Me, the Emo Emu

Has been such a long hiatus, I know.

I have contemplated on how to go about blogging on the happenings in the recent weeks without sounding like an annoying emotional blubbering idiot – and I figured, there’s no other way.

Because, I was, and am, very touched! Shi had ever called me an easily touched “emo emu”, but what’s wrong with that? If you’re happy, laugh; if you’re upset, cry; if you’re touched to tears, let them flow! Life’s too short to ponder if you should be displaying your emotions on your sleeves when you’re indeed feeling that. Why make it so complicated when it’s in actual fact, so simple? (Although I’m not advocating a melting shouting showdown with your boss when he pisses you off by calling you back into office to print a 2 page document just as when you are stepping out of the office on a Friday night after a long grueling day, when he could have jolly done so himself. Or... should you?)

JX asked me if I had changed, because of him, from a hardy girl who rarely cries (in his eyes, at least) to a somewhat silly blubbering softie. Like, he spoilt me. But if there was that change in me, I think I should accrue that to having almost kicking the bucket near 2 years back. One day you are leading a plain, if not boring, life, going through the motions, and you were suddenly thrown off the track and straight into the dumps where you lumbered around desperately like a helpless headless chicken, living second by second, minute by minute, day by day; while your spirit and determination wanes. So when you manage to bounce right back, from the dumps, you are bound to appreciate what you had/have; plain or not, boring or not. You will learn to appreciate that what you had taken for granted - simple things - are actually so precious.

And that’s what changed me. I endeavor to live life, and not just plain living. While I don’t exactly mean that I will go bungee-jumping every other day and go round the world in 80 days on a bank loan, I resolve to be true to myself and everyone I care about and live happily as I would allow myself everyday. That is good enough for me. Simplicity is happiness in its own right. Happiness, is all in the state of one’s mind.

So, JX sprung a surprise proposal, but even before he sang his song and got down on his knees to pop the question with the ring in hand, I was long crying. Heck, my tears had already sprung when my besties popped out of nowhere with a humongous bouquet of roses and a rolling video camera. The venue he chose was perfect, it couldn’t have been any other place – the hospital’s chapel. The same hospital that we both were born into, the same hospital that cared for me while I was struggling for my life, the same hospital that saw me relearning how to walk, and the same hospital’s chapel where he had cried silently and prayed for me to return and recover.

And making JX and my besties being part of it all added that extra boost of dramatic surprise – my emotional dial went straight into the dangerous red zone. I was short of wailing emotions.

Although come to think of it, I do not know exactly how I was feeling at that point in time. Shock, mostly, I guess. And when realization hit, touched. The thorough planning to set the surprise up, while he bombarded me with “smoke bombs to mislead my 6th sense”. For the record, my 6th sense was not usually that dull if not for his devious intricate planning.

And I was reduced to a blubbering idiot within mere seconds from an expressionless dull look, as described by Shi. I must have made everyone bewildered with that sudden onset of gushing tears. “Hey, that wasn’t part of the plan!” Me, rooted at the doorway of the chapel, crying, clutching tightly to the overwhelming bouquet of roses. Ha, I got you guys there. At least.

Of course, my answer was obvious. In fact, I thought we were going to do away with the entire proposal works. Everyone whom I cared about and who cared about me, knew how much JX means to me, and vice versa. The ordeals that he stanchly underwent when I ran into some tough patches, the pain he silently endured while putting on a brave and cheerful front before me as I lay on the hospital bed no matter how tired and emotionally exhausted he was, the little stuffs and details which I said or did flippantly which he took note of, the efforts he put in to just make me happy - I do feel, so very fortunate...

It was nice to have the Sisters and some of the hospital staff present to congratulate us and all. Felt a little queer with the photoshoot for the hospital's newsletter though. Got a little sense on how wedding photoshoots are going to be like, and boy, I doubt it's going to be easy.

Ending the day with a high-tea at Goodwood Park Hotel with our best buddies was a very nice touch. Could not have been any other way. It was really great, getting to share my happiness with my girls, just as it was for JX with Nick. It was emotive too, knowing that Nick, who helped JX with his logistics and planning so that JX could keep up with his nonchalant front before me, had a night shift before and hadn’t had much sleep.

I was so utterly moved by the entire setup, the endomorphine hormones went into overdrive that lasted me for days. I actually woke up the next day, thinking that it may be a dream. It was that surreal. But when I realized it’s not, my emotions kicked up again. Yeah, geeee.

