood, kids laughing at the dinner table, a nice afternoon's chat with friends and so on.
I'm greedy so I hope God will send more gems my way next year. But I also pray to remember the lessons learned this year - not to take anything for granted - you really never know what can happen, and to be strong enough to accept things and move on if or when the bad stuff really happens.
So a Blessed, Merry Christmas to everyone! May you be blessed with robust health and an unending stream of happiness for the coming year!
Monday, December 21, 2009
This is a video of Caitlin's floor exercise at the recent competition. No chance to post till now. Since the competition, the kids have been sick, Trin in hospital and then we left for Malaysia - which also deserves a blog entry on Big On Trips. So I have not had time to upload this or even continue with my trip reports on Japan.
In this video, the man videoing is her coach Mr Lim. Sitting with the rest of her team-mates is her other coach He Laoshi.
In this video, the man videoing is her coach Mr Lim. Sitting with the rest of her team-mates is her other coach He Laoshi.
Sunday, December 06, 2009
Despite feeling under the weather, Cait went for the competition. At first, she was not inclined to compete, looking a bit pale and with hair still uncombed from sleep. But with the bright lights and the excitement, seeing all the little girls and her team-mates wear their leotards, getting made up (glitter eye shadow!) and hair pulled into high perky ponytails, plus some egging on by me, finally she turned to me and nodded.
The competition, organised by UWC, looked more like a Sunday family carnival than a formal competition. Announcements were not clear, we could not tell when warm-up ended and the competition formally began and lastly, prize-giving was very informal - more like Uncle Charles' backyard barbie funfest prize-giving ceremony for the egg-spoon race.
In any case, I think the girls had fun and it was a good, tension-free introduction to the competitive arena. No prizes for Cait but her team came in 4th in the invitational section. The other CHIJ team came in 5th.
Cait looked better and happier when competition was over, so maybe it was just what she needed to get over the bug.
The competition, organised by UWC, looked more like a Sunday family carnival than a formal competition. Announcements were not clear, we could not tell when warm-up ended and the competition formally began and lastly, prize-giving was very informal - more like Uncle Charles' backyard barbie funfest prize-giving ceremony for the egg-spoon race.
In any case, I think the girls had fun and it was a good, tension-free introduction to the competitive arena. No prizes for Cait but her team came in 4th in the invitational section. The other CHIJ team came in 5th.
Cait looked better and happier when competition was over, so maybe it was just what she needed to get over the bug.
Friday, December 04, 2009
Okay, life is definitely not returning to normal anytime soon.
I write this perched on Trinity's bed in a 4-bedded ward in KK Women's and Children's Hospital.
At around 9pm last night, she started throwing up. And kept on throwing up. Each time she vomited, the tummy spasmed so badly that she would scream and alternately call for me, her daddy and her Loli. I know how she felt - throwing up and retching so hard that your stomach feels turned inside out, wishing that someone can help you and make it go away and the awful thing is, no one can. When people throw up, one can only hold the person, but there is nothing one can do to make it go away.
We brought her and Owain (who was also throwing up and had been listless with a high fever since Monday) to the KK emergency room. Both were given meds and Owain managed to keep his down after observation for an hour. But Trin, despite given domperidone via a suppository, was still retching and throwing up like clockwork every 15min. By midnight, I think she had thrown up around 10 times. The doctor said we should admit her.
So KH brought Owain and his meds home and I ended up in a 4-bed ward (the singles were all out) spending a fitful night on a tiny foldable campbed next to Trin's bed. Would you believe the campbed actually had an indentation where the butt lies? How many parents have camped out on this bed so that it hollows out just right where the hips lie?
Trin was a trooper. I insisted on lidocaine cream before they inserted the plug. I was afraid she would scream to high heaven and throw one of her tantrums. But I need not have worried, she was so tired/sleepy and with the lidocaine, she barely flinched when the inserted the plug. I was the more anxious one, feeling the pain for her.
They have given her a glucose drip and for now, its nil by mouth. Despite that, she still woke up at least twice in the night to cry weakly and puke - the little that is left to puke, that is.
I had a restless night - babies and children crying and wailing in the night (poor babies) and frazzled tamped down sounds of mothers drowsily hushing, the beep of monitors, nurses coming in and out... I did not even dare use the toilet in the night lest it sets off the baby sleeping in cubicle just beside. Had to go out of the ward.
I am going to ask for a single room again. I am NOT looking forward to a second night like this.
Back home, things are also not looking good. Gillian is down with bad upper respiratory tract infection that has spread to her ears and left her nasal and clogged.As of last night, Isaac had diarrhoeaed twice and thrown up once. Caitlin has been diarrhoeaing over the past days but not been affected energy-wise. But last night, she threw up 4 times. By 3am, both Isaac and Cait were in the emergency room with KH. Poor man hardly slept with ferrying the kids to and from the emergency room. The senior doctor there took a look at KH and did a double take, asking KH: you look familiar. Didn't I just see you here? and poor KH had to say yes, bringing back batch no. 2.
I worry about Cait's competition on Saturday. We were up for filming on Sunday for a CNA documentary on big families but looks like that is going on the back burner. We have made plans for a trip up to Penang for our complimentary stay at the Parkroyal at Batu Ferringhi for the following week so hopefully the kids all recover in time.
Had to take a deep breath just writing that.
I was away from the office for two weeks, and out on child sick leave. When I came back, I was told some smart aleck passed this remark: she has too many children. My take is, its none of their business but if they choose to be narrow about this, too bad for them. I don't live my life by the yardstick of others who have narrow minds and small hearts. My life is hectic and full because I have five children, but this is what I signed up for and I will roll with the punches. There is never a dull day and today, I am living it.
