The eve of a new year is usually a time of reflection, of looking back and looking forward. Well, for me, the new year is usually a time of calm and rest before getting back to work. Celebrations tend to be quiet after the hoopla of Christmas, which I tend to do in a really big way. I do, however, make a point of commemorating it in some gastronomic/alcholic way, even if I am alone, but introspection has always been a waste of time. Resolutions? Haven't made one for years - what's the point? I always break them in the first week of the new year. Don't need the guilt trip. As for reflections on the year past - again, what's the point? Another year gone, here comes the next! There's always more where that came from!

Well, for the first time, I have to realise that there may not be that many more. And I have reflected on the year past. It had started with so much promise - I was doing well at work, and had every expectation of ending the year well. Was planning to travel extensively, kick up my heels. Instead of which, I am fighting cancer, am on extended medical leave and have just had it confirmed that cancer has made me unmarketable as an employee.

Guess what? I have had a great year! Ok, ok, I know I have cancer - am not senile yet, my mother's opinions to the contrary. But when I look at the blessings I have had over the past 12 months, I would even go so far as to say that for various reasons, 2006 will go down as one of my better years.

The cancer journey has been a blessing. For one, God has surrounded me with angels. No, not the types with wings, although that might come. I am talking about the friends and family, and their friends, doctors and nurses, and other perfect strangers, who have so unstintingly reached out to me to encourage, pray and befriend me. From a human perspective, I am very, very much blessed. The caring has, I believe, enabled me to remain positive.

Strange, but I would never have labelled myself as positive, an adjective many seem to apply to me these days. I might have said I was a coper, a survivor, but positive? I am reminded of a friend who used talk to people calling her firm to complain. They would ask her peremptorily: 'Are you a manager?' Her response would be a dry:'Well, I manage!' That's me. I manage, mostly by the skin of my teeth.

The past few years for me have been rather lonely. Being unemployed meant that I lost an element of daily human contact. Working, subsequently, in a country where I did not speak the language and where I knew no-one also meant a certain degree of isolation. Now, I am back in a country I swore I would never return to, with friends and family and - dare I say it? - am perfectly content. So, God used the cancer to relieve the isolation. My dance card is full. Go figure.

And I believe that while I chafed at the bit in terms of not being in the thick of things work-wise, it was God at work, trying to keep worry at bay for me. Then there was the financial provisioning, so that I could have the best treatment possible, without any trade-offs. I even had a little left over for my personal favourite therapy - ie, retail, made even more fun because I can now, after 20 years, fit into small sizes.

Finally, the real reason why this year has been so fantastic - I am seeing God at work and it is marvellous! Look what I have been through, and yet am able still to run 9km, walk the length and breadth of Orchard Road each day, enjoy three full meals, do tai-chi,play hide-and-seek with my niece and nephew, and most of all, laugh out loud at least once each day. And imagine, I do all this on a macrobiotic diet! I can find no other reason for this than God's grace. So yes, it has been, as it has always been, sufficient unto me and I give thanks for this every single day.

Roll on 2007. God is doing something new in my life. I have given up trying to second guess what this might be. I am just going to enjoy watching it all unfold.

There are people in the world sitting in their homes, watching TV in their pyjamas, never having got out of them in the first place, as if this were just another ordinary, even dreary, Sunday, thinking that this is merely yet another year-end, yet another new year. Well, folks, a year-end, means one less year on earth, and one less year before you see God face to face. Sorry to be blunt, but there it is. Take the opportunity to reach out to people who have meant something to you, and to whom you would like to mean something. In the end, from where I sit, it is the relationships that matter the most, not that blasted TV set.

I thank everyone reading this blog for all your support over the past months - it has meant alot to me. Happy New Year, one and all - may God's abundant blessings be with you throughout 2007.

I hope a Merry Christmas was had by all! I had a pretty good one, even without alcohol.

