For those who have geriatric friends or family members

PSA for the day:

After a week as a caregiver, I thought maybe I should jot things down.

For those who have geriatric friends or family members

1. All it takes is one fall

People always used to tell me, old people mustn't fall down. If they do, that's it. Well, it's not a blanket statement. It isn't true.

What's more important is after the fall. What measures to be taken? A full MRI scan, if you can afford it. Even if the person only has minor bruising, the injuries could be internal. The brain, the blood flow, everything should be checked.

2. There's a very thin fine line between confidence and ego.

Everyone thinks they're fit and healthy. Sure, no pains, no aches. And you feel fine.

You were a sportsman before, so what? Being active does help your body heal faster than not so active persons, but it doesn't give you a free pass if you need medical attention.

What the person must do is to instead adapt their mind to see and accept possibilities that they might need to do this or take a certain medication.

Because if their mindset doesn't change, then doctors cannot help people who don't help themselves.

3. Learn to occupy your mind.

The generation before us do not play online games or use their phones for entertainment.

Perhaps boomers are slightly better, but nowadays, the technology is available to help keep your mind active.

Physically, the human body has inner healing mechanisms to help it survive.

But if the mind is dead, then the body is just an empty shell.

Read different books, pick up a new hobby, do or learn something different, because if one day you need to stay at a hospital for a while, you will need to keep boredom at bay by yourself.

If you can be best friends with yourself whilst alone, you will survive anything that comes your way.

Those are the 3 points bugging me for the past week. If you guys have any other pointers, drop a comment.

Going all in

Here I am...sitting in my hospital suite.
Just did a CT angio.
To my relief, the cardiologist says I'm fine.
Ok then, I will be going ALL IN FOR LIFE!


Your result will never exceed your self concept. What you believe about yourself determines everything.

Don’t allow your past or present circumstance dictate what the future holds for you. It is purely based on the decisions you make today.

One moment of decision can change your life.

Make your choices wisely.

Becoming an overnight success takes many late nights that people will never notice before you are noticed. Be prepared to go through those periods.

Not everyone will like you or agree with you. Don’t allow someone else’s opinion of you define your reality.

Never waste a hater. Use them as fuel for your success. The best way to combat haters? Have an amazing life. It’s the only way to live.

When your AMBITIONS are bigger than your FEARS, that’s when you’ll stop coming up with reasons, excuses and justification.

Life is too short to play small.

Live it and go ALL IN.

The unexpected blessing of cancer

Cancer's Unexpected Blessings


When you enter the Valley of the Shadow of Death, things change.

Tony Snow
posted 7/20/2007 02:30PM





Commentator and broadcaster Tony Snow announced that he had colon cancer in 2005.
Following surgery and chemo-therapy, Snow joined the Bush administration in April 2006 as press secretary. Unfortunately, on March 23 Snow, 51, a husband and father of three, announced that the cancer had recurred, with tumors found in his abdomen—leading to surgery in April, followed by more chemotherapy. Snow went back to work in the White House Briefing Room on May 30, but resigned August 31. CT asked Snow what spiritual lessons he has been learning through the ordeal.



Blessings arrive in unexpected packages—in my case, cancer.



Those of us with potentially fatal diseases—and there are millions in America today—find ourselves in the odd position of coping with our mortality while trying to fathom God's will. Although it would be the height of presumption to declare with confidence What It All Means, Scripture provides powerful hints and consolations.



The first is that we shouldn't spend too much time trying to answer the why questions: Why me? Why must people suffer? Why can't someone else get sick? We can't answer such things, and the questions themselves often are designed more to express our anguish than to solicit an answer.



I don't know why I have cancer, and I don't much care. It is what it is—a plain and indisputable fact. Yet even while staring into a mirror darkly, great and stunning truths begin to take shape. Our maladies define a central feature of our existence: We are fallen. We are imperfect. Our bodies give out.