I write this perched on Trinity's bed in a 4-bedded ward in KK Women's and Children's Hospital.
At around 9pm last night, she started throwing up. And kept on throwing up. Each time she vomited, the tummy spasmed so badly that she would scream and alternately call for me, her daddy and her Loli. I know how she felt - throwing up and retching so hard that your stomach feels turned inside out, wishing that someone can help you and make it go away and the awful thing is, no one can. When people throw up, one can only hold the person, but there is nothing one can do to make it go away.
We brought her and Owain (who was also throwing up and had been listless with a high fever since Monday) to the KK emergency room. Both were given meds and Owain managed to keep his down after observation for an hour. But Trin, despite given domperidone via a suppository, was still retching and throwing up like clockwork every 15min. By midnight, I think she had thrown up around 10 times. The doctor said we should admit her.
So KH brought Owain and his meds home and I ended up in a 4-bed ward (the singles were all out) spending a fitful night on a tiny foldable campbed next to Trin's bed. Would you believe the campbed actually had an indentation where the butt lies? How many parents have camped out on this bed so that it hollows out just right where the hips lie?
Trin was a trooper. I insisted on lidocaine cream before they inserted the plug. I was afraid she would scream to high heaven and throw one of her tantrums. But I need not have worried, she was so tired/sleepy and with the lidocaine, she barely flinched when the inserted the plug. I was the more anxious one, feeling the pain for her.
They have given her a glucose drip and for now, its nil by mouth. Despite that, she still woke up at least twice in the night to cry weakly and puke - the little that is left to puke, that is.
I had a restless night - babies and children crying and wailing in the night (poor babies) and frazzled tamped down sounds of mothers drowsily hushing, the beep of monitors, nurses coming in and out... I did not even dare use the toilet in the night lest it sets off the baby sleeping in cubicle just beside. Had to go out of the ward.
I am going to ask for a single room again. I am NOT looking forward to a second night like this.
Back home, things are also not looking good. Gillian is down with bad upper respiratory tract infection that has spread to her ears and left her nasal and clogged.As of last night, Isaac had diarrhoeaed twice and thrown up once. Caitlin has been diarrhoeaing over the past days but not been affected energy-wise. But last night, she threw up 4 times. By 3am, both Isaac and Cait were in the emergency room with KH. Poor man hardly slept with ferrying the kids to and from the emergency room. The senior doctor there took a look at KH and did a double take, asking KH: you look familiar. Didn't I just see you here? and poor KH had to say yes, bringing back batch no. 2.
I worry about Cait's competition on Saturday. We were up for filming on Sunday for a CNA documentary on big families but looks like that is going on the back burner. We have made plans for a trip up to Penang for our complimentary stay at the Parkroyal at Batu Ferringhi for the following week so hopefully the kids all recover in time.
Had to take a deep breath just writing that.
I was away from the office for two weeks, and out on child sick leave. When I came back, I was told some smart aleck passed this remark: she has too many children. My take is, its none of their business but if they choose to be narrow about this, too bad for them. I don't live my life by the yardstick of others who have narrow minds and small hearts. My life is hectic and full because I have five children, but this is what I signed up for and I will roll with the punches. There is never a dull day and today, I am living it.
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
Ach dilemma again.
We're back from a numbing but so-lovely trip to Japan and life is trying to settle back to Normal. If there was such a thing in a crazy house with 5 kids.
Training has resumed for Cait - in dance and in gym. We got word from her Chinese coach that Mr Lim was displeased that she had been shortlisted for dance. They did not want her attention diluted and wanted her focus to be solely on gym. Before we left, Mr Lim had told her pointblank - choose. Can't have both. We left it at that two weeks ago, with KH and I still adamant that she would try dance and see how far this would go.
So yesterday, back from Japan, we resumed the juggle for now. Cait has dance practice from 12 to 2pm daily but because she's got the UWC competition coming up at the end of the week, she will leave dance early at 1.30pm to go for gym training from 1.30 to 6.30pm. Luckily both are held in school so its just a matter of rushing from the dance studio on the ground floor to the gym on the 5th floor.
When we picked her from training, her Chinese coach had a word with us. She said she would not be staying long in CHIJ as a coach. She would stay until the first term but once the national inter-school competition was over, she would move on to be a coach in the centralised training for national squad. Now my Mandarin is not very good and so I'm not sure if I heard correctly but the gist of it was, both Coach Shao and Mr Lim think Cait has potential to go further. So they are suggesting that she train with the national squad in the 7 to 9 age group, under Coach Shao. So instead of training with the school team, Cait would go for centralised training with the aim of representing Singapore one day.
Coach Shao saw that we were confused and hesitant, not sure about what this all means and the kind of commitment it would entail. To clarify, she said it means ramping up training significantly to three hours a day, seven days a week. But for a start, she added, we could just try it out three days a week. This means, AFTER school training ends at 5pm, three days a week, Cait would go with Coach Shao to CCAB at Evans Road and train from 6pm to 8pm.
Well, we're kinda gobsmacked. We actually just wanted to talk to Coach Shao about the competition schedule this weekend and did not expect this. We told Coach Shao we would think about this and let her know. Meanwhile, KH says privately to me, time for a family meeting. Because with her intense training, we'll have to rope in the older ones to help fetch/send to/from training and this may mean sacrifices on everyone's part.