God was merciful and answered my prayers - the family all showed up. For the first time since my father's death, I saw his side of the family for Christmas, and we all, even his nephews who barely see their own parents, remembered my father fondly and with laughter. My cousin, who does not have time for much, has been supportive the minute I was diagnosed, inviting me over for dinner and saying that they would cook whatever I wanted to eat. The last time I saw him was eight years ago just after my father died.

One of my brothers, who is incommunicado most of the time, and whose attendance at the family lunch was up in the air - we had not heard from him for a few weeks despite several text messages and phone calls - actually made it back. My mother was beside herself with joy. For about two days prior, I had asked God to speak to his heart to bring him home for Christmas, not for me, but for my mother. I had actually told God to, in local parlance, 'knock his head'. Two days after I began praying this prayer, as He has seemed to do throughout my cancer journey, God answered my prayers! My brother had to work overtime to make it back for Christmas - but thank God he managed it.

More than this, the friends I've made, who are on the same cancer journey, were all in touch, making the season all the more meaningful. While I worked hard to make this a Christmas reminiscent of the Christmasses of my youth, I had to acknowledge that this was not to be. Things are too different - my brothers do not do Christmas in a big way - I was horrified to find their kids did not get Christmas presents! They get lots of presents all year round, so why bother at Christmas? No Christmas tree, no carolling, no Mass...

When I used to do Christmas at my flat, I pushed the boat out. It was not so this time because it was done at my brother's flat. So, this was one departure from the past. The food was not the usual traditionally unhealthy as possible fare - no Christmas pudding, no cream sauces, no stuffing...

It occurs to me that this year, everything I had clung to or held dear in the past, was now gone. God has, over the course of the past few months, removed everything I built my identity on,including what makes Christmas, and my long hair which I had always wanted, which I spent many hours and dollars fussing over, playing with, and which I had had for all of a mere 5 years.

All the pillars which might have caused a sense of pride are gone. The irony is that my hair grew long when I went thorugh a phase of unemployment and could not afford a hair cut. I was really down to nothing then. Today, I am reminded again that when we are down to nothing, God is up to something. I am also reminded of Isiah 43:18: 'Do not remember the former things or consider the things of old.I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?'

I know I am on the verge of a new season. I have changed my prayers from focusing on what I want, to asking God to put me where he needs me. In other words, I am reaching a watershed in my trust of God. Has it been easy? Heck, no! I still have my hopes. But I will force my feet to take the steps I must, and hope my whole heart will follow.

Watch this space!

Horror of horrors! I found out today that I am known, in Mt Elizabeth oncology centre circles as the 'bicep lady'!All because I reported that my right bicep was swelling to the onco radiologist! The good news is, as I made sure to inform all the radio girls today, my bicep has since shrunk and is now the SAME size as the other one.

Also, as hairs start to grow, I realise much to my dismay, that I have to start shaving my legs again, especially since doctors now poke me everywhere to see which muscles are swelling. No getting away from it....aiyah!

Maybe it is because I am beginning to feel rather tired because of the radiation, but I am getting very pissed off at people lately. It is now the season for peace and joy, but in Singapore, we are so stressed, or in such a rush, that we do not take time out for the niceties of day to day life.

Having spent the last two years out of Singapore, and having had minimal contact with Singaporeans in general, I now have the opportunity to look at us from a new perspetive. I have realised that we could do with a lesson in common civilities - myself included. The directness of our communication, the lack of tact, of consideration, sometimes leaves alot to be desired.

We have been bashing service providers here in Singapore, criticising the poor service - and I am a prime culprit in the complain-about-service-staff department. But it also occurs to me that poor service has a couple of roots:

First of all, as a society, I think that most people here have not been brought up to expect common civilities and courtesies from family members. Our families have the right, most times, to tick us off, tell us when we look like crap - in as many wordss - or are acting like crap. Familiarity breeds, and all that. As our primary socialisation tool, the family environment is where bad behaviour is developed.

Second of all, Singaporeans are always in a tearing hurry and feel, for the most part, dis-empowered. The latter arises from the traditional authoritarian Asian society. So, when we do have power, it is not often wielded gently.(and no, I will not start complaining about the government here!).

