Haircut

What's the big deal about a haircut?
The apartment I'm living in now was where I spent my childhood since 2 years-old till I married and moved. There had been many occasions when I had my haircut in the backyard by my dear Mother. I remember the tantrum I would throw with each episode. Mom's poor eye-sight coupled with my jitteriness often resulted in a snip on my ear by the scissors. If I had a choice, I wanted to go to the hairdresser, but I hadn't. It was a vicious cycle--the more I struggled, the more the accident occurred and the more anxious I get at the next haircut! Not to mention with time passing, Mom's eyesight also got worse each time!
Haircut was a drama then.
Now I was about to have another haircut in my childhood home.
This one was slightly different. I called it the "pre-chemo-hair-loss-cut".
After my first chemo, depression set in. The nausea was mild compared to what I hear others get. But nobody mentioned headached and depression, which were the things that bothered me. The depression was sporadic, thank goodness. When it hit, I just went into the room and cried over some spilled-milk issues of the past and the feeling of doom would leave soon after. Thank goodness again, for tears that could wash sorrow away.
Under such circumstance, the prospect of losing my lovely long hair to chemo side-effects became clouded with gloom. I was told to cut my hair short so that when the hair starts dropping, it would be more manageable. Contrary to my childhood experience, going to the hairdresser didn't sound appealing to me. Being the Drama Queen that I am, I found a way around it to make it less painful. I asked my best friend, Michelle to do the "honour". She was reluctant at first claiming that she had no formal training except plenty of practice on her husband and 5 children. I convinced her that it was not about making me look good, but feel good because she would be walking down a stretch of bumpy road with me. I knew she couldn't refuse.
Co-incidentally, another best friend, Joice from KL came to visit on the same day. The whole thing turned out to be a perfect setting for me—to have two best friends “play” with my hair! Yes, we went to the pavilion in front of our apartment and began playing like little girls. With plenty of jokes and laughters, my hair was snipped short. I didn’t have to cry a tear because they were there to make a positive difference.
Here are some pics of the haircut. We were having such fun, I forgot to get a photo of Joice!

For those who are still in the dark, here's some light: I'm living life in true Drama Queen style--fighting battle against a 2nd breast cancer. One consolation: it is not a recurrence therefore there's hope for a cure.
If you're keen, click here to find out what I said last year.
By the way, were you disappointed because you didn't see my naked head? Here's the deal: Do some work for me now and maybe you'll get to see it later!
Next Drama Episode:
Hair, Hair, Everywhere!/I'm Having a "Bald" of a Time!/You Too Can Have a Head Like Mine!
Pick a title for me!

Laughters

Have you ever heard the phrase, "Laughter, the best medicine"?

In my condition now I certainly need plenty of that and each day I look out for "laughter".

During the past few weeks when I had the opportunity to live with my eldest brother and his family in the Lion-city, I deeply admire my sister-in-law's simple sense of humour. She laughs everyday at the slightest things that tickle her. She's blessed with a youngest grandson whose personality is so cheerful, it's contagious. He makes us laugh. I really want him to stay contagiously cheerful even as an adult. We need plenty of people like that in this world, don't you think?

Last night I had plenty of laughs looking at some pictures and video clips of a boat trip taken at a nearby dam. It happened to be a public holiday and I had been anticipating this boat trip since forever!

I didn't get to enjoy the dingy thrill but watching the "Musketeers" falling into the water when the over loaded dingy capsized was fun enough for me. Of course hubby would not leave out the fun for me. He let me sit in the opposite end of the boat to take pictures and at the same time balance out the weight. You can see from the picture that without me, the boat was really tilting to one side.

You really have to be there to see how hilarious these people are when they're in the water being swung around by hubby's skillful maneuvering of the boat. Next time, please join us! Meanwhile, enjoy the pix and the video!

11 April 2006 (Tuesday)

This is the beautiful lake (dam) where it all happened

Here is our little hide-out, deep in the forest.

The 3 Musketeers or "Sakai"?

The younger 3 Musketeers

First we tied the dingy to the boat, then we climb onto the dingy. Hey be careful, looks like the boat is about to sink!

Let's try to get two people on the dingy and two people hanging on the side of the dingy

Hey, this is fun...but...but...wait!