In Japan, I teasingly called her my "world-class gymnast" and Isaac et al would protest ("WHAT world-class gymnast?!") but that was just a loving little joke. In the light of what Coach Shao said, this does not seem like a joke anymore.
We're proud of her, so proud that she has the talent and potential to go far. But what does all this mean and how far will we go? There will be lots for our family to discuss in the following days. Isaac and Gillian have no hesitation - "It's an opportunity, mum! It's not going to come again," says Gillian. And Isaac muttered, "I don't know what you are all waiting for, go for it lah. National squad you know!"
I know, and I am thrilled but scared.
We're back from a numbing but so-lovely trip to Japan and life is trying to settle back to Normal. If there was such a thing in a crazy house with 5 kids.
Training has resumed for Cait - in dance and in gym. We got word from her Chinese coach that Mr Lim was displeased that she had been shortlisted for dance. They did not want her attention diluted and wanted her focus to be solely on gym. Before we left, Mr Lim had told her pointblank - choose. Can't have both. We left it at that two weeks ago, with KH and I still adamant that she would try dance and see how far this would go.
So yesterday, back from Japan, we resumed the juggle for now. Cait has dance practice from 12 to 2pm daily but because she's got the UWC competition coming up at the end of the week, she will leave dance early at 1.30pm to go for gym training from 1.30 to 6.30pm. Luckily both are held in school so its just a matter of rushing from the dance studio on the ground floor to the gym on the 5th floor.
When we picked her from training, her Chinese coach had a word with us. She said she would not be staying long in CHIJ as a coach. She would stay until the first term but once the national inter-school competition was over, she would move on to be a coach in the centralised training for national squad. Now my Mandarin is not very good and so I'm not sure if I heard correctly but the gist of it was, both Coach Shao and Mr Lim think Cait has potential to go further. So they are suggesting that she train with the national squad in the 7 to 9 age group, under Coach Shao. So instead of training with the school team, Cait would go for centralised training with the aim of representing Singapore one day.
Coach Shao saw that we were confused and hesitant, not sure about what this all means and the kind of commitment it would entail. To clarify, she said it means ramping up training significantly to three hours a day, seven days a week. But for a start, she added, we could just try it out three days a week. This means, AFTER school training ends at 5pm, three days a week, Cait would go with Coach Shao to CCAB at Evans Road and train from 6pm to 8pm.
Well, we're kinda gobsmacked. We actually just wanted to talk to Coach Shao about the competition schedule this weekend and did not expect this. We told Coach Shao we would think about this and let her know. Meanwhile, KH says privately to me, time for a family meeting. Because with her intense training, we'll have to rope in the older ones to help fetch/send to/from training and this may mean sacrifices on everyone's part.
In Japan, I teasingly called her my "world-class gymnast" and Isaac et al would protest ("WHAT world-class gymnast?!") but that was just a loving little joke. In the light of what Coach Shao said, this does not seem like a joke anymore.
We're proud of her, so proud that she has the talent and potential to go far. But what does all this mean and how far will we go? There will be lots for our family to discuss in the following days. Isaac and Gillian have no hesitation - "It's an opportunity, mum! It's not going to come again," says Gillian. And Isaac muttered, "I don't know what you are all waiting for, go for it lah. National squad you know!"
I know, and I am thrilled but scared.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
So I am walking to the canteen for lunch, a late lunch. I had just come off the phone from a 45-minute phone marathon with a Call-Centre Clone from the travel insurance company dancing circles around me. All I wanted was clear information on claiming for mum's flight cancellation and information on how I should claim if I went to Japan and had to fly back urgently. The Call Centre Clone was trying to be perky Pollyanna giving me the standard lines in sugar-coated tones. And calling me by my first name.
Pity the sugar did not last long. You know how the Call Centre Clones are right? They speak in caveats, footnotes and addendums in very fine print? Ah that was the case today. We were shadow boxing with definitions of words like "unexpected" and "original documents". To say it was frustrating is an understatement.
We had gone a few pointless rounds before I gritted my teeth and asked to speak to her boss, or her boss's boss - anyone who could give me a concrete answer. There was a stiff silence. Ms Pollyanna called me by my formal first name (no longer on casual first names!) and said she would put me on hold while she called in the troops for airpower support. She was no longer sweetness and light anymore. Thank God because any more sugar and I would have gone into a diabetic fit.
Her boss came on the line. Five minutes later, I got the answers I needed. By the way, remind me never to let Call Centre Clones call me by my first name. It just makes me angrier when they try to do the shuffleboard with me.
But I digress. So there I was - tired, stomach growling, faintly nauseous already, my eyes aching from proof-reading the prospectus, my mind mangled from the onslaught of too many thoughts and worries from all directions - Japan, insurance, work, dad, mum, new maid and so on.
And then The Voice comes. Literally right into my head, it goes: "Why are you always and forever questioning me ah? I already told you it will all go well and be as it should be. You don't trust me to make it right is it? You keep asking so many questions - I've told you: it will be okay! Now stop it!"
The voice of God perhaps? He didn't sound like God. But then who is to say God speaks the way the bible says He does, with all the thee, thy and thou of ancient texts? There was no booming Charlton Heston voice either. In fact, He sounded uncannily like Phua Chu Kang.
And He also sounded quite exasperated. I felt better immediately. By the time I thanked Him and tucked into my nasi padang, I was feeling quite cheery.
All in His hands - me, dad, mum, trip, insurance, Call Centre Clones. The Man juggles many balls but He would not drop them. It will all work out just as He says.