Taken together, these two elements build a society that is a little rough around the edges, to say the least. So, where there is poor service, I reckon sometimes there are poor customers. In my experience, courtesy begets courtesy.

As families get together, let's try not to criticise Aunty Maisie's loud voice, Uncle Sam's miserly ways, the screaming kids. Let's try to eat and appreciate the meals on offer with an attitude of gratitude, instead of comparing one roast turkey recipe against another, and moaning about the crap food someone else served in Christmasses past. And if someone has a specific food request, let's try to accommodate rather than simply producing a dish because that's what you want to eat.

And where is it written that only kids get Christmas presents?!!!!! Why not try to actually give everyone something, rather than forking out cash, or a bottle of booze? Besides boosting the economy, it will start us thinking about - and giving - to one another. It does not have to cost alot, just mean something.

I remember Christmas when I was a kid, when we had the tree, the carolling, the festive food, the family gatherings when we all got together and caught up. It was a special time. Now, I see around me people who just think Christmas is a trial, and do not bother to give their kids the full Christmas treatment. A trip out of town is more likely, rather than prioritising a family get together. The wider relationship element, and the real meaning of Christmas, to me encompassing values our kids need to learn, is lacking here.

Now that I am macrobiotic, the food bit is out of the question, which leaves the people element - uh oh!

Just once during the year, can't we pretend - ok, call me an idealistic fool! - we are in a Doris Day movie and just practice being nice, polite and sociable...please? Adn boy, if we can manage that one day out of the year, can we try to extend this to the other days that come after?

Today, I had my first dose of Femara, the aromatase inhibitor I will be on for at least the next three years. Femara is given to post menopausal women to protect against the recurrence of estrogen sensitive cancers. So, fingers crossed!

I am obviously losing it. I had thought I was only three weeks into radiation but was told by the radio oncologist today that I have already completed four weeks of radiaton, that this week will be my fifth, next week my last.

Again, got to get geared up for the next thing, which is the hysterectomy. I had got used to the daily rush of getting up, hitting the email for an hour, then getting dressed, and heading into the hospital for radiation cum small talk session for the day with the radiology girls.

Yesterday, I collected - after 6 months - some photos I had taken in China before coming back. I hardly recognised myself. The only word that could adequately have described me is 'rotund'. My brother said he had noticed 'a certain degree of porking out'. That's what passes for tact in my family. I really looked as though I was ready to pop out of my skin! But at least I had hair, eyeleashes, and eyebrows! I had forgotten what I used to look like. In the same roll was a photo of myself after round 2 of chemo, hairless and looking like crap - a far cry from Ms Rotund Singapore.

The big thing about this was not about how different I look, but how much life has changed in six months. It is one thing to talk about it, and go through it, but the photos were a stark reminder of the reality of what I have been through. People tell me I have been through alot physically, that my body has taken a real beating.

The funny thing, and I believe that this is by the grace of God, I don't feel it. I feel quite chirpy most times, in fact. Despite my grumbles, it has really made a difference having my mother around. I don't think I could have coped as well, if I were living alone, although there were many times when I thought I really could have done with more peace and quiet.

I am quite dreading going back to Shanghai and the office. For one thing, it will be completely different now that we have been through the merger. For another, it will be another huge transition - relocation again, looking for an apartment, going through the stress of trying to be macrobiotic in a toxic country, and coming to grips with my job. Even if is the same role, the parameters will have changed drastically because we are essentially now a completely different company. And I will be alone, there will be no support circle.

Oh well, I suppose I will cope with it the way I always cope - one day at a time. It would really be nice to be able to look forward to the following year and know exactly what I will be doing.

Someone once told me that I lived such an exciting life, that if she did not speak to me for a week, she would find that my life situation had changed completely!And this is someone I have known since University. Whenever I tell someone else (another university friend) that I am going to live somewhere else for awhile, he says: "What, again?" as though I am leaving town all the time. I feel that I am chained to Singapore, my own personal Sing Sing. They all complain their lives are so boring, that they dread the mid-life crisis because they might do something really stupid to liven things up.

