Shin's Cancer Blog

A much overdue update

2009-11-14T00:06:00.007+08:00

I'm amazed at the immediate response we received from Shin's birthday post. I figured that I've been so negligent in updating that no one must follow it anymore. But immediately a wave of support hit me. Many thanks. Life gets busy and I suspected that Shin and this blog's readers would have forgiven me for not updating so well. But I realize I owe at least a basic update.

Firstly, Josie and Toby are just great. they are both in school full time now. Josie sees herself as an avid reader just like her mom. Toby is wonderfully affectionate. Both seem secure and balanced with the loss of their mom. We talk about Shin frequently, but both Josie and Toby seem to be able talk about her happily. My mother, Carol, has retired from nursing in the US and is with us most of the time. Carol has other grandkids in Boston, US, that she spends some time with, but she has definitely given a maternal stability for Josie and Toby. Our helper Elisa, who has been with us since Toby was born, has been very dedicated in helping to bring up Josie and Toby. I personally feel pride that our family has faced difficulty, but pulled together for the sake of the kids, who so far are doing well.

I am doing well. At times I can dwell on how much I feel Shin has lost out on. I see the wonderful things Josie and Toby have done this past year and multiply that times 20. My heart aches for her loss. On the other hand, I know it would help put Shin at piece knowing we are doing well, and i'm confident she would be happy.

On to the photos!

We went to Boston in May and had a chance to catch up with my brother. Here are some photos from Fenway Park, home of my beloved Red Sox:

And here is a photo of when Josie and I dressed up to go to the Symphony:

And here are some photos of our recent trip to the Philippines. With Josie in a Jeepnee, and with her grandfather, Toby in the pool and making a face:

Finally, her is a photo of Josie going to school on "Hero" day. On Hero day the children do not have to where their uniforms, they can dress as a hero. Josie put on one of Shin's shirts, put on her ID badge, her necklase and bracelets and went to school as her "Hero":

Yikes! I've been trying for any hour and just can't get the text to line up with the photos. I'll trust readers can figure out what i'm trying to say.

Happy Birthday Shin

2009-11-12T07:15:00.008+08:00

Today (12 Nov), Shin would be 43.

We had some cake and released some balloons (with a slide of cake) last night.

Happy birthday Shin, we miss you, we love you.

These balloons can add to your collection.

May it be

2009-05-12T08:31:00.004+08:00

I recall when I was young and in love or heartbroken, it was easy to find songs that were very meaningful to me. But then someone else would share a mixed tape of the songs that were so meaningful to them - but to me the songs were kind of bad and I think more was read into them then was really there. I realized that something that is very moving is probably just very personal.

So I am very hesitant to share a song that I've been listening a lot to for inspiration during quiet moments. I suspect what is touching to me, might just be a crappy song to someone else. But here it is anyway. Sometimes I imagine it is Shin on the journey to find her way. Other times I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders and I feel it is me.

I also suspect that the song reaches me a bit more than usual because of Gandalf. Gandalf may be my favorite fictional character. This song is played in the LOTR movie when Frodo loses Gandalf - (Gandalf holds back the Balrog but plunges to his doom in the Mines of Moria). Gandalf is such a wise paternal figure that his loss is a very moving part of the story.

And I've probably just proved my point that what is moving to me probably already sounds silly to others. Anyway here is the link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9VRwMghIemo

May It Be by Enya

May it be an evening star
Shines down upon you
May it be when darkness falls
Your heart will be true
You walk a lonely road
Oh, how far you are from home

Mornie utúlië (darkness has come)
Believe and you will find your way
Mornie alantië (darkness has fallen)
A promise lives within you now

May it be shadows call
Will fly away
May it be your journey on
To light the day
When the night is overcome
You may rise to find the sun

Mornie utúlië (darkness has come)
Believe and you will find your way
Mornie alantië (darkness has fallen)
A promise lives within you now

A promise lives within you now

Shin with Toby

2009-05-12T06:47:00.003+08:00

Thanks for the well wishes that continue to come in, both by mail and comments on this blog. I'm still adjusting, still busy and unfortunately haven't been able to fit in much blogging. Its been over three months now. I was just looking at this video clip of Shin laughing with Toby. The date of the video is Jan 11. Amazing that she passed away only 16 days later.

All is well. I have several stories about Toby and Josie that I would like to share and I do find that my feelings and the ways I miss Shin evolve over time. I'll try to gather my thoughts and share them soon.

Tony

Sorry for the Radio Silence

2009-03-16T22:44:00.002+08:00

Sorry for the lack of posts. All is ok, just short of time. I've started working full time again, and i've been working hard to make sure to get back in time to put the kids to bed. The past 2 weeks were stressful due to an MAS exam that I had to pass and a presentation I had to prepare. On top of that I just happen to be loaded up with a bunch of complications (tax problems, Estate issues - dealing with frozen accounts, leaking problems, trying to refinance, closing accounts). Tedious stuff but it feels like my "to do" list is growing faster than I can clear items.

Lots of people have blogs, but few enjoy the readership Shin had built up. I felt that I was loaded with things to talk about and could continue her blog for a while. It was a great opportunity, I don't think I could ever build a following like Shin had. Nevertheless, I guess I've been too stretched.

I haven't completely given up, but I realize it will probably take at least another week before I have more time to write, and I guess its clear that the idea of keeping it going daily seems less feasible.

This isn't goodbye, but it does seem appropriate to thank everyone for their kindness and support.

The kids continue to be amazing. They seem happy and able to talk about Shin without sadness. Having the kids do well makes it much easier for me. I do find that I continue to get "waves" of feelings that can kind of overwhelm me from time to time. Today, Josie got a certificate for doing well in school, my mother called me at work so that Josie could tell me. At times like that I get this strong feeling of what Shin is missing out on. I'm getting Shin's hp# cancelled. Yesterday I saw her name and number in my phone and I got kind of stuck. Feeling that that practically I suppose I should delete. But it feels like such an awful thing to do.

Anyway, we are all fine really, but still dealing with the feelings of loss as I guess we will for a while.

Tony

Memorial slideshow

2009-03-02T22:42:00.004+08:00

Dennis, Alicia's husband put together a slideshow of photos taken at the memorial service. The photos were taken by a freind and former colleague of Shin's, Sha Ying.

slideshow

Josie's Rainbow

2009-02-28T08:05:00.001+08:00

I admit that this isn't how I thought it would be. I had imagined trying to be strong for children crying for their mother. I imagined grief that would be debilitating for the whole family. But the reality is that they almost never cry for Shin, we are moving quite normally and I feel almost guilty that we are not struggling more.

When I posted after the first week that the kids were doing well, I really suspected that they were just protected by the initial wave of support form everyone and that things would get harder as we get back to a more normal routine. But now we have been in a routine for a few weeks and i feel more confident that the kids have accepted their loss and confident that things will be ok. I've thought a lot about what made the difference and a think there are several things that have been key. 1) We had our time to prepare, 2) the year-long period of deteriorating prognosis makes are current situation feel quite stable, 3) my mother being here to be a maternal figure for the kids, and 4) the fact that over the past year I had already taken over the daily routine with the kids.

I took a class on organizational behavior in grad school. One of the lessons they taught was about reward and incentive strategies. The evidence is that most companies get this all wrong. Most companies give one bonus at the end of the year and is only generally tied to performance. The better strategy is to take the year end bonus and to break it up and give it more often throughout the year and tie it to specific achievements. Personal satisfaction will be much higher and there will be much stronger incentive to meet performance objectives. On the other hand, bad news is best given all at once. Don't try to break the bad news gradually, bit by bit. Do it all and get it over with.

This framework helps clarify for me part of what I'm feeling. The past year has been the case where little by little we kept getting worse news. There were periods when we were quite hopeful but then hopes were dashed. And all along we knew what the end result would most likely be. Having time to prepare was helpful, but after a year of being on thin ice I think the family feels more steady now. One of the hard parts of cancer is that the steady worsening of news is exactly what my grad course said was the worst way to have to digest bad news. Things feel relatively calm now.

My mother, Carol, was working as a nurse in the US, but retired towards the end of the year to move out her semi-permanently in order to support the kids and me. Toby and Josie have always been very close to her. I think it is a tough transition for my mother, as she doesn't get to be the grandmother who can spoil the kids now. She has to play the role of the disciplinarian parent. She also leaves all her friends behind in the US. But from the kids perspective I think it makes all the difference. Especially for Josie. At night when the kids wake up, Toby always climbs into bed with me. Josie always goes to her nana. One of my mothers friends emailed me and asked why I don't talk more about the role she must had in helping Shin. It so happens that the week I have written most about (Shin's last week) was the week that Carol was on a previously scheduled trip with friends to Egypt. We didn't really think Shin would deteriorate so quickly at the end and I had also told my mother that when I would really need her was after Shin passed away. So I think it was important that she had her time with friends on a great trip even though she had strong misgivings about be away at that time.

I was looking at photos on the computer yesterday. Josie asked to see a picutre of her and Shin. I was able to find one of Shin and Toby first. Josie excitedly call for Toby to come over and look at the picture of Mommy and Toby. Then I found some of Shin with Josie. I have bitter sweet mixed feelings when I see photos of Shin. Toby saw the photos and smiled and said my mommy and gave me a hug. Josie's reaction was pure joy and excitement.

Josie's came up with the idea of making neclases with a photo of Shin. We talked about which photos we would use. Josie said she would use the one with Shin's hands over her heart. I said I would use the one where she is smiling and cuddling Josie. It was a good crafts idea and Josie was proud she came up with it herself.

Josie was over one her best friends' house. They were have a small cake to celebrate Josie's birthday the previous week. Josie said her mother wasn't at her party, "she died too late". Her friends mother said yes, but she is always with you also. They looked outside a little bit later and Josie was really excited to see a beautiful rainbow.

Toby is very clingy with me when he can be, but he is also happy at school and asks to go play at friends houses.

I think they are doing great and I'm increasingly confident that they are going to be just fine.

Tony

Shin's Unpublished Posts - How To Make Friends

2009-02-26T09:30:00.001+08:00

Here is another one. Looks like she started it but then stopped. I still think its intersting to see her train of thought and her self reflection.

Tony

Shin's post 6 Dec 2008...

A blog reader asked me an odd but interesting question. He/she wanted to know how I make and keep friends. I'd never thought about that before.

When we were kids, we moved around and changed schools a lot. From second grade (age eight) to high school graduation (age seventeen), I went to seven different schools. My mother told me that each time we moved, I was the least bothered among my siblings about leaving my friends behind and also the first to make new friends when we got to the new place. I liked hearing that about myself. It tells me I can adapt easily to new situations. I suppose it also suggests I don't form meaningful, long-term relationships, but from all the old letters I've dug up from my past, that doesn't seem to be the case either.

The blogsphere's comments on Shin

2009-02-25T09:06:00.001+08:00

Lemony Snicket

2009-02-23T10:30:00.001+08:00

Shin's favorite character in literature was Odysseus from Homer's "The Iliad", because he was brave, smart and resourceful. Maybe not on quite the same level, I had a strong childhood memory of Violet, Klaus, and Sunny from "A Series of Unfortunate Events" by Lemony Snicket (I even loved the author's pseudonym).

The back cover of the book and the first lines of the story start, "If you are the sort of person that likes happy endings then you should put this book down and buy some other book. Not only does this book not have a happy ending, it doesn't have a very happy beginning, and for that matter very few happy middles." Which of course made me want to ready the book immediately to find out what happens.

The story starts with Violet, Klaus and Sunny becoming orphans when their parents perish when their home burns down. The rest of the story is about them survinging bad guardians and the evil Count Olaf who is after the family fortune. The story appeals to me becuase the kids are so smart, brave and resourceful that they get themselves out of such bad perdicaments. And I like it becuase I always liked suspence better then action and the series is just a long exercise in suspense. I once read someone describe the difference between action and suspence. He said action is "there is a bomb under the table and it blows up", suspense is "there is a bomb under the table...".

So I intoduced these books to Josie, not quite sure how she would take to them. I liked the being able to introduce a story that might make her feel less alone with her loss (here I mean alone as in unusual), and like the theme of persevering through adversity. She loves them and we are now on book 4, "The Miserable Mill". I bought the actual book for the first book but we listened to the audiobooks for the others.

It's been a useful reference in talking to Josie about loss. When I spoke to Josie in Shin's final weeks I read her a list of some things children are confused about. I told the list said that some children wonder if they are considered orphans if they lose a parent. Josie said she knew she was not an orphan, "like Violet, Klaus and Sunny, they lost both their parents" Josie said. Also, in the story at one part it says that "unless you have lost someone very close to you, you can't imagine the sense of loss the children felt". Josie said "I have, I can".

This weekend was Josie's 6th birthday. We went ice skating with friends on her birthday and then over the weekend we went to the Forrest Adventure at Bedok Reservoir. The Forrest Adventure is a rope walkway through the trees. I'd heard about it but we had never gone before. I had assumed that parents would go with the kids, but the kids course is kids only. So Josie said she wanted to do it and as she started, I realized how difficult and scary this was going to be for her (something like 5 to 10 meters high) and thought I've probably made a mistake. But step by step she worked her way through the course. At one point, she wasn't really tall enough to reach the support rope, she felt stuck and scared and was whimpering and called to her grandmother for help. Nana said there isn't anything she can do from down on the ground. So Josie just worked it out on her own and got through the hard part.

I was filled with a strong emotion of pride in her. Smart, brave and resourceful. Shin would have loved to have seen this. Her little Odysseus, my little Violet.

Its Never Too Early To Prepare

2009-02-22T17:04:00.005+08:00

Shin asked me many times in the months leading up to her passing to make sure people with a terminal illness know how important it is to be prepared.

Over two years ago one of Shin's friends sent me through a link to a website that talks about preparing children for losing a parent. http://www.winstonswish.org.uk/page.asp?section=0001000100100015&pagetitle=The+Mummy+Diaries.

Maybe six months prior to that, after a chemo visit one day, I asked Shin if we could go and buy the memory boxes we'd long been talking about preparing for Toby and Josie. She was reluctant. She said it was too early and that she had no plans of dying any time soon. She said she thought it would be like admitting that she was going to die when she had no intention of letting the disease win any battle.

I persisted, as I do, and Shin finally relented (which she rarely did) and we went out and bought the most beautiful memory boxes in the world. That started us on a roll of adding to them. Shin was already writing in journals, but that accelerated. We bought presents for future birthdays and found things that Shin had when she was younger that the kids would cherish. The boxes started filling up.

By the time we reached January 2009 and Shin had decided to stop her chemo, she started talking regularly about how unprepared she felt. She would often say "hell of a deadline Shelly, do you think they'll give me an extension? I have so much to do!"

It was then she realised that us buying those memory boxes all those months, even years ago, made a whole pile of sense. She was relieved that she had so much to leave for the kids, for Tony and me.

She wanted us all to know she realised that getting prepared is not about "giving up". Its not about admitting defeat. Its about making sure that while you are able, you do the very very best you can to make sure you give everything you can. To your kids, your family and your friends.

Even Shin writing her letter to us, her "final words" a year ago brought relief to her in the end because she was so happy we would be able to hear from her and that what she said was articulate and to the point.

Five days after I arrived back from Singapore and the memorial service there were two letters in the post addressed to my kids. She had written them on the 14th Jan 2009, just 13 days before she passed.

I feel we are all very lucky that Shin was prepared. We all have so much more of her to remember. Her essence of life and love for it is so much more present because of everything she has left behind.

Thank you Shin.

Michelle

Hospice vs Home-care

2009-02-20T09:05:00.001+08:00

When Shin died, Michelle organized for a doctor that Assisi Hospice recommended to come and certify her death. Michelle said he seemed very confused about what was going on. He was mumbling that it very strange for someone to die at home and very strange for someone donate their body to research. In fact, in the days before Shin passed away, Michelle was checking on the various procedures and the police had told her that in the case of a home death that they would have to send to body to forensics for an autopsy - which turned out to be incorrect. We were surprised at how this seemed so unusual here in Singapore.

We were not sure how it would go in the end and Michelle and my mother had already visited several hospices to see which would be the nicest for Shin. Michelle already wrote about how she was really impressed with Assisi. Shin first thoughts were that she didn't want the kids to see her struggling in pain and dying. She expected that going to the hospice would be the right thing.

As it turned out I think we are all thankful that we were able to care for her at home. I don't think many people would be in position to do so, but as it turned out we were. Shin needed 24 hour around the clock care in her last couple of weeks. It just so happened that my employer was thoughtful enough to give me some time, Michelle had not started her program to get her degree for teaching maths yet and Alicia was able to take a couple of weeks off her job. Together, I felt Shin got the most loving care she could have possibly gotten.

Its wasn't easy. It was flat out tiring and we were all sleep deprived. Shin had good moments where she felt good and cheerful. But a lot of the time she was uncomfortable and frustrated that she couldn't communicate well. Due to her weak breathing, she would usually write what she needed to say. I think anyone who is contemplating home care, should anticipate a patient who is increasingly uncomfortable, frustrated and demanding a lot of the time. There were nights when Shin was finally sleeping soundly that Michelle, Alicia and I all had that feeling of relief that we experienced as parents when our newborns were finally asleep.

Being able to be close to family was also important. I have already written about the night when Shin was sleeping peacefully that the children were able to say goodbye to her. Also, Shin's parents, brother and sister came from Korea and the US to see Shin while she was still alert. When she had periods of strength we were all right there to take advantage of those times and in them I think she had some nice moments with her family. I'm not sure you we would be able to have such nice moments if she was in a hospice.

The Assisi doctors and nurses made frequent visits as we needed them. Every few days at first, and up to every day in the last week. We were able to get all the prescriptions for the drugs we needed. I would make frequent trips to the hospital pharmacy to get bottle after bottle of morphine (which is surprisingly inexpensive) and fentynal patches (which are expensive). The hospital pharmacists would stare at me wide-eyed as I would ask for all this morphine. One day Dennis, Alicia's husband went to pick up some more morphine for me. He was up all night working on the memorial slideshow, hadn't shaved and looked rather like a drug addict. He said the pharmacy gave him the third degree, but eventually gave him the drugs.

I don't know what we would have done if Shin had lasted longer. I've heard of some cases where a patient can linger for weeks. At some point Alicia and I would have had to go back to work, Michelle might have had to get back to Australia. We never really ruled out having to go to the hospice, but I think we all felt more comfortable with the way it worked out. I imagine that not many families would have the luxury of time to provide around the clock care for loved one and the hospice is a nice and critical option. But I wouldn't rule out home care even if it is rarely done here in Singapore. I don't think it is that rare in countries like the US and Australia. And I hear of many cases where families rush a dying cancer patient to the hospital to die. I don't really see what the point. There is nothing the hospital can really do, and the racing to and checking into a hospital is not the way for a patient to spend their last days.