Pity the sugar did not last long. You know how the Call Centre Clones are right? They speak in caveats, footnotes and addendums in very fine print? Ah that was the case today. We were shadow boxing with definitions of words like "unexpected" and "original documents". To say it was frustrating is an understatement.
We had gone a few pointless rounds before I gritted my teeth and asked to speak to her boss, or her boss's boss - anyone who could give me a concrete answer. There was a stiff silence. Ms Pollyanna called me by my formal first name (no longer on casual first names!) and said she would put me on hold while she called in the troops for airpower support. She was no longer sweetness and light anymore. Thank God because any more sugar and I would have gone into a diabetic fit.
Her boss came on the line. Five minutes later, I got the answers I needed. By the way, remind me never to let Call Centre Clones call me by my first name. It just makes me angrier when they try to do the shuffleboard with me.
But I digress. So there I was - tired, stomach growling, faintly nauseous already, my eyes aching from proof-reading the prospectus, my mind mangled from the onslaught of too many thoughts and worries from all directions - Japan, insurance, work, dad, mum, new maid and so on.
And then The Voice comes. Literally right into my head, it goes: "Why are you always and forever questioning me ah? I already told you it will all go well and be as it should be. You don't trust me to make it right is it? You keep asking so many questions - I've told you: it will be okay! Now stop it!"
The voice of God perhaps? He didn't sound like God. But then who is to say God speaks the way the bible says He does, with all the thee, thy and thou of ancient texts? There was no booming Charlton Heston voice either. In fact, He sounded uncannily like Phua Chu Kang.
And He also sounded quite exasperated. I felt better immediately. By the time I thanked Him and tucked into my nasi padang, I was feeling quite cheery.
All in His hands - me, dad, mum, trip, insurance, Call Centre Clones. The Man juggles many balls but He would not drop them. It will all work out just as He says.
Monday, November 09, 2009
Dad has been extubated on day 3 post surgery. He has had an additional Coop loop inserted into his left lung to drain the fluids collected there. The x-ray had showed the lung almost entirely opague and collapsed with no air activity, hence the need for a Coop loop. The loop worked very well and more than a litre was drained in the first 2-hrs post-insertion.
With dad, there is always good and bad news. So the not-so-good news is that the right lung is beginning to show some signs of fluid collection and dad is coughing out yellow phlegm, a sign of infection. Mom frets about pneumonia. But this may not happen and we will cross that when we get to it.
He is more lucid/conscious than previously and that is a good sign. He's also been a bit of a bad boy in trying to pull out (actually he did pull out) the tube in the nose that drains the bile. So the nurses have had to tie his hands with restraints. We were dismayed to see this but we understand that it is necessary. Dad, of course, is NOT a happy camper to be restrained.
Depending on who you talk to, his facial expression can be interpreted in two ways. My sister says it is a big eye-popping glare that he directs at her and mom because he hates being restrained and having all the tubes inserted etc. Mom, on the other hand, interprets the look as one of 'desperation'. I think its a bit of both. He is probably desperate, frustrated and angry at all that has been done to him. I don't blame him. In his shoes, I would have felt the same.
With dad, there is always good and bad news. So the not-so-good news is that the right lung is beginning to show some signs of fluid collection and dad is coughing out yellow phlegm, a sign of infection. Mom frets about pneumonia. But this may not happen and we will cross that when we get to it.
He is more lucid/conscious than previously and that is a good sign. He's also been a bit of a bad boy in trying to pull out (actually he did pull out) the tube in the nose that drains the bile. So the nurses have had to tie his hands with restraints. We were dismayed to see this but we understand that it is necessary. Dad, of course, is NOT a happy camper to be restrained.
Depending on who you talk to, his facial expression can be interpreted in two ways. My sister says it is a big eye-popping glare that he directs at her and mom because he hates being restrained and having all the tubes inserted etc. Mom, on the other hand, interprets the look as one of 'desperation'. I think its a bit of both. He is probably desperate, frustrated and angry at all that has been done to him. I don't blame him. In his shoes, I would have felt the same.
Friday, November 06, 2009
Dad went for emergency surgery yesterday morning. He is now in ICU under close observation.
I think the surgery had mixed results. The gall bladder was removed, as planned. But the original intent to join the pseudocyst to the stomach wall did not materialise because of the condition of the pancreas.
Dad had lost a significant amount of blood during the op and his BP was very low post-op. The approach is to support him in whatever he needs - that includes blood transfusions and any blood products where necessary, drugs to boost the blood pressure and close monitoring for his glucose levels. They are also giving him morphine for pain management as well as sedative drugs. He is intubated and the machine is helping him breathe for the moment. When his vital signs are more stable, they will remove the tube.
In his sides are four drains, draining blood and fluid from the abdominal cavity and the pancreas. It is likely, says the doctor, that he will have to have at least one drain for a long time. They will slowly take the drains out over time, but it is likely that he might have to go home with one drain still in place. He also has a naso-gastric tube in place to drain biliary fluid - which is a fascinating electric green in colour!
I think we are all a bit numb by now. It is never easy to see so many tubes coming out of him. But I have a good feeling that dad will make it. It will take time but I think he will make it. As always, we take things a day at a time. For now, he is in ICU receiving constant attention and care, really the best place for him. Nothing much we can do for him at the moment and overall, it is best for him to just recuperate at his own pace. Spiritually, dad has made his peace with God - he has received the sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick and has made his confession, so I think there is a certain level of peace.
I think the surgery had mixed results. The gall bladder was removed, as planned. But the original intent to join the pseudocyst to the stomach wall did not materialise because of the condition of the pancreas.
