JUST WHEN YOU'RE NEEDED...

Just realized late last night, to my dismay, that the previous prescription of anti-histamine pills is nowhere in sight. Now, where have I put them? I don't remember discarding them. Therefore, it's either I left it somewhere in my room (but conveniently forgot where the "special" place is), or I left it in the refrigerator/on the kitchen cabinet and the parents threw it away.

I think that medication is just like cabs - they are never there just when you needed them.



Nevertheless, a part of me is secretly rejoicing over the loss of the tablets. It is super drowsy! The only regrettable loss is - without the pills - the production of histamines can't be curbed for the time being; which translates to a continuation of this rashes torture. Grrr!

Anyway, I'm pretty upset because this is a recurrence of the rashes. Up until last month in mid-August, NEVER EVER in my life have I an outbreak of rashes before. It had affected the arms, hind legs, and calves. For this recurrence though, it is mainly affecting the collarbones and shoulder blades; with a couple of random dots down the front and up the neck. When it itches, it really itches. I feel hideous, and I feel that I look like a hideous monkey!







Might be going to the Doc tomorrow to get another prescription of anti-histamines (I'll be sure to ask for the non-drowsy line of pills this time round!) and another bottle of calamine lotion.

IT'S BACK!

They're confirmed back. Sigh!

Dotted on the collarbones; spreading down the shoulder blades.

Don't ask. I'm just as equally clueless.

BLOTCHY

As of this late evening, the skin suddenly turned blotchy and small little "pimples" broke out with varying intensity. It started off with the upper legs. The bumpy swells went down after a while. NOW it's the arms' turn; and it's swelling like anything. Miniature volcanoes.

It's blotchy but not itchy though. THIS IS SO WEIRD!



Don't ask what went wrong or what I ate or what I did or what I touched or what am I allergic to. The only things I'm allergic to are: the sun (I hate to suntan!), and water (because I can't swim to save my life). Yes, I CAN'T swim. I can barely float. Stop snickering, you prats.









Poor skin.

OF SWEAT AND SLUGS

On Thursday, because the trip to the gym turned out to be a flop, I went for an evening jog with the younger brother instead.

We jogged around the estate. While growing up around 2 BROTHERS subjects one to a lot of ribbing and teasing, the gratifying thing is that they tend to - in one way or other; most of which are, unfortunately, subtle - look out for the only sister. And it's really nice. Throughout the run, the younger brother kept turning around to check whether have I died yet on my progress. Past experience tells me that if I were to take a break and stop running, he would double back and push me from behind, all the while nagging urging, "姐, don't stop, don't stop. Keep running. You're not supposed to break the momentum and walk. Just keep running. Slow also never mind. Just don't stop." - which is precisely what happened the first time we jogged together. After that incident, till this day, I made it a point to - no matter how tired I am - never stop running until we've completed at least one whole round.



So, anyway, ever since I've had my LASIK surgery, this is the first time exercising after a 4months hiatus (hey! It was the doctor's order, mah! He said to refrain from exercising!). We were about to complete the round, and I was - of course - tired like anything by then. The younger brother looked back once again, and I - too tired to speak - gestured to make a right turn into our block. He shook his head, and pointed straight instead; suggesting to take the longer route back. It was a well-intended challenge. I threw him a whiny scowl and put on a tragic expression before murmuring my consent begrudgingly.

After the run, we went up to the apartment. Because I like traveling light, the both of us were stranded outside. We ended up sitting at the lift lobby, waiting for the parents to arrive home.



I thought it was a really nice moment. The both of us - tired to the bones and drenched in our own sweat; it was a yickie but yet - strangely - good feeling (must be the endorphin). I looked at him, and can't help but to feel an odd sense of satisfaction inside. Here is my younger brother - a male, fit and strong, 7 whooping years my junior, and on the school volleyball team. And I just completed a run with him, AND he's sweating and panting as hard as I am!

I looked at him again. It has been quite a good run. Drops of sweat were dripping down his chin; and dripping down my side fringe as well. My whole body felt so wet from the perspiration; I felt like a giant slug.