And of course it helps that Shin was just one of those people that it was worth it to get every last moment you can to be with her.

Tony

Shin's Unpublished Posts - Cancer Friend Humor

2009-02-19T08:00:00.000+08:00

Here is another unpublished post. I miss her laugh. I think she didn't publish this link because she thought it might offend her friends. But she thought it was very funny.

Tony

Shin's post (29 Oct 2008).....

Here's an article entitled, "Man With Friend With Cancer 'Going Through A Rough Time'", from The Onion, a satirical news Web site.

Memorial - Shin's Last Words

2009-02-18T09:00:00.000+08:00

Shin wrote a letter to be read at her memorial service and gave it to Michelle to read. Michelle has already posted the letter in a previous blog post, but below is the link to the video of her reading of Shin's letter.

As always, Shin gets the last word.

http://www.vimeo.com/3220558

Tony

Managing Pain

2009-02-17T09:00:00.002+08:00

I just saw a show on TV where someone dies of cancer. It was dramatic and painful and horrible. It wasn't at all like what Shin went through.

Shin had a fairly high tolerance for pain. If there were children around, she could not only stomach a lot of pain but put on that beaming smile that would light up the room. But she was also quite practical about pain management. When it came to childbirth she readily asked for an epidural and didn't really understand why one wouldn't. And when it came to cancer pain management she was quick to accept pain releif.

Over the past year, to control pain and coughing/breathing problems Shin was taking codeine and panadol. Morphine was the other option, but it felt like a big move, a terminal move, so she preferred to stay on codeine, which was proving fairly effective. When her abdominal pains increased after Christmas she started taking morphine but she felt horrible and nauseated so she went back to the codeine. A side effect of morphine is nausea, so Shin became reluctant to try morphine again. Michelle and I thought it was more likely that the gall bladder was responsible for the nausea and Michelle was able to convince Shin to try the morphine again. It worked well the second time round.

She started out with a liquid morphine form that she would drink every 4 to 6 hours. She initially took about 25mg per day. We then put on a fentanyl patch which essentially is a band aid like sticker that we put on her stomach/chest/leg or arm. It would last 3 days and give her a steady does equivelent to 25 mg per day. Then when she felt pain or breathing problems we would give her morphine. This was the so called "breakthrough" morphine, for when the pain would breakthrough the patch dosage. When we found we were giving consistent "breakthough" doses we added another patch. And when I say "we" I mean the palliative care team, Michelle and me.

In the final week, the patch was not working so well. Shin's heart beat was racing but her overall pulse was not that strong and her blood pressure was so low the doctors could not get a reading. The circulation needed for the patch to work well was just not strong enough. We decided to switch to a subcutaneous injection form of morphine that was administered through an injection driver. An injection driver was a small devise that would steadily squeeze the syringe at a steady pace thoughout the day . We put 125mg of morphine in the syringe and it would last a day for Shin. When she had breakthrough pain, we could press a button that would give her an extra dose. The needle went under her skin in her stomach and was taped there with a butterfly clip and would stay there all day.

By the final two/three days Shin was sleeping 97% of the time and when she did wake, she seemed uncomfortable so we would boost the morphine and she would sleep again. Sometimes she looked uncomfortable in her sleep, sometimes her breathing was racing and sometimes she had a strained look on her face. When we would see this would boost the morphine and she would calm. By the final day we had increased her daily dose to 150mg per day. I saw her go though a period of racing breathing in her sleep that she would associate with the feeling of suffocation when she was awake. I had to boost the morphine several times in a row with only 10/15 minute breaks in between. Eventually her breathing slowed and then later stopped. I think it is likely that the morphine was responsible for slowing her breathing until it stopped.

I was holding her hand as her breathing stopped. I was telling her everything was going to be ok. She's done a great job, and she can trust me now. The kids are going to be just fine. Go to sleep and rest peacefully.

Shin had decided that her first priority was that she didn't want to the kids to see a pain savaged cancer patient. Her second priority was to get as much quality time with the kids as possible. But when it became clear she could not really spend good time with the kids without the emotion of it triggering a coughing attack, Shin said she was ready if the medication caused permanent sedation. In fact Shin said that she would prefer to end it already (about 4 days before she passed away), and I would have been ready to help her with that if needed. But in the end I think we all felt comfortable with the process. We would not let Shin be in any pain, and if she was we would boost the morphine if to the point where there were risks. A year ago, Shin and I had talked about what we would do if Shin was in an unbearable state. She wanted to have options to end it if it got ugly. We talked about having sleeping pills on hand just in case. But I think if we knew a year ago how the process would be managed, we would have been more comfortable.

I think Shin's overall pain management was done as well as can be. I think she was fortunate not to linger in a sleeping state for weeks. I read in one of the comments that it is probably better to have cancer in a critical organ rather than a prolonged battle with pain in less critical areas. She was at peace with death and didn't need to prolong the final stages. Maybe not everyone can die as peacefully as Shin did, but I'm encouraged that the palliative care help out there can manage things better than I had realized as little as a few months ago.

Tony

Shin's Unpublished Posts - Why Remember?

2009-02-16T00:52:00.000+08:00

Shin has a bunch of unpublished draft posts in her blog account. She probably didn't think they were interesting enough to publish or held back for other reasons, but I find them very interesting now. I thought I would publish some of them.

This post is about what she wanted to rememered for. There was a cancer blog by Leroy Sievers that was an inspiration to Shin. Leroy once asked what his readers wanted to live for. Shin wrote in that her kids were 1 and 3 (at that time) and that she wanted more years so that her kids could remember her. Not for any particular accomplishement but just to remember her being her. Being a famous journast Leroy appeared on TV quite often and had a documentary done about his battle with cancer. I noticed in most interviews he would quote Shin's comment about the mother that wanted her kids to remember her for being her. Shin had a talent for having her words stand out. There were hundreds of responses to Leroy's question, but for some reason it was Shin's that he continued to quote.

Shin's post (10 Dec 2008).......

People want to leave a mark on this world, leave behind a legacy, be immortalized in history books. That's never seemed important to me. After all, why would I care what people remember or think or say about me after I'd dead and gone? I'll be gone, after all.

The only reason leaving behind any kind of legacy is important to me is for my kids. If they can't have a living mother, at least they can have the memories of a mother who loved them to pieces. That isn't about me being encapsulated in their hearts and minds so that my existence on Earth will not have been for naught; it's about giving the kids something, anything to replace the mother who had to leave them too early.

The Race To The Finish

2009-02-15T12:00:00.008+08:00

I just downloaded a memory card from my camera onto my computer with photos from the past month. It's sureal to see photos of Shin alive and looking good. The final stages did not feel very fast as they were happening, but I sit here today and look at a photo of her looking so alive and feel stunned how quickly it all happened.

Shin has already given quite specific details of her condition, but I thought I would start with a quick recap of what medicallly was going wrong. By the end, so many different things were breaking down at once and it seemed like a race to which problem would get Shin first.

The first problem arose during the Christmas holidays. As she has written, both her gall bladder and liver where giving her problems. Her gall bladder had a bacterial infection and would normaly have been removed via simple surgery, but she was not strong enough for the operation. Her liver was 20% swollen and filled with numerous tumors that made up about half the mass of her liver. The tumors were growing fast. With her liver so weak she thought she would not be able to survive more chemo so we stopped chemo treatments on the 10th of January. She only lived for 17 more days.

The next problem that became critical was her lungs. She started to really struggle with her breathing and she was on the oxygen machine for most of the day. The doctors said the fluid around her lungs was reducing her breathing capacity. The main option was to drain the fluid in the lining of the lungs, which led to the 16 Jan post where she described her worst day so far, when the draining triggered a panic breathing episode. The draining did not have the immediate effect we had hoped. But we continued to drain about 500ml per day which seemed to reduce her coughing but didn't do much to help her breathing. But the draining process itself was lowering her blood pressure and making her feel dizzy. In fact the doctors were not able to get a diastolic reading for Shin. It became clear we would not have the option of removing too much fluid and thus she would face increasing pressure on her lungs. At this stage it seemed like a race between her lungs and her liver as to which would get her first.

A few days after the drain was put in, Shin stopped eating. It was painful to eat. It was a big effort, it made her miserable and she had no desire to eat. In fact, she had not had an appetite for weeks but had been eating because she knew she needed to to take her medication. She was aware her time was limited and didn't feel the need to prolong things by doing something that made her uncomfortable. She also wanted to do things her way and take control of her situation.

About the same time, her breathing troubles started to increase. The doctors found that her heart was racing to make up for the lack of oxygen and for the low blood pressure. So the condition of her heart and her overall nutrition entered the race to be the final straw for Shin.

Given all this, Shin's body was strong. It had always been strong. She had rarely been sick. She had amazingly few side effects to all her cancer treatments throughout the three years and had been resilient not just on an emotional level but on a physical level too.

The good news was that Shin did not have to suffer, except for a few episodes where she suffered breathing panic attacks that made her feel like she was suffocating. But essentially we were able to control her discomfort in that last week with three drugs. 1) morphine - for pain relief and to help make breathing easier, 2) Midazolam - which helped with anxiety and sleeping and 3) Haloperidal - which helped with the hallucinations Shin was experiencing as a result of both the disease and the cocktail of drugs she was on. Her hallucinations were often very simple and sometimes funny. She often thought someone was lying on her lap, or that a kid was in her room.

We increased the morphine dose quite quickly to keep her comfortable. In the last several days she was on 125mg per day. I looked up what a lethal dose was considered to be on the internet and it said 125mg per day. Shin's body was getting used to the higher doses but she was also half the size of a normal person. So the final element that joined the race to get to Shin was her morphine levels and the rate at which it was increasing. In order to keep her comfortable the morphine could slow down and eventually stop her breathing.

So in the end it was a race between liver, lungs, heart, nutrition, and morphine. And although it seemed to happen in slow motion, it was only 11 days from the draining of her lungs to her death.

This post was meant to be a medical recap of what Shin was facing. I have thoughts on the pain relief strategies that we used, what it was like to be able to care for her at home, and what happened in the final days. I'l follow up in the next few days.

The Final Stage of Cancer

2009-02-14T09:02:00.000+08:00

I've been putting off writing about Shin's final weeks, but I do think it's important to share it.

I recall that as Shin and I learned that her situation was terminal, we were very uncertain about what the final stages would be like. The mystery and uncertainty were frightening. Blogs that we followed where a cancer patient died, usually ended without it being clear how it happened. Shin had a friend who died of cancer in the past year, and when Shin asked husband how it happened, all he could say was "it's too horrible to talk about". We have another friend who's father past away and had chosen to remain conscious for as long as possible instead of increasing morphine, which led to final stages that were very difficult for our friend. In the final weeks I think Shin was at peace with the fact she was going to die soon but I think we were all afraid about how it was going to happen.

I think if we knew then what we know now, we would have been less frieghtened. And although if feels rather personal writing about Shin's last days, and she didn't want to be remembered as a sick person on her deathbed, I think Shin would have wanted me to share her experience. So I'll collect my thoughts over the next few days and update on the final stages.

Here is one note of general encouragement. One night, the palliative care doctor and nurse stayed for dinner and then stayed to talk more to Shin's parents and answer their questions (this would be 9pm and our palliative care doctor had a toddler at home). We said that Shin seems quite at peace to us, and asked is this unusual? I imagined most people really struggling with their death. The doctor said no, that the vast majority of her patients are at peace when they die. We also asked if religion made a big difference. She said no that She herself was Christian, but in her experience most people find peace with religion or without.

Tony

Memorial - Kindness poem read by Ella, Ciara, and Josie

2009-02-13T00:28:00.004+08:00

Ella (Michelle's daughter) wrote a poem called kindness. Shin was so impressed and raved and raved about it. We decided Ella, Ciara and Josie could read it at the memorial service. Shin would have been proud of them.

Shin's Palliative Care Team- Thank You

2009-02-12T21:30:00.000+08:00

I would like to take a moment here to explain to you the enormous help provided to us by the Assisi Palliative Home Care doctors and nurses. We would NOT have been able to cope in those last four weeks without them. I am writing about them for two reasons. Firstly to say thank you to them and to show publicly our huge appreciation for all they did for us, and secondly to tell those of you who may one day need this kind of help, just how valuable it is. I honestly never thought we would need this support. I wish someone had told me.

Carol (Tony's mum) and I spent days phoning and visiting hospices and home care teams in Singapore to work out which would be best for Shin. We chose Assisi partly because of its quality hospice facilities and flexible entry rules. But mostly because of the passion and good feeling we felt while we were there. The lady who was the face of the organisation was the primary reason for our final decision because of the warmth and comfort she gave us in representing Assisi.

From the first time a doctor and nurse arrived at our home to the very last visit we had, we received nothing but love, compassion, understanding, professionalism and quality advice. Their primary objective was to make sure Shin was comfortable, no matter what.

And believe it or not, this service is FREE to all Singaporeans.

We used a combination of morphine, midazolam and haloperidal to help reduce/remove Shin's pain and breathing problems and they constantly adjusted the levels of each to get them just right. They took the time to explain to us what to expect at each step. They treated Shin with respect. They treated us with respect.

Tony and I will write more about what we, and Shin experienced through the last couple of weeks. I hope that all of this is helping or will help others.

Thank you to everyone at the Memorial Service who donated so generously to Assisi, we raised just short of $5,000 which has been passed to Assisi in honor of Shin.

Thank you Assisi, for everything you did for Shin. She is a special person and she deserved such professionalism and love.

Michelle.

More comments from Children

2009-02-10T23:37:00.004+08:00

I've remembered a few more interesting comments, I thought I would share - mostly just as an insight to how kids think about loss.

I mentioned that Toby had already decided that Jin (Shin's sister) should be my new bedmate, but I had forgotten about the more direct things they were saying to Jin. On the same day that Shin died, Josie asked Jin if she could be her mommy now. Also Toby hugged Jin and said "my mommy" several times. Jin looks a lot like Shin and has a similar enthusiastic loving spirit that I think reminds the kids of Shin.

Before Shin passed away but after I had explained that mommy might die soon, Toby had an interesting conversation with our helper, Elisa. Most people assume that at 3 Toby is to young to understand what's going on, but I've been amazed at how quickly and clearly he thinks through the implications of what is going on, what it implies for him and what he needs. This is a great example. When Elisa cam back from the Philippines after Christmas holidays she brought back some good mangos. Toby loved them and asked Elisa to go back and get some more. After I told Toby that mommy might die soon, Toby told Elisa that he doesn't want any more mangos. He said he didn't want Elisa to go back to the Philippines. And that he doesn't want to get a new "auntie". A neighbor's "auntie" just went back to the Philippines and their family got a new helper and Toby seemed aware of the possibility. He asked Elisa if she was going back to the Philippines, because he didn't want a new auntie. Elisa asked why, did your father say something? But she was quick to figure it out that it was Toby just looking stabilize the people around him.

Josie's music teacher, who is a longtime friend called to say she is looking out for Josie and told Josie that if she is feeling sad that she can come and visit her. Seems Josie took her up on it right away and came during the next recess break with her friend Poppy, saying she was sad. I'd bet she just likes the special attention, and it is comforting to me to know that it is there. Her music teacher mentioned that the class was talking about the coming parent/teacher/student meetings. Josie said to the class her mother is not coming. A fellow student said, yeah because she was dead. Her music teacher said yes, but she will still be listening, and was a little taken aback by the bluntness. I mentioned to her music teacher that the bluntness and openness are probably good, and much better than secrecy and mystery. But there is a risk that I have read about. Kids can be mean and can pick on one's greatest sensitivity. It is not uncommon for a child suffering loss to stand out as being different due to the loss and then picked on because of it. So far I think the kids (and myself) have received only kind and loving support (to an unbelievable degree really). I think the school fosters great values and support for others. But I am bracing myself for the the probable day that our existing hurt is met with meanness.

Thanks to everyone writing in comments. I have not had time to respond to them, but I read them all. Great suggestions of helping the kids, touching stories of similar circumstances, and I really appreciate the kindness and support.

Tony

Children and Loss - Questions

2009-02-09T19:30:00.005+08:00

After Shin passed away I told Josie and Toby and explained it to their friends as well. Their reactions were mostly silent and watching what other adults were doing. They didn't really cry. Toby was both a little clingy but also distracted and wanted to get back to playing with his friends. Josie was worried that I was sad and didn't want to dwell on it.

I've talked to the kids regularly about Shin and how they are feeling. Mostly I try to analyze the various comments they make from time to time. Here is a sample of some of the things they will say.

On the same day Shin died, Josie asked if I would marry again. She seemed to think it was a good idea. She didn't say so, but I think she was seeking to be a complete family again.

The next morning, Toby came into my room and said he wanted Aunt Jin to sleep in my bed where Shin slept. I told that's an interesting idea. But likewise, I see it as his way of trying to help fix our family.

I mentioned in a previous post that I had talked to Josie about burials and cremation and how she didn't like the idea of cremation. But after Shin died, I explained to her and her friend Ciara who was with her at the time that Shin had donated her body to research. I said that mommy hoped that with extra research, one day they might find a cure for cancer. I said they would take the body and then in six months cremate the body and give us back the ashes. I said it was a smart thing for her to do, and explained that the doctor we spoke to said it is rarely done in Singapore. Ciara asked why don't more people do it, I said I wasn't sure but that some people might not be comfortable with it. Josie said it doesn't matter what happens to your body after your dead and that when she dies she wants to donate her body to research as well.

Josie asked what we will do with the ashes. I said mommy suggested we spread the ashes in the ocean and that way when you want to go talk to her, you can go to the ocean and feel like she is there. Josie said she didn't want to do that and that she wanted to keep the ashes. I said we won't do anything until we all agree.

Josie has used crying for mommy a few times when she is being naughty. The other night she was delaying brushing her teeth at bed time. I was getting cross with her and she was whining and crying. She has behaved like this on various occasions in the past, but this time she cried she wants mommy. I think she is being clever and manipulative. Its a tricky one. My approach has been to not ease up on discipline. But its hard not just to break down and give her hugs. I try to give her extra comfort once she is in bed.

I saw Josie had written in an old writing practice book. Several pages had Shin written repeatedly. The next pages had Mommy written down the columns. This was followed by pages of "loves", then several pages of "Josie". All the words had a line crossed through them. I'm not sure why. It seems she didn't want anyone to see it. I told she did a good job and that Mommy would have liked it. I asked why she had crossed it out, and she said she was drawing the cross lines like in the book.

Josie was writing a list of people she wanted to invite to her birthday party. She listed a group of girls that she is friends with and then listed Toby, Nana, Daddy, Mommy, and Josie. Probably not a big deal, but I wasn't sure if it was a consious thing she did or if it was just a simple mistake.