Dad had lost a significant amount of blood during the op and his BP was very low post-op. The approach is to support him in whatever he needs - that includes blood transfusions and any blood products where necessary, drugs to boost the blood pressure and close monitoring for his glucose levels. They are also giving him morphine for pain management as well as sedative drugs. He is intubated and the machine is helping him breathe for the moment. When his vital signs are more stable, they will remove the tube.
In his sides are four drains, draining blood and fluid from the abdominal cavity and the pancreas. It is likely, says the doctor, that he will have to have at least one drain for a long time. They will slowly take the drains out over time, but it is likely that he might have to go home with one drain still in place. He also has a naso-gastric tube in place to drain biliary fluid - which is a fascinating electric green in colour!
I think we are all a bit numb by now. It is never easy to see so many tubes coming out of him. But I have a good feeling that dad will make it. It will take time but I think he will make it. As always, we take things a day at a time. For now, he is in ICU receiving constant attention and care, really the best place for him. Nothing much we can do for him at the moment and overall, it is best for him to just recuperate at his own pace. Spiritually, dad has made his peace with God - he has received the sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick and has made his confession, so I think there is a certain level of peace.
Monday, November 02, 2009
What began on 26 Sept came full circle yesterday Nov 1 2009. This is all of us in the queue that hot Saturday morning, a friendship started by a common goal - Neil Gaiman tickets!
My Gaiman queue kakis had sent a string of emails planning lunch before the Gaiman event on Sunday. I missed that because I did not check my emails in the days prior to Sunday. I am usually check my email daily but the days in the lead-up to the signing were busy with several birthdays, visits to the hospitals, to the maid agency, running last-minute errands for the Japan trip and so on. Hence I missed the whole arrangement about meeting for lunch and sitting together in the VIC.
On Sunday afternoon after my own quick lunch with Isaac and the family at Marina Square, KH dropped me at the VIC. We were not late, but not early enough to grab good seats either. So we ended up towards the last one-third of the VIC. I was busy messaging Xuemei trying to find them. Finally saw Eldred - right in the front row!! Waved frantically. Wanida messaged me immediately to tell me she's got two seats right up front. So with seconds to spare, as Neil Gaiman walked on stage, Isaac and I hotfooted it over to the front. Prime seats - second row! Well within ogling distance! Plus I got to sit with my queue kakis too!
picture by Kymberly Huang
Here he is, signing me books!!! For the record, he drew two tombstones with our names on it and a moon on The Graveyard Book and on Neverwhere, he wrote "Mind The Gap!"
Having a very brief chat with Gaiman while he signs away. I asked if we would ever find out what happens to Bod after he left the cemetery. Gaiman smiled and said it is very likely that we would. It would not be a Graveyard Book part 2 but one where we will learn more about Silas and the underworld and so on. I said we would look forward to that! Can't wait to get hold of that when it comes out. 
picture by Janice Tay
My Gaiman queue kakis had sent a string of emails planning lunch before the Gaiman event on Sunday. I missed that because I did not check my emails in the days prior to Sunday. I am usually check my email daily but the days in the lead-up to the signing were busy with several birthdays, visits to the hospitals, to the maid agency, running last-minute errands for the Japan trip and so on. Hence I missed the whole arrangement about meeting for lunch and sitting together in the VIC.
On Sunday afternoon after my own quick lunch with Isaac and the family at Marina Square, KH dropped me at the VIC. We were not late, but not early enough to grab good seats either. So we ended up towards the last one-third of the VIC. I was busy messaging Xuemei trying to find them. Finally saw Eldred - right in the front row!! Waved frantically. Wanida messaged me immediately to tell me she's got two seats right up front. So with seconds to spare, as Neil Gaiman walked on stage, Isaac and I hotfooted it over to the front. Prime seats - second row! Well within ogling distance! Plus I got to sit with my queue kakis too!
Gaiman was funny, self-deprecating, charming. He spoke about a project he was doing in China - Journey to the West! Can't wait to see what he would do with that mythological favourite. He also spoke at length about my favourite Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki, bee-keeping, blogging, Coraline the movie, his new 8-minute silent movie with Bill Nighy, how his nick ' Scary Trousers' came about, his partner-in-crime for children's books and graphic novels, Dave McKean and there was even his encounter with a birth educator! I felt like I got a special shout-out when he talked about how he felt when the birth educator, while demo-ing the baby's passage through the pelvis (complete with baby doll and pelvis - so familiar!), accidentally yanked the baby's head OFF - I can tell you this is every birth educator's worse nightmare and one that I pray would never happen when I teach! Mr Gaiman, famous for his graphic and sometimes gory descriptions in his books, actually turned greenly squeamish when that happened.
The hour-long dialogue with Gaiman went by too fast, went everywhere (from movies to books, to his personal life) and I think we all wish it could have lasted longer. But no, there was another queue to be formed and autographs to sign. So even before the man finished his last sentence, we were already tense in our chairs, ready to spring out the nearest exit. In our case, being in prime front row seats, the exit nearest the Arts House was right next to us. Yay yay yay!!!
Then Gaiman got up to leave and so did we. We didn't even wait for the man to get off stage, just sprinted out the door, down and helter-skelter over the green lawn to skid to a halt where (impossibly so!) a queue had already formed. Still we were the lucky ones and got in where the queue was just beginning. Later, we saw that the queue had stretched all the way to the Singapore River! Had Wanida not saved us those prime seats, God knows how long Isaac and I would have had to queue.