I can't wait, I'm going full speed! (Notice the tilting boat?)

Oh no...Dad, we're capsizing! Stop, STOP!

Gulp, gulp...

Finally, everyone managed to swim to safety.

Let's try one person to one dingy at a time.

Getting a hang of it.

Now it's really full-speed ahead!

Wow!!! Hang on tight! Weeee....

That's really THRILLING!!! Faster, faster! Hahaha...

Myojo, Me & Dad

Dear Myojo,

I have a confession to make.

You had been my favorite for over 3 decades.

They say you acquire liking for things from your childhood and I couldn't agree more. You played a big part in my growing up years.

I remember that fateful day when I was first introduced to you in my neighbour's home. I immediately fell in love with you. You were such a novelty then. Everyone wanted to have you. I was no exception and you should know that I really went all out to get you.
You see, I came from a humble family.

My Dad brought home meager income as a waiter in a coffee house at Goodwood Park Hotel. My Mom took care of all family expenses with that little money. She had to make sure all bills were paid and food were on the table at every meal. Dad used the tips he got as a waiter to pay for extras, such as his cigarettes, his favourite "fried kuey teow", occasional movie tickets for the family, weekly betting on 4D's, bird seeds and fish food for his pets, etc.

I learned from young to avoid asking money from Mom and Dad unless it was absolutely necessary. For example, school fees, bus fare and daily allowance etc.(not applicable during school holidays) If there was something I really like, I would save up for it.

How? I either skipped snack time during recess or I would do jobs. I learned to iron my eldest brother's shirts and pants and his children's school uniforms. My sister-in-law would pay me money for each piece of clothes pressed.

Soon I was able to bring you home, even on a regular basis.

I used to keep you behind the bed. You were my motivation to wake up early in the morning. You kept me warm and satisfied before I left for school.

I can't recall how and when it began, but you became a very important part between Dad and I.
Dad used to work shifts. When he did the afternoon shift, his home-coming was my favourite time of the day. It would be close to 11pm and I should be sleeping by then. However, on countless nights, I found myself chatting with Dad while he busied himself in the kitchen.

Droplets of sweats could be seen forming on his shirtless shoulders and arms as he laboured lovingly over a pot of left-over soup from dinner. (Yes, we had soup every single day!) He would check for any vegetables or meat that we couldn't finish for the day and added them into the soup to heat them up together.

His legs must be very stiff from all that standing during the day as I noticed the slight limp with each small steps he made round the tiny kitchen. His slippers would be making tapping sounds as he landed each steps on the bare cement floor. I loved that familiar sound. Even until today. I miss it.
When the left-over food began to boil and the aroma filled the air, it was time for you to come into the picture.

You were taken out from the package and dropped into the boiling soup. You softened as the seconds past and within minutes we'll be adding the small packet of chicken flavoring that came with you. From a compact round cake you stretched and loosen up into long, curly and yummy strands of noodles.

Next, dropped in an egg and spiced the soup up with a spoonful of home-made Hainanese chilli sauce--walla! We were ready to sup together.

Dad and I sat down together and slurped over the hot and spicy noodle and soup. To me, that was a nice little piece of heaven on earth.

This night ritual kept up for many years. It grew to be a very big part of my memory of Dad.
Soon I found myself far away from him, living with my own little family. I couldn't bring Dad with me, but I always had you.

As I said in the beginning of this confession, you had been my favourite for over 3 decades. I couldn't tell if I loved you because you reminded me of Dad and my childhood or because you were simply too good to resist.

Maybe it was both.

Throughout those years, I've heard people say bad things about you. Some even accused you of causing cancer. I thought of staying away from you, but I couldn't. I loved you too much!
Today I write to tell you that I am avoiding you from now on. Sorry if you felt that I took the blame out on you for my breast cancer. But you must know that I still love you. I just can't have you because you are not good for me. I must move on to find something better and healthier for my body--like vegetables and fruits.

This fact will never change: You will forever be my favourite, Myojo!

Dear Readers: if you read carefully, you'd learn that Myojo was also life little extras. Notice the left-overs? How about supper--the 4th and redundant meal?
Life lesson: Hard time is not forever, but for bringing family together.