Good grief, I would love a bit of boring for a little while (a little, little while...)!

So far so good. I made a vow to eschew all deep fried food and so far, save for one occasion when I had gobbled up all the tempura on my plate before I could think, I have managed to keep to it. How? Very simple - by taking the long way round, rather than walking past any food stall with deep fried food. Hey, never let it be said that I am unaware of my weaknesses!

The end of this week will put me exactly at the half-way point of radiation therapy. No major side effects so far, except for some fatigue in the afternoons, where one feels tired, but enough to fall asleep. Most annoying, as this means I sit up in my bed trying to fall asleep but all the while thinking about the work I could be doing since I am not yet asleep.

I had lunch with a friend yesterday who told me about how, after almost 6 months of major stress about her business, and waiting for God to provide guidance, she finally heard from Him and he has basically given her a whole business plan! Boy, I keep hearing from people about how God has provided with a blueprint for action. I wish I could have a blueprint which tells me the purpose to which I am called. No such luck, so far.

I admire her faith - losing money, suffering the jeers of people because she refused to take a single step that was not confirmed by God, even one that made logical sense to the human intellect - such as doing some advertising! I feel suitably rebuked, as I seek to try to jiggle open various doors to the post-treatment world.

She is the second person this week to have told me that she has received a blueprint from God. However, my other friend tells me has to wait for the signal to put the plan into action. So she is waiting. Wow.

So, where does that leave me? Well, I believe that these conversations, all happening in the same week, tell me that 'to everything there is a season'. I am in a season of waiting. No point pushing things - God will act in His own time. I think these revelations are meant to be encouraging and I will take them as such - and wait without grumbling...might as well have some fun, while there's fun to be had!

I am in a pretty good mood these days. On Friday, I was in a tizzy over the cost and side effects of the HRT I will be starting this weekend. But I have recently had many reminders that God has taken care of everything in this journey of mine and have been reminded to 'trust him'. Even looking at my skin so far, I see that the radiation seems to have had a minimal effect on the skin quality.

How remiss of me to have forgotten God's provision! So, I have decided to begin enjoying myself and not worry about things. Everything has a solution and it will pop up, but there is plenty of time to worry about things later. So, I have been lunching out to the nines. And have visited my favourite dress shop and even bought something I did not need - but hey, it was really cute. So, that's the Christmas outfit taken care of!

Now to work on the new year outfit!

Yesterday, I hit another milestone - I jogged 9km! I surprised even myself. Of course, my legs were killing me afterwards, but it was well worth it. The weather helped, being a nice cool night. (How much healther I might be if it was 24 deg C all the time!)

I think I could even have pushed myself to go on a bit longer, but did not want to do my knees in. The hard part, of course, will be forcing myself to do it again!

And today, I saw my oncologist and she has given me a shot, effectively putting me into menopause within a week so that she can start me on an aromatase inhibitor called Femara. The jogging will become essential in terms of helping me fight the side effects of the Femara, said to be: nausea, bone ache, fatigue, constipation, coughing, chest pain and headaches. Honestly, and they expect us to hold down a job through all this? Oh, did I forget to mention: thromboembolic, cardiovascular, and cerebrovascular events? Dunno what these are, but they sound suitably scary - I think I would prefer to be taking chemotherapy!

But the cost of the drug is what really got my adrenaline going - $1400, give or take, for a 30 day supply. Well, I really cannot afford to quit the job, or be made redundant now! This is quite horrendous. Roll on the generics! Really, it is times like this when I feel the stirrings of socialist fervour.

And I am getting really pissed off at my insurance company who still refuses to admit my breast cancer claim and therefore will not be paying for any of these drugs. What a cop-out, especially since this is the one that has been recommended by the government, to be paid for out of our medisave funds. So my medisave is being severely depleted for a policy that won't cover me.