Spent a lovely couple of minutes deciding WHICH book to let the man sign. We were initially told to bring only two items. But on that day, due to the sheer crowd size, signing was limited to ticket-holders only and then, only ONE item. The Graveyard Book was clearly one of them. My other favourite, Smoke and Mirrors had gone missing, to my frustration. I could not find it and figured I must have lent it to someone - mum or Gayle perhaps? After some deliberation, we decided on Neverwhere being the other book for the man to sign.
All too soon, my queue kakis and I reached the table where the man was seated. Wanida brought a cutting of Janice's column in ST. The longer version of the article can be found here in Janice's blog. My queue kakis and I had honorable mentions in it. So Wanida had brought it along and gotten Janice to sign. Mr Gaiman also signed on it - a huge signature. And gave Janice a hug - lucky woman!
picture by Kymberly HuangA picture of all my queue kakis. I am not in the picture. This is because Mr Gaiman is looking at ME and signing my book. Yes, I am the unseen one right in front of him. Haha!
Here he is, signing me books!!! For the record, he drew two tombstones with our names on it and a moon on The Graveyard Book and on Neverwhere, he wrote "Mind The Gap!"
Having a very brief chat with Gaiman while he signs away. I asked if we would ever find out what happens to Bod after he left the cemetery. Gaiman smiled and said it is very likely that we would. It would not be a Graveyard Book part 2 but one where we will learn more about Silas and the underworld and so on. I said we would look forward to that! Can't wait to get hold of that when it comes out. 
And finally, here we all are with Gaiman still busy signing in the background (except Xuemei who is still a little further behind in the queue) clutching our signed books and graphic novels and newspaper article. The line that we started on 26 Sept has come full circle. This is what I like about life - surprises, coincidences, serendipity, synchronicity, fate... whatever you choose to call it. Who knew what a queue could bring? I know this for sure, the next time Gaiman is in town, my queue buddies and I will reunite. And in the meantime, there is always email, facebook and visits (to Kyoto perhaps?) to keep the Gaiman link going.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Dad's latest CT scan shows pancreatic abscess. The ascitic fluid shows that one of the pseudo cysts had burst, hence the muddy Milo water.
The doc has said that surgery is definitely on, it's only a question of timing. The aim is to clean up the peritoneal area to prevent infection, remove the gall bladder, open up the pseudocyst into the stomach, allowing the contents to drain from there, cleaning up the pancreatic abscesses.
From what I have read, the surgery itself is not quite the issue. It's what would happen AFTER surgery that is the issue. The risks of morbidity are high - as much as 30%. Doc has also acknowledged his reluctance to send dad for surgery since it would be akin to "taking one step back" since dad looks better after being on TPN. But reluctant though he may be, he said surgery is definitely a necessity, not an option anymore. He also warned us that dad will be "very very sick" after surgery so we have to be prepared for that.
By his reckoning, it looks like surgery will likely take place either end this week, or early next week.
I feel like we are all on tenterhooks here. I wish it would be resolved soon - one way or the other.
So to continue with the updates, so far dad has been taken off the pee catheter and has one Coop loop removed. That's the good news. The bad news is that his gout has come back and his blood sugar is high, hence the need for insulin jabs. Its the price to pay for TPN I suppose. More than ever before, I am amazed at how complex our body systems are and how much delicate balancing goes on in there everyday to keep the engines running well.
He seems more lucid than before, at least his hallucinations seem to be less frequent. Although just the other day, my sister had to leave the room in paroxysms of laughter because he and I were having a bizarre conversation about "blow-drying" Gillian's faulty high-tech phone gizmo. He said we should open the back, blow dry with a hairdryer and then put it back and no need to physically "rewind the tape". I figured that when dad was delusional, its best to just humour the guy and play along.
On his good days though, he can have a sense of humour with funny asides to our conversations. On his bad days, he becomes delusional. If he is not delusional, then he would be lucid enough to snap at mom, be petulant with everyone and lay the guilt trip on real thick and generally just be cuttingly unpleasant. He may be my dad and he may be ill but honestly, there are times when I wish I could give him a good hard shake! But since I can't do that, I have resorted to cutting short a visit or leaving the room.
I find that if I take breaks between visits, eg visit on alternate days, I am better able to take his orneriness. But poor mom, who comes everyday, twice a day and stays for hours at his bedside. She takes the brunt of it. My heart aches for this. So I aim to do what I can. On weekdays, I like to whisk her home early on the days I visit. Or go in her place so she gets a break.
But the star of the "getting mom to take a break campaign" is really my sister Vi. I really like it when Vi comes from KL and I really miss her when she goes home because Vi's brisk, no-nonsense personality being such, she is able to bully/frogmarch mom to get a break and always gruffly mollycoddles us. She spoils us to the extent that I feel bad that our roles are reversed - she is my kid sister taking care of her big sister, me. Yet, it's so nice to be taken care of and I love that she's such a breath of fresh air in all this. Her strength is so vast, so unflinchingly loyal and so steadfast that I always feel comforted and safe when she's around and I'm sure mom feels the same. You reading this my ONLY sister?? :-)
With this whole episode, I guess I learned that God does not work in meaningless ways. Of course not. Despite the bad, there are always slivers of good mixed in there. We just got to find them, even though it may seem like we are searching for needles in a haystack, and then be thankful when we do.
The doc has said that surgery is definitely on, it's only a question of timing. The aim is to clean up the peritoneal area to prevent infection, remove the gall bladder, open up the pseudocyst into the stomach, allowing the contents to drain from there, cleaning up the pancreatic abscesses.
