You know, the journey of cancer is one that forces us to be flexible. What this means is that increasingly, we have to learn to let go, and to focus just on what is important.

I have had a rough few days - my mother and her stress, the fact the the email went down and I lost connectivity right before a major holiday in China, so I will have to work all weekend to catch up, cooking up a family gourmet macrobiotic lunch on Thursday (ok, so I pigged out on non-macrobiotic roast duck and pork), both fridges in the house AND the cable TV box breaking down, and a 5 hour conversation with the Singapore Telecom guys trying to get my email up.

To top it all off, I have major pain in my joints, so my daily jogs may have to go the way of the dodo for now. Oh, and by the way, I have chemo-brain ie, memory lapses and delusions. In other words, I am turning into my mother!

I ask myself, though, would that be such a bad thing, to turn into my mother? In looking back at her life, her childhood (and it was not all plain-sailing), and looking at her today, I think my mother is to be congratulated. She is a survivor.

In a strange way, when I now hear people tell me that I am showing strength and courage, I see my mother in all of this, with her ability simply to just 'get on with it', to do what needs to be done - grumbling all the time, to be sure, but she does step up.

In spite of the fact that my siblings see my mother as negative, I see her as being indomitable. Sure, we will fight, disagree, shout at each other and boost each other's stress levels. And yes, we are diametrically opposed personalities.But ultimately, she has survived a lifetime of challenges and has still managed to be a giving person, even mellowed. Yes, there are regrets and sometimes bitterness. But these are being tempered by age, loneliness, acceptance.

It is easy to condemn our mothers - but the fact that we can stand on a distant shore and look back at them, and can take that different perspective, is to me the ultimate testimony of successful mothering. We can. I can.But only because my mother made it possible through her sacrifice for us. She worked to put us through school, bugged us about our homework, made us concious that we had a responsibility to graduate and get a good job to support ourselves with. She raised three kids who still love her, even if we find it difficult to live with her. Her sons, for example, will never hear anything negative said about their mother - unless they are the first to say it, of course. But that is only between us siblings.

I actually don't think that even five months ago, I would have had this perspective of my mother. But now, with cancer, I am learning that I cannot control all things, that there are some things I must let go of, and leave to God. Much of my mother falls into this category. She has survived a lifetime - you cannot expect to do so unscathed, unchanged.

Today, I am changed, but only because of her love and example. She has problems and issues - who doesn't? Will she be able or willing to take the steps to help herself? I don't know. I doubt it.

Can I do anything about it? Would she listen to me, her mere daughter? I know she won't, I am not one of her sons.

The only thing I can do is be a daughter to her. I won't be the best, I know. But I will be there.

I am beginning to understand why people say God is sexist. If I look around at all my friends who are single career women, one thing that emerges is that our mothers do not understand us, or support us, in the same way that they support their sons.

In fact, I get the feeling, when talking to them, that our mothers do not think that women actually do real work. I work as long hours, sometimes longer than my brothers, and never have I ever heard my mother say: 'Oh, she is under alot of pressure.' However, my brother has to simply show up in a snit, and there she goes: "He is under alot of pressure.' When I am in a snit:' You are always in a bad mood'. Well, heck, yes. I am up at 9am everyday, on the computer from 9.30am to 7pm, with one hour for lunch, conference calls to 10pm, and I work from 10.30pm to midnight, with time worked in for 90 minutes of exercise, dinner and a shower, and yet - nary a word of acknowledgement. Mind you, I also have to do the washing up, some of the cooking and interpret every bill that comes in the mail because when I am around, my mother loses the art of reading.

It is these work hours that pays all the household bills, my cancer treatment, my legal fees and for the ineveitable trip back to Shanghai and the setting up of yet another house - and for all the things that are constantly breaking down around the house because my mother simply cannot anticipate and delays everything to the point that it does break down. I would appreciate some support.

It then is all my fault. Blame, blame blame. It is then my unhappy task to fit yet another thing - the light, the fridge, the clogged sink, the vacuum cleaner, the bloody mosquito that keeps her awake all night - without a word of thanks or acknowledgement. (If I were a man, she would acknowledge my contribution, but as her daughter...)