But despite this—because of it—God offers the possibility of salvation and grace. We don't know how the narrative of our lives will end, but we get to choose how to use the interval between now and the moment we meet our Creator face-to-face.



Second, we need to get past the anxiety. The mere thought of dying can send adrenaline flooding through your system. A dizzy, unfocused panic seizes you. Your heart thumps; your head swims. You think of nothingness and swoon. You fear partings; you worry about the impact on family and friends. You fidget and get nowhere.



To regain footing, remember that we were born not into death, but into life—and that the journey continues after we have finished our days on this earth. We accept this on faith, but that faith is nourished by a conviction that stirs even within many nonbelieving hearts—an intuition that the gift of life, once given, cannot be taken away. Those who have been stricken enjoy the special privilege of being able to fight with their might, main, and faith to live—fully, richly, exuberantly—no matter how their days may be numbered.



Third, we can open our eyes and hearts. God relishes surprise. We want lives of simple, predictable ease—smooth, even trails as far as the eye can see—but God likes to go off-road. He provokes us with twists and turns. He places us in predicaments that seem to defy our endurance and comprehension—and yet don't. By his love and grace, we persevere. The challenges that make our hearts leap and stomachs churn invariably strengthen our faith and grant measures of wisdom and joy we would not experience otherwise.



'You Have Been Called'



Picture yourself in a hospital bed. The fog of anesthesia has begun to wear away. A doctor stands at your feet; a loved one holds your hand at the side. "It's cancer," the healer announces.



The natural reaction is to turn to God and ask him to serve as a cosmic Santa. "Dear God, make it all go away. Make everything simpler." But another voice whispers: "You have been called." Your quandary has drawn you closer to God, closer to those you love, closer to the issues that matter—and has dragged into insignificance the banal concerns that occupy our "normal time."



There's another kind of response, although usually short-lived—an inexplicable shudder of excitement, as if a clarifying moment of calamity has swept away everything trivial and tinny, and placed before us the challenge of important questions.



The moment you enter the Valley of the Shadow of Death, things change. You discover that Christianity is not something doughy, passive, pious, and soft. Faith may be the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. But it also draws you into a world shorn of fearful caution. The life of belief teems with thrills, boldness, danger, shocks, reversals, triumphs, and epiphanies. Think of Paul, traipsing though the known world and contemplating trips to what must have seemed the antipodes (Spain), shaking the dust from his sandals, worrying not about the morrow, but only about the moment.



There's nothing wilder than a life of humble virtue—for it is through selflessness and service that God wrings from our bodies and spirits the most we ever could give, the most we ever could offer, and the most we ever could do.



Finally, we can let love change everything. When Jesus was faced with the prospect of crucifixion, he grieved not for himself, but for us. He cried for Jerusalem before entering the holy city. From the Cross, he took on the cumulative burden of human sin and weakness, and begged for forgiveness on our behalf.



We get repeated chances to learn that life is not about us—that we acquire purpose and satisfaction by sharing in God's love for others. Sickness gets us partway there. It reminds us of our limitations and dependence. But it also gives us a chance to serve the healthy. A minister friend of mine observes that people suffering grave afflictions often acquire the faith of two people, while loved ones accept the burden of two people's worries and fears.



Learning How to Live



Most of us have watched friends as they drifted toward God's arms not with resignation, but with peace and hope. In so doing, they have taught us not how to die, but how to live. They have emulated Christ by transmitting the power and authority of love.



I sat by my best friend's bedside a few years ago as a wasting cancer took him away. He kept at his table a worn Bible and a 1928 edition of the Book of Common Prayer. A shattering grief disabled his family, many of his old friends, and at least one priest. Here was a humble and very good guy, someone who apologized when he winced with pain because he thought it made his guest uncomfortable. He retained his equanimity and good humor literally until his last conscious moment. "I'm going to try to beat [this cancer]," he told me several months before he died. "But if I don't, I'll see you on the other side."