The both of us were so tired; we didn't talk. Then again, words are NOT always necessary. Sometimes, just doing recreational things together is already very magical by itself.



The parents came home about 10minutes later.



I took a nice, relaxing shower, and bundled up the wet hair into a turban. Laid down on the bed idyllically, angel-spreaded. The cup of iced Milo which I had prepared prior to the run was balancing on my belly. The fan was switched on at low speed, sending caresses of wind which felt so heavenly. The head turban, the angel-spreaded position, and a cup balancing on my belly. Ok, this may not be THE elegant pose of all times, but, hey, it feels so GOOD, and that's what matters. It is a quiet moment of tranquility; bringing along with it a beautiful tinge of peaceful victory. It feels like I just conquered Mount Everest. Ok, maybe, Bukit Timah.



That is, until the younger brother happened to walk past the room, poked his head inside, caught a glimpse of my peculiar position, and asked mockingly,



"OEI! You run until siao liao, is it? Want me to call ambulance?"

LIGHTHEADEDNESS

For the past week, I've not been blogging as actively as before. Have been feeling rather sick. This is the first time bringing this up: I tend to - at times - encounter head rush and giddy spells whenever I stand or sit up from a resting position. Of late, though, it has been on a rising incidence.



Ok, I lied. I'm not THAT sick. The truth is: I've been too busy watching Boys Over Flowers on Youtube!



Part of that is true, though. I tend to get lightheaded - lasting for a minute at its' worst - when getting up from a resting position. It ranges from waves of nausea to spinning rooms to spotted lights to dimmed visions to momentary total darkness - while fully conscious. Sometimes, I sigh inwardly when I dropped things on the floor, because bending down to retrieve it makes my head feel heavy at times. Orthostatic hypotension, they call it. The inability of the body nervous system to compensate and respond to the drop in BP - a result of gravity and change in body positions - fast enough. The causes are aplenty and diverse, and despite all these years, I've not been able to pinpoint mine out. I've yet to get myself diagnosed or checked. Because as opposed to hypertension, hypotension is considered mild and is generally not life-threatening. Because I would hate doing blood tests (to check for anaemia or low blood volume), being linked up to an ECG machine and BP meter (to check the cardial system), and having to do a Tilt Table Test, with the possibility of an IV needle poking into the arm or hand. That sounds frighteningly monstrous and morbidly expensive for a 22yo.

WAIT AND SEE

The Doc asked whether have I been exercising, or eating less. I replied by saying that I have not been exercising for months already, and that I'm eating the same amount I usually do. Or, at least, it seems to me.

He said to wait and see. If the weight loss continues, or if there's nausea or vomiting or diarrhoea, a blood test might be carried out.

Oh, crap.

BODY & AGE

BODY & AGE


I...

Make it a point to sleep at least a good, full 5 hours on at least 5 days per week.

Try to finish the bottle of water (Yes, that purple Nalgene) by the end of each day.

Totally adore veggies and fruits and herbal teas. Oddly, I feel VERY loved when people give me herbal tea! Come, come! Bring it on!

Take Osteocare to meet the minimum daily calcium dietary requirement (Osteoporosis!!! Nooo!).

Drink a cup of Milo on most days.

Like, and make an effort, to exercise at least once a week (Ok, not for now though, cos I'm supposed to refrain from doing that).

Make an effort to get out of the lift at the 6th storey, and climb the remaining storeys (I live on the 12th).

Brush an average of 3 times per day (morning, before going out, night). I'm every dentist's pet, or rather, nemesis?

Avoid harsh skincare chemicals such as exfoliator, skin scrub, skin cleanser, night-repair lotion etc; preferring to protect and keep active the body's natural line of defense. If you don't use it, you lose it.

Use light make-up such as mascara, eyeliner, eye shadow, and a bit of blusher; and full make-up (read: concealer, foundation, loose powder blahblahblah. You get the idea) only on important occasions like weddings or banquets. I protect my skin and their pores!

Sun-tan once in a blue moon.

Prefer things natural and organic.



___________________________________________________________

Save for the crazy tolerance for spiciness (Chilli padi!!! Yo!), daily consumption of 2 cups of coffee, and infrequent meals, guess I'm a pretty boring healthy person.