Wondering if I should upload the video here when I get hold of it from Shi. JX’s concerned over his cracking voice and singing, while I am just plainly, simply a mess.

"How Starbucks Saved My Life" May Save My Life

Read "How Starbucks Saved My Life" by Michael Gates Gill recently. It was about a man in his fifties (himself basically) who had it all but suddenly lost it all. From a creator director at J. Walter Thompson Advertising, to a Starbucks employee who had to scrub the toilets and serve the people in front of his cash register where he once stood in his branded suit. Real story. Inspirational, maybe. But it did make me stop and think about my own life.

"I was over sixty when I stopped one late, silent night in the city on the way home from my new job, looked up at the stars, and paused in the rush of life to touch my heart. Only then did I discover how happy I was.

I had grown up in such a cacophonous culture - family and friends full of high-sounding expectations, thousands of noisy ads encouraging a belief in external measures of success - that I never learned to listen to my own heart."

It questions me, when was the last time I asked myself - what makes me happy, and whether I am happy. I realized that I have been trying to live up to others' expectations of myself, instead of to my own expectations. I think all things happen for a reason, and there's no room for regrets in decisions being made in the past but going forward, how would I want to lead my life?

"I discovered so late in life that trusting your own heart is our greatest - and only - path to real happiness. It was only through trusting my heart as my guide that I discovered this. I believe everyone is given a unique path to happiness that is special for each person - we just have to listen to our hearts."

I know, a little repetitive, but I reckon that Michael was merely trying to reinforce that real happiness comes from within yourself. Happy with what you're doing in your life, happy at your job, happy the way you're living your life, happy that you are with your loved ones - basically being at peace with yourself. And that was not to be confused with those short bursts of happiness which you derive from external material purchases.

And then I thought - actually, it takes courage for one to relinquish all the expectations which were laden on him and then to pursue his happiness. Either that, or he had nothing else to lose anyway... but we all wait, thinking happiness may just be around the corner while telling ourselves that we would get used to the miserable lives that we're leading now. And then when we get older, we stop dreaming, we stop hoping for happiness, lose that glimmer and just got so caught up and used to the miserable lives that we're stuck in that rut for the rest of our lives. And we retire, wondering what was that about in the last 40 years. That's depressing me as I type that out. But... that burst of courage I need, may just be what that could steer my life into something so worthwhile.

My Lost Pride

Looking at these sketches which I effortlessly did up many years back, I wonder if I am actually missing out something in my life now. Yes, I am doubtful that the me-now, can draw up something like these below.

The Animals' Heads: My first sketches in my first sketchbook - flipped through encyclopedias to pick pictures and try sketching them.

Cher's Vacant Look: Something about Cher scared me then. I think Cher reminded me of Roald Dahl's 'Witches'.

The Eye: Not Cher's missing eye(s), nor anyone I knew. Neither is it mine (mine's beadier). Think I picked this one up from PacNet's CD cover.


Lauren Hill: Loved "Killing Me Softly".



Anorexic Creature: The In-thing was Magic Cards, more than 10 years' back. Was intrigued with this particular one, because of the crouch, the taut and strained fingers and its overall muscle anatomy. Though the people who had seen this sketch of mine would cringe and go "Eee, what is that?"


Creature's Skull: Not the same creature per se, but from the deck of Magic Cards too. I think I am rather morbid. Again, a sketch which made people cringe like they ate some over-preserved sour prune and exclaimed, "You are sick and morbid."


My Hero: You were, and still are!


My Fat Hand: Quite self-explanatory. Though I like to think that my fat hands have slimmed down quite a bit since secondary school.


Home Sweet Home: On the contrary of what most guesses are (i.e. a Christmas Card), I was actually inspired by the cover of a Horror story by Stephen King. Can't remember the title. Sketched this in between classes I think.

The Fat Aunt: Of... Homer Simpson?

The Hippie Guitarist: Guess what, he's right out from a Burger King advertisement phamplet. I know, the guitar's a little too short and kiddy.

The Morning Rush: Jumped out from Burger King's advertisement phamplet too. See the same expression on everyone every weekday morning.

A sunset a day, drives your worries away.

I was brisk-walking home on a Friday evening, relieved that it was finally the weekend but etched on my forehead was a slight frown from mounting stress at work. I had nothing on in the next few hours, but I was eager to be home.