His gift was to remind everyone around him that even though God doesn't promise us tomorrow, he does promise us eternity—filled with life and love we cannot comprehend—and that one can in the throes of sickness point the rest of us toward timeless truths that will help us weather future storms.



Through such trials, God bids us to choose: Do we believe, or do we not? Will we be bold enough to love, daring enough to serve, humble enough to submit, and strong enough to acknowledge our limitations? Can we surrender our concern in things that don't matter so that we might devote our remaining days to things that do?



When our faith flags, he throws reminders in our way. Think of the prayer warriors in our midst. They change things, and those of us who have been on the receiving end of their petitions and intercessions know it.



It is hard to describe, but there are times when suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you feel a surge of the Spirit. Somehow you just know: Others have chosen, when talking to the Author of all creation, to lift us up—to speak of us!



This is love of a very special order. But so is the ability to sit back and appreciate the wonder of every created thing. The mere thought of death somehow makes every blessing vivid, every happiness more luminous and intense. We may not know how our contest with sickness will end, but we have felt the ineluctable touch of God.



What is man that Thou art mindful of him? We don't know much, but we know this: No matter where we are, no matter what we do, no matter how bleak or frightening our prospects, each and every one of us, each and every day, lies in the same safe and impregnable place—in the hollow of God's hand.

Medicine is not just a career, but a calling.

It's high time to regulate the private healthcare industry in Malaysia.

When the media recently highlighted the case of a DOCTOR getting billed RM10k for a simple procedure at a private hospital, I laughed because it's almost like a taste of your own medicine.
You mean to tell me, you NEVER intended to profit from your patients?
Like I expounded before, is it the Hippocrates Oath or Hypocritic Oath?
Here's an article written by a doctor, the weight of her name should not affect her opinion.

Dr Lee Wei Ling, Lee Kuan Yew's daughter.



I have always felt keenly the suffering of animals. Since I was a child, I had wanted to be a vet. My parents persuaded me to abandon that idea by using the example of a vet whose university education was funded by the Public Service Commission. When he returned to Singapore, he was posted to serve his bond at the abattoirs. That was enough to persuade me to select my second career choice – a doctor. I have never regretted that decision.



There are still many diseases for which medical science has no cure, and this is especially true of neurological diseases because nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord do not usually regenerate. Hence, a significant percentage of patients seeing neurologists, of which I am one, cannot be cured. But as in all areas of medicine, we still try our best for the patient, ‘to cure, sometimes; to relieve, often; to comfort, always’.



An example is a 70-year-old woman who sees me for her epilepsy. Her husband has taken a China mistress whom he has brought back to his marital home. He wants my patient to sell her 50 per cent ownership of their HDB flat and move out. Her children side with the husband because he is the one with the money and assets to will to them.



When this patient comes, I always greet her with a big smile and compliment her on her cheongsam. She will tell me she sewed it herself, and I will praise her for her skill. Then I ask her whether she has had any seizures since the last time she saw me. She sees me at yearly intervals, and usually, she will have had none.



Next, I ask her how she is coping at home. She would say she just ignores her husband and his mistress. I would give her a thumbs-up in reply, then ask her whether she still goes to watch Chinese operas. She would say yes.

By then, I would have prepared her prescription. I hand it to her, pat her on her back and she would walk out with a smile on her face, back straight and a spring in her step.

It takes me only five minutes to do the above. I can control but not cure her epilepsy. But I have cheered her up for the day.

One very special patient, Jac, has idiopathic severe generalised torsion dystonia. By the age of 11, she was as twisted as a pretzel and barely able to speak intelligibly. She did well in the Primary School Leaving Examination, but was a few points short of the score needed for an external student to be accepted by Methodist Girls’ School (MGS).

I had done fund-raising for MGS prior to this and knew the principal. I phoned her and explained Jac’s disease as well as her determination and diligence.