From what I have read, the surgery itself is not quite the issue. It's what would happen AFTER surgery that is the issue. The risks of morbidity are high - as much as 30%. Doc has also acknowledged his reluctance to send dad for surgery since it would be akin to "taking one step back" since dad looks better after being on TPN. But reluctant though he may be, he said surgery is definitely a necessity, not an option anymore. He also warned us that dad will be "very very sick" after surgery so we have to be prepared for that.
By his reckoning, it looks like surgery will likely take place either end this week, or early next week.
I feel like we are all on tenterhooks here. I wish it would be resolved soon - one way or the other.
So to continue with the updates, so far dad has been taken off the pee catheter and has one Coop loop removed. That's the good news. The bad news is that his gout has come back and his blood sugar is high, hence the need for insulin jabs. Its the price to pay for TPN I suppose. More than ever before, I am amazed at how complex our body systems are and how much delicate balancing goes on in there everyday to keep the engines running well.
He seems more lucid than before, at least his hallucinations seem to be less frequent. Although just the other day, my sister had to leave the room in paroxysms of laughter because he and I were having a bizarre conversation about "blow-drying" Gillian's faulty high-tech phone gizmo. He said we should open the back, blow dry with a hairdryer and then put it back and no need to physically "rewind the tape". I figured that when dad was delusional, its best to just humour the guy and play along.
On his good days though, he can have a sense of humour with funny asides to our conversations. On his bad days, he becomes delusional. If he is not delusional, then he would be lucid enough to snap at mom, be petulant with everyone and lay the guilt trip on real thick and generally just be cuttingly unpleasant. He may be my dad and he may be ill but honestly, there are times when I wish I could give him a good hard shake! But since I can't do that, I have resorted to cutting short a visit or leaving the room.
I find that if I take breaks between visits, eg visit on alternate days, I am better able to take his orneriness. But poor mom, who comes everyday, twice a day and stays for hours at his bedside. She takes the brunt of it. My heart aches for this. So I aim to do what I can. On weekdays, I like to whisk her home early on the days I visit. Or go in her place so she gets a break.
But the star of the "getting mom to take a break campaign" is really my sister Vi. I really like it when Vi comes from KL and I really miss her when she goes home because Vi's brisk, no-nonsense personality being such, she is able to bully/frogmarch mom to get a break and always gruffly mollycoddles us. She spoils us to the extent that I feel bad that our roles are reversed - she is my kid sister taking care of her big sister, me. Yet, it's so nice to be taken care of and I love that she's such a breath of fresh air in all this. Her strength is so vast, so unflinchingly loyal and so steadfast that I always feel comforted and safe when she's around and I'm sure mom feels the same. You reading this my ONLY sister?? :-)
With this whole episode, I guess I learned that God does not work in meaningless ways. Of course not. Despite the bad, there are always slivers of good mixed in there. We just got to find them, even though it may seem like we are searching for needles in a haystack, and then be thankful when we do.
Monday, October 26, 2009
So MOH has once again come out to say that there is no connection between autism and vaccines. Obviously whatever has been said before might not really be convincing to parents who believe otherwise.
Serendipity strikes my life yet again.
1) A letter from the school about Owain's orientation requested the following items - a vaccination cert (which I do not have), the BCG vaccination card (which I also do not have and did not know they even issued one these days!) and finally, his health booklet (of which his listed vaccinations to date number only ONE!)
2) Prevnar has officially been included in the childhood immunisations schedule for Singapore. To make it 'easier' for parents to vaccinate their children, parents can use their Baby Bonus and Medisave. Looks like MOH finally caved in to Big Pharma - they had previously stood firm on not including it into the schedule citing the low incidence of cases here, and low mortality rate thanks to our efficient healthcare and high hygiene/sanitation levels. So between then and now, what has really changed? In my opinion, nothing really. Big Pharma just got more effective at lobbying. Newspaper articles citing doctor's comments also do not impress me. They are still singing the same tune "more convenient for parents to vaccinate babies during well-baby checks" etc.
Again, no one seems to be addressing, or scrutinising the safety issue.
In Saturday's edition of ST, there was an article decrying the use of animal cells in treatments for humans. The writer deplored the use of animal cells, basically saying that this is unproven science, warning about the risk of exo-viruses which could exist in these animal cells and then potentially alter the very DNA in our system. And so on it went. I just want to know why there is such a hue and cry when animal cells have been used to culture vaccines and these are then injected into the immature immune systems of young babies? Bovine cells, sheep cells, simian cells have all been used at one point or another. SV40, identified from cultures of rhesus monkey cells was found to have contaminated one version of the polio vaccine. I won't go into the details of the SV40 debacle, just google it. But the point is, animal cells have been used for decades in vaccines. There are and have been no long term studies to demonstrate safety at all. If we're making a big noise about sheep cells injected for someone's vanity, I'd like to ask why no one is questioning the use of animal cells in vaccine cultures?
So anyway, the interesting events continue to unfold. A letter to the ST Forum recently asks a few pertinent questions, namely:
1) how much adjuvants are given to children in the form of aluminium and mercury salts in vaccines, besides preservatives, over a two-year period, under the Ministry of Health (MOH) childhood immunisation programme. Scientists have shown that aluminium and mercury are foreign to our biological system and do more harm than good.
2) Does MOH have a register of all complications related to childhood vaccines given in Singapore?
3) In a 2007 clinical study of 300 babies aged between nine and 12 months at five SingHealth polyclinics, what was the adverse complication rate and the severity, in terms of morbidity and mortality? Are these babies followed up long-term and for how long?
