Well, this blog post does not have much to do with my cancer. It has, rather, to do with a cancer that is growing surely but surely in Singapore society, and that is the cancer of ungraciousness, elitism, widening gap between the have and have-nots. The fact that the government has been touting the unoriginal phrase of'no-one left behind' tells us that they are aware of this.

I have been prompted to write this by the recent brouhaha over the blog entry by a supposedly bright RJC student, lambasting a poor 40-plus year old man talking about the uncertain future of Singapore, basically calling him a pathetic leech on Singapore.

I tried to make a response on Shu-Min (the RJC student's blog) but she has shut it down apparently after she had received a barrage of responses to her post. Well, (to use her own words) dear, dear, dear darling Shu-Min, if you can't take the heat, you'd better get out of the kitchen. After dishing it out to Derek, you shut down your blog so that you don't get it dished out to you? For shame!

But this bright young thing, already PAP fodder, is typical of what is happening here in this, our little fair isle - the lack of inclusiveness. The lack of support for those who do not make it to the top ranks of upper middle class and upper class Singaporeans, to whom a further 2% GST hike (after a mere 3 years since the last hike) and other rising prices are nary a tickle in their pockets. Fend for yourself, is the message I keep hearing from our national leadership. We take care of our own.

Graciousness starts with the effort to understand others who are not 'one of us', without making them feel not 'one of us'. A gracious society legislates so that there is inclusion - we certainly are not there yet. A racial arbitration board, for example. A ban on sexist advertising for jobs. Affirmative action campaigns for example. In Singapore, we who are so quick to adopt anything American, are particularly laggard in adopting affirmative action with women in leadership - for example, women in the civil service upper echelons - how many women permanent secretaries do we have? And how about women MPs in non-community focused roles? A scant decade ago, I remember our senior minister Goh saying that women did not belong in politics. Malaysia, which we delight in lambasting and portraying as our hick neighbour, at least has a woman trade and industry minister. From an ethnic group which we in Singapore tend to view as not being as aggressive or commercially savvy as, well, the other 80%. Malaysia has not yet gone under, so - go figure.

I think, dear, dear, dear, darling Shu-Min, elite (and elitist) Singaporeans need an attitude check. You, of our future generation, and the attitude you foster and so proudly wear on your sleeve, simply illustrates what I have always felt - that we are an ungracious, self-serving lot, unsympathetic to the woes and needs of those who make the top echelon possible ie, 90% of the tax-paying, hard-slogging Singapore population without whom at the bottom, without whose support, the word 'top' would have no meaning. You are going to take this country in the exact opposite direction of gracious. And unless you take your head out of your rear end, we are going to end up in the toilet, an ungracious and sad lot whose biggest mistake would have been to so easily, willingly and blindly believe our own PR.

It has been almost two weeks since my last post - days filled with aching legs, headaches, and watery eyes that just won't stop tearing. All, I am assured, side effects of chemotherapy. Funny how it is the last dose that brings on the worst round of side effects - a blessing in disguise I guess.

Today, I began radiation therapy. I had always been told that it would be 'nothing' - the only problem I had with radiation therapy was parking my car, said someone. And in actual fact, it is really a non-event - so far. I am told that I will be fatigued after the third week. I had not, therefore, given it much thought, and was mentally not prepared for the experience.

As with all cancer experiences, it is a new experience, one that was hitherto unknown. The machines, for example, are huge. It begs the chicken-and-egg question - radiation therapy machines, or Star Trek movies, which came first? It is rather space agey. And talking to the radiation oncologist about radio-isotopes in the calendular oil I want to apply to the irradiated site - well, that was rather surreal.

Once again, the sheer contrast betweent the technology of cancer treatment and the frail human body seems rather like using a hammer to squish an ant. It is, though, a reminder of the deadliness of that ant.

The fact that I will be taking about 30 blasts, when the standard dose is 25, also reminds me that the general prognosis is not the greatest.

The fact that I have discovered another lump - in my back this time - is another sobering thought. Hopefully, though, it is nothing. Watch this space.

Another sobering experience - the doctor found a polyp and has sent it to the histology lab. Again, hopefully it is nothing.

The fact that I am finding it hard, all of a sudden, to run the usual 6km - is this a cause for concern, I wonder. Should I get my lungs, legs, bones etc checked?