I told the principal that the nurturing environment of MGS would be good for Jac, and that it would be a good lesson for the other students in MGS to learn to interact with a peer with disability.

At the end of Secondary 2, Jac mailed me a book and a typed letter. The book was a collection of Chinese essays by students in MGS.

There were two essays by Jac. In addition, she had topped the entire Secondary 1 and, subsequently, Secondary 2 in Chinese. She was second in the entire Secondary 2 for Chemistry. She was happy at MGS, and her peers accepted her and helped wheel her around in her wheelchair.

Medication merely gave Jac some degree of pain relief from her dystonia. Being admitted to MGS gave her the opportunity to enjoy school and thrive in it.

I was walking on clouds for the next few hours after I received the book and letter. Jac showed that an indomitable human spirit can triumph over a severe physical disability. As a doctor, I am not just handling a medical problem but the entire patient, including her education and social life.

I have been practising medicine for 30 years now. Over this period, medical science has advanced tremendously, but the values held by the medical community seem to have changed for the worse.

Yearning and working for money is more widely and openly practised; and sometimes this is perceived as acceptable behaviour, though our moral instinct tells us otherwise.

Most normal humans have a moral instinct that can clearly distinguish between right and wrong. But we are more likely to excuse our own wrongdoing if there are others who are doing the same and getting away with it.

These doctors who profit unfairly from their patients know they are doing wrong. But if A, B and C are doing wrong – and X, Y and Z too – then I need not be ashamed of doing the same. Medical students who see this behaviour being tacitly condoned will tend to lower their own moral standards. Instead of putting patients’ welfare first, they will enrich themselves first.

The most important trait a doctor needs is empathy. If we can feel our patient’s pain and suffering, we would certainly do our best by our patients and their welfare would override everything else.

Medicine is not just a prestigious, profitable career – it is a calling. Being a doctor will guarantee almost anyone a decent standard of living. How much money we need for a decent standard of living varies from individual to individual.

My needs are simple and I live a spartan life. I choose to practise in the public sector because I want to serve all patients without needing to consider whether they can pay my fees.

I try not to judge others who demand an expensive lifestyle and treat patients mainly as a source of income. But when the greed is too overwhelming, I cannot help but point out that such behaviour is unethical.

The biggest challenge facing medicine in Singapore today is the struggle between two incentives that drive doctors in opposite directions: the humanitarian, ethical, compassionate drive to do the best by all patients versus the cold, calculating attitude that seeks to profit from as many patients as possible. Hopefully, the first will triumph.

Doctors do have families to support. Needing and wanting money is not wrong. But doctors must never allow greed to determine their actions.

I think if a fair system of pricing medical fees – such that doctors can earn what they deserve but not profit too much from patients – can be implemented, this problem will be much reduced. The Guideline of Fees, which previously was in effect, was dropped last year. I am trying to revive it as soon as possible.

The writer is director of the National Neuroscience Institute.

The state of healthcare in Malaysia

This is a pic taken in Christmas 2006. My mother in law, the 2 boys and my wife.

They love Christmas time. Although we are Buddhists, my family loves Christmas for the spirit the celebration embodies.

On the 2nd day of CNY, my mother in law was diagnosed with blood cancer.

So, she was hospitalised since then.

My mother in law is an extraordinary woman. She bore 7 children and raised them almost single handedly. She was a construction worker who tapped rubber at 5 in the morning before coming back to make breakfast for the family. She then cycled to whichever construction site she was working at and came home after 6 in the evening to cook dinner for the family.

The good news is that the cancer was detected early. The only problem is the curing part.

It will cost an estimated RM 300 thousand to cure her. This was the estimate given to us by the doctor.

In my previous post about the privatisation of IJN, I have previously raised questions on why only the rich can afford to be cured of illnesses in Malaysia.

Why will it cost 300 THOUSAND?