All great points and I'm glad someone is asking. But behold the official reply:
"...vaccines used here have been approved by the Health Sciences Authority and are deemed safe for the intended use by the general population. Side effects are usually mild, like a sore arm or a slight fever. Serious allergic reactions are very rare.
As for Mr Tan's concerns about autism and vaccination, there is strong scientific evidence to show that there is no link between vaccines and autism. This view is shared by the health authorities in the United States, Britain and the World Health Organisation. Independent reviews by the Cochrane Collaboration and the US Institute of Medicine have also come to the same conclusion."
Okay first, no one said anything about linking with autism. Methinks the official version doth protest too much. Second, the official reply does not answer any of the questions. At all. I too, would like to know - are there records and stats kept of children who have been diagnosed with some form of learning disorder over the years? This includes autism as well as other disorders. Does anyone track if the rise of these disorders are in tandem with the rise in the number of vaccines?
Not as far as I know.
I don't know if vaccines cause learning disorders or autism. I DO believe that these are on the rise. And if they are, perhaps something ought to be done to find out why. Rather than just brushing off the concerns of parents over vaccines, I think authorities worldwide ought to be trying to find out exactly why or what is really causing this increase. That would probably do much more in allaying fears instead of just the reflexive reply that vaccines are 'safe'. Show me how they are and I might be willing to believe you. But until then, you cannot blame parents for being sceptical. After all, when push comes to shove and a child develops a learning disorder, it is the parents who bear the burden and the grief. Not governments and not Big Pharma.
Serendipity strikes my life yet again.
1) A letter from the school about Owain's orientation requested the following items - a vaccination cert (which I do not have), the BCG vaccination card (which I also do not have and did not know they even issued one these days!) and finally, his health booklet (of which his listed vaccinations to date number only ONE!)
2) Prevnar has officially been included in the childhood immunisations schedule for Singapore. To make it 'easier' for parents to vaccinate their children, parents can use their Baby Bonus and Medisave. Looks like MOH finally caved in to Big Pharma - they had previously stood firm on not including it into the schedule citing the low incidence of cases here, and low mortality rate thanks to our efficient healthcare and high hygiene/sanitation levels. So between then and now, what has really changed? In my opinion, nothing really. Big Pharma just got more effective at lobbying. Newspaper articles citing doctor's comments also do not impress me. They are still singing the same tune "more convenient for parents to vaccinate babies during well-baby checks" etc.
Again, no one seems to be addressing, or scrutinising the safety issue.
In Saturday's edition of ST, there was an article decrying the use of animal cells in treatments for humans. The writer deplored the use of animal cells, basically saying that this is unproven science, warning about the risk of exo-viruses which could exist in these animal cells and then potentially alter the very DNA in our system. And so on it went. I just want to know why there is such a hue and cry when animal cells have been used to culture vaccines and these are then injected into the immature immune systems of young babies? Bovine cells, sheep cells, simian cells have all been used at one point or another. SV40, identified from cultures of rhesus monkey cells was found to have contaminated one version of the polio vaccine. I won't go into the details of the SV40 debacle, just google it. But the point is, animal cells have been used for decades in vaccines. There are and have been no long term studies to demonstrate safety at all. If we're making a big noise about sheep cells injected for someone's vanity, I'd like to ask why no one is questioning the use of animal cells in vaccine cultures?
So anyway, the interesting events continue to unfold. A letter to the ST Forum recently asks a few pertinent questions, namely:
1) how much adjuvants are given to children in the form of aluminium and mercury salts in vaccines, besides preservatives, over a two-year period, under the Ministry of Health (MOH) childhood immunisation programme. Scientists have shown that aluminium and mercury are foreign to our biological system and do more harm than good.
2) Does MOH have a register of all complications related to childhood vaccines given in Singapore?
3) In a 2007 clinical study of 300 babies aged between nine and 12 months at five SingHealth polyclinics, what was the adverse complication rate and the severity, in terms of morbidity and mortality? Are these babies followed up long-term and for how long?
All great points and I'm glad someone is asking. But behold the official reply:
"...vaccines used here have been approved by the Health Sciences Authority and are deemed safe for the intended use by the general population. Side effects are usually mild, like a sore arm or a slight fever. Serious allergic reactions are very rare.
As for Mr Tan's concerns about autism and vaccination, there is strong scientific evidence to show that there is no link between vaccines and autism. This view is shared by the health authorities in the United States, Britain and the World Health Organisation. Independent reviews by the Cochrane Collaboration and the US Institute of Medicine have also come to the same conclusion."
Okay first, no one said anything about linking with autism. Methinks the official version doth protest too much. Second, the official reply does not answer any of the questions. At all. I too, would like to know - are there records and stats kept of children who have been diagnosed with some form of learning disorder over the years? This includes autism as well as other disorders. Does anyone track if the rise of these disorders are in tandem with the rise in the number of vaccines?
Not as far as I know.
I don't know if vaccines cause learning disorders or autism. I DO believe that these are on the rise. And if they are, perhaps something ought to be done to find out why. Rather than just brushing off the concerns of parents over vaccines, I think authorities worldwide ought to be trying to find out exactly why or what is really causing this increase. That would probably do much more in allaying fears instead of just the reflexive reply that vaccines are 'safe'. Show me how they are and I might be willing to believe you. But until then, you cannot blame parents for being sceptical. After all, when push comes to shove and a child develops a learning disorder, it is the parents who bear the burden and the grief. Not governments and not Big Pharma.
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