I then saw, before me, a wheelchair-bound man stopped wheeling himself in the midst of a carpark, and lifted his head to look afar. Aware that the carpark was a slight uphill slope, I thought he may be experiencing some difficulties, so I went up to him and offered my help gently.

The moment he turned his head to look at me, his cheery disposition had me pleasantly surprised. He grinned at me and exclaimed he was fine and explained that he was just stopping by to look at the sunset. And thanked me profusely for offering help in the first place.

I smiled at him in return, and sensed a slow wakening within myself which calmed me down as I looked up to at the sky and the vibrant sunset amidst the silhoutte of the trees.

I was thankful to him, actually, for reminding me that one should not be that self-absorbed and should be more appreciative of what is given and what is there. I love sunrises and sunsets, but have forgotten to look up to the skies when my pace of life quickens. One can be miserable the whole day, the whole week, or even his whole life and forget about being happy – but the entire world is moving on, with you sulking or not. So why not take it a little easier on yourself, and seek joy in what you have?... Ask not what life is there to offer you, but what you can offer yourself with that mindset of yours.

They shouldn't have to go through this.

These poor animals which once lived in the forests of Australia. Imagine how they panicked in their last moments. Imagine their frantic terror as they tried to escape but got caught in fiery deadends.

This is one survivor from the Australian bushfires.

"You can how she stops and moves forward and looks at me. It was like a look saying "I can't run, I'm weak and sore, put me out of my misery,"" Tree told Reuters.

"I yelled out for some water and I sat down with her and tipped the water up. It was in my hand and she reached for the bottle then put her right claw into my left hand which was cold so it must have given her some pain relief and she just left it there. It was just amazing."

(Source: Reuters)

'Amazing' wouldn't be a word I would choose to use in that juncture, but well...

No one person or animal should have to go through this.

"...words escape us all when it comes to describing that deliberate arson,"said Victoria state Premier John Brumby.

How apt.

Acceptance

It had been a devastating time for all when Norbit left us suddenly. It took us all a while to get used to the fact that Norbit is gone forever. We all missed him terribly. And truthfully, my heart still wrenches as the nasty memories attack me from time to time - him fighting for his life on the operation table, eventually struggling to get close to the oblivious me when he was near his death, his limp body as the vet tried to resuscitate him, the words that finalized his life...

Jo said she was sorry that I had to be the one to witness the entire ordeal and for selfish reasons, she was in a way blessed to be spared from the agony. But a large part of me was glad that I was there with him when he needed me most. I just wish for Norbit to know that we all loved him.

It is still painful now, but it gets better and it will pass. In time, I know, I will think about Norbit and smile instead of crying.

JX said, "That's it. We'll not have any pets," after rushing to my side and witnessing my crumbled state when he heard the news.

My heartbroken parents were also a little apprehensive in getting another pet now. My dad went, "See, I told you. You have to expect this when you get a pet. You will be heartbroken when its time is up." My mom then added, "That's why I didn't want us to have a pet."

But... would you rather protect yourself from potential agony, from sad memories - and hence no happy memories, to not love and be loved in return; OR to create happy moments despite knowing one day, it probably will all end, short-lived or not? I choose the latter. So what if you are living, but not a life?

Ketchup Thoughts

Recently met up with my secondary school friends and we caught up over some drinks and sweet foods. G, brought along her Baby. We were cooing and making funny ugly faces at her, I think we would have looked ridiculous to the public.

I held The Baby for the first time, feeling quite apprehensive. Babies are such fragile, squishy little things, they’re cute but... you know, clumsiness is a trait of mine. I didn’t quite know what to do with her, I didn’t even hold onto dolls and teddy bears when I was a kid, for goodness’ sake. I just held her tight and tried to, er, make her distracted from the fact she was entrusted to me (who know nuts about babies and how they should be dealt with). The Baby was a brave one. And easy going. Didn’t kick up create a big fuss in my hands. But she kept kicking at nothing for the longest of time. We all commented that she’s gonna have some mighty powerful pair of pins.

It made me wonder, am I prepared to be a Mom? It did strike me a little scary. You can’t sleep through the night(!). Somehow, that point brought up by G was blinking neon at me. Gee, that’s a tough sacrifice.

G later left cos The Baby was looking really tired. If I kicked at nothing for an hour, I would probably want to lie down and sleep too.

