I know it is late but I don’t have the time to upload the pictures for Halloween. Pictures courtesy of my friend Vera.

Photo taken by my friend Vera. She took a picture of her dolly with my 2 dollies.

Don’t you love the picture of the Hat Garden? The picture was taken by a very special lady I knew in Medhelp. When I saw this hadnmade bag, I knew I have to get it for her. Actually…..to tell the truth, I am not sure the final look of the bag that eventually arrived at her doorstep. I knew the lady has started her chemo using doxil - one of the side-effects of doxil is hand-foot syndrome. I don’t want the plastic handles to hurt her so I got the lady who made this remove remove it and replace them with cloth handles. I just hope the end result look nice!

I call this set of photos the ‘Cafe Series’. Did you notice the miniature food behind the Blythe doll? Yummy. The miniature food is part of the huge collection of miniatures collected by my friend. Photos courtesy of my friend Vera.

I have meant to update my blog since my return from Malaysia last week. But every time I log into my blog, I find it too difficult to write my thoughts down.

The main reason for my trip to Malaysia is not for relaxation. During the critical period when my mum was going through the chemotherapy sessions, we received a call from my aunt in Malaysia asking us to return to Malaysia as my uncle’s condition had ‘worsen’ and if possible, we better make a trip to see my uncle. It was a difficult decision my mum faced. We knew that if we do not make the trip to Malaysia, we may never have the chance to see my uncle again. But on the other hand, my mum had just undergone a major surgery and each chemotherapy session had weakened her. My uncle’s house is not near any airport and it is a solid 14 hours bus trip. I knew that this inability to visit my uncle (my mum’s eldest brother) had created much stress to my mum and it was one of the reasons contributing to my mum’s depression. During the treatment period, I kept promising my mother that I would accompany to visit my uncle.

In September, we received another call from my aunt. I literally worked my ass off so that I could squeeze one week of leave to accompany my mother. This period was unfortunately the busiest period of the year. I wanted so much to fulfill my mother’s wish and also for myself, which this trip could mean the last time I am able to see my uncle before…..the inevitable.

I have cried very badly 3 times in my life (sniffles while matching a sad movie is not counted). The first time was around 8 years back when my father was hospitalized for stroke and before my eyes, his condition deteriorated to the extent where the doctor told us to ‘prepare for the worse’ (strangely enough, I was numb when my father was subsequently diagnosed with cancer). The second ‘crying fit’ happened last year when the doctor told me that that my mum had advanced ovarian cancer. The third crying fit happened when I saw my uncle.

I was mentally prepared that my uncle’s condition could be critical. But when I stepped into my uncle’s house and saw the thin shriveled old man dozing in front of my uncle’s desk, I just burst into tears. My uncle took a long time before he recognized my uncle and it took him an even longer time to recognize me. It was with much prompting from my aunt that he finally called me by my name. I was told later that my uncle could have some form of Parkinson’s disease – at times he was fairly conscious but he had forgotten much of the past.

When I was alone, I spent much time hiding at my uncle’s toilet crying my eyes out. My uncle’s has one of the sharpest mind I know with an even sharper mouth. That old man who spent much time dozing and could hardly comprehend the conversation around him is not my uncle. During the few days I spent at my uncle’s place – I felt a sense of loss. I kept blaming myself for not visiting my uncle more often. My mum was too shocked by my uncle’s condition – she made a trip to visit my uncle 2 years ago (following an urgent call from my aunt about my uncle suffering a stroke) – I could not make the trip because someone had to be home with my father who was diagnosed with cancer. Even after suffering a stroke, my uncle was still conscious and could still walk. Fast forward 2 years – my uncle is a wreck of his former self.

I wished I have the chance to tell my uncle how much he meant to me. When I finally left my uncle’s place, I knew I am leaving my childhood behind. My mum was born in Malaysia. She has very close ties with her siblings – especially my uncle. He had taught her much about the art of geomancy – especially the part that dealt with ‘yin zai’ – or ‘home for the dead’. During the time from my earliest childhood memory till my high school days, I would stay at my uncle’s place for up to 3 months at my uncle’s place – in addition to those ‘short’ 1-week stay. I used to pack all my school textbooks with me and brought them to Malaysia so I could revise my schoolwork. As I am the youngest of the children, my cousins spoilt me rotten. And while my uncle would scold my cousins, he never say a harsh word to me – my mum always claimed that he probably remembered the time where he gave a small whack on my buttock for trying to push the mannequins down at the shopping mall – apparently I was three during that time and screamed the building down although he barely touched me – my uncle have to leave the mall in a hurry with me in toll while a crowd gathered looking accusingly at my uncle.