Never mind that mossies do not live for more than a week or two, there is apparently a mossie that is one of the Undead that has plagued her for 3 months now. There is possibly another explanation, but heck, I do not have the energy to figure it out. I bought an electric mosquito repellent - all it takes is to read the instructions (3 paragraphs) and plug it in. My mother reads the three pars and says: "what is a mat?". Another non sequitur: "Is there no mail today?" Well, I don't know, did you go check? Or when guests come: "I seem to recall so-and-so likes to eat this veg." Interpretation: 'I like this veg, and that's why we are having it."

God, I want to say this to you tonight. There was a reason I did not want to get married and have a brood of kids. I happen to like living alone. I happen to like being able to come home and be in a bad mood or a good mood, if I like, eat what I like, do what I like. I happen to like NOT having my moods affected by the antics of people around me. I happen to like being able to wake up on a weekend and do exactly as I like, not what someone else wants me to do. I happen to like being independent and happy. I am usually a positive person - unless I am living with a negative person. And I like being positive - especially now.

But here is why God is a sexist - our mothers belong to a generation where they were looked after, first by their fathers, then by their husbands. They naturally see the men as caregivers, daughters as people who are meant to be replicas of them ie, helpless, hapless, service oriented, meant to support the big strong men who are the providers - hail the big brave hunter-gatherer! And if I read the Bible, this is the type of stereotypical role most of the women in Bible play - think of Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus, Martha slaving away in the kitchen. Should we accept this in this day and age? How do women find their relevance in the Christian or biblical context?

God has evolved Asian women in a single generation from being dependent to being independent, to being the equivalent (or more) of men, but with more responsibilities. We have not yet been able to shed the way we were raised ie, as family care takers. Men are providers. Now, as single, working and financially independent women, we are both. Men simply carry on as providers - care is the woman's domain. Their wives, or their sisters, take on the roles of their mothers. Ten years ago, a behavioral therapist told me that there were alot of angry men in Singapore because the women are so much more capable, the men felt they were losing their social context. Well, blame your mummy, boys - and perhaps start to grow up. It certainly has been a long time coming.

Most of us single career women have decided not settle for a man, but a soulmate. If one does not turn up, well, we are ok on our own. Unlike our mothers, we have choices and we make them - to have kids, to NOT have kids. To not be trapped like our mothers. Show me a man who can survive in the same way without a woman - go on, I dare you.

Mothers of the world, the next time you begin to start to trade on your relationship with your daughters, think about the woman as someone else, NOT your daugther whom you raised in your image. Rather, this is a person with strengths, weaknesses, stresses and a life that is quite different from yours and what you expected hers to be. You need to recognise that. Otherwise, you are going to end up alone, because I assure you, with a career and no partner, having to deal with everything on their own with zero emotional support, and having to go into the office to deal with male bosses who are as needy as mothers, there is not alot of emotional strength left over for a whingeing, blamey geriatric at home, no matter how well-intentioned your daughters are.

I chose not to have kids. I never want kids - of any age. A mother, a companion, a friend, sure. But NOT kids - ever.

So, God, why are you putting me in a position where I am feeling more and more that my mother needs to be looked after - worst of all, by me, the child she gets along least with? The one she has always been at odds with? The one who deals with her the worst, who handles her the worst? Why not ask one of my brothers? Why me, God?

I am pleased to report that I have just completed 4 our of 6 rounds of chemotherapy. I was started on Taxotere on Saturday and absolutely loved it - what I mean, actually, is that Taxotere is a much easier regimen to take than FEC. I got home, had a good lunch, napped for 2 hoursa then actually got up to jog 3km at 6pm. Today, I managed to walk through the Orchard Road shops for 3 hours with no fatigue at all. Just a week ago, I would have been sweating with tiredness. Bought a bunch of clothese to celebrate - so much for good intentions and sticking to a budget.

So, fingers crossed, the only way is up now, baby - or so the song goes. That's all I can do with the cancer for now.

The next thing to fix is the rest of my life - the job, the finances, and my spirituality. Quite a tall order. I am taking it a day at a time - trying to control type A tendencies and worrying away at things. I still have not been able to meditate much because I am afraid of what I might hear - but I sense I will be starting soon.

Right - back to a video on DH Lawrence now. Then to bed...

Good night, all.