Further caught up with SQ and SR on the rest of our classmates. For a few days since the catchup, I thought about the career choice that one of our classmates took. I knew his profession as a photographer since a year back. Todate, I question myself if I would ever find my courage, like him, to pursue my dreams, my interests. I am ashamed that I haven't. Somehow or rather, along the way, I lost sight of my ideals, my dreams, and doing what I love most. Other things, (seemingly or not) more important, took their places instead. My interests have slowly been sidelined subconsciously as I grew older.

Doodling, photography, painting, fashion, writing, plonking on the piano are what I love to do. I am an ‘Arts’ person**. But... how much time do I put aside for the things I love doing, in a year...? I used to immerse myself for hours in one artwork. Would I pursue a career in them? How much am I willing to put to risk, to pursue my dreams?

How would you balance between practicality and your dreams in doing what you love?

[**JX termed me the ‘Arts’ person, while to me, he’s the practical, straightforward ‘Engineering’ person.

He asks “What?”; I ask “Why?” He solves problems plaguing him straight away, while I brainstorm why the problem exists and how to nip the problem at the bud (which he thinks is crap and waste of time. While I think he’s in denial).

He’s great at Maths and Logic, while I am better at (English) Language (because he beats me in Chinese hands down, feet down, head down) and have an eye for aesthetics and er, Reason and er... Philosophy. ]

Sadly...

in life, you gain some, and you lose some. That is just the way it is...

On happier thoughts, it also meant that when you lose some, you will gain some.

How do Words Taste Like?

I read this old entry of mine that was written in 2006, and I really have to eat those rotten words. It COULD definitely get worse.

Getting hospitalized is definitely not a pretty thing too. Thin, greasy and falling hair, paleness that makes a ghost blush, and for me – bloatedness. Instead of fainting (daintily), I fell into fits. Who caught my fall? A bed and a screaming nurse beside me.

It’s true when people say that you can’t say things that are too extreme then...? My life’s a drama? I think I better keep my trap shut.

Can things be actually as simple as I hope them to be?

Sometimes I wonder if I think too much into things – deliberate too much about the others’ intentions by the things they do or say when their purposes were probably as simple as they can get. Paranoid, or cynical, some say.

But when you go thinking that everyone is as simple as you thought them out to be, you can be considered naïve and giving excuses for their ill intents. Then, what?

Maybe the intentions weren’t deliberately malicious, but the consequences of their actions and words can turn out to be. If you were angry at the nasty situation that someone got yourself into, what can you do?

How I hate to be distrustful... But how else would one protect oneself?

Bye bye, Karen. :(

It was sad seeing Karen off. Though I thought I should not have, but I had allowed my tears to spring out when she hugged me tight and told me to be a good girl as she bade us goodbye. The rest chided me for being emotional, but well, I have no words to describe how I felt. The gratitude I have for her and recounting on the happy times that we had spent together at work and off work, can be rather choking. This is my boss and my good friend – who has done so much for me.

A year together is a tad short... but you will definitely be missed, Karen. Your warped jokes and sneaky dirty thoughts at the most unexpected moments. :/

Prayers for Sharon

I received a call from JX. And what I heard from him next made my mouth dry and my heart drop. His best buddy (ever), Nicholas, who stood by him whenever he was going through any tough patches in his life, especially sticking it through with him during my hospitalization, is now in the same predicament as JX was last year. Silently and probably, audaciously, I thought if God is playing a prank on us...

Nick is now in USA with his girlfriend Sharon, where she has been working since late last year. They were touring USA and in a twist of events, she fell ill just last night. High fever, shortness of breaths. She was then diagnosed with pneumonia.

Said to be in a stable condition, thank God. Having being in this situation in a foreign place, away from your loved ones – family and friends, they are in a zone unfamiliar to them with no physical and emotional support from the people who care. This, JX acknowledges that he was very fortunate to have his family and friends propping him up when he didn’t have the strength. Same here with me. All the more anxious and worried JX felt for Nick – on how Nick and Sharon are coping without anyone to help them, how he himself could offer help, in any way at all, despite being so far away...

Thank God that Nick visited her in USA and was right there with her when she fell ill. At least she has him right by her side to care for her. Reminds me too much of my own episode...

I wish them strength and courage to pull through this tough period, and for her to get well quickly. All, please pray for Sharon to get well soon.

Scars serve us all as Reminders.