There are various times the kids will make quick comments. Toby in the car the other day sudden blurted "I miss mommy". I was walking with Josie by a clothes store and she saw a mannequin in a sun dress and Josie said that looks like mommy.

Overall, I'm amazed at how well Josie and Toby are doing. I had imagined it being much harder. I suspect that their are difficult times to come, but the fact that they have dealt so well this far makes it much easier for me.

Children and Loss - An open talk with children

2009-02-08T21:07:00.000+08:00

Two nights before Shin passed away I sat down with Josie and Toby along with Michelle's family and Alicia's family (they both have two daughters aged between 6 to 8). We talked about how the doctor's thought Shin only had a day or two left and we talked about saying goodbye.

It was a difficult conversation from many angels. Some of the things I was aware of was the fact that I had been talking to Josie and Toby, but I always did it when we were on our own. I was worried that it was feeling like a secret topic. I didn't want Josie and Toby to feel alone with their loss. From Alicia's and Michelle's perspective they each had to deal with explaining death to their kids. We agreed we would all sit down together to talk about it.

I told all six kids that we had increased the medication to a level where Shin was mostly sleeping all the time now. She was comfortable and peaceful but mostly sleeping. I explained that it is not the same as when we go to bed at night and go to sleep. Shin's sleep was a result of the medication (Shin had warned to make sure the kids don't associate sleeping and death and thus create a phobia about sleeping). I said that it was time to say goodbye to Shin. I was also mindful that I had not cried in front of the kids and I had not seen them cry. I knew this would be a difficult talk to get through without crying, but I did not resist it that much. Josie asked if I was crying happy tears, and I said no, they were sad tears becuase I would miss Shin. She did not cry herself but she gave me hugs.

I told the kids that they could go and see Shin sleeping if they want to say goodbye to her directly or they can say their goodbyes in quietly on their own if they wanted. This is a fairly delicate issue from Shin's perspective. She didn't want a lot of deathbed visitors, and just didn't want people's last thought of her to be frail and dying - especially the kids. But I was convinced that she looked peaceful and that it was important to say goodbye. So I took Josie and Toby and they hugged and kissed Shin and said goodbye and they loved her.

Alicia's kids started the idea of of writing love/farewell cards to Shin. Michelle's kids were writing cards as well and Josie and Toby joined in. Then the kids went in to put their cards on Shin's bed and they all said goodbye to Shin.

This was also Alicia's birthday. So after we had gone through the heavy emotion of saying goodbye, we all gathered around and sang happy birthday to Alicia and had some champagne.

I was quite uncertain about how to handle all of this and whether this was a good approach or not. While there are lots of guide books about "what to expect when your expecting" the books are much fewer about what to do in these situations. But after it all, Michelle, Alicia, Dennis, Brendan and I all felt that this was a really good and therapeutic thing we had done. I was comforted that Josie and Toby knew it was ok to cry, and that they don't have to be alone with it. Their best friends knew just as much as they did and it was all out in the open. I think Michelle and Alicia also felt it was an important lesson for their kids. And it was nice they we had the opportunity to show that despite feeling sad we can move on and celebrate and have some cake for Alicia.

Memorial - Eulogy by Alicia

2009-02-08T19:49:00.002+08:00

The link below is for the video of the Eulogy that Alicia read at Shin's memorial service. The video misses actually misses the first paragraph of Alicia's comments. See the written text in the post from a few days ago for the her full comments.

http://www.vimeo.com/3119315

Tony

Memorial - Michelle's Letter to Shin

2009-02-07T10:47:00.003+08:00

Attached is a link to the video of Michelle's letter to Shin. Thanks again Lynn & James, its beautiful and I treasure what you've done (http://lianain.blogspot.com/).

Tony

http://www.vimeo.com/3091574

Children and Loss

2009-02-07T08:12:00.003+08:00

I've found that a lot of the advice from books on how to help children deal with loss is very age specific. Shin's blog has been about sharing, and thus I did want to share what our approach has been in helping the children, but ultimately I imagine any insights are only helpful to other families who happen to have similarly aged children as Josie (almost 6), and Toby (3).

After reading various books I think some of the key things we took to heart were 1) children hold a surprisingly strong grudge over "white lies" told to them, 2) its not their fault, its not their fault, its not their fault - its surprising how kids can take blame on themselves, 3) at young ages, its really all about them - who will take care of them, how will things change ...etc, 4) they won't really know how to feel and act and will take their cues from us.

Other things which we tried to prepare for were 1) overcoming being alone with the loss, 2) avoiding being picked on for being different, 3) answering other questions - are they orphans?, what happens if something happens to me?, will i re-marry?, what happens to the body? ...4) discipline has to be kept up as kids are likely to feel more insecure if patterns are changed.

So from the beginning, we been pretty straight with the kids about Shin's cancer. When Josie was only 2, Shin explained she had cancer, what it was, that it was not something you can "catch", that there are treatments that can make her better but that it may make her hair fall out and may make her tired and feel sick, and importantly that she could die. As it turned out Shin had surprisingly few side effects to the chemo, but she did loose her hair. Shin didn't like the feel of a wig and Shin was always the "accept (or not) me as I am" type of person. We noticed that hair issue seemed fairly big for Josie who was then about 3. Other kids in Josie's kindergarden class would stop and stare at Shin. Shin would simply explain that she is taking a special type of medicine that makes her hair fall out (needing to emphasize its a very special type of medicine - no other medicine will do that). Shin was outside Josie's class once waiting to pick her up while the kids were working on an art project. Shin heard Josie stand up and announce to the class the her mommy does not have any hair. It was not really a big deal, but it did signal that it was something she was dwelling on and seemed to be worried about others reactions to it.

As Shin's condition got worse with the recurrence and the spread to lungs, liver, and brain, we debated how much to tell the children. We decided that we didn't need to change what we had already been saying. That is that Shin still has cancer, the doctors have not been able to make it go away yet and Shin still needs to take medicine. Its true that at that stage normal life expectancy could be as little as 4-5 months. But we thought even that is too long for the kids to deal with. As it turned out the extra year that Shin had was already half of Toby's life. So we saved conversations that Shin was probably not likely to make it until Shin started to really weaken and we thought she would not have much longer left. As it turned out she had about 3 weeks left when we started giving the kids more information.

We planned on talking to them together, but it turned out hard to find a good time when Shin was able to talk and the kids were calm enough to listen. So instead we agreed I would talk to them when I had a chance. I explained that the doctors do not think they are going to be able to cure Mommy's cancer and that she could die and it could be soon. I explained that I would take care of them, Elisa our helper would be here to help take care of them and that their Grandmother (my mother) would move here more permantly to help take care of them. Josie asked what if something happens to me. I gave them the long list of people who love them and would want to take care of them. Toby asked what if all the grownups die, and I said that wont happen or the kids won't have anybody to boss them around and they could eat chocolate and watch movies all day - which made them quite excited. I said the I've read on the interenet (which to yound kids is the all knowing library), that many children who lose their parent think is their fault. I asked who's fault do they think it is? Josie said it was the cancer's fault. I told her she is very smart, and that we all did everything we could to make Shin better and it was no one's fault.

We talked about when some people die and they are buried and others are cremated. Josie didn't like the sound of cremation and said she didn't want that. We talked about how the body doesn't matter after we die. I said mommy's soul will be in your heart and in heaven. We talked about Star Wars which we had recently scene and talked about how when Ben Kenobe and Yoda died, they still looked after Luke Skywalker. Not being religious, makes things more difficult at this stage. I'd be happy to tell them anything that would make it easier for them, but also aware that I don't want to make my words seem insincere if one day I explain to the kids that I myself am not religious.

Josie said she hoped mommy won't "die soon" (I noticed she used my words). I tried hard to keep my composure and did not cry as I explained this to the kids. I don't think I was cold and unemotional but tried hard to keep strong. As a result neither Toby or Josie cried when I explained this all to them. Partly, they may have already known it, seeing Shin get weaker over time. Also maybe the withdrawal process is not so severe since Shin had been increasingly less able to do things with the kids, and thus they were already used to me doing everything for and with them.

The other thing I did after I spoke to the kids was explain to their schools the situation and what I had explained to the kids and asked them to keep an eye on Josie and Toby and let me know if they were behaving differently. As it turned out they seemed to do just fine. Josie's teacher mentioned that there was a school outing to Chinatown and about 10 of the other kid's mothers came along and that Josie was likely thinking of her mother not being able to come. Josie seemed to cry rather quickly when she got in an argument with a friend, but bounced back quickly and got over it. She sat on the bus next to her teacher and they talked about the movie the "Polar Express".

I continued to try to talk to the kids every day about their mother. I kept trying to make sure they felt secure that they will be well taken care of. Josie got tired of hearing about how they will be taken care of. So we talked about what we would miss most. I'm repeating my Eulogy, but Josie said her love, I said her smile and Toby said all of her. Josie said its ok because she will always find her love in her heart and I could find her smile in my heart. and Toby chimed in that he will find all of her in her heart.

This post is long enough already and I'm emotionally tired going through it again. I still want to update on how we all said goodbye and how we have been doing since, but I'l have to do that in the next post.

Tony

Memorial Service - Eulogy by Tony (video)

2009-02-05T17:45:00.002+08:00

Attached, is the video of Tony's Eulogy. We'll post the other segments when they are finished being edited.

Tony

http://www.vimeo.com/3077874

Memorial Service - poem by Ella, Ciara & Josie

2009-02-05T17:30:00.001+08:00

Memorial Service - Shin's last word

2009-02-04T20:12:00.003+08:00

Memorial Service - letter from Michelle

2009-02-04T20:00:00.001+08:00

Memorial Service - The Paddle Salute

2009-02-03T17:34:00.003+08:00

Below is the video of the first part of memorial service. It started with the paddle salute. These are Shin's teammates from her breast cancer dragon boat team. She was really impressed and surprised by her teammates on her dragon boat team for being so brave, spunky and full of life. Several teammates are still battling advance cancer. Our thoughts are with them.

I was really happy with the quality of the video. Shin's friends Lynn Lee and James Leong who are documentary film makers shot and edited the video. Shin and I loved their movies (Homeless FC, Aki Ra's Boys, Passabe). They have a great knack for finding and unusual story and bringing it to life. Now they are working on a movie about an athlete from Africa who wants to be the first black African in the Tour de France. I think it comes out later this year. Think of it as Shin's parting advice, you got to check out their movies when you get a chance (http://www.lianain.blogspot.com/).

The first video clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjxBhYsSBC0

Memorial Service - Eulogy by Alicia

2009-02-03T17:32:00.002+08:00

Memorial Service - Eulogy by Tony

2009-02-03T17:25:00.004+08:00

The overall service consisted of 1) the paddle salute and song from her dragon boat team, 2) The Eulogy from Tony, 3) Eulogy by Alicia, 3) A poem read by Ella Brady, Ciara Brady and Josie Raza, 4) a word for thanks from Ms Kwek, found of the Breast Cancer Foundation in Singapore, 5) Michelle reading her final letter to Shin and reading Shin's letter to everyone, 6) the photo slideshow, 7) the balloon release.

Below is the Eulogy from Tony:

Eulogy for Shin
By Tony Raza, her husband

The English Language
Anyone who knows Shin, knows this is a sad day for the English language. Shin was truly extraordinary when it came to her proficiency with language, and anyone who knew her would be reminded of this repeatedly.

I would guess she would be in some unique upper percentile when it came to grammar ability. She would read the New York Times or Wall Street Journal and highlight mistake after mistake and complain that nobody cares about grammar anymore. My theory is that if you can find more grammar mistakes than the editor of the NYT that should make Shin one of the top .001%. Which when you combine with her type A personality made for an interesting combination. Shin would walk around town with a pen marker and correct sign after sign. Misspelled word here, improper use of “its” – as an abbreviation for “it is” it needs need an apostrophe, but in the possessive form it does not, confusion of lie and lay since everyone should remember that the past tense of one verb is the same as the present tense as the other. She would walk into a store and demand of the befuddled clerk that they take down their front sign that had a mistake. It drove me crazy at the time, … but yes, I miss it already.

The Blog
I think many people here today may be here because of the blog. To me its only a small part of Shin, but it offers a good window into the type of person shin was, so let me talk a bit about the blog.

I had originally suggested to Shin to start a blog so that she can keep family a friends updated on her condition. It was time consuming to make 20 phone calls after every development. Also, we had started reading other blogs about people with cancer and we found it very useful to build our understanding of how the disease could progress and how it affected people. I think if it were me, that was all the blog would have been, a way to update family and some more informational data points for other cancer patients.

But Shin being Shin, she turned it into something more. At some points, She was getting thousands of hits a day and was noted by various newspapers and television reports. Shin would walk through malls or hospitals and people would come up to her and say “you are the woman with the blog”. One time a group of teenagers recognized her at borders and gathered their friends. They said they were Christian and wanted to pray for her. Shin was charmed and agreed. It was a funny scene with 10 or so teenagers kneeling and praying around Shin in borders while she smiled and giggled.

I’ve thought a lot about what was it that made Shin and her blog catch on the way it did. Her gift for words was obviously a strength for her. Her feisty spirit made her posts more interesting to read. Pictures of cute kids probably helped. And there was a lot of sharing of personal details and feelings that I think was appreciated.

But I’ve also long thought that Shin was one of the unique individuals described in the book the Tipping Point. In the book Malcom Gladwell says “The success of any kind of social epidemic is heavily dependent on the involvement of people with a particular and rare set of social skills." He describes the different type of people that are needed to make change and the most important are rarest type is what he calls a “connector”. Connectors are the people who "link us up with the world ... people with a special gift for bringing the world together." They are, "a handful of people with a truly extraordinary knack for making friends and acquaintances". I thought about Shin in that light ever since I read the book years ago, but watching the blog catch on confirmed it to me. I was lucky to have been with such a person.

And of course, the other really special thing about the blog was the connection it made to so many people. Shin and I would read the emails and comments of stories of similar challenges and loss, words of encouragement or admiration and Shin and I would lie in bed and get choked up reading them. I have similarly been reading the comments on the blog that past few days, and I’m very very touched. The kind words, the memories of shin, the sharing of similar experiences are all appreciated. Thanks to you all.

Preparing the kids
One night in the past couple of weeks when Shin was getting more tired, I told her that I had just gone to the check on Josie and Toby who were sleeping in their room. I told her they were so cute and I was so lucky to have the treasure She has left me. She held up two fingers and said “two treasures”.
Shin wanted to be honest with the children and she wanted them to be prepared. When Josie was only 2, Shin told Josie that Shin had breast cancer and that some people die of it, but that the doctors were helping Shin do everything possible to get better. Josie got used to seeing their mother in various stages of treatment, with or without hair, and in or out of bed. And then 2-3 weeks ago we started explaining that the doctors don’t think they can cure the cancer any more and that Mommy could die and in might be soon. I explained that I will take care of them and their grandmother will be here more to take care of them. Josie asked what if something happened to me, and I explained that there was nana and my brothers family, Shin’s brothers family, and friends like Michelle, Deb and Alicia that love and would take care of them too. Surprisingly, it was Toby who asked what if something happened to all the grownups. To which I said well, then I guess the children will be able to eat chocolate and watch movies all day without grownups to boss them around. Which seemed to get the kids positively excited about the idea and they spend the rest of the day imagining how great it could be.
A few days before Shin passed away, Josie, Toby and I talked about what we would miss the most. Josie said she would miss her love, I said I would miss her smile and Toby said all of her. Josie said it was ok because she could always find Shin’s love in her heart, and I could find her smile in my heart, and then Toby piped up “yeah and I can find all of her in my heart”.

To the Kids in the room
We have a fair number of kids in the room. Thanks for being good friends to Josie and Toby. I want to say some thing directly you kids here. Sometimes adults have saying that are clever but a little hard to understand. Lets see who can understand these sayings: ready?
- Ok first one – “It not the years in your life, but the life in you years” – That sound confusing right? To Josie, it means is that your mom may not have lived to be very old, but she sure was happy a lot and helped others a lot with the years she did have. Some people live much longer, but never do as much and love as much as your mom did.
- Here is another: “Don’t cry because she is gone, smile because she was here”. Its going to be hard for us because we are going to miss her so much. But we should remember that it was such a joy to have when we did and really aren’t we lucky for that.
- A friend wrote: “Shin was a small women who made a big impact, she was a force to be reckoned with” - Right, you don’t have to be big to do big things. Mommy was a small person but she made a big impact on a lot of people. Look at how many people are here now.
- Last one: “When death smiles at us; all a man can do is smile back” – That one is about being brave like your mom. When you face scary things in your lives, think of your mom who faced something scary like cancer with a smile.

Shin’s heart
Shin’s English language skills and the blog are interesting points about Shin, but I was really just warming up to trying to say something about what it was that really made Shin special. The was something special about the way Shin was so full of life.

Josie and Toby would know what I’m talking about right?. Josie, do you remember when mommy would come home and squeal “Josie!” or “Toby!” with the biggest smile in the world. Didn’t she just make the whole room fill up with happiness. Its not quite the same as when Dad comes home, right? I say hi josie!, you say hi dad. That is something we will miss.

I recall when I was first falling in love with Shin I had this epiphany about why I was falling so deeply for Shin so quickly. I felt her love and affection would light up a room and make me feel like I’m the only person in the world. I started to tell her how I felt and she said, “yeah that what all my boyfriends have told me”. I actually felt a bit deflated at the time, but I kind of look back at if fondly now thinking about her string of boyfriends that were as spellbound as I was. I guess there is part of it that is true to everyone in love, but trust me, you can only imagine the force that emanates from Shin’s love. I think friends feel it too, and that’s why she has so many strong friendships.

Shin probably would have wanted me to talk more about causes Shin worked for, environment, recycling, saving energy, cancer awareness, kids in need. As many of you would know she would hand out pamphlets on breast cancer awareness to everyone she meets. She saved her head for the children’s cancer foundation only a month after it had grown back after chemotherapy, raising and amazing $20k in the process. She should be proud of her accomplishments, but personally I think it all really starts with that bundle of loving energy the radiates from her.

Good friends
I’ve found there are some benefits to dieing relatively young. I’m comforted to think Shin went out as well as one can. First the nature of cancer lets you prepare. Shin had 3 years since her initial diagnosis and a little of a year since her recurrence to set thing in order. There will always be more that one can think of doing , but Shin prepared well and I think helped put her at ease that her family would be ok.

And being young is helpful when you have young and capable friends to help. Which brings me to friends like Michelle and Alicia. Michelle has been an amazing friend to Shin, taking on the role of being her cancer buddy, which involves organizing an overwhelming about of information, tests, scans and research, and holding her hand during treatment. Michelle and Alicia were in our home 24 hours a day during the final week as we took shifts in caring for her. I was very comforted knowing that Shin had the luxury of being cared by loved ones at home. The hospice doctors and nurses from Assisi hospice were wonderful. And I am so happy that Shin in her death was at peace with setting things in order, and surrounded by an abundance of love that made her parting as comfortable as possible.

