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The last day of the year of the ox has definitely been weird.

我只会继续对这世界微微笑，因为我相信我对这世界慷慨一些，这世界也会对我好一点。

I seriously don't think I can survive another year of work from home. I feel like I'm on the verge of a mental breakdown of having to work from home, isolated away from my colleagues. Even though I'm a lone wolf, but lone wolves also have social batteries that needs to be recharged. Is this how the world is going to end? Ugh this is so damn annoying.

Many moons ago, when I was still a student, people often asked me this question "picture first, or human first?"

I got this question from fellow photographers and fellow classmates in my Communications degree course.

The answer seems simple, "human first, no?" but many would rebutt - then many award winning photographs would not have been taken this way, no?

Doing the right thing is always hard. But doing the right thing feels right. People do the right thing, despite it being difficult, because it feels right. Your heart will tell you so. Once I let my ego get the better of me and my colleague put me back in my place by saying "you are doing it because it's the right thing to do," and from then on, I remember never to boast about things that I ought have done in the first place.

It has become a habit, to never mention the nice things I do for others, and not to hope for people to do them in return for me. I do not have want for moral dessert.

Today, I met a potential profile whom we were supposed to feature in our video series. He was confident, and somewhat handsome in an ahbeng kind of way, but I could feel that in our chat we kept hitting a wall. He was withholding information from me, he wasn't comfortable sharing more. I told him everything said today is just an informal chat and would not be published, before he totally relaxed and told me his considerations.

I could tell he was really stressed. From his eyes and the quiver of his hair while he spoke, I knew he was in his last struggle. He simply did not want to show that to his family, his employees, and his competitors in his industry.

Finally, I closed my notebook.

I asked him, "human to human, are you doing ok?"

"Do you have someone to talk to, to share all this burden?"

He gave me a funny reply. "Your job is interesting. You get to come asking all these questions and I have to answer them."

But I know that a wall has broken. There is an understanding. I'm not here to antagonise him, I'm just here to talk. If he's not comfortable, we'd just not go ahead with the story. It's ok.

Sometimes life is like that, you lose osme, you gain some.

In the past two months, three different people have asked me who, of all the people I've interviewed, is the most memorable or had the mosti nteresting story. All three times, I searched hard in my head but I couldn't formulate an answer. I thought something was wrong with me, I mean I profess to be a good story teller and yet, when people ask for one, why can't I seem to remember a single thing that stood out for me?

Up till this particular moment, I can't come up with a coherent answer. All I can remember are flashes of images of people I've interviewed before, but I can't conjure up a story. So one night, right before falling asleep, I came up with a model answer. One that would satisfy people I would meet and ask me the same question again, without sounding weird myself.

The most memorable person I remember interviewing, till this day, with some clarity - is the first person profile I interviewed. A scrub nurse from NUH. That would be my answer. You never forget your firsts (or lasts), and that's just a legit answer as it is about to be.

As our parents grow older, the roles really do reverse. Today, I taught my father how to order food at Muji cafe. I did it despite me being able to order everything by myself because I was afraid after he retires this month, he doesn't know how to order his own food when he goes out to explore.

Then I brought him to the computer store to buy a laptop. We studied the specs together and the salesman helped him with the process of choosing one within his budget.

Then I brought him and mum to another electronics store to buy mum a new smartwatch to replace the old one that was misplaced a year ago. (My dad is really good at stalling when it comes to spending money...)

Today is first day of school for parents but somehow I felt like I was bringing my own 7-year-old kids out.

Early birthday note. I get overwhelmingly sad everytime it's my birthday. I don't know why, I just have years of repressed shit still in my system. It's not fun when it's your birthday and the people who gave you life don't even remember or make a mention of it, so afraid of their own conscience.

I am, however, thankful for my friends who make it special for me every year, even if it's just buying me my favourite mango cake and singing a birthday song for me at the office pantry.

Picture a wave. In the ocean. You can see it, measure it, its height, the way the sunlight refracts when it passes through. And it's there. And you can see it, you know what it is. It's a wave. And then it crashes in the shore and it's gone. But the water is still there. The wave was just a different way for the water to be, for a little while. You know it's one conception of death for Buddhists: the wave returns to the ocean, where it came from and where it's supposed to be.