Friends and family who have witnessed the ordeal I went through last year knew how all the marks on my body came about. Battle scars, I proclaimed them proudly. And what could I have asked for more, frankly? I have made it through all that.

“They are just ultimately superficial problems. What’s important you’re all up and well! And your face is perfectly fine!! How lucky you are.” They consoled me.

I am fine actually. In fact, they didn’t matter all that much to me. They of course did, when the rashes were in its full glory. Antibiotics rash was no joke. You itch from morning to night and night to morning, you itch everywhere (but your face) and when you scratch, the itchier it becomes. My skin had broken out into many red spots and bumps. And then hives (So, yes, I am the Born Loser). Itch, on top of Itch. The itch wakes you up from your slumber and the more you scratch, the more awake you become and you suddenly go into a scratching frenzy. Mommy had to hold me down a few nights because I was going berserk from writhing about trying to scratch the hard-to-reach areas, typically the middle of the back. The itch was unbearable and I really wondered then if it would ever ever stop itching.

It finally did, but the marks remained. The marks slowly darkened and they were nothing like scabs which could be seen clearly from the surface of the skin. These marks look like little bruises, coming from within.

But I was all cheerful about the entire situation then. I survived, and my health checkups were looking great, I have my loved ones all around me. I was getting well.

When I return to work, at times I wore sleeveless tops. I did, and still do (despite that the rash marks have lightened up a fair bit) get stares and 2nd glances from strangers. Probably thinking how I got the marks and why I was wearing a sleeveless top when I was supposed to be covering up.

I didn’t felt that it was necessary. Whatever others may think, I’ll let them be. I don’t know them; neither did they know what I had gone through.

But at times, and lately, I have been getting a lot of queries and looks from strangers. Especially when I am alone. The marks haven’t lightened considerably as I thought, after all. I get a little bewildered at times, at times taken aback by the directness, sometimes, offended. I’ll be lying to say that I wasn’t affected one bit there and then. And so I tend to show less skin – t-shirts and shorts, I even consider twice now.

Confrontational Queries will happen as follows:

I walked into a clothing store. The salesgirl chirruped cheerfully, “Welcome to XXX!” But I saw her just staring at my arms and not lifting her gaze to my face. Her expression was not too pleasant, suddenly, I thought. Made me feel like I had some transmittable skin disease. Of course, I just left the shop without looking at anything.

On a different day, I walked into another store, browsing about. The salesgirl, a friendly lady, came over and then asked me if I was cold, and then grabbed my upper arm with both her hands - before I could answer “No...” She then removed her hands and said I looked like I was cold because of the pigmentation of my skin. And that my skin did feel cold. I revealed to her that they were marks left behind by antibiotics rashes. Shortly after, she scurried away while I got on with my browsing.

Some time back, I was waiting for my turn to order a bowl of noodles at a hawker centre. The hawker at the next stall peered at me and asked me if the marks were chicken pox scars. Amused, I shook my head. She told me to use aloe vera to smear on myself and then nodded convincingly and knowingly. I never did try that.

Another time, an uncle in his 50s(?) asked me directly, “What happened to your...?” while making gestures at his upper arms. I was taken aback by that directness. I stuttered a little before revealing the entire situation, but really....! How blunt can one get?

I think these encounters have made me a little more conscious.

I asked JX, “Would you mind if these marks are stuck with me forever?”

JX’s responded innocently, “You mean, they will go away?”

-_-

Back with a Vengeance

There were so many things that had happened in between the last post and this one. I just thought that I should, you know, put them down, because they will be worth a read many many years down the road. Not that I will ever forget anyway.

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In summary:

Fainting spells. Old woman praying for me. Her ointment. JX worried like mad. Clinic. Referred to hospital. Weird results. Admitted. Pricked. Tears of pain and helplessness. Tired night. Woke up to a X-ray scan. Bathed. With a drip. Nurse and needle. Fell into fits. Passed out.

A week passed. Drifted in and out. Consciousness. ICU. Dull shock. Stiff and slow. Bloat. Pain. Blood. Dialysis. Helplessness. Gritting in pain. Breathlessness. Fear. Of the dark and being alone. Beeping machines. Cords. Pills. Checking nurses. Warm smiles. Family. Friends. Insomnia. Uncomfortable pillow. Cold nights. Fever. Doctors in the morning. Flowers. JX everyday. Everyone looks tired. Daddy everyday. JX holding my hands. Comfort. Making my first ardous step. Slow. Unsteady. Heavy. Happiness. Sitting up in a chair. Finally water. Finally food. Lime sherbet. No food and water again. Food and water. Teaspoons of water. Porridge.