Shin’s father wrote in an email to Michelle and Alicia that he was so thankful to them and he thought they were truly angels. Our friend Rahul wrote to Michelle that she was an angel sent from a place Shin says doesn’t exist.

And to the kids in the room, when you want to learn what it means to be a true friend, think of the example of Michelle and Alicia.

Conclusion
On my very first date with Shin …. Not really a date, a lunch. She was a tv producer at CNBC and I came on her program to talk about stocks, and through that we met and agreed to go out to lunch. She told me then that she didn’t want to get married and didn’t want to have kids, and told me emphatically she could never be a stay at home mother. She fancied herself a smart world traveler that was going to live a lot of what this world has to offer and do something good for it. The people she admired were her friends like Kate Webb, the highly regarded, brave, no-nonsense war correspondent, who passed last year. Its ironic really, because, as I write her Eulogy, what it all boils down to for me is that she was a wonderful mother and wife, and ironically, I truly think that is how she would want to be remembered.

In the end, I think Shin was comfortable with her allotment of life. Before kids we talked once that if the plane we were on went down, we’d be ok with that. We’ve traveled the world, we’ve studied at great universities, we had interesting work, and we’ve experienced deep love and various worldly pleasures. We’d prefer more, but if that was all we got, we would have to admit that our lives were among the most fulfilling in the history of the planet. Children changed that a bit, as our hearts become completely engrossed in making sure they were taken care of. Children made it harder to let go. But with the time we had to prepare, I think Shin was finally confident that everything would be taken care of.

Its my promise to you Shin, I’ll take good care of Josie and Toby. You don’t have to worry about a thing. You can rest in peace. Thanks for making us so proud of you. And you will always still be alive in our hearts.

Memorial Service - Director's Cut

2009-02-02T07:29:00.006+08:00

Attached, are a couple of video clips that we had prepared for the memorial service, but had decided not to include as part of the service.

There is a clip of Shin being silly and hamming it up for the camera as she danced in a friend's pair of $2,000 shoes. The second clip is from sometime in 2006 when she sang Louis Armstrong's, "What a Wonderfull World", when out to dinner with some friends (she readily admitted she was quite tone deaf, but her spirit makes up for lack of vocal prowess:).

We liked these clips but we were uncertain how it would play at the memorial service. We wanted to the overall service to be a rather upbeat affair, as Shin had wanted, and we were worried the video would end the services on more of a down note than we intended. The photo slideshow was more upbeat as Shin is always smiling.

Luckily we have this blog, to bring the director's cut of the segments that did not make the final production.

Tony

Link to CNA article

2009-02-01T23:24:00.002+08:00

Here is a link to the CNA story on the memorial service.

http://www.channelnewsasia.com/stories/singaporelocalnews/view/406103/1/.html

Here is the CNA link on the story of her passing and her decision to leave her body to research. This article also includes a link to the tv news segment that was on the channel the night before.

http://www.channelnewsasia.com/stories/singaporelocalnews/view/405425/1/.html

Tony

Memorial Service Slideshow

2009-02-01T19:43:00.004+08:00

Thank you to everyone who attended Shin's memorial services yesterday. I was very moved by the overwhelming warmth and support everyone offered.

We plan to put up highlights from the Memorial service over the next few days. To start with here is the slideshow that concluded the services:

Tony

Shin's memorial service address

2009-01-31T11:15:00.001+08:00

Here is the address for today's service:

Asian Civilization Museum
1 Empress Place
Singapore 179555

Please see the earlier blog post regarding road closures and parking.

Another link to today's Today

2009-01-29T09:57:00.002+08:00

Another commenter provided this link to an article in the Today paper. http://www.todayonline.com/pdf_open.asp?id=2901HNL002

I have to thank the journalists from MediaCorp. They have been very helpful and considerate to us, and I think have done a very thoughtful job in their reports on Shin.

Tony

Kids not flowers

2009-01-29T09:42:00.002+08:00

We've been asked are kids invited to the service and where can flowers be sent.

Yes, kids are invited. Josie and Toby will be there and it would be good if they do not feel they were alone in this. We think we will make if fairly concise and happy enough that it won't be too much of a struggle for kids to sit though. Also there special exhibit in the next room is a kid focused exhibit.

No, please don't overwhelm us with flowers. Shin would think it would be a waste. In lieu of flowers please send a donation to Assisi Hospice (which did such a great job for Shin, more on that in a later blog), the Breast Cancer Foundation, or the Children's Cancer foundation - or any other cause you think appropriate.

And I don't mean to be unappreciative of flowers already sent. We have placed them where we placed the tree at Christmas time, and Josie said they look like a beautiful white Christmas tree.

Tony and Michelle

Shin's Memorial Jan 31st - more details

2009-01-29T08:28:00.006+08:00

We will be celebrating our memories of Shin's life this Saturday. Shin's life was about laughing, loving, giving. It was about kids and families. To continue this, we would like to invite your children too, to join Josie, Toby and all of us in celebrating Shin's life.

The details
Terrace Room, 1st Floor, Asian Civilization Museum (there will be signs up to guide you there)
3.00pm arrive
3.30pm Pink Paddlers' salute
3.45pm Eulogies
4.15pm Video/Photos with memories of Shin
4.30pm Balloon release followed by food and drinks

There will be some roads blocked for some Chinese New Year celebrations on the day. Please see details below for both road closures and parking.

Given our open invitation, we are uncertain as to how many will be coming to Shin's service. So we will have a few chairs available for those who can't stand, but the remainder of us will be standing during the service.

In lieu of flowers Shin would really like us to donate money to the Assisi Hospice, Home Care Team. This team of people helped us so much more than we could have imagined. They came every day and phoned several times a day. They guided us and helped us to understand what to expect. They helped Shin through these last weeks in doing what they needed to assure us of her comfort. of her comfort. They do all of this for free, for all singapore families who need help with these difficult times. Please feel free to bring donations to the memorial service where I will collect them and pass them on in honor of Shin.

Road Closures and Parking
Road closure - doesn't affect Empress Place, Old Parliament Lane. Drivers can drive via High Street, to Parliament place and turn into Old Parliament Lane to ACM (Empress Place). They can exit via Fullerton Road. There is no valet parking at ACM. Places to park are either at Fullerton hotel or Parliament House (basement carpark).

Michelle, Tony & Alicia

Mandarin Links

2009-01-29T05:11:00.003+08:00

A reader posted these links in comments, and I thought I would highlight them in a post.

Ryann de mummie has left a new comment on your post "Memorial Service":

Hi all,

Video of the news with regards to Shin donating her organs (Mandarin)

http://video2.channelnewsasia.com/cnavideos/chineseplayer.asp?skin=Player1.swf&player=chineseplayer.swf&filename=xin_ch_wed15.flv

Article on Xin.sg (Mandarin)

http://www.xin.sg/article.php?article=28300

Thanks,

Tony

Memorial Service

2009-01-28T16:24:00.003+08:00

Shin's memorial service will be on Saturday at 3pm at the Asian Civilization Museum. Everyone who wishes to come should feel invited. We understand that there will be some road closures that day, so we will post more details on what to watch out for. I'd expect dress to be nice casual.

Tony, Michelle, Alicia

In Death as in Life

2009-01-28T15:44:00.003+08:00

I guess it is fairly significant that Shin decided to donate her organs and body to research. Most readers would probably know that whether it was recycling, saving energy, promoting good health, shaving her head for a good cause or helping a child from the Ukraine, Shin always tried to encourage everyone to help out.

A camera crew from Channel News Asia just came to ask me questions about Shin's decision. They will add a segment from the research centers explaining how helpful it is. I'm amazed that Shin is still able to inspire even though she has passed.

Also, I was surprised how Josie's thoughts evolved on this issue of the past week. Last week I explained what cremation was and Josie seemed sort of scared by the idea. Yesterday, I explained to her and her friend Ciara (Michelle's daughter, and Josie's friend who was with her) that Shin had donated her organs to research and that we would get back her ashes in six months. I told her that she should be proud of her mother for wanting to help others even in her death - and not many others in Singapore do that. Josie said she wanted to donate her organs as well and her friend Ciara said she doesn't understand why more people don't do it, "they are already dead!". Shin would have loved to have heard that conversation.

I'm told the segment will most likely be in the 10pm news program on Channel News Asia. Also, the Today paper called to ask about it and said they will probably have a comment in Today tomorrow.

Tony

For a lover of words

2009-01-28T11:35:00.005+08:00

I really liked this poem from Ali Kati. Shin loved words and I'm sure would have appreciated these.

Tony

- the title should link to it, if not try pasting this: http://alikati.blogspot.com/2009/01/tribute-my-first-walk-in-2009.html

A Brilliant Life

2009-01-27T22:48:00.002+08:00

Our Shin died in her sleep this afternoon.

She was pain free, stress free and peaceful. She did it her way!

Shin decided long ago to donate her body to science and education in order to help find something that will cure this horrible disease. Her generosity continues.

There were many, many people who helped Shin over the three years since she was diagnosed. Friends, doctors, nurses and family. Shin was constantly amazed by the love and kindness shown to her by everyone.

We are organizing a memorial service for Shin, that may be as early as this Saturday. We’ll post again soon when we have more details.

Obviously this is a sad time for all of us, but for now, everyone is holding up really well. We have openly explained to Josie and Toby as well as Michelle, Alicia’s and Katie’s children what was happening to Shin and how we should say good bye. The kids have been amazingly resilient, as well as loving and supporting each other.

We plan to share some more of our thoughts and feelings of what these past few weeks have been like for us. We thought it might give more completeness to this Blog of Shin’s. But for now we need some time with our thoughts and memories.

Tony & Michelle

Yes, No, Yes, No, Maybe!

2009-01-26T16:53:00.007+08:00

Shin had a tough night last night. She was restless and breathless for a lot of the night. The medication was helping but not fixing the problem. With the amazing help of the team of Home Care doctors and nurses from Assisi, Shin is now sleeping peacefully.

When the nurse came in to check her this morning she found no oxygen reading or pulse in her fingers. There was no evident blood pressure in her arms and her pulse elsewhere in her body was weaker than the day before.

In the early hours of this morning I phoned the doctors to describe Shin's situation. They advised me on a plan of action to help make her immediately comfortable. The final question the doctor had was, "Is Shin confused?" I said "no" without hesitation, because I had just been having quite a lucid conversation with her. When I got off the phone I asked Shin whether she was confused, just to make sure. She said "Yes...No...Yes...No...Maybe!" and then smiled.

Shin is now sleeping soundly and is no longer under any distress. She is still breathing, her heart is still pumping. For how long? I don't know!

Michelle & Alicia

She Is Still Feisty And Funny.

2009-01-25T12:16:00.010+08:00

Shin is resting comfortably in her bed, with the cocktail of medication she is on working very well now to keep her calm and pain free.

Her doctors come every day to check on her. The facts are: her blood pressure is so low they can't measure it, her pulse is weak, her heart rate is high to help compensate for the low blood pressure, she still has no appetite and she is breathing 5 - 8 breaths per minute (you should try breathing that slowly, it's not easy!).

The doctors say it is a combination of the disease, the medication and the lack of oxygen that are causing her to be a little "loopy" and fatigued. But she has had some fantastically lucid moments over the past few days that have made us laugh.

She is still correcting my english when I ask her to "lay" down, instead of "lie" down. She is still getting us in trouble if we are not doing it just right. And she is still laughing at the little stories she is hearing from her family from when she was young.

So despite her condition, Shin is still Shin, feisty and funny. And she would want all of us to carry on loving and giving.

Michelle.

She did it her way

2009-01-21T14:15:00.009+08:00

Hi, Michelle again.

Today Shin decided to increase the medication to help her breathe, and take away the pain and anxiety she has been experiencing over the past few days. This increased medication will make her comfortable, pain free and able to breathe without feeling suffocated.

I am sitting here now with Shin while she is writing notes to me about how to explain her decision to increase the medication. She wrote that "most important of all, it will leave me in a state that the kids can see me in."

We expected Shin to be immediately sleepy but she was not at all. She was feeling the relief of no pain, no anxiety and easy breathing. She was telling jokes, singing songs and playing air guitar to Painted Black by the Rolling Stones. She also sang us a rendition of I Did It My Way.

It is very important to Shin that we all know that she has done this her way. She has chosen this path to ensure Toby and Josie remember their mom as she lived. Full of energy, love, independence, wit, courage and strength - always putting others before herself.

How Shin Is Now.

2009-01-19T23:07:00.011+08:00

Hi, it's Michelle here. Shin has asked me to update you on how she is feeling. Bare with me as I stumble through my thoughts.

Shin's condition has worsened over the past few days. Her breathing is getting more difficult and she has been very sleepy. She is rarely in pain.

Her days are spent preparing herself to be awake and lucid enough to see Josie and Toby for a few minutes before and after each school day.

She mentioned anxiety and panic attacks in her last blog. These continue. In fact, her breathlessness now has turned in to a feeling of suffocation. This in turn creates anxiety, adding further to the suffocation. She feels claustrophobic when this circle begins.

We are treating these symptoms with medication but as with everything there is a pay off. To reduce the feeling of suffocation and pain she needs medication. The same medication that makes her feel drowsy and sometimes delirious. We are working hard to find a balance so that she may be lucid enough to spend some moments with the kids without this feeling of suffocation and claustrophobia.

Yesterday we met with Shin's palliative care doctor and nurse. They were very frank with us about Shin's condition and what we should expect going forward. The drowsiness is not just being caused by the medication. It is a combination of a the underlying disease itself, a lack of oxygen and the medication. We can expect that Shin's condition will continue to worsen and probably more quickly now than it has so far. But they are confident that we can manage the pain and breathlessness so that Shin is comfortable for the time she has left.

Tony has always been a very strong and loving husband and Dad. But this strength and love has just increased exponentially. I am constantly amazed at his strength and calm in dealing with all that he faces. Toby and Josie are handling the news with as much strength as their parents. Chips off the old block, both of them.

Shin is not up for visitors at this stage. She is saving her energy for her kids while she still can. She is sure you will understand.

Her spirits are high as she faces this tough transition. She is not scared. When I asked Shin how she was feeling yesterday morning while she was in and out of sleep, she said "euphoric". That shouldn't surprise any of us.

Incommunicado

2009-01-17T21:15:00.000+08:00

I just thought I should let all of you very kind and thoughtful people know why I've been so unresponsive in my communications lately, on this blog and in my e-mails.

I have not been doing so well lately. We have put a tube in the lining of my right lung to drain it - we got out one liter the first day, 600 ml on the second day, and 450 so far today, which was the third day.

The draining has had to stop each time before the doctors' estimates for the day's quota, due to the pressure it's causing on the lung. The ideal is to try to get up to 800 ml per day, but be unable to get that much each day. Being unable to get that much would indicate that the fluid is slowing down and the lining of the lung would eventually reattach itself to the lung. But at the rate we're going, it doesn't seem to be happening.

Meanwhile, I'm in terrible distress because I'm having the worst breathing problems I've had so far and can't spend time with the kids for fear of having an anxiety attack that would scare them.

I'm registered for a home hospice care service so once a week, a doctor and a nurse come to examine me and get an update on my progress. These doctors and nurses are just amazing. They are keeping me alive, and keeping both my faith in medical science and my faith in humanity alive.

We've begun to talk about whether we should move me into in-patient hospice care.

Please don't be offended if I don't answer your comments or e-mails. I can feel your good wishes. And my friend, Michelle, has flown back up from Sydney (she'd only just returned home last week when we thought I was improving) to be with me and she is helping me go through my blog comments with me. So thanks again to all of you who are sticking by me through all of this. I know I have to do it, but you certainly don't.

Scariest Moment So Far

2009-01-16T05:24:00.005+08:00

I had the scariest moment of my life yesterday during what was supposed to be a fairly easy, routine procedure to drain fluid from my lungs. It turns out I had a lot of fluid in the linings of my lungs that was making it difficult for me to breathe.

We'd known that for a while now, but my oncologist thought it wasn't quite enough yet to warrant drainage. Maybe she thought it was too risky while I was still getting chemo. Yesterday, we got one liter (1.06 U.S. quarts) out of my right lung alone, in under an hour I think. That seems like a lot of unwanted fluid to me.

So here's the scary moment: After the draining tube was inserted into my right lung, the radiologist had stitched me up, and one of the attending staff was dressing the wound, I suddenly felt like I was suffocating under a massive load, as if somebody were stepping on my sternum so I had to gasp desperately for every breath I took.

I also felt sharp, stabbing pains on the right side of my back. But the worst was the suffocation. I've always been claustrophobic, so this was just unbearable to have to gasp for air.

My blood pressure and pulse went way up. Tony told me later that my pulse got as high as 135 at one point, which is very high for me. All my life, I've had a freakishly low pulse in the 60 range . And my oxygen saturation level fell as low as 88 at one point. It was usually around 92 when I was having simple breathing problems.

And all this time I was panicking, I felt as if nobody could understand what I was trying to tell them. One of the nurses went out and got some hot chocolate and crackers to offer me (at the doctor's suggestion), which indicated to me that we were very much on different pages of the book when it came to understanding the situation. We were reading different books, in fact. In different libraries. On different planets. You get the point. I can joke about this now that it's over but at the time, it was truly terrifying.

Then it hit me suddenly... and this was the really scary part... this could be the END. I could actually end up dying from complications during this simple procedure and I'd never see Josie or Toby again. I'd never see my friend Michelle again. That's when the terror of it hit me.

Thankfully, after what seemed like ages, the radiologist moved the tubing around a little bit (it was off by about three centimeters too close to the sternum) and it started to feel better.

The mistake, in addition to the incorrect placement of the tubing, was in draining too much fluid too quickly. My oncologist said later that we should've drained only 500 ml a day, not 1,000 in one quick, fell swoop. That sudden release of fluid shifted organs about and moved the heart (not very poetic in this context, I'm afraid), hence the tight feeling of suffocation on my sternum and chest.

As for the sharp, stabbing pains on the right side of my back - I figured that one out myself. That must've been the post-procedure pain after the local anesthesia and numbness wore off. Once I knew the source of the pain, I was fine with it. The suffocation and breathlessness, though, that's something I still have to deal with. That phobia might just continue to haunt me for the rest of my life!

God. Still?

2009-01-15T01:56:00.002+08:00

I'm still receiving quite a few comments from readers trying to convince me there's a God, and to "find Jesus". I suppose they're appealing to my presumed terror and desperation at the thought of dying, thereby making me more vulnerable to a deathbed conversion.