And so it goes. Everything has to be checked. I have to be paranoid about everything. That despite the fact that I should be back at work in 10 weeks, and that the dreaded chemotherapy is over, the cancer journey is, in fact, still new, with each new phase, and each discovery of a new physical symptom bringing on anew the early fears.

God, will it never end?

'Heaven is closer than you think!'

I am currently reading, in an effort to figure out the whys and wherefores of my cancer, Rick Warren's "A Purpose-Driven Life'. It is a really impressive book - a 40 day course on discerning your life's purpose here on earth.

If one re-orientates one's life to think of our time here as a precursor, the opening act, to the main event - eternity in heaven - then the cast of our lives in the here and now changes completely. I simply put on a different pair of spectacles, and looked at my life - the number one priority, the job, dropped like a stone to the bottom. People, relationships zoomed to top place. St Peter at the Pearly Gates is really not going to care how many awards I've won, how many stock options, how many raises and promotions.

My fourth assistant in 18 months resigned yesterday. And you know what, I really just did not care. She was saying the job was affecting her health, she had hormonal imbalances. Six months ago, I would have been in a tailspin, going through a major post-mortem, asking myself how I could have avoided this, telling myself that young people these days just don't know the meaning of commitment to a job etc.

But maybe, it is just not important. She made the right choice, which is getting herself on the road to health. Of course, she could have done it more professionally, or in a more mature manner rather than coming in, depositing her laptop, and simply walking out. Jeez.

But for the first time, I looked at this from the perspective of eternity. I really wanted to give her a piece of my mind. But then, I thought - ok, she will be in the exact same position she has just put me in one day - God is nothing if not fair, as I know from personal experience. What is my role? To wish her the best and set her free!

Secondly, is this worth the stress? What is the worst that could happen? Her tasks are not part of my deliverables. If there is no-one to do the job, and the company will not cough up for a full-time headcount in the job, they obviously do not value the function. So, far be it for a small fry me to tell them otherwise. The online communications platform should be re-evaluated and if we cannot resource this, if it has to remain a half-baked piece of crap, then so be it.

I realised that because I felt there was so much more that could be done, that because I owned the platform, I could not let it look like the dog's dinner I inherited. I set the staff the same standards I set myself when I first took over the function and had to do all the work myself.

I myself in my first job worked 15 hour-days. But I was not a temp, as they are. Temps ndon't care about the longer term career path (no matter what they tell you in the job interview), they just want a job for a few months to pay for their next holiday. The penny has finally dropped.

In the meantime, I had created a monster. with the success of the online communications function, people's expectations had risen, so that with every resignation, I went through the stress of searching, hiring retraining, dealing with the emotional outbursts from someone who simply felt they should not be asked to meet deadlines if it meant working past 5.30pm. Well, I have had enough. From the perspective of eternity, I don't think God will ding me if I simply let this one go. It is not critical.

We now have some other guy on the job - French guy who wants to stay in Shanghai because he likes Chinese girls. Oh boy - and it will be my particular joy to manage him. I am lowering expectations drastically...

Even as I write this, I feel a cramping in my stomach - this no-need-to-fix-it behavior is alien to me. Looking at things through the eyes of eternity really turns things topsy-turvy.

Yes, yet another new journey to deal with. Now, I just have to get comfortable for the ride....

I was just listening to the evening news where the main focus was the inaugural outing by the so-called post-65 MPs, all bleating about what can be improved about our society, banging on with the US-originated slogan - 'no-one (no child, actually) left behind'. (Can we please stop borrowing from the US? Is our borrowing supposed to increase the electorate's confidence in a less than original MP cohort?Or give them more credibility?)

Anyway, the whole focus seemed to be that Singapore must evolve to an 'inclusive' society. One MP (I think Amy Khor) advocated that there we should abolish special needs schools. How can children adopt an inclusive attitude to the physically and mentally challenged if they do not interact with them from a young age?

Worthy sentiments. However, I believe the issue is much deeper than one of interaction. It goes back to the very heart of Singapore culture, and whether or not we have it within us to be a gracious, non-kiasu society.

For example, in a recent issue of the The Straits Times, we read of how women over 40 should really give up all hope of finding a soulmate - Singapore men, it would appear, just don't want to know, never mind if the woman is financially independent, stunning, educated, and basically, someone one would expect a man would love to have on his arm.