B http:www.medicalnewstoday.com/sections/cancer-oncology

Breastcancerandme
href="http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/sections/cancer-oncology/

I have been quiet for some time but this was due to the inevitable round of preparation pre-chemo hit. I need to buy higher-than-high fibre veggies, make sure they are cooked because there is simply no time on the day of. I have to go for the round of tests and doctor visits to make sure I am fit enough to take the hit. And I have to make sure I am a little ahead of my work deadlines so that I can take it easy in the first couple of days of the workweek after the chemo hit. All in all, very stressful.

And as one goes through all of this, one is reminded again that one is ill. You see, the second week after chemo is when you get stronger, and the third week usually is the best. So you think you are doing ok, that you have the Big C beaten. But no, the round of visits to hospitals and doctors remind you that the process is still ongoing and the fat lady, in fact, will never sing out on this one. It is something you will carry with you all the rest of your life. You are reminded that there is something that is bigger than you that is in charge of your life - and this is hard for all of us, in varying degrees, to swallow.

My uncle posted a comment a week ago, asking why, when faced with such life challenges, some people get 'better', while others just get 'bitter'. You know, I would love to say that I am one of the ones who get 'better', but sometimes, especially in the stress of week 3 pre-chemo, I do get a little 'bitter'. Why me, I ask again. Why now? What do You want from me? We are told that God has a plan for all of us. I would really like to know what kind of plan this is. I am sure there is some big thing out there that I, being a puny human, cannot see or understand. I have to TRUST. Sometimes, I just get fed up and would really like a roadmap.

So, the answer I guess, is that it is not just all 'better', or 'all bitter'. I think most of us have a little of both mixed in, but the question is in the proportions. I have bitter moments - but I am trying to work hard at keeping the positive moments a lot more plentiful. Sometimes, other people just annoy you, or bring up the 'bitter' element. We cannot avoid that. So, I guess the trick is to screen them out, and seek the positive out of every experience. Oh, the boss is an idiot? Never mind, at least I don't have to see him every day and when I talk to him on the phone, he cannot see the faces I am making. See? A silver lining.

Oh, the insurance companies are not paying up? Oops, am still working on that one.

Again, all this is a journey and a moment of bitterness does not make a bitter person. It is how we handle the bitter bits - like cooking bitter gourd for example. There are things we can do to minimise the bitterness. And that is the same with life. Know it, understand the reasons for it, deal with it. And that's it. Easy, no?

Today, I received an incredible email. It was from Cathy in the US. I surfed some cancer blogs last week, and came across hers, called: I will thrive. She had been diagnosed with breask cancer 6 years ago, but found recently that it had come back, and had spread pretty widely. And yet she says she will thrive.

Anyway, I left a comment, and she emailed me to encourage me.

This woman's courage and generosity humbles me. How does someone think of reaching out to a total stranger at a time like this?

Cancer does bring out the best in people, it shows us the good, the best part of being human. I have had so many positive experiences since being diagnosed, so much more than in 'normal' life. I ask myself, why does it take a dread disease diagnosis for this to happen, for people, including me, simply to be kind?

I see an object lesson in Cathy's ability to reach out - perhaps we need to keep taking that step that takes us beyond our own concerns to reach out to someone not within our immediate circle more often. Perhaps we need to make it a point to do so - regularly. It is like going to the gym - we need to make a conscious effort, and to keep it up.

There are many cancer survivors in the world - and I have discovered, since surfing all those blogs, that we all ask the same questions, and are seeking something...more. We read so many stories of people who have survived the cancer and treatment and changed their lives as a result.

That's Category A. Category B: people who are still searching, still waiting to hear from God, or whatever higher power they believe in, on what they should do. Sometimes, there is nothing. They go back to their lives and carry on, no change, even when initially they might have wanted to change. Cathy says perhaps we are never meant to know the answer to the 'why me?' question.

I wonder which category I will fall into? I believe, if God's track record in my life is anything to go by, that I will see something coming out of it for me, but it may not be the whole picture. I believe that is what we are not meant to see,and this can be really frustrating. We are only shown enough to help us move ahead to where we are meant to be. But to understand it all - well, I guess that's God's little secret to keep.

Well, here I was thinking that no-one was leaving comments because they had no response to what I had been saying. Or that they preferred the one-one-one route ie, email - indeed, most people have been emailing me their comments. I was really embarassed when my uncle emailed me to say that he could not find the 'comment' button! Sure enough when I looked for it, I could not find it ie, I had not enabled it!