During the past three years of having cancer, I've posted a number of entries on this blog where I thought I made my views on religious issues fairly clear. So to those of you who have started reading this blog only recently, may I save us both some time?

Go to the top of this blog page and type into the SEARCH BLOG field on the left side the words "God", "religion", "afterlife", and any other religious topics you're interested in knowing my stance on.

If, after reading those entries, you still have some questions, please feel free to ask and I'll do my best to answer. I've always been very open about my views on religion and I won't change that now. Thanks for sharing your thoughts with me, but no thanks to the proselytizing, please.

How To Talk To The Kids

2009-01-14T06:25:00.000+08:00

Now that we've decided to stop chemo and opt for quality over quantity of life left, we need to talk to the kids about the very real possibility of losing their mother sometime soon.

We've been very open with the kids so far, talking about my cancer in front of them and answering their questions whenever and whatever they ask. Other than complex medical details, we haven't kept anything from them. We've had more discussions with Josie than with Toby, simply because she's older and able to understand more of what's going on.

Josie is turning six soon, but she's pretty precocious for her age. She's broached the topic of death, God, and the afterlife with me - all this out of the cancer context. Since my cancer has progressed, she's started asking questions specifically about my death: "Will you still be my mommy after you die? Will you still love me after you're dead? Where will you be?"

My main concerns are that Toby and Josie feel safe and secure, that they feel they'll still be taken care of even after I'm gone, and that they didn't do anything at all to cause my death or cause me any pain. That means I have to be careful not to yelp when Toby jumps on top of my abdomen where my liver is struggling, or gasp too loudly as Josie tries to drag me by the hand to show me something.

They might look back on little things like this later on and wonder if they contributed to my death. Can't have that on their innocent little consciences, can we?

Do you have any suggestions about how to talk to kids this age (three and five) about the possibility of losing their mother?

Your Comments

2009-01-11T10:33:00.001+08:00

Some of you have remarked that I'm not posting your comments. That's true. I don't have the energy to edit and post them all. But I'm still receiving and reading them, so please continue to provide feedback. I'll post the occasional comment if I feel there's a reason to do so (and it requires no editing). Thanks for your understanding, kind thoughts, and encouragement.

Decision To Live

2009-01-10T13:56:00.005+08:00

No more chemo. That's my decision. I'd rather "bear those ills [I] have than fly to others that [I] know not of." The chemo route is too much of an unknown, more so than just letting nature take its course.

The emotional decision would be to keep trying chemo. The rational decision, based on statistical odds, weighing of risks, logistics of timing and other reasoned factors, would be to stop chemo.

Now the big project is to keep my liver going for as long as we can and keep my body strength up for as long as we can. I say "we" because this is a joint project to keep Josie and Toby's mother alive. This is not about me, making me happy or comfortable or keeping me alive longer just so I can say I "fought the good fight."

What does that mean, anyway - fighting the "good fight"? Does it mean persisting with every chemo drug available, battering the body's natural's defenses until it just can't take it any more? Does it mean sacrificing quality time that could be spent with family in exchange for bragging rights that I "never gave up" and tried every chemo drug available, even if they left me dead while still alive?

Judging from some of the comments from readers, I think there's some misunderstanding among people, usually people who either have not been touched by cancer themselves in any way, or who have had a family member with cancer but who have no sympathetic understanding of what that family member experienced. These are the people who consider it giving up when a cancer patient decides to stop treatment in favor of quality life.

I know I've made the right decision because I feel at peace with it. When I was thinking of trying chemo again, I was uneasy and felt like I was taking risks with Toby and Josie and possibly taking their mother away from them too soon.

If I didn't have kids, I'd risk more chemo. But I have Josie and Toby to think about. It would be irresponsible of me to play around with their mother's life, risk killing their mother and steal what few months they could still have together.

Stopping chemo doesn't mean I've given up. I'm now going to put all my efforts into researching alternative, natural ways to strengthen my liver and my immune system. I'm open to any and all suggestions as long as they don't involve money, psychology, or religion (the Axis of Evil).

I'm going to live. Maybe a little longer; maybe a lot longer. I'll do it my way, and I'll do it for Toby and Josie.

Russian Roulette

2009-01-08T06:31:00.001+08:00

Today's the big day I decide about playing Russian Roulette with my life - take my chances by stopping treatment and let the cancer get me, or take my chances by trying another treatment and let the chemo get me. Either way, I don't know what quality of life I'll have until I've started down one path or the other.

By "quality of life", I mean what kind of mother Josie and Toby will have - a useless lump that can't participate in their lives, in which case, I may as well already be dead - or somebody who can at least talk to and spend some time with them.

As I said to the interviewer during the filming of the documentary about me last November, "I'd like to live until I die."

Relics Of The Past

2009-01-06T08:50:00.000+08:00

If I were going to live to see Toby and Josie to adulthood, I'd save everything - their baby clothes, their artwork, even some of their feeding bottles and dishes. I know Tony won't hold on to these things for the kids after I'm gone. It'll be too hard trying to move all this stuff around whenever they move to a new house.

My father is a bit like me, or, I should say, I'm like him - a bit sentimental. The most precious gifts I have from him are a drawing that I did in kindergarten, which he'd kept for me all these years, and some tape recordings of me when I was about six years old. I love it that he kept those for me. They mean more to me than any gifts I've ever received.

I'd like to do the same for Josie and Toby. I want to save their artwork. Tony says I should just choose a few drawings, but I've already tried selecting some and I just can't bring myself to throw anything out.

Some of the things I did give away, I'm now regretting. For example, my wedding dress. It wasn't a proper wedding dress. It was an off-the-rack dress I wore to the little religious ceremony we had at my brother's house for the sake of my religious family. He's a pastor so he conducted the service. Anyway, that dress went to the Salvation Army, along with a bunch of other clothes I figured I'd never wear again. But now I wish I'd kept it for Josie.

But then I wonder if I'm leaving behind things that Toby and Josie will just consider junk someday. I might think these things have special meaning, but what if Josie and Toby just feel obligated to keep them out of guilt?

I, for one, would be tickled to see the remnants of my baby and childhood days, especially everyday items such as my feeding bowls and baby clothes. I see photos of some of the outfits I wore as a very young child and I feel as if I remember them. Some of them are so timeless, I think Josie would wear them now if I still had them.

One of my favorite articles of clothing ever was a thin red cardigan that my mother used to wear when she was in college. I got hold of it during my college days and wore it all the time. There was nothing special about it - just an ordinary, plain cardigan. But I just loved the fact that it had been my mother's. I can't find it now and I'm bummed. I wish I could leave it for Josie.

Do you wish you could see some relics of your childhood days? The clothes you wore? Your favorite toys? Favorite books? Your first feeding dish and spoon? Maybe someday your own kids will be curious about these things as well. You should set aside some of these things to present to your kids when they're adults; they might get a kick out of them. Who knows? They might even be able to use them for their own kids.

Letter From An Ex-Colleague

2009-01-05T00:00:00.004+08:00

I recently received a letter from a girl I worked with at CNBC. She was my News Assistant - bottom of the food chain, treated like dirt and paid a pittance. I recently reconnected with her and she told me she had good memories of me, which surprised me. I thought nobody at CNBC liked me because I annoyed people with my expectations and requests.

People were always complaining about me and once, I almost got fired for working my team too hard and expecting perfection. I was baffled. This letter from my colleague made all those bad memories fade away so I wanted to include it in my blog for Toby and Josie to read some day.

This is the letter from my ex-colleague:

I remembered how you were always very determined to get things done right. When there were times somebody said something couldn't be done, you were going to find out why even if it meant we had to tread through uncomfortable waters.

I would be shaking my head and thinking, "Oh no, no one's going to like her very much because she's being way too insistent and people don't usually like it when they're told they're trying to take short cuts. And that was what it usually was. You said it like it was because the product mattered. The work got done well and I learned. People had to be responsible for their work.

I think you were able to do that because you had truth on your side. You also had a curious innocence because I realised it wasn't because you were trying to corner anyone -- you just wanted them to do what they should have been doing.

Once, I remember, I came to you saying something about how one of the editors refused to make a correction in one of our packages [TV news reports] because of some reason or other. You were puzzled and didn't think the worst of them. You were just genuinely perplexed.

You said, "Let's find out why he can't and make it happen for us." You got up then and there and confronted the dude! Haha. I remember thinking, "Wow she has balls." If it had been me, I would have dropped it and bitched about how folks are just lazy.

When X and Y told me about your blog entries and how you were battling it, I remember thinking, yes, that's Shin. Yep, Shin. No sulking, no pouting, no blaming anyone -- you handled it for what it was.

I remember you were clinical but also passionate. Very unusual attributes. You used to tell me honestly what you felt I was doing wrong and I never felt like you were attacking me or putting me down. It was that straight-forwardness... that honesty I remember the most. Not many people listened to me then. You did.

Oh Shin, I remember how to not be afraid when I was doing interviews. How excited you were when I told you that I was having fun. You showed me how to write better. How to think TV and how to even schmooze! It was all done with a frankness that was refreshing for me.

In life, I think, not many people get an opportunity to express how they really feel about someone. I am glad I have this chance. The cancer, the fact that you are dying allows me to say what I've always felt and carried with me. It's sad that it has to be this way... but it does not discount my true feelings.

I'm not saying all of this just to be nice or make you feel better. This is also for me. Your kids should know what a remarkable woman you are. I'm sure you have your frailties, your vulnerabilities and your whatever it is... your flaws. Everyone does. But I know only one Shin Na. And that Shin Na taught me a lot about how to cut through all the crap and see things for what they really are.

I know I should have said all these things before you left CNBC! But how could I? Maybe I didn't have the words then. Maybe I didn't realise the impact until after you had left CNBC. Maybe I didn't think it was important.

Z came to take your place [after you left CNBC] -- and boy, it was hard adjusting to that! She was a lovely person but goodness gracious -- they were hard on her and she didn't know me from jack. It was awkward. Back to being with people more occupied with niceties; they end up being meaner than they probably mean to be. And I wasn't very good with communicating. Insecure, maybe.

You know Shin, there are a lot of people out there who've known you and are following your blog entries. They might not write but I believe some of them probably think the way I do -- that's the Shin I know. Feisty. Brave. Curious and almost unnervingly innocent.

I haven't been honest about so many things in my life... so, this hits home. You are the genuine article. Tell your kids that's what this friend sees.

Stories About Me

2009-01-04T00:09:00.000+08:00

Toby and Josie love hearing stories about when they were babies. I think all kids do. I'm one of them. I'd like to know what I was like in high school, college, my twenties. I have my own version of me, of course, but I'm finding lately that others have different versions.

For example, I've gotten in touch with some former students of mine. It was my first job out of college and I was just twenty-one; my students were fourteen and fifteen years old. I have some terrible memories of disasters in my classroom. One incident was so awful, as soon as the class was over, I got in my car and drove to the airport, thinking I'd just escape.

But now these and other former students tell me that I was one of the best teachers they ever had. They don't seem to think I was a disaster. They've changed my view of the four years of my life I thought I might have wasted in teaching. I wasn't sure I really made any impact on my students.

Same goes for friends and ex-colleagues. And especially boyfriends. I thought I was pretty awful on that front. Some of them say I was, but they've forgiven me and we have since become good friends. Strangely, almost all of my former bosses and ex-boyfriends are still good friends of mine, some of them after almost twenty years.

Now I'm eager to track down as many stories about me as I can. I want to dig up memories that people in my past have about me. Maybe I didn't waste most of my life after all.

It sounds a bit self-indulgent, but I'd really like to hear stories about incidents I might have forgotten, to color in gaps and fill in outlines. I'm leaving this blog behind for Josie and Toby, and I'd like these stories to help them know something about their mother.

So those of you who have any stories about me that you think Josie and Toby would appreciate, please tell them here. If you don't feel comfortable posting your stories in this public forum, you can e-mail me.

Someday, Toby and Josie can ask, "What was my mother like?" and all your stories will help them see me. Thanks.

No Surgery; Tough Decision

2009-01-03T14:27:00.004+08:00

We went to see my oncologist yesterday to discuss what to do next about my treatment. "We" meaning myself, Tony, and Michelle, my chemo buddy friend who's flown up from Sydney to be with us through this tough time.

It turns out the latest liver ultrasound shows progression of the cancer, with growth in both the size and number of tumors. I had another chest X-ray and there's a bit more fluid in the lining of the lungs but not so much that I need them drained at this point.

My inflamed gall bladder is adding to the pain and nausea caused by my failing liver, the cancer, the chemotherapy, accompanying drugs, or some or all of these. But due to my condition, it would be dangerous to have any surgery so we will not be removing the gall bladder after all. Instead, I'll stay on antibiotics and other medications to try to ease the pain.

For now, the changes in medications over the past few days seem to be working and the pain is now at least tolerable so that I can get out of bed and spend some time with the kids reading books or watching movies together.

So this is the conclusion: the current chemo combo has stopped working. We need to decide whether we try another chemo or stop treatment and just work on easing the pain as much as possible to give me a decent quality of life.

The danger now is that whatever chemo we try now could kill me, with very little chance that it would even work - 20 percent according to my doctor; even less, in my opinion. We'd have to try it for at least two or three cycles, which would take six weeks. During those six weeks, I could have very toxic side-effects and very low quality of life or I could die from the chemo. Then I'd have wasted the last two months of my life for nothing.

If I choose not to have any more chemo, my doctor estimates my liver would last another two to three months. Humans can live 24 hours without liver function so that would mean I'd have two to three months of life left. But without the chemo, I might have a better quality of life.

The tricky thing is that we don't really know any of this for sure so it's really just a guessing game at this point. A very high-stakes guessing game.

My main concern is to get back a quality of life that will allow me to be the mother I want to be for Josie and Toby, even if it's for only a short time. I don't want to spend months more trying new chemo drugs if they'll keep me from my kids.

I've had a bit of an eye-opener in the past several weeks. The pain and nausea were so crippling and debilitating that I wasn't myself. I was in bed most of the time and missed the holiday celebrations. The worst thing was, I turned on Tony. I started losing faith in him, my doctors, in myself. I became a different person. This is what constant pain with no end in sight can do to a person. I won't go back to that. That's not the wife I want Tony to remember; that's not the mother I want my kids to remember.

I remember a line from a movie I saw a long time ago. "Steel Magnolias", I think it was called. The main character risks her life to have a baby after she was told by her doctor that giving birth might kill her. She says, "I'd rather have a few moments of something special than a lifetime of ordinary."

I'd rather have a few more months of life with my family than many more months of just watching them from the sidelines. I want to be a positive contributor to this family, not negative energy. Or as my friend Michelle put it, an asset, not a liability (she has a finance industry background).

Our next meeting with the doctor is next Thursday. We'll decide then whether I'm going to try more chemo or stop treatment.

Liver Update, Surgery Planned

2008-12-29T18:57:00.002+08:00

The palliative care doctor who's taken over my case while my regular oncologist is away came to our house today. She came to examine me and talk about the liver ultrasound result.

She said the scan showed the largest tumor from the previous scan has grown from 3.8 to more than 4 cm, but she couldn't tell me anything about whether the number of lesions has increased or by how much. She also said the fluid in my lungs has increased. I'm not sure how they could tell that from a liver ultrasound, but there it is. These are just preliminary results so we might get more details later.

Meanwhile, the doctor suspects that although it's the liver causing most of my problems, I also have an inflamed gall bladder that may be exacerbating the pain and nausea. So I'm going to have the gall bladder removed.

But because I've lost so much weight lately, the surgeon is afraid I may not be strong enough to withstand the surgery, so they've now put me on a course of antibiotics to help the inflamed gall bladder settle so I can eat and put on some weight before I get the surgery. So I guess I'm like the Christmas turkey - they're fattening me up before they cut me open.

I'm just happy we finally have a course of action. There's nothing worse than sitting around in limbo, waiting to feel better without being able to do anything to actually make that happen. So that's the plan for now.

A Simple Gift

2008-12-28T21:32:00.000+08:00

I haven't posted anything for the past week because the pain and nausea have been so bad that I haven't been able to do much. We've spent the past five days playing around with different combinations and permutations of pain and nausea medication, but we just can't seem to get it right. I've started losing weight again because the mere thought of eating makes me queasy, and this is worrying me since I have to keep my body strong enough for chemo.

I finally decided a few days ago to get a liver ultrasound, even though my regular oncologist isn't back yet from her holiday break. I'll call in tomorrow to see what the results show. I had a quick peek at the monitor as the technician was scanning my liver and it looked like Swiss cheese to me. But I'll try to hold off on any conclusions, especially those involving food-related similes, until I see the actual report.

The long-term plan will be to find another chemo combination that will work if this one's not doing the job. The immediate plan is to find a way to stop this pain and nausea so I can have a quality of life worth preserving with the chemo in the first place.

It's easy enough to tell people to be strong and persist. Maybe on a short-term basis, physical pain can be overcome. But when the pain and discomfort are constant so that you can't think about anything else, they really take life away from you. I've given birth twice. I'd rather do that all over again than deal with this. Yes, even without the epidural.

The worst of it all is the effect on the family. I haven't been able to play with my kids or their cousins who are visiting from the U.S. I haven't been able to help Tony with things around the house to keep his family happy. On Christmas day, it was all I could do to sit up straight without falling over as the kids opened their gifts.

By the way, those of you who gave us gifts, could you please let me know what you gave? Normally, I'd write down who each gift came from so we can say thank-you. But I wasn't able to do that and now we have a houseful of very generous gifts and I have no idea whom to thank for them. Not only that, we still have a bagful of gifts that we have to hand out to the neighborhood kids that I haven't been able to organize. Poor Tony has enough to deal with these days. So if your kids haven't received their gifts from us yet, please come by and we can give them to you.

I'm sorry I don't have anything very cheerful or festive to say. How's this... Lucky for you, you have your health and your family to enjoy it with. Don't underestimate the value of something as simple as being pain-free. Relish that you can eat, that you can pick up and hug your kids, that you can make your spouse smile instead of look sad, that you can walk and talk without running out of breath. There are so many delicious things in life that you still have that I see I'm losing now (only temporarily, I hope!). Play that out-of-body game and be me for a few minutes. Then go back to being you. Aah. No pain... That must feel good. There's my gift to you this holiday season. Merry Christmas!

Rhetorical To Real

2008-12-26T06:00:00.004+08:00

"How many times do I have to ask you? What did I just say? Did you hear me? What did you do that for? What were you thinking?"

These are rhetorical questions parents ask when their kids do something wrong. We never expect an answer; in fact, we don't even give them a chance to answer. I've realized this and decided I'm going to change that.

Toby's still too young, but with Josie, I can have a discussion launched from these questions and really give her a chance to respond.