- Chidi, The Good Place (Season 4)

Every human is a little bit sad all the time, because you know you're gonna die, but that knowledge is what gives life meaning.

Michael, The Good Place (Season 4)

I've been spending two weeks chasing deadline after deadline, it just seems all my projects are crashing together and I haven't had the chance for a breather. I spend all my waking hours sitting at my desk, and apart from my two hour mid-day siesta, I am literally furiously working away on my laptop or outside on shoot. I open my eyes and start work at 8am, and I close my laptop and force myself to sleep at midnight. Last night right before I dipped into my slumber, I randomly remember that I've been with my current job for exactly 8 years. Where have all the time gone? In a blink of an eye, all that time have just passed like that and I wonder if I've learnt anything at all. Then today, by a stroke of luck maybe, I spent my day at a production house where they were testing out a new virtual production technique. They were excitedly sharing their new technology with me like old friends (I guess common interests do pull people together) and I was secretly amazed by myself knowing some actual technical knowhow that I gained through my years of working, knowledge I wouldn't have posessed without years of learning on the job. Guess 8 years is a long time, but more importantly I remember I did learn stuff, and that's what's more important.

Conditional Love

This morning my sister called me while I was at work; she visited an old family friend at his house today, and the conversation has left me rather tired. I hadn't done much at work today, even though I was in office for half a day, my mind just wasn't focused anymore.

I never knew for a fact that my childhood was complicated. My sister knew, but never understood exactly the reasons why. It took us way into our adulthood to slowly realise and talk through our childhood traumas. Traumas that still stay with us till this day, and it's a strange realisation to have when you're already in your 30s. (Most people immediately know whether their childhood was fucked up or not, not like us, it took us more than a decade to realise this.)

So her visiting this old family friend today (he had a near death experience) and he and his wife was one of those whom although we no longer spoke to, we still liked them pretty much. They were very much unlike the rest, they were also totally unlike our parents. We got to know them when they were in their 20s, us still very much kids then. During my sister's visit today, he spoke to my sister about our parents, and the next sentence pretty much crystalises how I feel about my life thus far.

"We have never experienced unconditional love from our parents before," was my sister's simple response to his words.

I've always felt that my parents' behaviour was for moral dessert [concept where you do good deeds only to receive certain rewards, e.g. karma, heaven vs hell, etc], but I've never thought of it this way.

It sounds pretty sad. It's also sad because it's true.

I looked back on my life with my parents, there were happy times, there were times when I felt incredibly loved, but ever since we grew up and we adjusted the looking glass covering our eyes all our lives, then only did we realise every good thing we got was conditional.

I can't help but feel betrayed. By my own naivety? By my parents? I don't know. I do know I do feel kind of broken now.

P.S. To all the people in my life, past and present, who have walked through my life and given me all your unconditional love, platonically or romantically, I just want to say I really appreciate all of you. Some a lot more than the others.

My sis recently concluded I must be a Slytherin. I said she must be a Ravenclaw. Asher said he never wants to be a Gryffindor, because who the hell wants to die, even if it's a courageous death???

Ordered some tarts from Odette and mini choux pastry to be delivered to the clinic yesterday. This is the photo they sent me ☺️

I remember when the hard lump in my left lower pelvic area started hurting in the middle of the night, I knew I needed surgery for whatever shit was growing inside of me. I had other symptoms for months which I ignored - frequent urination, change in bowel habits and really bad period pains.

When my GP thought that it could be a problem with my lymph nodes, I thought to myself - thank god - not something gynaecological. I had never visited a gynae in my life and was not prepared for some pesky middle aged doctor poke me in my private parts.

But of course it had to be gynaelogical.

Thankfully, the doctor I (sort of accidentally) got referred to was a young lady in her early 40s who had a pleasant disposition and great bedside manners. She said surgery is required. I already knew that. (It's a freaking 13-14 centimeter cyst ok.)

And it didn't help at all. My heart still sunk. I was preparing for a major career challenge when the circuit breaker ends. And yet, 2 days before the circuit breaker started, I was told I need to go for surgery, which would put me out of action for 2 to 4 weeks. I was not prepared to put my body through mental and physical stress post surgery, so I was thinking whether to postpone the surgery till it was safe, career wise, to.

I told doctor that. She looked at me straight in the eyes. "Between your job and your health, your health is more important."