They say cancer is a pre-existing condition - well, yes. In other words, unless the policy was bought what, 20 years prior to diagnosis, they won't pay. That's alot of cancer patients who get no support,despite hefty premiums. And there was no medical test - so what gives them the right to be so bloody minded about this?

If I make a claim for diabetes or Alzheimers', both slow-developing diseases, they will hide behind the same bloody clause again.

Again, this was an insurance company recommended by the government. This citizen (I admit it, I am a total idiot, I went against my usual good - and opposite - judgement)decided to trust the government and leapt into the policy.

Really, is there no way the common Singaporean gets a break? Big business wins every time, as does big Government. Just once or twice, or more, I'd like to see the little person win and be able to smear egg all over the face of these giants of enterprise.

By the end of this week, I would have completed 3 weeks of radiation therapy with no visible side effects. I am feeling hot alot more ('heaty'), but am not sure if that is the radiation, or the fact that daily excursions to my favourite spot in Sinapore ie, Orchard Road, mean I get to cheat on my macrobiotic diet and it is the MSG.

The radiation oncologist told me that I would begin to feel the effects at the end of this week and starting from next week ie, fatigue, and some degradation of skin quality. Nothing serious he said, just something approaching a sunburn.

I have to say that I really like Mount Elizabeth hospital. It is really service-oriented and everything seems spanking new and clean. Even the doctor told me that he welcomed any feedback! What a step forward for doctors here, many of whom have somewhat of a God complex, an impression supported by a garrison of nurses. When specialists enter a ward, there is a new buzz about the place, with nurses becoming brisker, telling patients to hurry up with their ablutions. Up and down those corridors is heard the whisper, "Doctor's here, doctor's here!" No need to mention which doctor, a doctor is about!

I wonder what radiation oncologists do all day. The real work seems to be done by the technicians, who position you for the blast, and operate the computers. My radiation oncologist sees me once a week for a review, and decided on the program I should be on, that's it.

I suppose they are called in to look at scans, and provide recommendations to the other doctors. So they spend their time with films and do very little clinical or pastoral work. It seems to be rather a cold part of medicine, when so much of it seems to have to do with the patients and dealing with their aches and pains, and bodily bits. And I wonder if it takes all those years of study simply to look at scans.

Before I decided on my radiation oncologist, I saw all others as well. The one from Singapore General I did not want simply because the patient load there meant I would only see her at the beginning of the protocol, and never again. I saw another who spent all his time on the phone. Both experiences taught me that they were not particularly essential to the process.

Well, I demand full attention and interest from my doctors. My radio onco is great at this, and is a pretty funny guy to boot - so, the reviews are almost like social chit chat. Thank goodness, given that I spend much of my time stuck in my room at home, chained to my computer. Social interaction is not great and I have realised, despite a strong hermit quotient in my make-up, I like chatting with people! I like having a laugh each day, and discovering other people and their interests.

Thank God for daily radiation, I am beginning to feel part of the human race again!

Farewell, old friends, I say with regret, bidding goodbye to fried food of every description.

I seem to recall in the dimmest recesses of memory a time when I actually did not like food that was crispy. As a very young child, I preferred soft, easy to chew and easy to swallow food - not spicy at all, and if it was sweet, so much the better. I even hated meat, certainly did not like potatoes and if it was fishy, well, forget it. Under no circumstances would my mouth open to allow entry to those boney instruments of child-torture.

When did it all change? I think I can trace it back to when my Dad used to come home with curry puffs as a treat.He was so proud when we began to eat curries, and chillies - almost a rite of passage, as it were. Then there were the kropok which Ah Poh used to dry in the sun, then fry and store in numerous gigantic tupperware containers - so much the better for eating in front of the TV.

Then came the Pringles era. When these first made an appearance, Dad used to buy cannisters by the dozen and we would all sit companionably in front of the TV, or with visitors in the living room, eating the stuff and drinking coffee or tea or alchohol (or, in the case of us kids, something sweet and fizzy out of a can) chatting and bonding as a family.