A while ago, she was jumping on my bed so I asked her to stop. She kept doing it. I said, "Josie, I just asked you to stop jumping on the bed. Why did you keep doing it?" And then I made eye contact with her and waited for an answer. When she saw that I was actually asking for an answer and not just throwing those questions out to scold her, she really thought about it and explained herself to me.

She got a chance to reflect on and explain her behavior and I got a little look into her mind and reasoning process. Win-win situation. Not only that, she doesn't always ignore those types of rhetorical questions from me anymore; she actually stops sometimes to think about what I asked and tries to answer.

This is a pretty mature thinking process, this type of self-reflection. If we, as adults, asked ourselves similar questions about our own behavior and choices, we might be stumped. Why did I just have that drink when I know I've already had too many? Why did I do that? Why did I agree to go out with that guy when I know he's no good for me? What was I thinking? Why am I taking this job when I know it's going to make me miserable? How many times have I made this mistake before?

If we forced ourselves to stop, really reflect upon, and answer these questions, we might come up with some helpful answers, just as our kids can if we give them a chance to respond instead of throwing out empty, meaningless questions at them.

Meet Me In Heaven

2008-12-24T06:00:00.001+08:00

One of my favorite songs is by Pearl Jam, with these lines:

"Oh where oh where could my baby be
The lord took her away from me
She's gone to heaven so I've got to be good
So I can see my baby when I leave this world."

Toby likes to sing this song - very cute coming from a three-year-old. What a hip pre-schooler!

It's a nice thought that you try to be a good person so you can go to heaven when you die and be with a loved one who was taken from you. Of course, the kids could grow up to think that maybe their mother isn't in heaven but elsewhere, in which case they could use that excuse to do wicked things so they can see me in "that other place" after they die...

To hear the song, click HERE.

Coal In My Stocking

2008-12-23T20:45:00.002+08:00

For the past week or so, I've had more nausea and stomach pain than usual, but I thought they were just side-effects of the drugs I'm on or the cancer cells taking nibbles at me. I went to see the doctor today to get a post-chemo blood count (counts all good - yay!) and asked about my symptoms while I was there. I asked if the pain and nausea might be due to ulcers caused by the steroids I've been on since August - a long time to be on steroids. I suggested we do an endoscopy to find out.

She said that if an endoscopy showed I had ulcers, the treatment would be Nexium, Zantac, and Maxolon - drugs that I'd already been taking, which didn't work. There was a chance that it was a different kind of ulcer caused by the Helicobacter pylori bacterium, and if that were the case, the treatment would be two antibiotics and a "proton pump inhibitor", a type of drug that reduces gastric acid production in the stomach.

An endoscopy costs S$300-400 (US$200-275). I didn't want to spend that kind of money.

Then the doctor did a physical examination to locate exactly where the stomach pains were. Luckily, I'm a grown-up and can be a bit more precise than "I have a tummy ache." As she tapped away and asked for my responses, she started shaking her head. Her conclusion? It's not an ulcer at all. It's my liver. My biggest worry.

Liver failure, apparently, is the most painful way to die. If you die of lung failure, there's still a chance you can expire with grace and dignity, like in the movies. Deep breath, gentle closing of eyes, quotable sentimental words, then fade out to black. But with liver failure, there's groaning and moaning, agony and excruciating pain. So unladylike! Not to mention the trauma and stress on the family.

So here's our situation at the moment. My liver's not doing so well. I'll have my liver scanned with an ultrasound when my regular oncologist returns from her vacation.

Meanwhile, the only thing we can do is treat the symptoms. We've now upped the anti-nausea ante to Motilium, and if that's not enough, I have Kytril as a back-up, but these tiny pills are S$30 (US$21) per pill! Now that hurts! For pain, I've now moved on to morphine from the codeine-paracetamol combo I was on. Let's see if these drug changes make any difference. I used to be so adverse to taking pills for any reason. Now, they're my main source of food.

Today, I actually ingested more pills than food. No kidding. Food tally: about four noodles (not bowlfuls, but actual strands of noodles) with two small squares of cabbage in a clear broth, one bite of pizza crust, and two digestive biscuits. Pill tally: more than 20 pills for seizures, pain, nausea, breathing problems, hand-foot syndrome, protein support.

A friend of mine got laid off last week and I told him the timing really stank. Who would fire somebody just before Christmas? He said, "Well, it could be worse. I could have cancer." Now here I am with some lousy news. Well, it could be worse. I could lose my sense of humor and think my friend's comment wasn't funny. Now that would be truly tragic. But he made me laugh. Hey, I can still laugh.

A Tale of Two Tales

2008-12-22T08:02:00.000+08:00

Tale Number One:

Tony came back from the supermarket yesterday after doing the food shopping, then fired up the barbecue and made lunch for the nine of us (visiting in-laws). He gave me a hamburger as I requested, but instead of expressing my gratitude, I told him it was silly to give me half a burger with a whole bun, plus I wanted onion, and when I got the slice of onion, it was a circle rather than a semi-circle so it wouldn't fit onto my burger, plus he'd cut the onion on our wooden cutting board, which I'd told him leaves an onion taste that will transfer to any fruit we cut on the board later on. So here he had gone through all this trouble to make me happy and instead of being thankful, all I could do was come up with reasons to criticize everything he did.

Tale Number Two:

Just after the incident described above, Josie was jumping on a side table in our living room and I saw that it could be quite dangerous, especially for her little cousin who's staying with us and copying everything Josie does. So I asked Tony if there was somewhere else he could put the table that was safer for the kids. He angrily grabbed the table, threw everything off it and shoved the table into a corner. I asked in a challenging, emotional voice, why he was acting so strangely and why he couldn't just listen to me and answer my question instead of being so rude and dismissive. I told him he was being unreasonable when all I wanted to do was solve a problem. All this in front of his entire family, including the kids. I persisted in asking him to respond with some explanation until he finally just walked out of the house.

Multiple choice question. Which of the following best describes the situation above?

A) Tony was being unreasonable - all he had to do was suggest a safer place to put the table.
B) I was being ungrateful - I could have thanked him for his troubles instead of criticizing every little thing he did.
C) Tony should have listened to me instead of dismissing me and ignoring me.
D) I should have given him some space instead of haranguing him while he was feeling besieged by my criticisms.
E) All of the above.

I'm not sure which of the two stories makes me look more sympathetic and Tony look like the villain, but I pick that one, whichever it is. I'd really like to lick my wounds and have my actions vindicated. Poor Shin. Bad Tony. But that's too simple and silly.

All couples have communication challenges. Tony and I certainly have our share. I have my own communication issues now because I can't express myself as well as I'd like, due to the cancer and various side effects. One of my favorite strategies in an argument is to diffuse the tense moment with some humor or a compliment. That takes a certain control of voice, tone, a mischievous smile or flirtatious wink. I don't have many of those at my disposal these days.

But this stymied style of mine is also a reason to open my ears and think a bit more. If I had been a bit more breathless yesterday and really couldn't speak at all, I might have kept my mouth shut and given Tony the silence he needed instead of pushing him to answer me.

I wish I could say cancer has given me new wisdom and depth of understanding about myself and my relationships, but it hasn't. I'm still making mistakes and I'm still fixing them. I'm Bob the Builder. Can we fix it? Yes we can! I'm a work in progress. Aren't we all?

Toby's Tears

2008-12-19T08:20:00.002+08:00

Yesterday, we had a minor scare when this silly cancer patient decided to climb on top of two suitcases to put a dangerous toy out of toddlers' reach. I lost my balance and toppled down, landing on my back. I've seen enough movies and TV to know that when you land on your back, you don't move, just in case you've done something to your spine.

The noise I made on the way down - the suitcases tumbling down on top of each other, me landing on the toys littering the floor, a number of things - caused an almighty crash; much louder than the actual danger represented. My in-laws, who are here visiting from the U.S., sounded the alarm and Tony, Josie, and Nana came running in from the pool, dripping wet and scared.

The reaction that really made an impression on me was Toby's. He was in the room when I fell, and the first thing I remember when I found myself lying on that floor was little Toby sitting by my side, his arms around my neck, crying softly and saying, "Mommy? Mommy?"

These were new tears that I'd never seen from Toby before. I've seen angry, frustrated tears, tantrum tears, sad tears. But these were scared tears. The poor little guy was frightened for his mommy. He knew I was hurt (the noise must've really startled him) and he wanted to take care of me but didn't know how.

There are some lessons I've taken away from this incident:

1) Toby is not oblivious to my weakened condition and notices when I need help.

2) Toby has a soft heart for his mommy, even though he acts like a toughie.

3) I need to stop climbing on suitcases.

Medical Journals

2008-12-17T07:18:00.001+08:00

I had a friend who gave her daughter some prescribed medication one morning. Her husband didn't know she'd already done it so he did the same thing. The poor child ended up in the hospital. Adults take a double dose of something and might feel a bit ill. You do that to an infant and it can cause serious harm. Keeping a medical diary will ensure that you don't overdose your child.

I keep a medical diary for each of my kids. Whenever I give them any medication, I write it down - the name of the drug, the dose, what time I gave it. I jot down their symptoms, their temperature, anything else that might be relevant or helpful to the doctor if I end up having to take them to the hospital.

These records will also provide a thorough medical history for years on down the line. There's no way I'll be able to remember every case of chicken pox or shingles, Hand-Foot-Mouth, flu, bronchitis or allergic reaction my kids have had. Keeping a record has even helped us see some patterns developing.

I keep a medical diary for myself as well - pretty good idea for anyone, but especially for people with a chronic condition like cancer. Since my diagnosis three years ago, I've kept a medical diary with notes of doctors' meetings, my treatments, drugs, doses, blood counts, weight, oxygen saturation level, and other relevant vital statistics.

I've also kept a binder with copies of every formal medical report, starting with my histology/pathology report diagnosing my cancer. In that binder are radiologist reports, tumor marker tests, blood count reports, and other medical records tracking my cancer. This information has been extremely helpful to me and to my doctors.

Remember, you're just one of hundreds of patients your doctor sees in a year. Don't expect him to remember everything about your medical history, even if he does have your file open in front of you. He might just be doodling when you think he's writing notes about your symptoms.

Sorry Tears

2008-12-15T07:42:00.001+08:00

I was showing Josie how to send an e-mail and she kept trying to tap random keys instead of listening to my instructions on what she should do next. I got frustrated and snapped at her, "Would you please just stop and listen to me?"

There must have been something in my tone of voice that really hurt her because she immediately stopped and sat still with her head down. Just seeing her like that broke my heart. I don't think she was upset that she'd done something wrong. She wasn't upset that I yelled at her because I didn't really raise my voice very much. I think what really hurt her was the feeling that her mother wasn't pleased with her.

Later that night when I was tucking her into bed, I said, "Josie I'm so sorry about snapping at you earlier today. I still feel really bad about that."

She answered with a very tiny sad voice, "Mommy, please let's stop talking about that because it's making me very sad."

I think I sometimes forget how sensitive Josie can be. I think of her as a tough girl and often remind her that she's tough, like her mother. But sometimes just a harsh word or a feeling that I'm not pleased with her for some reason cuts into her worse than any scolding, time-out, or other punishment.

I have to keep this in mind. These are not the kinds of memories I want her to have of me. I don't want her heart to ache at the thought that she had displeased me in some way.

Brain MRI Results

2008-12-12T07:38:00.000+08:00

Good news! I got the results of my brain MRI yesterday and the films show the tumors have almost completely disappeared. The photos on the left are from August and those on the right are from Wednesday. The doctor said this could mean that 1) the tumors are on their way to shrinking down even further, or 2) the tumors are on their way to resuming growth. I'm going to choose door number one.

This was a follow-up scan after the seizures I had in August due to the growing tumors in my brain. I had whole-brain radiation for ten days after that. We'll wait another three months now and do another MRI to see whether the tumors are coming or going.

These MRI results were exactly what I expected. At the risk of sounding cocky, I have to say I've been uncannily accurate about the progress of my cancer for the past few years. In terms of predicting results of scans or the effectiveness of treatments, I've had a better batting average than even my doctors.

For example, for months last year, I was put on various different antibiotics for lung infections and the entire time I kept saying it was cancer, not infection. When we finally did a biopsy and my self-diagnosis proved correct (unfortunately), I was the only person in the room to react with dry eyes and no surprise. It pays to be prepared.

Given my success at reading my own body and disease, I'm going to guess that the current chemo combination is working at least enough to keep the cancer from progressing too much too quickly. The pains and side-effects I've been feeling might be due to the interaction of so many drugs swirling around inside my body. I stopped taking the new pain killers and gastritis (inflammation of stomach lining) medications my doctor gave me after my last chemo session and I've been feeling better. Those drugs just didn't work for me; they might have even caused more pain.

Another good sign: for the past two days, I've felt strong enough to get around without the wheelchair, and although I had a few coughing fits that probably scared or disturbed people around me, I didn't end up gasping for air and having a panic attack. Hooray. Looks like Christmas has come early for me!

Cancer Follow-Up, Survival

2008-12-10T07:23:00.002+08:00

Since I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I've met many other breast cancer patients and survivors. There are as many different ways of dealing with cancer as there are personalities. Some women want to know everything about their cancer; some want to know nothing. Some are conscientious and participate in their treatment; some want to leave everything to the doctors.

I know every woman has the right to handle her disease and treatment in her own way, but I can't help feeling frustrated about cases where a patient compromises her chances of survival or even hastens her death by not taking an active interest in her own health.

I had a friend who was diagnosed with breast cancer in the U.K. nine years ago. She was treated there and a few years later, moved to Singapore. She didn't go for any check-ups once here. She told me her doctor in the U.K. didn't give her any follow-up schedule, so she assumed she was finished with cancer. Somebody finally convinced her to go for a check-up a few years ago. They found her cancer had come back and spread to other organs. She died last year.

I know other women who have similar stories. They don't follow up; they take bad advice from doctors; they don't seek second opinions or question their doctors. I'm pretty sure some of these women died or suffered unnecessarily as a result.

In the U.S., doctors and patients are far more conscientious about follow-ups after treatment than they are in Europe. A new research study that came out earlier this year showed that breast cancer patients in the U.S. had a five-year survival rate of 84%, compared to 70% for the U.K. Luckily, my doctor follows the U.S. protocol, but even if she didn't, I'd insist on it.

I wish other cancer patients would take more of an interest in their treatment. I wish they'd realize that no doctor will care about them as much as they'd like to think. I wish they'd realize that doctors make mistakes, that some doctors are more competent than others, that some doctors just don't care as much about their patients as others, that you cannot surrender your life to strangers whose motivation for treating you for a killer illness is that they get paid to do it. It's their job. Glorify it all you want, but to them, it's still a job and you're still just one of hundreds and hundreds of patients they see each year.

Cancer patients, please, think, think, think. This is your LIFE you're dealing with. After your treatment is finished, schedule your own follow-ups. Don't leave it to your doctor to tell you what to do. There's plenty of information on the Internet and in libraries and bookstores to guide you on how to go about taking care of yourself after your treatment's completed, so you have the best chance of fighting your cancer if it should ever come back.

Don't leave it until it's too late like my friend who died last year.

Control Freak. So?

2008-12-08T08:46:00.000+08:00

People might consider me a control freak, though no one's ever had the balls to say it to my face. Or they're too polite because they think it's an insult. But why is it a bad thing to want to have control over your life? Would you prefer the alternative - lack of control?

Control is the first thing you have to give up when you have cancer. First of all, because you now have a disease you have no control over. Those cancer cells will do what they want, and you and your doctors will do your best but cancer won't listen to reason and step aside just because you want to control those little microbits of death and destruction.

As you go through treatment and the attending pain and weakness, you have to give up more and more control of your life as you knew it. For me, the hardest thing has been letting go control over the kids. There; I've said it. Control over the kids. Today's parenting literature would tell you that we don't control our children, we guide them. Whatever. I'm not fooled by the language. In the end, it means getting our kids to behave the way we want.

But Toby yells rudely to his friend and gets away with it because I don't have the strength or breath to sit down and talk to him about why that's wrong. Josie makes a fuss about trying something new and I'm too weak and breathless to encourage her with smiles and funny jokes.

Before cancer made me so weak and breathless, I'd say eighty percent of my parenting was talking; now it's only about ten percent. I wonder what mute parents do? That must be so hard.

I think that's what lies at the heart of my loss of control: the inability to speak as much as I used to. I can't argue with Tony anymore, so he gets to decide almost everything now, from family finances to what the kids can have for dinner. I used to argue circles around him until he got so dizzy he just let me have my way. No more of that.

And then there's the control over my identity. I used to be a chatty, gregarious, out-going, entertaining person. If someone who didn't know me B.C. (before cancer) met me now, they'd think I was a dull, quiet, shy bore - in my mind, the worst thing a person can be. A piece of furniture. Background. Wallpaper. Ugh. That's what I've become.

I used to know every kid in our neighborhood by name. I used to know who took ballet, who was learning Chinese, which schools they all went to. Now I don't spend any time outside with the kids so I haven't kept up with their lives and can't ask them how their recital went or how their new baby brother is doing.

Same for Toby's kindergarten. I used to walk around the building and call out hellos to the kids. Sometimes they'd look surprised and delighted that I knew their names and asked about them - the way kids do when adults take an interest in them. But now I'm just this frail lady with a funny bald head.

So I've lost control over my persona, my kids, my husband, my body. If you lost all that, wouldn't you freak?

Third Anniversary

2008-12-07T06:00:00.001+08:00

Today is the third anniversary of my diagnosis. This is the date I'll mark from now on, so that I'll know how many years I've survived cancer. And silly me, I forgot it until a reader sent me a congratulatory message.

I could consider it a second birthday, if I think of my life with cancer as a re-birth, a new chance at life with deeper knowledge of self and awareness of my mortality. Sounds good, anyway.

The medical highlights of this past year with cancer:

1) I learned my cancer has spread to my lungs, liver, brain, bones, soft tissue, and lymph nodes.

2) I had a lung biopsy that nearly killed me because I was mistakenly given more than twice the necessary dose of anesthetic during the procedure.

3) I had brain seizures caused by tumors in my brain and had whole-brain radiation.

4) I went through ten different chemo combinations.

Things I've learned this year:

1) I can drag out my dying for a while yet. We can't tell whether I'll last another month or another year.

2) Because of the above, it's still hard to take dying really seriously - for me and for people around me.

3) I've done something useful with this blog.

Dreams Versus Goals

2008-12-06T19:33:00.004+08:00

I was commissioned to write an article for a lifestyle magazine here in Singapore (actually, I think it may just be online, not print). The topic was how I, as a cancer patient, am facing the new year. What are my hopes, dreams, and fears for the coming year. I was okay talking about my hopes and fears, but when it came to dreams, I had little to say.