Of course I knew that. Any sane person would know that. But between a major career advancement opportunity and solving a health crisis - most people would probably choose career.

I sat outside the doctor's office. My heart was sinking further. I didn't know how to tell anyone this. I wasn't intending to tell anyone either. I just can't process. I felt like my life had come to a complete standstill - if COVID-19 hadn't completely shattered any semblance to a normal life - the surgery news had done that.

I was sent downstairs for a complete pre-surgery work up and 4 vials of blood was taken from me. It was also the first day I was expected back in the office, where I was looking forward to seeing my colleagues again after 2 weeks of Work From Home.

I texted my boss. I've visited way too many clinics today to be considered safe to enter the office today. I was also very tired from the whole experience.

My boss asked me whats the result of my CT scan. I told her. 14cm ovarian cyst. Surgery. She was the first person I told. I wasn't even afraid of actually having surgery. I was afraid I would be benched if I go for surgery.

I wasn't intending to tell anyone anything else for the rest of the day, but if luck would have it, I ran into my sister during lunch at Muji at Dhoby Ghuat. She and Asher was in town, running last minute errands before all shops had to close. She asked me how was I and I told her about the cyst.

Asher listened carefully. He is such a sweet boy. He understood, and asked intelligent questions, but he left us adults to talk our adult stuff. That was how my first family member knew, but I didn't know how to tell my parents, since I don't live with them.

Now that I'm in the last day of my hospitalisation leave (and the circuit breaker extended), I can tell myself it was a good choice to have the surgery afterall. I can totally imagine myself, under normal circumstances (without COVID-19), that I'd probably be even dragging this past August's summer Olympics and risking myself real mortal danger.

Life is always clearer on hindsight, but who dares to be so sure whether decisions were right or wrong?

Me: Doc, what's your specialisation?

Her: (shyly) My true interest is in deliveries. Obstetrics.

Me: (listening, but disdain for babies written all over my face)

Her: Babies are cute, no?

Me: Errrrrrrr... Let's agree to disagree???

Her daughter's really pretty though.

Just another crazy patient

Doc: Let's talk about your histology. You have endometriosis, where your endometrium lies outside of your uterus. In order to suppress and prevent future problems and cysts from growing, I suggest getting on progesterone (a female hormone).

Doc: *stares at my blank face because I wasn't really processing the part where I would be on a lifelong medication*

Doc: What are your thoughts?

Me: *still silent*

Sis: How long would this condition last?

Doc: Until menopause.

Sis, to me: WELL, THERE'S SOMETHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO!

Me: *Laughing* WELL IF WE SURVIVE THIS CIRCUIT BREAKER!!!!

Sis, me: WHOOHOO!!!!

Doc: ROFLMAO

Me: Well I'm not prepared to be on meds for the next 20 years of my life.

Doc: This medication can also act as a contraceptive.

Doc: *straight faced, though our interactions up till now should have clued her in on my sexuality*

Doc: Do you need contraceptives?

Sis: *Sniggers*

Me: (without a beat) No

Doc: Ok. (eyes totally betraying that she kind of expected that answer.)

Doc: Well monitor your symptoms for the next three months and let's review again then, shall we? Me: (thank god)

One has to face some experiences in life completely alone. I went for a surgery totally without any accompany and it was the most surreal thing to happen. It felt like I was going on a staycation all by myself (the room was really nice and I paid a nice dollar for it), but the reality of the situation was that if something went really, really badly, I would be really really alone. It was nice, but at the back of my head, it was scary at the same time.

I was wheeled into the operating theatre at 9.15am in the morning. I never understood why they have to wheel you in vertically (straight on your back and not with you lying upright). The ride from my room to the operating suite was a short one. I watched some ceiling lights pass over me. Same block, 2 floors down. I had no time to get nervous. I was handed over to the anethesiologist's assistant, who for the upteemth time that morning, confirmed my name, IC number and date of birth. I smiled as I tottered off my vital info, and she laughed too, because before one goes for an op in Singapore, they make damn sure they got the correct patient.

I didn't have my glasses on, but I could see everyone well. Dr Lydia, the anethesiologist, came over to greet me and introduced herself. We chatted casually while they were transferring me onto the operating table. I was shivering by this time because it was so damn bloody cold (and they are just wearing their scrubs so, huh, what's their secret technique of staying warm???) and they tucked me in and kept me entertained.