Mother has told us that if it is a serious disease, she does not want us to spend any more money. Let her die, she said.

I don't know any other person who would be brave enough to say that.

As I write this, my eyes are beginning to tear up. I lost my mother when I was 12. I am extremely fortunate to have someone like my wife's mother in our lives. I know my wife isn't coping too well with this situation either.

I have an aunt who used to work in the healthcare industry. She has referred me to UH, University Hospital, where they are apparently quite good with this type of cancer. Even then, she said, be prepared to spend.

How do you value the life of a person in monetary terms?

We have decided not to let Mother know what is her disease. Otherwise, she will give up on fighting for her life.

I wonder if private doctors differentiate in service levels for different patients. Let's say, a millionaire comes in for prostate cancer. Does he get better treatment than an ordinary person whose medical insurance limit does not cover certain procedures?

I saw the updated bill for Mother yesterday. So far, it stands at 9k. There's 1k for consultancy, which literally means that the doctor came in for 5 minutes to check her charts and blood pressure. Each visit is RM80.00, so 12 visits is RM960.

I do not know any other person in Malaysia who earns RM80 for 5 minutes of work.

It must have been one torturous hell of a time getting their medical degrees at the Royal College of Surgeons in Ireland.

So they are taking their revenge on others by charging at this rate.

How do these people sleep at night???

What do they do with all that money???

Is there anything remotely resembling a conscience inside them?

It seems perhaps the only alternative is to go to a government hospital and pray for the best. What our healthcare system in Malaysia tells us bluntly is, if you can't afford it, don't be sick.

Anyone who has met my mother in law will say that she's the kindest soul. There's always a twinkle of cheer in her eyes, and she always makes time for anyone and everyone.

This is my hope and prayer, that she will be cured soon.

I once said to someone, that a parent should not have to bury their child.

I now add, that a grandchild should not be too young to see their grandparent die.

Here's to you, Mother. The gentlest, kindest and most generous person I know.

There is a God, and I hope He will answer my prayers.

Only the poor die young in Malaysia

Can't believe the government almost let go of the IJN, or National Heart Institute to be privatised. The standard of healthcare in Malaysia is already bad.
Nowadays, only the rich can afford to be sick in Malaysia.
The best example is my wife's story. She has IgA, which is a kidney condition that could be fatal if not monitored properly. During a routine scan, a growth in the liver was detected. She went through several appointments in the same hospital, which gave a 50-50 diagnosis of cancer.
To remove the tumor, the hospital quoted me 40k. Actually, it wasn't a financial problem as she was covered under my company's policy. However, I did not like the way the surgeon was pushing for her to do the op the NEXT DAY. I asked for time to get a second opinion.
I was lucky. My cousin knew this hepatologist in Hospital Selayang, which is our National Liver Center. After the standard screenings, they had a conclusion. To go for the op. I trusted them.
The surgery was successful. I never knew the human liver was the size of both your hands knuckled up together.
I have also given up eating chicken liver after they showed me her liver in a container.
The total cost : FOUR THOUSAND. 10 PERCENT of a PRIVATE HOSPITAL'S COST!
I am not saying all private practitioners are money-mongering pimps.
However, I do know of one specialist in a private hospital based in Subang with an art collection worth in the millions. No, he was not born with a silver spoon. He got that money from his practice.
So, what is the meaning of the Hippocrates Oath? Or should it be Hypocritic Oath?
DOCTORS, did you want to be a doctor to HELP or to be RICH?
I wanted to be a neuro-surgeon when I was young. This was after my mother passed away from liver cancer. I had the worst feelings when my wife was diagnosed.
I can imagine my feelings amplified and repeated throughout hospitals everywhere here in Malaysia as people find out they are very ill.
I did not become a doctor, but I promised myself that I will give the opportunity to my sons to become doctors.
God-willing, if I have the funds and they DO become doctors, I will build a hospital for them and their colleagues to cure the poor.