The word "dream" has always tripped me up a bit. I never really had any dreams growing up. Kids dream about one day becoming a ballerina, an astronaut, or other glamorous characters they see in books and on TV. I never had that when I was a kid. Adults also have dreams of conquering some personal goal - owning their own business, climbing Mount Everest, finding their soul mate. I never really had these sorts of dreams either.

I think my inability to have such lofty dreams comes down to the word itself. A dream sounds so foggy and far away that I just don't like the feeling it gives me of its being unattainable. I prefer to think of dreams as goals. If I were going to dream of owning my own business some day, I'd just set it as a goal and then get it done. Why call it a dream?

So then, did I have any goals growing up? No, didn't have any of those either. As I look back on my life, I'd have to say that for somebody who thinks she's pretty damn smart, I haven't been very creative in putting my intelligence to good use.

Questions From Blog Reader

2008-12-05T07:07:00.002+08:00

A blog reader saw the two documentaries about me that I've posted on my blog. She/he had some follow-up questions which I thought were pretty interesting so here they are:

1) Every human fears death. Once they hear the word "cancer", they think there's no cure & death will eventually come. How did you actually react & feel when you first learned that you had cancer?

I was completely taken off guard because my doctor had said the lump was a clogged milk duct. When the surgeon said, "It looks like cancer," I told him I'd like to call my husband to see if he could come and join our meeting to discuss what to do about it. I didn't cry or get scared. I went into information-gathering mode. I didn't know anything about cancer at that point so I didn't even know whether I should be scared.

2) How did you actually overcome your emotions & fears about your illness?

I tackled the problem with knowledge. I got control of the situation by finding out as much as I could about my cancer and learning how best to treat it to give me maximum time alive. I didn't get very emotional, except when I thought about my kids growing up without a mother. I'm not sure I could say I've been very afraid, either. Yes, I'm afraid of the process of dying - the pain and feeling of suffocation when my liver and lungs start shutting down. And then there's the pain and sadness I'm going to put everyone through watching me waste away or worse, writhing in agony. But I'm not religious so I don't think I'm going to Dante's Hell or anything like that.

3) Is there anyone whom you can talk to for advice & encouragement?

My husband Tony and my friend Michelle come to mind, but collectively, most of my friends, family, and even complete strangers through this blog. I also talk to myself a lot (in my head).

4) What are the things that made you overcome the fear of Death?

I don't think I ever really had a fear of Death, just the actual process of dying. Maybe I should. I'll try to think about it more and cultivate a healthy, human fear of Death because I see that it's beginning to bug people that I'm not terrified of dying.

5) What is your Motto & Motivation in Life?

Motto? I need a motto? If I had to have a one-liner that I could call my motto, I'd say it's, "You're stronger and smarter than the average bear so ACT like it!" Motivation in life? To leave this world a better place than it was before I got here, even if it's just a teensy weensy bit, say, in the form of two beautiful kids who will go on to do their bit also. And then their kids do the same, and their kids, and so on and so on until the math works out and the good outweighs and swallows up the bad and we all live happily ever after or at least learn and grow a lot while trying. And if not with kids, with the people we come in contact with and rub off on each day.

6) What do you think is the most rewarding thing that you have achieved or done in this life so far?

Having kids and leaving them with something worthwhile, i.e., this blog and the people who say that I've helped give them strength and inspiration in their own struggle with cancer.

7) What do you think is the most miserable thing in life?

Inhumane behavior, e.g., people who kill in the name of their god, people who hurt children, people who hurt themselves out of self-pity, any behavior that makes me wonder whether human beings really are superior to animals.

Sorry, but there was one more question that I couldn't post because I didn't understand the question. Can you re-send it please?

Didn't Your Mother Teach You?!

2008-12-03T06:57:00.000+08:00

A number of years ago, in pre-kid days, I was driving down a two-lane street when I noticed that my lane up ahead was blocked by an illegally parked truck. So I signaled to move into the lane to my right. To my surprise, the car on my right didn't slow down to let me in, it actually sped up to come alongside me so I couldn't get into that lane!

When we'd both reached the traffic light up ahead, I rolled down my window and asked the driver of that wayward car if he hadn't seen that I was trying to get into his lane because my lane was blocked by the truck. He said he had. I asked why he hadn't let me in and he asked, "Why should I?"

I was baffled. "Because it would have been the nice thing to do," I said.

His response? "Why should I be nice?"

This guy was in his early twenties, gel in his hair, slave to metrosexual fashion trends. Not that I'm suggesting that his interest in his physical appearance is reflective of his self-centered view of the world, but I am... His buddy in the passenger seat cringed upon hearing what his friend said to me.

All I could think to say back to him was, "Your mother would not be proud of you!"

I know. That sounds like something an old lady would say to some kid trampling all over her geraniums. But that's the first thing that crossed my mind - that somewhere, this young man's moral education had gone awry and it was either his mother's fault or worse, she'd done her best and still he turned out to be morally bankrupt.

As parents, we think about teaching our children manners, basic common courtesy, and right from wrong. Because I might not live to watch Toby and Josie grow up, I think about this sort of thing more than the average parent.

When Toby and Josie don't greet visitors properly, when they don't say "thank you" and "please", when they speak rudely to adults, I can just hear people thinking, "Didn't their mother teach them properly?!"

I even tell the kids that people will think that. I tell them that if they have bad manners or behave badly, people will think they had a bad mother. (This is the passive-aggressive guilt technique that Korean and Jewish parents are famous for.)

For some reason, lessons in manners and basic codes of behavior seem to be the province of mothers, not fathers. I didn't tell that twenty-something driver that his father would be appalled by his behavior. It was his mother I blamed.

Maybe Toby and Josie will be given a pass in this area of their lives. When they burp in public, when they let a door slam into the face of the person behind them instead of holding it open, when they walk into an elevator before the other passengers get off, when they don't use their signal lights in the car, when they don't let pedestrians have the right of way, when they treat shop clerks or waiters with disrespect, when they don't clear their own litter in public eating places... people will whisper to each other, "They don't know any better. You see, their mother died when they were very young." And people will nod their heads knowingly, with sympathy.

Grim Reaper Dream

2008-12-02T07:48:00.001+08:00

I had a dream about the Grim Reaper last night. I should put it in context. Before bed, I saw a brief snippet of a TV show, "Dead Like Us", where Reapers go around collecting dead people's souls. It's a comic drama, rather than a serious scary show that the topic may imply.

In my dream, I saw a teenaged hoodlum across the street bothering somebody - a little old lady or somebody defenseless. He was wearing a black hood, jean jacket, blue/brown plaid shirt, too-big jeans (a la gansta fashion), and sneakers. I ran across the street and grabbed the urchin by the neck and raised him into the air - he was surprisingly light, weightless even.

As I did that, I could see inside his black, pointed hood into a dark void. There was no face in there. Then it hit me that I was dealing with the Grim Reaper. But I was still annoyed with the audacity of this gangster boy bothering a little old lady so I smacked him around anyway. Slap, slap, slap. He didn't respond, just floated up there as I held him up by the neck. I finally let him down and told him he could hang around as long as he didn't bother anyone else. And that was that.

Lessons In Listening

2008-12-01T07:43:00.000+08:00

The other night, Josie needed help in the bathroom after Toby had gone to sleep. The two of us had to be quiet so we wouldn't wake up Toby (the bathroom is inside the kids' room). When Josie was finished, she started opening the door, letting out the light and the noise while I tried to tell her several times not to open the door. She just ignored me and opened the door anyway, which really annoyed me.

I told her to step back into the bathroom and asked her, quite irritated, why she'd done that. She looked completely puzzled and explained, "But Mommy, I didn't know what you were saying to me. The toilet flush was making a noise and the sink water was on and you were talking to me at the same time so I couldn't hear what you were saying." Then it occurred to me that she had a legitimate explanation, but here I'd gone and gotten all annoyed at her because I thought she was intentionally ignoring me.

Then I wondered... what if I hadn't given her a chance to explain herself? I would have just assumed she was being a brat and ignoring me. I wonder how many times a day we do this to our kids? We just assume we know what our kids are thinking, doing, or intending, so we just don't listen to them or give them a chance to explain themselves. I wonder how much we miss as a result?

I've noticed something that all parents do. We ask our kids a question, then don't listen to the answer. Or they talk to us, go off on long-winded explanations and we say absent-mindedly, "Oh? That's great! Uh-hum. Really? Right." Meanwhile, we don't make eye-contact with them or really listen to what they're telling us.

Sometimes, when our kids repeat the same thing over and over again, we get annoyed and yell at them, "Okay! I heard you already! Will you just give me a minute?!" The thing is, if you'd answered him or at least acknowledged in some way that you'd heard him, he wouldn't have said it over and over again until it got annoying.

I know we do this with adults as well, especially between spouses or among family, because we're used to being with each other and ignoring each other.

But with kids, this type of behavior is really baffling. What are we teaching them? How to be annoying to adults? How to be ignored? How to keep saying the same thing over and over again, each time louder than before?

One very fortunate side-effect of my cancer is that I've become a better listener - not because I've gone all Zen and reflective, but because the cancer in my lungs makes breathing difficult and I can't talk as much. So for once in my life, I listen more than I talk.

Now, I find I pay much more attention to my kids. Toby has recently discovered the art of monologue. He can go on and on about who-knows-what, whether somebody is listening or not. And when I stop and listen, really listen to him, I'm often rewarded with imaginative, funny stories and priceless peeks into his mind that I wouldn't have otherwise. From eavesdropping on his ramblings to himself, I've gotten to know a side of Toby I would have missed. To think... I would've missed this about him.

Another Documentary - VIDEO

2008-11-29T06:00:00.002+08:00

This is a documentary by Singapore broadcaster, MediaCorp, for their series, "Gentle Good-Byes". It was aired on October 29, 2007. I'm featured in the third segment, in the second half.

Click on the picture to start the video. Click again to enlarge.

My Documentary - VIDEO

2008-11-28T23:05:00.004+08:00

This is the documentary that Singapore broadcaster, MediaCorp, did about me for their series, "In The Face Of Death". It was aired on November 4, 2008. Click on picture to start video. Click again to enlarge.

Pain Expectations

2008-11-28T06:57:00.002+08:00

I've heard this line in a number of movies where somebody is going through trauma or tragedy. "Life isn't supposed to be this hard." Or "Love isn't supposed to hurt this much."

That would make me think, "What's the point of saying that?" You're just telling her she should feel lousy about what she's going through and how she's feeling about it. Wouldn't it be easier to think that actually, everyone has a tough life and everyone feels the pain? That's just how life is and there's nothing special about you. You don't have to feel like the universe has targeted you. You don't have to feel like a victim or martyr because that's not going to improve your situation anyway.

I feel the same about my cancer pains - the physical pain, I mean. It hurts a bit. Except I don't know if this would be considered "a bit" or "a lot". Is it supposed to hurt this much? If yes, then I'll just shut up and take it. If not, I might complain about it. If I do the former, I keep my pain to myself and don't become a nuisance to people around me with my whining and complaining. If I do the latter, I don't lessen the pain; I just increase the annoyance factor for anyone within hearing range.

If I think it's supposed to feel like this, then I get on with it instead of dwelling on it. Everyone with cancer has pain. I have cancer; I have pain. Of course, I take the pain medication and that helps a lot, but it doesn't get rid of all pain. At least it's not disabling or crippling pain.

I used to think I had a high tolerance for pain. Then I had babies. For the most part, I managed pretty well but we had to call in the epidural in the end for other reasons. But the timing of the epidural was off and I felt the contractions anyway. Now that's pain!

No woman giving birth does the "Woe is me, I'm suffering so much pain, you just can't understand what I'm going through" sob story because she's not special. Every woman who gives birth feels this pain. It's universal. There's no sympathy from the galleries. We don't tell them, "Giving birth isn't supposed to be this hard; it's not supposed to hurt this much." We tell them, "Pushing out a baby hurts like hell so expect it, prepare for it, and don't expect a prize for going through it because you're just like millions of other women who do the same thing every year." Have you ever heard anybody say to a woman who's just given birth, "Oh, poor you. That must have really hurt!"

So maybe it's the same with cancer. Expect the pain. Prepare for it. Don't expect any prizes. Suck it up and maybe it'll seem normal and less painful. And if that doesn't work... pass the morphine!

Thanks Giving Kids

2008-11-27T23:19:00.000+08:00

We had Thanksgiving dinner at a friend's house today. In the car on the way over, I tried to explain to Josie and Toby what was so special about today. The conversation went like this:

Me: Thanksgiving is a day when we think specially about things that we're thankful for. For example... I'm thankful for Toby and Josie, and Daddy, and...

Josie (interrupting): I'm thankful for all the loving and caring people in the world!

Toby: And I'm thankful for Mommy's huggies and kissies!

Wow. Weepy Mommy moment. I end my Thanksgiving Day here with happy tears. Good night.

My Thanks List

2008-11-27T07:30:00.000+08:00

Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends and family!

For the rest of you... you people really ought to get a holiday like this. It's the best holiday ever. You get to stuff your face and drink all day, laze around and watch football and old Christmas movies on TV - all in the name of dedicating the day to being thankful. Good stuff.

I told you yesterday that I'd keep a list of the things I was thankful for throughout the day. This was my list:

- A good night's sleep.
- Pain medication.
- Oxygen machine.
- Tony giving me a kiss before leaving for work.
- My MacBook.
- My friend Katie who took me to chemo.
- My mother-in-law, Carol, who also came with me to chemo.
- My oncologist and her staff.
- Singapore's high-tech healthcare system.
- Funny, well-written, trashy novels.
- Chocolate croissant and hot chocolate drink - together.
- Kisses and hugs from Josie and Toby. Toby calls them "huggies" and "kissies".
- My "cough pillow".
- My friends Alan and Alison who divorced each other but didn't divorce me.
- Soft mattress.
- What-I-did-today e-mails from my friends Shelly and Deb.

Keep in mind this is just one day and the things and people I encountered during this one day. Tomorrow's list will be different. And so will the next day's. Ah! It's good to be alive to make new lists of thanks each day!

Little List of Thanks

2008-11-26T07:17:00.001+08:00

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday. I could get sentimental and say it's my favorite holiday because it's a time when families come together and give thanks for all the wonderful things in their lives. But I'd be lying. It's the food I love. Roast turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, stuffing, and pumpkin pie. If I were on death row, this would be my request for my last meal. We (Americans) have this menu for Christmas dinner as well, but I don't like all the materialism and focus on gifts that come with Christmas so I prefer Thanksgiving. Baaah! Humbug!

Usually at the Thanksgiving meal, we go around the table and each person names one thing he's thankful for. The usual list includes family, friends, good health, financial security, and so on. Big things.

This year, I decided to focus on small things. I'd spend one day making a list of things I'm thankful for throughout the day. I got this idea from a magazine, and in that article, people had things like Starbucks and hot showers on their lists. Today, I'll take a little pad of paper and a pen around with me all day and whenever I notice something I'm thankful for, I'll jot it down.

Tomorrow, on Thanksgiving Day proper, I'll post my list on this blog. I'd love it if you did the same so we could compare lists. If nothing else, this little exercise might help us remember all the little things we have to be thankful for.

Until tomorrow...

Tom's Diner

2008-11-24T07:45:00.001+08:00

I went to university in New York City. Often after an all- night session of club-hopping, we'd stop at Tom's Diner, several blocks from Columbia campus, to eat greasy cheeseburgers, drink chocolate milkshakes, and detox a little.

One particular night (actually, it was about 5 a.m. by then), I was at Tom's with my friends, satisfying our post-alcohol food cravings while the buzz of the booze was wearing off. The diner was full of college kids, calling out to each other, laughing, joking, and having a great time being young and carefree.

I looked around me, soaking in the vibrant, party atmosphere and marveling at how fun it was to be young, alive, and eating cheesy fries after dancing all night. I wondered if I were appreciating it enough. I wondered if I'd remember this moment.

Then I played a little mind game with myself. I closed my eyes and imagined myself in the future as an old lady. I imagine myself saying, "I remember that night at Tom's Diner. I wish I could feel that again. What I'd give to be young again and transported back to that moment."

And POOF! I opened my eyes and I'd gone back in time to my college days and there I was. Suddenly, the lights seemed brighter, the fries tasted tastier, the smiles seemed smilier, everything seemed more intense.

Because I'd consciously forced myself to preserve that moment in my memory files, I can still transport myself to that night and feel, hear, and see what was there.

Ahh... Tom's cheesy fries... I can taste them now...

Mother, In Spite Of Myself

2008-11-21T07:02:00.000+08:00

I was chatting with a friend recently about having babies and I came to a surprising realization. I never really wanted kids and I still don't. It's not kids I want; it's Josie and Toby.

If Josie and Toby disappeared tomorrow, I wouldn't want any more children. It's not the idea of motherhood that I'm in love with; it's not the day-to-day pleasure of being a mom that I enjoy; it's Toby and Josie. I wouldn't want to be anyone else's mother, simple as that.

I have many friends who were really into the whole pregnancy experience. I thought it was a very inconvenient nine months of my life. Times two. I didn't like being fat, clumsy, and toward the end, downright absurd looking. I was HUGE.

Some women even savor the delivery. I just wanted those things out of me so we could go straight to cuddle, cuddle, kiss, kiss. Skip right to baby-powder smelling infant in arms for the photo op.

And this pride in being a mother as a concept... I don't get into that either. I have no desire to be just anybody's mother. I want to be Toby and Josie's mother. Just like I have no desire to be somebody's wife just for the sake of being somebody's wife. I want to be Tony's wife.

So I realized that it's not the role or title of mother or wife I'm interested in. Because frankly, the idea of being somebody's wife or some snotty-nosed brat's mommy used to give me the willies.

But now that I have Tony, Josie, and Toby, I wouldn't have it any other way. That's made me realize there is something incredibly special about these three in my life - nobody, absolutely nobody else will do. They are utterly irreplaceable.

My Documentary Online

2008-11-20T00:03:00.000+08:00

Some of you have asked to see the documentary film about me online. MediaCorp (Singapore broadcaster) says the licensing fee to upload the film onto a URL is S$513 (US$336) for the first year. I think that's too much for me to spend so I'm very sorry, but I won't be putting the documentary on my site. I really appreciate your interest.

What's "Cancer-Free"?

2008-11-19T09:45:00.002+08:00

A reader wrote:

"I found it puzzling as to why the cancer returned so quickly... as you had been declared "cancer-free"... unless there had been some latent/undetected remnants which had failed to be removed from the ops or by the chemo." [The reader went on to suggest my doctor had made a mistake.]

Here's my response:

I think most people are confused about what "cancer-free" means. In the U.S., doctors have stopped using the term. They now use the term, "No evidence of disease" or "N.E.D." This is because there is, technically, no such thing as cancer-free. You can use every fancy scan available in the medical world but if only one tiny little cancer cell has gotten into your blood stream, lymph system, or is hiding somewhere in your tissues, it will not be picked up, and there will still be a possibility that cancer will return some day.