Anyone who has worked with me will know that I can only talk technology, not 'do' it. Well, that's my PR training for you - spin, spin, spin!

Anyway, I've done something to enable comments. I hope it works. Just click on 'comments' at the bottom of this post. Unfortunately, if you want to leave a comment on the previous posts, you will have to do so on this post, and all subsequent posts - a limitation of this software.

So - leave a comment, let's start a conversation on this blog.

My mother is getting old - not just physically, but mentally, too. She cannnot, for example, remember anything she is told. She sometimes cannot even remember she has been to a particular shop an hour ago, even if she bought something in it. She often accuses other people of moving or taking stuff, when in actual fact, she might have moved it, or chucked it out, herself.

This is something that has, I feel, been exacerbated by my father's death eight years ago. She had never lived alone, and now, she has been living alone for eight years. I used to be the last of the children living with her but I could not deal with it once my father died. There was no-one else to take things out on, except me. I used to spend all my days in a bad mood. I had no joy. I avoided going home, and when I was home, avoided coming out of my room, just to be able to have some peace and quiet.

Now, none of us kids want to live with her. My youngest brother has offered a few times to have her live with him but that is because he is good at living in a bubble. The cancer has meant that I am living with my mother again, and again, I find myself locking myself in my room, avoiding coming out.

I almost moved out today after yet another tirade. But conversations with friends changed that - they all have the same issues with their mothers. They all spend time well away from them when they live with them. Their advice is: shut it out.

What is it about our Asian culture that makes it so hard for us to cut those apron strings? I have British friends who have no hesitation leaving difficult parents to their own devices. One friend even evicted her 80-year-old mother from the flat she had bought for her 20 years ago, in order to sell it. I would have a hard time doing the same. But she is now living well and happily in Australia, off the money from the sale, and God has not seemed to smite her.

I am learning one important thing, though - that no-one can really take away your joy unless you allow them to. The world is full of crap, with people who have their own issues and who will inflict this on you, if you let them. The key is not to let them - but it is hardest with family and people you care about.

Never having learnt the art of getting on with people, my mother is increasingly isolated, with a shrinking friendship circle. Never having had to make all her life decisions on her own, she is fearful and anxious about the smallest things. As her daughter, I feel sad that her life is evolving this way. No-one should have to live in loneliness, especially my mother, who is an extremely giving person.

I sense I am in transition again, with regards to my relationship with my mother and even, I suppose, my evolution as an adult - at my great age! I suppose the key to adulthood is to distance oneself, to become more of a watcher than a participator. To wait to see how things evolve, rather than acting on impulse or offering an unwanted (and sometimes unnecessary)opinion, and sticking one's foot in it.

Well, I'm willing to give adulthood a go! Will open the bedroom door now, got to get my dinner.

Wow, was I high on octane today! I woke up, switched on my computer and did not look up until it was time for my evening jog. I was so engaged, I even forgot to eat. Got alot of work done - and this after having been up till 4.30am last night finishing a proposal. Unfortunately, I only get my A into G when the wolves are at the door - or in this case, the boss.It was a good proposal nonetheless and so inspired, I kept at it today.

Now, after having managed a 3km jog, am preparing for an early night for an early start tomorrow.

Some days, when I have very, very good working days, I completely forget I have cancer and that I am 'ill'. Still not, nyah nyah!

This is kinda risky though, because I still believe that this is a wake-up call and I need to be able to understand and interpret the call. So when I feel good and normal, I catch myself and force myself to slow down, and take a few meditative breaths. I am afraid that if I am too cavalier, God might put me through a recurrence just to get my attention again.

So, I am still waiting for...God. I play scenarios in my mind - perhaps I am meant to begin outreach for cancer patients? Perhaps I need to downshift my job? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. I am still convinced that God will show me the door when he is good and ready. On the other hand, I have been told that sometimes God needs to be told what you want. Right now, that's simple - to be cured. Oops, now that I have got that out of the way, other needs come screaming in - winning the Lotto for a start.

I catch myself again. Breathing...waiting...

There is alot wrong with the standard of service in Singapore, and there are certainly many theories about the reasons for this phenomenon. So let me add my two cents' worth.