The time I spent at my uncle’s place is the most carefree part of my life. My parents had horrific rows even since I was born – and there were times where they were on the verge of divorce. Like any child, I was plagued with insecurities and fears while I listened to my parents’ quarrels – and I was always fearful of ‘losing my family’. But throughout this turmoil, it gave me much comfort that my uncle is always at the background. My uncle’s house (even if it is a 14 hours bus journey away) is a safe haven and I knew that I would always be welcomed.

However, as I entered the university and subsequently joined the workforce, the closeness I once I have with my uncle’s family sort of disappeared. When I saw my uncle – the closeness I once had with my uncle’s family came back. And I grieved…..for the loss of the closeness and I may have lost something that is really precious to me.

It is with a heavy heart that I returned to Singapore. I gave a lot of thought to what I have lost. These few years – I have been touched by death – first my father’s death from cancer, then my mum’s near brush with ovarian cancer….and now my uncle. But on the other hand, my heart felt lighter when I chatted with my cousin’s children – they are still so young and innocent in the way only children could be. I promised them I would take them shopping when they visit Singapore. It is only through talking with my cousin’s children it dawned on me that death is part of life…..and my religious belief (loosely Buddhist) comforted me because I know one day I would meet my loved ones again.

It is with this new found understanding that I finally marched to the hospital which is a 10 minute journey from my work place and sign up for the bone marrow program. I have been toying with the idea of signing up for the bone marrow program – I did extensive research but was hesitant because I am afraid of pain. Yes, I know the chances of a match is very low – something like 1 to 20000? But I think the patient would be devastated if I backed out of fear after discovering that I am a match. I have seen so much death and pain associated with cancer – don’t we at some point of time wished that there would be a magic antidote which could destroy the cancer cells once and for all? I have come to the realization that it is a precious gift that I am able to sign up for the bone marrow donation out of own free will. I literally floated out of the donation centre after the nurse took some of my blood for tissue analysis – I feel so good. Maybe….just maybe there is a chance that I could make a difference to someone. It would really be a great honour for me if I am ever called up for donation.

What a naughty kitty! Photo taken by my friend Vera.

It is pajamas time for Blythe! However, I am so blinded by all the pinkness that I call these series of photos Pink Madness! Photos taken by my friend Vera.

I have uploaded a video clip of my mum’s street singing in a donation drive. 5 months after last chemo treatment - not bad!

Okay, I have to admit that the orchestra is not of the highest standard but hey, it is good fun and it is for charity.

If you are wondering why the song sounds so sad, it is supposed to sound sad as it is a lament of a princess who is on the verge of commiting suicide. It is supposed to be a duet between the princess and her husband. Since my mum’s singing buddy is not there, she sang the female part only.

Story behind the song -

This takes place during the Manchu invasion of China at the end of the Ming Dynasty (1644). The emperor Chung was doomed. With the Manchu warriors surrounding the palace, neither the emperor nor his family could escape. To preserve the honor of their dynasty, the women of the imperial household must kill themselves, as tradition demanded. The emperor’s daughter is Princess Chang Ping. She was about to be wed to the scholar Chou Shih Hsien, whom she had just been all flirty and happy with. The emperor instead gives her a red scarf with which to hang herself, but Chou Shih Hsien stops her. Frustrated, the emperor kills her himself, to protect the family honor, then pops off to kill himself as well. If I have not remembered incorrectly, he hang himself on the tree.

The princess did not die though and a court official recovers her and hides her away. Later, when that official decides to give her up to the new regime to get a nice promotion, she slips away and assumes the role of a Buddhist nun, where she lives a life of hard work and toil, in secrecy. One day, Chou Shih Hsien comes by and spots the nun who looks so much like his beloved. He confronts her, and she reveals her identity, and they are reunited at last.

But, as is always the way with tragic love stories, their happiness does not last long. The new emperor  learns of their existence and invites them to marry and live happily together in his palace. This doesn’t seem like too bad a turn to me, but in fact it would dishonor her father’s dynasty and help justify the new emperor’s claim to the throne. They pretend to go along with it for a while, to secure a decent burial for her father. Then, they pop off to the garden, they drink poison together and wait beneath a tree, to die. They supposedly sing this song while they wait for the posion to kick in.

My dollie must be tired from all the shopping. She has started shopping early in the morning till late at night. Did you notice the white LV bag she is carrying? It is from Rement and I love it!