Then, as we began in our own jobs, we brought home different versions of the fried foods that Dad used to buy, widening the scope - triangle curry puffs from different stalls, chicken curry puffs, sardine curry puffs, potato curry puffs, curry puffs with egg, without egg, spring rolls with shrimp and without, ngoh hiang, yew char kway (stuffed and un-), fish fingers, bergedel, tauhu goreng, Indian rojak, Malay rojak, gado-gado, fried fish balls, fried wantons, kropok with chilli sauce - anything crunchy, oily, and dribbling sweet sauce was an instant hit in our home.

I have today, excessively, even for me in pre-cancer days, had three curry puffs (one with puff pastry), and two 'butterfly' thingies (made from yew char kway dough) and enjoyed every single bite. And with these, I bid goodbye forever to my fried friends.

I have many happy and fond memories of the first time I ate them, and times spent, particularly with my father, who loved fried food equally well. My father died of cancer 8 years ago and is still missed. Every time my brothers and I eat something unhealthy, we inevitably talk about how Dad loved the stuff, all the while shaking our heads, thinking: If we knew then...Giving up fried foods is almost like saying goodbye to Dad all over again.

However, having read last night how fried stuff, especially doughy things, absorbs loads of oil, how the pastry contains margarine (a trans-fat and cancer causer, and ultimately, killer food), how oil, if reused as it is in all the deep fried food stalls, loses its ability to retain heat, causing the food to need a much longer cooking period, thereby increasing its cancer-causing capabilities...well,the writing is on the wall (or in the wok). I need to give these things up. No more chips. No more tempura (wail, wail, wail). No pisang goreng (or any goreng). And (wail ad infinitum), absolutely no more curry puffs.

Really, people talk about chemo reducing the quality of life. Well, let me tell you, chemo was nothing compared to having to give up my favourite foods. I've already given up steaks, foie gras, roast lamb, nouvelle cuisine, and every single cheese in the world. Now,its fried food. What's left? A dismal, yawning chasm of non-activity for hands and mouth while watching TV. Now, it's just me and the flickering screen, no mood enhancers, no sub-theme of sensory pleasure. Just the box. And if the program is crap, I will have to admit it, since I cannot distract myself with food. And will have to switch the TV off. And find something else to do.

Like what? Perhaps twiddling my thumbs will stave off the post-chemo neuropathy, burn a few more calories, stimulate my cardio-vascular system...or, perhaps, I will just write another blog entry! Every cloud...

Either doctors lead very boring lives, or I must be a very talented, but undiscovered, comedic great. In the last 6 months, I don't think there has been a single doctor I have met who did not laugh at my circumstances - in a nice way, of course.

Take this conversation when I was trying to relate the story of THE DISCOVERY OF THE LUMP.

Me: I discovered it after a massage in Shanghai.
Doctor (impressed): A massage? Wow, it must have been some massage. Was it a male masseuse?

Next there was the POST-OPERATIVE GET OUT OF BED drama.

Doctor: Ok, let's see if you can get out of bed.
Me: Oh no, doctor, it's too painful, I want to stay in bed.
Doctor (with jovial bellow): What?!!! Your pain threshold must be under water!


Then there was the MYSTERY OF THE SWOLLEN LEGS.

Doctor: Is your right thigh bigger than your left?
Me: Err, well, they are both big so I cannot tell.
Doctor (sniggering): No, no, I did not mean to give offense!

Then there is the MYSTERY OF THE BULGING RIGHT BICEP

Me: Doctor, my right bicep is swelling. Could this be lymphoedema?
Doctor (after examining entire arm and hands): Nothing, what. I'm afraid it is just your muscle that is three cms larger than in the other arm (doubled over in laughter).

And today, there was NEXT-GEN BOTOX.