A couple of months ago, I read a letter from a reader during the debate on whether or not people should give up their seats on the MRT to the aged, pregnant or physically challenged - let's not bend over backwards, the writer said. We need to support the needs of the majority. Graciousness, indeed.

Also in the last couple of months, I read observations from Malays and Hindus in the run-up to the Diwali and Hari Raya holidays that other racial groups have no idea, after all this time, of the different social niceties associated with both festivals. So much for social integration.

Here's the rub: the very infrastructure of our multi-racial society makes it difficult for Singaporeans to understand or tolerate differences. For one, our very system of election - the inevitable round of lawsuits after each election speak for themselves. And that's all I'm prepared to say about that.

The various ethnic support groups do not seek to create a Singapore identity - rather, they push an ethnic agenda, as opposed to a national agenda. The HDB flat quota - same argument.

Men who never grow up (note that the bulk of our government are made up of Singapore males...) so that they only want to marry women who can function as looking glasses or baby machines are another symptom of a non-inclusive society. What's the betting that this myth of the superior Singapore male will be one of the last to go? In their own image...

Our education system, which forces conformity rather than creativity - note that they are now trying to TEACH creativity. That says alot.

Look at the way people with cancer are treated in Singapore - shunted into pasture, sidelined, whispered about. Rather than being recognised for their continuing ability to contribute, they are presumed dead once diagnosed. I have been told, for example, by numerous headhunters, that my career is over, that no-one hires a cancer survivor. That's 30% of the population rendered non-productive.

As a Eurasian, I was taken aback when I joined a church group and was treated like an alien specimen - Your name is not Chinese, I was told. Where are you from? Well, duh. I guess I should pepper my speech with more lahs. I guess that some of the 80% have not realised that there is a 20% component of the population who are not exactly...er, Chinese? I guess it takes more than being a 4th generation Singaporean to belong. I made pineapple jam tarts for the group - no-one ate them. Not like ours, they said.

A friend, a Muslim, tells me he is offended when his boss sends out emails prior to Christmas, with prayers for for everyone. No equivalent gesture was made for Diwali or Hari Raya, implying to him only one festival matters. So much for affirmative action.

Then there is our oh-so-mature male population, many of whom are still stuck in time warp in a high school locker room. I have heard men continually ogle women (one of my doctors included, which is why I sacked him), making comments about their assets, and even sometimes a condition of employment. This is plain juvenile, and really, not something I want to be associated with in any way.Worst of all, we have women who support the immature men by playing to their egos. Sisters, come on, don't let the side down, for pete's sake. We have to make a united stand.

When we do recognise differences - I hate to bring this up, but I must - it's usually to do with types like good ol' Neil Humphreys. We love anything that harks back to our colonial heritage, and I am not referring to the whitewash on the Raffles Hotel. It smacks of pandering. How good a writer is Neil Humphrey's, really? I thought him rather boring, just another kweilo in our fair city, with a kweilo perspective. Been there, done that. But we feted him, and adored him, a rather run-of-the-mill talent. The proof of his ability (or non-?)? He now tries to repeat his success story in Oz - the only problem is that over there, he is one kweilo among millions. Not really much of a unique selling proposition. Please, please, stop those ghastly columns he files from Down Under. I don't care about the possums, even less than I cared about the Ah So's in Toa Payoh. It's embarassing that he was so successful here. It is time to let mad dogs and Englishmen just...lie.

My point is this: until we, as a society, can appreciate and tolerate different perspectives, orientations, points of view, and even actively support the expression of these, we will never be a truly mature society. My definition of a mature society is one that is inclusive, where differences are not viewed as a threat or a drain on common resources. Rather, they are viewed as the underpinnings of a varied, diverse and therefore, organically viable society.

The fact that we continually get a parade of so-called experts (mostly Caucasian) shows a lingering colonialism, and a lack of confidence in ourselves. Ditto the inability to tolerate differences. Until we deal with these deep-seated issues, we will never be a gracious society. In a funny way, we have to cut some things out of our social make-up, slaughter a couple of sacred cows (no religious put-down intended) in order to grow-up. It will take everyone's participation and support - parents, government, social and business leaders. If even one group does not support this, the effort will limp along - and so will the gracious Singapore society.

By the way...this is NOT something that the fine-or-tax knee-jerk reaction will fix. Now, let's try to really think our way out of this one!