Normal ward. Exasperation sets in. Tears of helplessness. Despair. Torturous slow trips to the toilet. Encouragement. Depression. Low. Needles. Falling hair. Bloated weight 65kg. Inconsiderate neighbouring patient. No appetite. Soup with rice. Fever. Stiff neck and back. Pain. MRI scans. Sleepless feverish nights. Cold, hot. Weight plummeted. 50kg. Looking forward to JX every night after his work. Fever. Last day. Fever subsided. Happiness. Stepping out. Cab. Tears of joy when I see my home. Familiarity.

Weak. Rashes. Itch. Weight dropped to 46kg (or less?). Stick-thin. Butt-less. Cushions wherever I sit. Laughing at the Mocca guy. Computer games. Afternoon naps. Telephone calls. Introduction to FB. JX everyday. Sleeping with Mom every night. Bird's nest. Itch. Calamine lotion. Hives. Tiger balm. Walk to the park. Slow. Waking up from itch. Going out with JX and family. Happiness. Eating out. Itch subsided. Marks. Finally working. Back to my life how I used to live. Minus the gyming.

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How I got through all that, I don't know. I didn't have much of a choice but to just grit and bear it. I am lucky. To have been able to come out of it unscathed. It could have been a lot worse. An unfortunate thing, but I have learnt to count my blessings. To have Shilin, Kum, JX and my family. And my friends from MT... Being all there for me to prop me up when I lost it completely and threw myself in despair because I was too anxious to get well, yet I didn't see any turn for the better. My experience - fearful and painful. But what my friends, JX and my family went through... I would not be able to fathom. The fear of losing me forever, the fear of me being reliant on machines for survival even if I pulled through, their anxiousness, their fears completely different from mine. I was unconsciousness where I presumbly suffered the most pain. But they were there to witness everything. Am I lucky to be in my shoes than theirs?

Friends asked me how do I feel then, what were my thoughts, having had such a close shave with death. There weren't much actually. I just want to live. I just feel, if my life was really snuffed out at age 24, it was all too a waste. What have I done to have really live? There are so many things that I have set out to do, but haven't got down to any yet.

But really, take it easy... I slog because I want to do well in my career. And I probably went overboard in MT. Those days, were spent without my family, not so much with JX, not so much with my friends. But what's the point? You need money to survive but nothing else really matters, except to have your life, and people who love you. Ultimately.. they're the most basic things that matter. But are often, sadly, taken for granted till it's too late. I am fortunate in this sense, to have a 2nd chance to make it right. Not many can.

Therefore the need to pen this down. I am fearful that a few years down the road, will wash down this chapter, desensitise myself and neglecting myself and loved ones because of my pursuit in recognition in my career.

Shilin and Kumeri> I love you girls... You cheered me up tremendously each time you two popped into my ward. You're my bestest pals. Donating blood even when Kum is underweight (being insistent and all) and Shilin being needle/pain-phobic. I can't express how touched I am. -hug-

JX> My dear, you are my pillar of support. It must be really difficult for you. To stay strong and taking care of me day and night when I was away in outer space, although you were crumbling inside. For the pain that you have gone through, I am so sorry. I know I mean the world to you. I love you baby. For staying by me. For not minding how I look, how I may be affected in any way after this episode. For loving me the way you do. -hug- You sure earned a lot of brownie points with my family and friends. Isn't the best way to introduce our families to each other, but well, it saved some initial embarassment, didn't it? Your parents took pains to visit me each night as well. Giving me encouragement and showing concern... I am grateful. For the countless kiwis too.

Mum, Dad> For taking care of their girl who was reduced to being a bag of potatoes on bed, thank you Mummy, Daddy. I wouldn't know the impact of having to hear that your child may be lost forever, but it must be really hard and painful. Physically and emotionally, I know you were really stretched. I have said so in the hospital, I say it now, I am sorry...

Jo> We drifted apart, and weren't on the best terms that sisters can be. But I saw you, sad, concerned and reassuring. Probably your gentlest times with me. We got closer. And you said, that through this, you realised the contemplation of losing me forever came with a heavy impact. I am grateful for the comforting words that you reassured... Made me feel so much better about myself.

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I am blessed, actually.