Doctor (gesturing to nurse leaving room): How old do you think she is?
Me: Um, 45?
Doctor: When we ask that sort of question, we mean that the person is either much older or much younger.
Me: Ok, 52?
Doctor (looking exasperated): She is 69.
Me: Really? Wow, she is in very good shape!
Doctor (straight-faced): Yes, must be the radiation...
Me: No kidding, what sort of treatment is that?
Doctor (speechless, doubled over on his desk and laughing).


Ah well, into every cancer journey some levity must fall! I guess this is what they call a bedside manner - hahahahaha!

Living a life of significance. That is how a friend referred to the search for meaning that many people term a mid-life crisis. Once one reaches a certain age, one begins to assess the life lived so far, and its value. Sure, you may have financial secuity, a good job, a family and a 'place' where you belong, whether you define that space as your apartment, your country or the bosom of your family. But all this, I think, is different from 'significance'.

To me, a life of significance is one where you leave a legacy. It does not have to be a monumental one, and you don't have to have a hospital wing named after you. But most of us want a life that has meant something to someone, so that when you are gone, your going will be keenly felt, and your contribution goes on, somehow.

People with families, who are the breadwinners, to me, have it easy. Once they are gone, they will most certainly be missed, simply because of the practical function they perform. People who are single, like me, have it harder, because, we are not 'significant' in the same way. So, we have to work a little harder to fnd our 'space' or niche.

I am now looking at the final phase of my treatment for cancer. I anticipate being able to go back to work by mid Feb, about 10 weeks down the track. Looking back, I guess I never once let it enter my mind that I would not get through the treatment in good form, and be fit and ready to assume the reins of my job in Shanghai. I look at this treatment as a mere bump in the road towards corporate success.

However, the ease with which I have been shunted aside by the company and my boss these past few months tell me that this is not the 'significance' I now want. Only the people who reported to me, whom I might have been able to mentor in some way, might say that I played a role of some 'significance' in their lives. For the rest - out of sight, out of mind.

The next step still remains a blur. People of faith would simply quit the job and wait for God (or the universe) to open the next door. However, I have been there and done that, and I simply do not want to be unemployed again. If I look back at the experience, it was not unpleasant - God certainly provided for me and I think I was even happy being gainfully unemployed! But I cannot willingly chose that route.

Does that life of 'significance' mean that I have to go out on a limb before the door will open? I know that once I go back to the job, I will be so preoccupied (such is the nature of my obssessive personality!) that I will lose sight of the plan to find 'significance'. This is what happens to most of us. One day, you have a job that absorbs you, the next, you are retired and wondering what to do with your days because we do not have a certain 'connectedness'.

I do not know what the answer is, but I do know that I need more of a...connection. It could come through the job. Or, it could come from something outside of the job, but in China. I am told to remain open, to work on discerning the signs. Yeah, right.

Meanwhile, I will take some baby steps to doing something apart from the job that interests me. Let's see what happens.

In my brother's words: come on, lah, God! Still waiting...

One of the complaints about Singapore from many people, local and foreign alike, has been that it is a 'soulless' society. Now, we have a new generation of politicians, the P65(yet another meaningless acronym)lot, trying their hand at creating a new Singapore identity, one that will retain the younger generation who seem to be migrating in droves.

Let's look at what has been mooted since the PAP began to woo the younger generation of Singaporeans, via Lee Hsien Loong. Dancing on bar counters has been approved, and a couple of innovative and risque nightclubs have opened. We have a new theatre complex which most local theatre troupes find too expensive to rent. GST has gone up, as have the prices of almost everything else in this town, except fines, including the one for spitting. ERP, taxi fares, peak hour surcharges, all headed north. The gap between rich and poor has widened. The size of the sandwich class has grown. The number of replacement births has gone down. Maid abuse has gone up, and, I am sure, the murder rate. Oh, let's not forget the worst recession since independence, with the highest number of unemployed. Now, we have the Integrated Resort idea, with the franchise for the some of the most expensive real estate in the region. We have also heard some ideas on how to make health care more affordable - but I can personally attest that the partner insurance companies do not live up to their promises.