A tumor needs to be the size of a pea to be detected on any scans. That's millions of cancer cells. So just imagine one single cancer cell somewhere in your body - there's no way that any scan or any doctor, no matter how technologically advanced or clever, can find a stray cancer cell. Therefore, you can never be said to be cancer-free.

If my doctor made any mistake at all, it was in being too optimistic, telling me I was cancer-free, when she should have said there was no evidence of disease. She was trying to give me hope, so I don't fault her for that. If she had given me the above explanation about why I could never be cancer-free at that point in my treatment, I might have considered her a pessimistic killjoy.

I feel sorry for doctors. They tell the medical truth and they're accused of being pessimistic. They put a positive spin on the news and they're accused of hiding the truth. I think my doctor gave me the news I needed in the way I needed it at that time. I think she really believed my cancer was gone - at least for a long, long time. She was just as confounded and shocked as I was to learn it had returned so quickly.

Nobody can guarantee that your cancer won't come back. Likewise, for people who've never had cancer, nobody can guarantee that you'll never get it. But if you life a healthy lifestyle and are lucky enough to keep cancer at bay for another twenty, thirty or more years, you might as well consider yourself cancer-free and die with good ole NED instead.

Alternative Treatments

2008-11-17T08:05:00.000+08:00

Many of you have written to me to recommend alternative treatments. You've given personal testimonials from your own experience of being "cured" of cancer by a particular treatment. Or you've seen a loved one "cured" after doctors gave up and said there was nothing more to be done. I've read your recommendations but am not posting them on my blog for these reasons:

1) I don't want to give readers hope in treatments I know nothing about myself.

2) I don't want to send readers on wild goose chases when they are at their most vulnerable, desperate to find a way to keep themselves or their loved ones alive. I want to have nothing to do with companies that might be preying on the weak and taking advantage of the ignorance and helplessness of others.

3) There is plenty of information about alternative treatments already available on the Internet, at the library, and at the bookstores. You don't need my blog to tell you about them.

4) I'm sure some of these treatments work some of the time for some of the people. But nothing works all the time for all patients, including conventional treatments such as chemotherapy and radiation. There are too many factors at work, such as the synergistic effect of certain medications and the individual biochemistry of each patient. It's too simplistic to think you can treat cancer with any one solution, even chemo.

5) There's no such thing as "cured" of cancer. I'll write about that in another post later this week.

Blaming Doctors

2008-11-14T08:27:00.001+08:00

It seems the first thing people want to do when something goes wrong is look around for somebody to blame. When it comes to doctors, I think we tend to assign blame more than usual because we expect them to know everything. Here's a news flash: They don't.

They learned about the human body and diseases from going to classes and reading books - the same way I learned about French deconstructionist philosophers. That doesn't make me an expert on the topic; it just makes me more of an expert than you. Doctors get their training and practice the same way a car mechanic does - by learning on the job. And doctors hone their skills the hard way, just like the rest of us do - by learning from their mistakes. Every patient a doctor has adds to his body of knowledge and experience. You are his learning aid.

People tend to put doctors on a pedestal. Maybe it's those fancy certificates written in Latin hanging on their waiting room walls. Maybe it's their air of authority or even bossiness as they order their nurses and other staff around. Maybe it's their medical language that excludes civilians from their secret society and gives them an aura of special insight and knowledge - like saying "pleural effusion" instead of "fluid in the lining of the lungs" or "dyspnea" instead of "difficulty breathing".

But the bigger they are, the harder they fall. And as authoritative and infallible as doctors may seem, when they do make a mistake, the blame and criticism is as severe as the reverence was strong while they were on the pedestal.

Do yourself and your doctor a favor. Don't raise him up so high that he'll crush you on his way down. Be realistic and work with him. He wants you to live. You want you to live. Work toward that common goal.

A Cautionary Tale

2008-11-13T08:00:00.000+08:00

Some of you have been asking for updates on Nadya, the four-month-old daughter of Peto, a reader of this blog. Nadya was in the hospital for heart surgery last Friday. Peto gave me the following update, which upset me very much. I think it's worth sharing with you because Peto's experience may one day save the life of somebody you love - somebody who can't speak for herself.

From Peto:

Saturday is a day I wish to forget; Nadya experienced a full left lung collapse because of negligence, complacency and bad management by the hospital staff.

Nadya was in the ICU, recovering from surgery. Thirty minutes after they removed the oxygen tube, I noticed her heart rate was going up drastically from 100 to 190, with the alarm sounding in a span of 15 minutes. I was in and out of the room informing the staff of the abnormal spike and Nadya's strange behaviour: hands flailing, legs kicking, hoarse crying and scared eyes.

I was told the increase in heartbeat was normal as she now required more effort to breathe on her own and she was probably in distress from crying, but somehow it didn't seem right to me as I had never seen those eyes before and there weren't any tears. Her voice was hoarse as if gasping for air.

As I coaxed her to calm down, I felt her head was feverish and immediately sensed that this wasn't right as her temperature had been 36.5 degrees just 30 minutes earlier. I quickly sounded the nurse again and she actually had to confirm the temperature with a thermometer under Nadya's arm pit, awaiting for it to beep, rather than a quick touch on the forehead. That waiting seemed endless and finally it beeped showing 38.2 degrees.

Luckily, a doctor happened to stroll by. I was then left standing outside as the staff spent 30 minutes in a panic, searching for a size 4 oxygen mask for Nadya. All I could see were nurses and doctors scrambling in and out the room, avoiding my eyes.

My heart sank when I saw a nurse doing a cross sign touching her forehead and shoulders as she came out. When I was allowed to go in, I broke down seeing Nadya's frail body attached to a huge mask trunk. They said there was high CO2 accumulation (up to 79?) with low oxygen. An x-ray showed full left lung collapse.

Thankfully, she is recovering well and under monitoring but I think I will be haunted by Nadya's scared eyes for a long time.

Advice from Peto:

I wish to say to all parents that you should never leave your children alone in the hospital no matter how safe you think they are. It's such an irony that all this could happen in an ICU ward and some of the explanations given by the doctors were very disturbing, such as:

- Nadya's ordeal is not uncommom after oxygen tube removal.
- We do have a mask on stand-by but unfortunately, it did not fit Nadya. And we used a hand pump while searching for the mask.
- It is understandable that as a parent you tend to take these things a bit harder although I think the situation is not as bad as you have perceived.
- Anyway, she is fine now!

All these remarks came after I told them that I hope they can learn from this experience as we could have lost an innocent life with this negligence.

- If it is not uncommon then shouldn't the tube removal be accompanied by close monitoring?
- Nadya was there for 2 days before the tube removal. The correct mask size should have been determined. What is the point of having a mask on stand-by if it doesn't fit the patient? FYI, Nadya has a perfectly normal head size for her age.
- Nadya was in distress during the 15-20 minutes it took to get the nurses' and doctor's attention, plus 30 minutes of mask-searching with the final diagnosis as lung collapse and CO2 built up due to lack of oxygen. And this doctor has the nerve to talk to me about parental over-reaction.
- The last comment is so irresponsibly shallow.

[Note from Shin: I don't like bashing doctors and nurses. I think they're human and they make mistakes like the rest of us. It's their unwillingness to admit to, apologize for, and learn from their mistakes that bothers me. A simple "sorry" would have made all the difference in the world to me in this situation.]

One More Year

2008-11-12T07:23:00.003+08:00

Today's my birthday - the third one since I was first diagnosed with cancer in December 2005. Here's what I wrote in my blog last year on my birthday:

"Should I make a prediction about where I’ll be at my next birthday? I’ll still be in Singapore, I’ll still have cancer, I’ll still be alive. That sounds terribly boring. I hope I can do something between now and then to make that year worth having."

Now I have to ask myself what I've done with this past year that made it worth having. The most obvious answer is that I spent more time with my kids, but that would have been the case even if I didn't have cancer.

In terms of achievements, I think the only thing I can claim to have accomplished this past year is this blog. Without sounding too conceited, I think this blog has provided other people touched by cancer a place to share experiences, learn from each other, and just feel safe, accepted, and inspired.

Looking ahead at one more year, I'd like to set some kind of concrete goal so that on my 43rd birthday, I can look back and say I've accomplished that task. I'm just not sure what that goal should be.

I'd been thinking about setting up a breast cancer information Web site for Singapore, but I see now that there's quite a lot of information out there already on the Internet. I wanted to start a communication training program for health care professionals (after going through some terrible experiences myself), but the hospitals here have already started such a program - maybe due to my volumes of feedback?

So I'm still working on having a goal to strive for in this year ahead. I'm one of those people who likes making lists and ticking off the tasks as they're completed. I'd like to tick off a box a year from now. But I suppose I should be happy enough to be ticking at all.

How about you? What have you done with this past year that made it worth having?

Practically Positive

2008-11-10T09:23:00.001+08:00

A blog reader wrote:

"There will be a cure. Shin, you will benefit from the best cancer drugs and survive... Your tumours will melt away and you'll still be here... Your tumours WILL MELT away, they will, don't worry."

My first reaction was, "Hey, isn't that denial, the first of Kubler-Ross's Five Stages of Grief?"

I have cancer in my brain, liver, lungs, bones, soft tissue, lymph nodes... practically everywhere but my toes and eyelashes. My doctors say they've never seen a cancer so aggressive. I'm on the tenth chemo combination so far this year because they either don't work or are too toxic for me to stay on them. Under these circumstances, thinking that my tumors will suddenly disappear and I'll survive to see a cure qualifies as denial, doesn't it?

But I don't think I'm in denial. (Hey, is that denial?) Given the progression of my disease and the current developments in cancer research (fast, but not as fast as my cancer), I'm pretty sure I won't live to see the cure.

Let's say I have five months to live and I divide that time up into the Five Stages of Grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. What a waste of four months that would be. If I just skip the first four stages and go straight to acceptance, then I can have five good months instead of just one.

Some people would consider acceptance the same as giving up. Those would be people who've never actually faced terminal illness or death. I can accept that I'm going to die of cancer. I would be unreasonable, nay, in denial, not to. Once I accept the reality, I can move on to enjoying the time I have left. If by some miracle I don't die of cancer, that would be an extra bonus. And I will not have lost anything by accepting the possibility and enjoying my remaining time.

So just because I'm not spending my time following Kubler-Ross's Five Stages and getting angry and depressed (Stages 2 and 4) about my situation doesn't mean I'm in denial. It just means I'm being realistic and smart about the time I have left, whether it's five months or five years.

No More Proselytizers

2008-11-08T01:16:00.001+08:00

This is in the comment thread, but I thought it worth repeating here:

A blog reader wrote:

I had a suggestion (after the deluge of religious comments in the previous threads): why not start a post (titled "Save Shin's Soul" or some such) specifically for your many religious readers. Then from now on, any irrelevant religious proselytising can be written there directly or pasted there by you from other threads.

I just feel that the many interesting comments by you and others get swamped - or sidetracked - by the virtual door-knockers. It really is impressive how much grace and patience you manage to respond with, having already stated your beliefs countless times.

My response:

Maybe you're right. Others have also complained about all the comments from Christians trying to convert me.

From now on, I'll try to limit the religious commentary to ideas that are somewhat fresh and interesting.

I will try not to post comments that say the same things about how much Jesus loves me and how my life on this Earth is meaningless if I don't accept God. These commentators might have good intentions, but I guess they don't know my background enough to see that I probably have had more exposure to religion than they have, and that I have well thought-out reasons for rejecting religion. If interested, do a search on my blog for "God" and "religion".

So, no more comments from proselytizers on this site.

Jekyll and Hyde

2008-11-07T08:38:00.001+08:00

I've been going through over three hundred comments you readers have sent me since the local TV channel aired a documentary film about me last Tuesday. I'm getting comments with all sorts of praise about what a great mom, wife, friend, human being I am. You're using words such as hero, idol, role model, inspiration. You say I've taught you how to truly appreciate life, your loved ones, yourselves.

The person I see emerging from these comments doesn't feel like me. I feel like I'm wearing a lovely coat that you're all describing with flattering words, but that's only because you have no idea what I'm wearing inside that coat.

Of course, this just goes for those of you who only know me through this blog.

My friends and family who know me personally know that I can be short-tempered, judgemental, arrogant, opinionated, intolerant, sarcastic, sharp-tongued, and downright cruel with my verbal scalpel.

I'm one of those people who thinks it's silly for pet-owners to spend billions of dollars on their cats and dogs instead of on orphans and other needy humans. I don't believe in the death penalty but if anybody hurt my kids, I'd change my mind in a hurry. Hallmark Cards make me want to puke. I always think I'm the smartest person in the room - any room. My favorite line from a book is from Flannery O'Connor: "She looked at nice young men as if she could smell their stupidity." My second favorite line, also from Flannery: "She would of been a good woman, if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life."

I think people (Americans) who keep guns in the house and have kids should be lined up and shot (not really, but you get the idea). I think the fact that Americans elected George Bush two times in a row shows just how stupid they are (I didn't vote for him). And the only reason why his party didn't win this time around is because most of the people who voted Republican before shot themselves by accident in their own homes.

I'm the person who yells at a homeless man, "Get a job!" But then I buy him food when nobody's looking. I'm the person who yells insults at a customer service employee for being stupid and incompetent, then goes back the next day to apologize for being such a bitch. Classic Jekyll and Hyde.

So you see... I'm not this warm and fuzzy person your comments make me out to be. I have my faults and weaknesses just like everybody else. Except I don't necessarily see them as faults. I think this is what makes me spicy. And as they say... if you can't handle the spice, go hang out in the Hallmark Card section.

A Father's Strength

2008-11-06T15:13:00.002+08:00

I received this comment from a blog reader and it really got to me. I thought it was worth sharing with you.

From "peto":

Today is one Black day - the kind that can only happen in the movies, but...

I'm glad I watched Channel 8; otherwise I wouldn't have met the most special mum in the world.

I'm also glad my 4-year-old daughter actually watched through the whole of your amazing story with me, without her usual complaints for attention.

Tasha: Daddy, who is this lady and what happened to her?

P: Mmh! She is very sick just like 'Po Po Doreen' (my aunt).

Tasha: Why is she so happy?

I was speechless for a while although there are many obvious reasons I could have given her:
Blessed with ...
* Wonderful family and friends.
* Lovely Josie and Toby.
* You just decided to be happy.
* Happy Bald Angel (hope you don't mind)

But I guess this innocent question speaks for what wonderful lessons you are bringing into our lives.

Tasha: Hey! Daddy, you have not answered my question!

I just gave her a huge warm hug and whispered to her that... we must love and live happily just like you.

P.S. This is my first blog comment and I have added it to my Favorites as I plan to learn from every entry after my 4-month-old daughter's heart surgery this Friday.

[From Shin: "Peto", my thoughts, and I'm sure the thoughts and prayers of many who read this blog will be with you and your family this Friday. Please let us know how your daughter is doing.]

Apology

2008-11-05T18:04:00.002+08:00

I now have over 300 comments on my blog that I need to go through, so please bear with me if you don't see your comment posted yet. I'm reading and posting them in the order they come in, so the most recent ones will be read last. So if you'd like to read your and other readers' comments, go back to earlier posts from this week and you'll see a backlog of them.

All of your comments are important to me, so I'll take my time to make sure I read each one carefully.

Thanks again for your continuing contribution to this blog.

Film, Tests, Wheels

2008-11-05T07:44:00.000+08:00

Many of you watched the short documentary film that Channel 8 aired last night. Thanks for taking an interest in me and my story. I thought Valerie, the producer, and her crew treated our family's story with great sensitivity and I'm grateful for their professionalism and hard work. Just half an hour after the show ended, I opened up my laptop to find more than 100 new messages in my Inbox - all having to do with the documentary. Most of these are very kind comments from you about the film and about my blog. Thanks for that. I'll slowly but surely get to your comments. I may not post or respond to each one due to my health, but I will certainly read all of them.

I had more tests yesterday - a chest X-ray to look at the lungs and a liver ultrasound to look at the liver. Not much change from before, so we're continuing on this course of Avastin + Ixempra. If and when my condition starts getting worse, we'll try another drug, possibly Abraxane + a HER2 targetted therapy such as Tykerb, which I've been on before. We've increased my dosage of Dexamethasone (steroid) to see if it will help with my breathing problem. If I continue to have trouble breathing, we'll move on to morphine. If that doesn't do the trick, I'll have the fluid drained from my lungs.

I did indeed get a wheelchair, but alas, not the tank version I showed in the photo in my earlier post. The world is a different place when viewed from a wheelchair. I can't really control where I go; I just get pushed around. Now I know how babies in strollers feel. That's another thing. Every time I see a kid in a stroller now, I want to challenge him to a race. When I see somebody else in a wheelchair, I want to try to go faster. Hey, I've gotta get my kicks somehow. Today, Tony wheeled me to the entrance of a public bathroom (toilet), and then I got up and walked unassisted into the bathroom. That must've looked a bit funny to onlookers. I thought of going to one of those Christian healing sessions so I could let the preacher put his hands on my head and then I'd jump up out of my wheelchair and yell, "Hallelujah! I'm healed! Just kidding!" I wonder if the preacher would find that very funny.

New Blog Rules

2008-11-04T09:22:00.001+08:00

First, I'd like to thank those of you who are regular readers of this blog for your encouragement and your participation in some interesting discussions we've had here. Your words of support and the knowledge that I've had some positive impact on you have helped sustain me and made me feel like I'm doing something useful with the time I have left.

Unfortunately, due to my health and the increasing number of comments I've been receiving, I'll have to change a few rules for the use of this blog, as follows:

1) I'll read every comment I receive, but I won't be able to publish or respond to all of them. If you find that your comment has not been published, please don't take it personally. Please know that I'm grateful for every word of support and encouragement I receive from you, and although I'd like to thank each one of you with a personal response, it's become rather difficult for me to do that now. I just want you to know that your kind words DO mean a great deal to me, and they'll mean a lot to my children after I'm gone and they read this blog their mother has left behind for them.

2) From now on, your comments will be edited for clarity and brevity. This is to help other readers of the blog understand your ideas more clearly and keep your opinions from getting lost in the rambling that many of us tend to fall into when talking about something emotionally charged (I speak for myself here). I have to confess, also, that I'm an old fogey and am not quite hip to the phone text abbreviations and other modern lingo that some of the younger readers of this blog use in their comments. To help myself and others of my generation, I'll do my best to translate such cryptic lingo, but if I can't understand it, I'm afraid I won't be able to publish it. So please humor me. Besides, remember that I have tumors in my brain - there's that Cancer Card!

Thanks so much for your understanding and for continuing to contribute to this blog. You say my blog is helping you in many ways... you have no idea how much all of you are helping me.