My theory is that Singaporeans are so used to reading the lame excuses and justifications fed us by various government PR practitioners in the press that we hold these up as a benchmark. It must be the standard by which we judge ourselves and service responses, since the Government uses this - the Singapore Government, you know. The best in the world, the cleanest, most professional - you know... superlative, superlative, superlative.

The trouble is, as Singaporeans are beginning to realise, these standards should not be the benchmark, that they are severely lacking. Even the civil service has acknowledged this and is trying to change. Well, thanks alot. We had decades of lame excuses, and now, we expect to erase this with a campaign or two. You've got to hand it to us for can-do-ism.

I would have more respect for our service staff (and that includes the civil service) if they would simply drop the lame excuses, treat us all like the intelligent people most of us are, admit error, and correct the service lapse - without the Singapore knee-jerk of throwing money at the problem. Forget too the abject aplogising, bowing and scraping, and tell me how you are going to fix the service lapse so that I will be motivated to want to use your service again. (Unfortunately, we can't always vote with our feet, since most of our major infrastructure service providers are the only show in town.)

What has this to do with cancer? Well, my low immunity means that I can only go to restaurants which are not too crowded. Today, I asked a restaurant service person taking my reservation to try to seat me in an isolated corner. No can do, was the response. Please, I said, I know that if the restaurant is crowded, it would be difficult, but can you just leave a note in your reservations book so that the people seating guests can try to accomodate. We do not do that, says the service person. OK. I ask to speak to the manager, who understands immediately, and says he will take care of it. He said that the person (a Singaporean, confirmed the manager when I asked) I had spoken to was simply not too good at communicating in English.

Now, do not Singaporeans speak English? Have I missed something or is not our education system English-based? I think a Primary 6 command of English would have enabled the service person to understand me.

So, add to the many issues surrounding our service levels, let me add one more: we do not all speak the same language. We say it is English, but the evidence speaks to the contrary. Poor service is not due to poor training, lack of pride in the service profession, lack of clear explanation of customer needs, or even a low IQ. After all these years of independence, of 'one nation, one Singapore', we have a problem that continues to rear its ugly head - we simply do not speak the same language. We are not really communicating.

The next time your service needs are not being met, ask yourself if the person you are talking really comprehends (let alone understands) what you are saying, where you are 'coming from'. The spin doctors tell us English is the lingua franca here. Really? With our melting pot society, we may need to face that 'spin' is sometimes nothing more than part of the (white)wash cycle.

Today, a colleague sent me a text message, saying: There must be more to life than work." It was 9.40pm when I received this text, and the poor girl was still in the office.

This is day 5 after my third hit of FEC and it was harder to take than the earlier two. I am really tired and literally need to simply just lie down for an hour or so in the afternoons. I am also nursing a very sore throat, and more than the first couple of times, am feeling alternatively chilled and feverish. I quietly dread the rest of the chemo. I hate not being 100%.

While I lie down, I run through in my mind the deadlines I have outstanding, and how I can manage them most efficiently, even as I get the rest I need.

So, I muse to myself: there must be more to life...

Unfortunately, just what that 'more' is, remains, well, undiscovered, unrealised. I do not have kids, so no joy there. No life partner, either - that's one window that remains closed. My family - certainly, but they have all their own 'more to life' elements, and I am not top of their list. Ditto my friends.

So, here I am, at a certain age, still wondering what I have done with my life, and what my legacy will be. What is the 'more' we should all have, apart from working to put food on the table, pay the mortgage, and the taxes and fund our retirement. Incidentally, looking at the various trends, unless you strike it rich, or were a very canny investor in your youth, most of us will suffer a reduction in living standards during our retirement. Would all those years of corporate strife, politicking, brown-nosing (yeah, don't kid yourself, you would have done it a time or two...) have been worth it?

(The most engaged I feel is when I am talking about my work with people, planning programs etc... is that ALL there is?)

Today, even as I fight a sore throat, fatigue, chills, I cannot help but think about deadlines. In the words of a pop philospher...'What's it all about...".

At times like these, I feel a distinctly socialist rumblde, and think that we might have been better off when we all owned our own veggie patches and chickens, spent our days fishing, evenings knitting and weaving, and did not have to answer to the 'man'.