Dr Claudia Chi, my chief surgeon, came over to say a chirpy hi. I'm glad she's in a good mood. We chat a little more, and I'm happy this happened because the last time all the staff at SGH were so sullen and depressing and the anethesiologist was so haughty I didn't quite "enjoy" my experience there. I felt like I was in good hands.

Dr Chi held my feet in a way that was strangely reassuring (she's a gynae and I think she does that all the time to new born babies) and said "ok, let's start Eunice" and everyone got into motion. I was like yeah team let's do this! Dr Lydia said she was gonna inject me with the good stuff and asked me to inhale the oxygen. No counting down this time. Damn I love counting down, even if it was to my own unconsciousness. I felt myself sinking, sinking, sinking in the table. I yelled a SEE YOU LATER, they replied CYA! And I was out.

Some time passed and I woke up. Well this is the part that no one really knows if they haven't been thru an op. They actually WAKE YOU UP after you're done with an op. Yes. It's like being born again and the world is calling your name. Eunice, Eunice, Eunice. You're in a world of pain from the surgery. Eunice, Eunice, open your eyes.

I peeled my eyes open, and this time, as with the last time I woke up from GA, I started shivering. Dr Lydia and her assistant's heads were hovering over me. "Hey you. Your surgery went well." (Thank you ladies but erm I'm in pain and I want to close my eyes.)

Dr Chi came over too. I don't know why there was yelling but it sure felt like that to a subconscious me. "Everything went well, Eunice! Your surgery is fine. Everything was OKAY."

And thus they tucked me into X layers of blankets (the operating suite's blankets are damn thick) and wheeled me back to my room. I looked at the clock. Woah. 1.15pm. The surgery took less than 3 hours. They heaved me back into bed and I felt around for Mr Dragon. Housekeeping made the bed while I was gone and they had put away Mr Dragon.

"What do you need, sweetie?" One of the N nurses asked.

"My Dragon..." I croaked.

"Oh your Dragon, your Dragon.... They put it in the cupboard. Let me give it to you."

Just as soon as they swarmed in, they left me to my own devices. I managed to type a few messages out to my family and I decided to zonk out again.

Staying in hospital, especially by oneself, is a lesson in humility. When you're shred to nothing, you're naked, you're bleeding and you're in need of another person's help. This time they put a catheter in me, so peeing wasn't a problem (whooo I used the most of it by drinking lots of water) and poor nurse had to make two trips sometimes to empty the bag, but they also had to change my pad and clean my bum every few hours. When I share such personal hospitalisation experiences with others, some feel shy for me, but I thought, wow, this *IS* really the time to feel humbled by others. No matter how important you think you are, you are nothing but a patient who needs their care and dignity in the face of a health crisis.

Just something funny to share on the first night post surgery. I was running a 38.2 deg fever but I personally felt nothing. I wasn't tired and by 9pm, was already on my Nintendo for about 4 hours. The nurses were WORRIED. Written all over their faces. They couldn't administer any more paracetamol to lower my temp because I just had some 2 hours ago. They asked me to drink more water and continued my drip. Then one noticed I was really warm. I had kicked off all my blankets and was starting to wipe myself with a wet wipe. She asked me if I was feeling warm. Yes, I replied, but also thinking if I was really running a fever I technically would be feeling chills instead of heat.

She glanced at the thermostat. She laughed. "Omg it's on 23.5 deg heater mode!" She changed the mode back to cool at 21 deg and went out to tell the other nurses. I could hear the commotion outside my door. One after another came in, removed my blankets, asked me if I felt better, made sure my body was cooling down and poured more water for me. It was really funny. I guess I was in a sauna room for the entire afternoon and they all thought I was running a fever!

Doc came by next morning for rounds and told me that she's holding off antibiotics for the meanwhile as my fever has come back down. I let the cat out of the bag. "You know, they found the air con on heater mode." Doc laughed died. We all laugh died. It was a truly honest mistake that was taken in stride and humor. "Hey, you all don't sabo me anyhow give patient antibiotics leh," said doc to the nurse.

I always try to get my energy up to be a good patient. It is no doubt the job of healthcare workers to take care of you, but being a pleasure to be around would make their jobs so much easier.

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