On which one of these can we hang our hats on, to say, ok, here's an attempt at building soul? Or even defining the soul of nation - and I do not mean the pastiche of icons such as cha kway teow, laksa, fish head curry, the merlion, satay or the Singapore girl.

What I can see from all of these initiatives is that they revolve around MONEY. They push the average Singaporean to slog all hours to pay for the household bills and mortgage. Higher transport costs, extended peak hours (until 11.30pm) mean that we are penalised for merely going to work, then for having the stupidity to work beyond 4pm when peak hour rates begin. To maintain a decent lifestyle (for most people, to pay the HDB mortgage and save for the kids' education, and retirement in a country where we can barely afford to pay the monthly bills) we neglect the family, leaving the upbringing to the maids. The situation is so ridiculous that we have to have a single day each year designated 'eat dinner with your family' day.

The stress of living in this super pressure cooker breeds social problems, including a very high proportion of runaway teens. Teachers today say that teaching is more social work rather than education because parents are so guilt ridden with neglecting their kids, they refuse to discipline them and leave this to the schools.

Ok, ok. Here's the question - where in all of these initiatives is the SOUL element? The only soul I can see is that of materialism. We have in charge a bunch of leaders who grew up in this so called 'soulless' country, who do not recognise 'soul' and who are trying to create a nation according to the 'soul' standards they grew up with - money, money, money. Although, I wonder how many of the new P65 generation really knew what it was to go without when they were younger? Not many, I wager.

Small wonder that their version of it has this symbol - $ - on it. More glitz. More spin. More superficiality and knee-jerk reactions to problems. Tax it. Fine it. What is the long term effect on this society? Any thought given to that? Well, heck, why should they?

While the sandwich class strives, ministers' pay goes up - right after an election, when not a single promise has been delivered yet. Even in the private sector, people are rewarded based on delivery. If we must peg our ministers' salaries to the private sector, we need to assess them accordingly - by delivery, ROI, - in the eyes of their customers, ie their constituents. And no damed excuses - as with the private sector. One bad inning, and you're out. If the average Singaporean has to be whipped, why then, our leadership should adopt the same stringent standards for themselves.

Again, without the means to influence the political process in any meaningful way, to control our destinies because we are so busy just putting food on the table, where will will have the time to build the soul of this nation. Right now, the soul is one that is being defined from the top, ie, the 1% of this country. What kind of soul is that? Where is the voice of the common man? I'd certainly like to hear it, because that's where soul starts.

To all who have been asking after me and praying, a huge 'thank you'. The lumps and bumps I felt are basically, harmless cysts. The watery eyes, after-effects of chemo. The swelling legs - still an unsolved mystery, but it is not a dietary deficiency, not a tumour affecting lymphatic drainage, and not deep vein thrombosis ie, a blood clot. So, it does not seem to be something that is immediately life-threatening. Now, there is absolutely no excuse for me NOT to jog through the pain!

Sometimes I think we do ourselves a disservice when we think that our little aches and pains are 'nothing', or we do not credit our own perceptions enough. For example, I had thought that one of my thighs was larger than the other, ie, still swollen but dismissed it as being 'all in my mind'. Today, my oncologist said the same thing!

Lesson learnt - if you feel there is something wrong, insist that the doctor(s) review possibilities. Insist on validation. No matter what, it is your body, your physical well-being and whether or not we realise it, I think we actually know our own bodies best. We just have to learn to tune in more.

Someone asked me to keep a diary during chemo, so that I could record the physical reactions to the treatment and this would enable me to recognise when something unusual occured in subsequent cycles.

I stopped this when I thought the chemo was becoming routine!!!

Now, I think I will begin this habit again, to record all sorts of bodily changes. You never know. And it is useful when doctors ask probing questions, as they are wont to do when you have cancer.

Point of this blog? To say thanks, and to say - never let anyone tell you, or make you feel less than. You have a view and a right to be heard and to be taken seriously. Insist on it.