Today, all these are quaint 'hobbies'. Personally, I do not feel the need to begin catching, much less plucking (notice I prefer not to mention the bloodier aspects of chicken harvest) the darned birds. It's just the simplicity of the life that beckons, I guess.

It seems to me that big business has turned us into automatons, like so many factory workers. Now, apart from those who sit one below Board level, we are simply variations of the many factory hands and machines that sprouted during the industrial revolution.

Has our quality of life really improved? More money to spend, sure, but also, more hours spent making it, only to have banks and taxes take it away. Our kids and family structures are falling apart, and it really says something when one is confronted with one's own mortality and yet, we find that our entire self-identity is wrapped up in our jobs.

What about our humanity? I fear that the Career might have taken that away from us. Something certainly needs redefining. The idea of a 'career', or perhaps what it means to have lived, to have been human? It would be sad if we can only equate our time here with 'building a career', 'working for the man', 'putting the kids through school...'.

So, again, I ask...'What's it all about...?".

My oncologist, herself a praying woman, confirmed it for me on Saturday when I went for my third and final round of FEC - I will be starting on a Taxotere regimen the next time. She said there was no other explanation for how well I was taking the chemo, except prayer. My uncle, who works with cancer patients in a hospice in Penang, had said already that it was very rare for someone to have almost no physical side effects from chemo(not counting hair loss!).

Considering the state of my health prior to the chemo - being overweight, severely under-exercised, asthmatic and a basic scaredy cat - I am surprised that I am considered to be 'doing well'. 'Amazing', is the word my oncologist uses. She told me:" I have seen patients crawling in here, on a sikit-sikit (Malay language for 'small') dose of FEC!"

And so, I would like to thank profusely all the people, my family, old friends and new, who have been praying for me and ask that they keep praying for me to continue this journey in good health. I am in return, praying for all of you, whatever your needs are - you know who you are!

This latest round of chemo was harder than the last - the first bowel movement was simply impossible until I did 30 minutes of tai chi. It must be the continual half squat position the exercises are done with! Anyway, I finally triumphed and now am being kept awake simply by heartburn rather than a painful tummy. Thank goodness for Mr Odell's video shop, which has kept me sane during some of the lowest points of my life. Escapist video is a highly recommended form of therapy, especially British movies set in buccolic splendour. Ah, the joys of watching the Brits celebrate their eccentricities on celluloid!

In fact, as I reflect, I think this journey started as, and will continue as, largely a spiritual journey. God has always operated in a fairly consistent manner with me ie, he closes all doors and just leaves one open a crack and I will have no choice but to go through that door, sometimes (although not this time, too much in shock) with teeth gritted in sulking rebellion. My selection of my two doctors so far were through two such cracks - and both choices (God's, not mine!) were excellent.

Trust, I guess, at this point, is the keyword. The number of people, even total strangers such as the operating theatre nurses, who were so willing to pray with me, and for me...such comfort from all corners. It has been amazing - and very reassuring. "You are being looked after,", Sister Edwina, my spiritual director, told me. Neither of my brothers customarily attend mass, but now one does (with his family, no less!) and the other actually prays for me. Who would have thunk it?

After two years in China, where I did not attend Church because the only service I could find was in Korean (go figure!), it is good to come back to a Christian community and to speak to friends about my spirituality. I recall when I first walked into Mount Alvernia hopsital, where I had the first operation, I had to walk under a huge crucifix - and I felt a sense of homecoming - although I was rather frightened at the time. I did say I was a scaredy cat!

I guess this is what this particular life journey is all about for me. I am apprehensive, because God's journeys are never easy - especially since I am a type A personality! It does sometimes end up being a battle and no matter how many times I go through God's tests, I still fight, and still seek to have things my way. Sometimes I am just plain mad at God. Why me, I shout. I wish I had the total submission I see in others, things would be much easier. I comfort myself by thinking there must be a reason why God made me the way I am, I just haven't figured it out yet!

But I have to also admit that in the past, no matter how much I resented some of the choices I have had to make, it all came out right in the end. It is the journey that is tough. This too, shall pass, one of my editors used to tell me. So, I remain hopeful...cautiously. And I will focus my world view on the here and now, taking refuge in prayer and, increasingly, meditation. I am sure that God will show me the customary door open-a-crack when the time is right - and he will make sure I darn well recognise it!

Now...guess what? The heartburn seems to have gone away. To bed, to bed...