Good.

I want to look good and healthy; as though if I'm only in my 20s when I'm well passed the 30 benchmark. Healthy. Radiant. Glowing. Happy. Bouncing. Leaping. Laughing.

Not wrinkling, or sagging, or a bag of walking keropok.

SHRINKING JEANS

SHRINKING JEANS


Finally wore a pair of newly-bought jeans for the first time a couple of days ago.

That jeans was bought 3weeks ago. It used to be a nice, tight fit. It is kind of upsetting, because over the past 3weeks, it seems to have expanded quite significantly. It used to be a nice fit, really. Fastening the button, the waistband fits just perfectly - tight, but not too tight. The length of the jeans was perfectly fine too - to my delight - because it means no alteration is needed. While in the fitting room, I bended and squatted and tried "walking" a little; and everything was nice. It feels like a nice little second skin, but yet, not as tight as a ba zhang (rice dumpling).

After undergoing a round of washing, it seemed to have expanded; so much so that I can now slot both my hands under the waistband. This is irritating because, each time I sit down or squat down, I've to be mindful and conscious of the back.

Maybe something went wrong with the washing process. But then, how could it be? The instructions were followed carefully. I turned the jeans inside out before throwing it into the washing machine; and yes, it's machine-washable. It was washed in cold/normal water, as instructed. And it was also able to be tumbled dry too.

Arghhh... This is upsetting. I'm thinking of attempting to shrink it by using hot water. But then again, another website says that this is not really advisable because the jeans might shrink unevenly; and having it professionally altered might be a better option instead. So now, I'm caught in a catch-22. Shrink in hot water and risk shrinking unevenly? Or go to a tailor? But then, I've never been to one before, and don't know of any good ones.

Sad. This pair of jeans is branded. It's the most I've forked out for a single pair of jeans thus far.

NOT A MOMENT'S HESITATION


Last Thursday night, after ending the usual tuition session, I dropped by the convenience store near my student's place. I have a CA test the next day. Reckoning that burning the midnight oil is something inevitable, I decided to purchase some snacks to keep me through the night.

The range of variety was not really fascinating. I was feeling unjustifiably robbed of choices when, out of the corner of my eyes, I SAW THESE PACKETS OF KOREAN! CRISPY! SEAWEED!!! BISCUIT! SNACK!. I was exhilarated. It's seaweed! It's crispy! AND it's Korean!


The price was really reasonable, too! To make it even more enticing, it was on a 20% discount! Gleefully thanking my lucky star and grabbing a Hot and Spicy flavoured packet, I made a beeline for the queue. The queue was long, and slow. I took a look at the time. I need to study...


Just there and then, out of old habit, I flipped to the back of the snack packet and read its expiry date. Then I checked the nutritional contents. Then I looked for the place of manufacture.

AND I GULPED.


No hesitation was needed. Without a moment's thought, I left the queue, went back to the shelves, and plonked the packet back to its original place.

Sigh!

Call me paranoid if you wish so; I don't really care. I'm the one who's ultimately responsible for my own health. And no! way! am I - while fully aware of the place of manufacture - going to pop into my mouth consumable products which are made in a country which is, very unfortunately, renowned for producing White Rabbit milk sweets tainted with formaldehyde and milk formulated powder containing melamine.

No wonder it was on discount lah! Chey!




--------------------------------------------------------------

Anyway, on Friday, I nearly fainted in school. What a close shave! It was a dreadful experience.

The last time the headache occurred was last Sunday. While in the middle of the service sermon, the headache started to act up for no reason. I've this thing against Western medication. Deciding firmly that it shall be the last time that I rely on Paracetamol to numb this series of headache, I popped down one of the prescribed pills given by the campus doctor last Thurday. After lunch at the Airport, LT and I took the same bus home together. Maybe it was the drug; I was completely and utterly lethargic. I really tried very hard, but only lasted half an hour before falling asleep and totally conking out on the bus while cruising along TPE. I was a bad and boring company to have that day.

The following week after, the headache sort of mild down. And I thought that it's the end of it all! But on Friday, it came back all of a sudden. In full force, no less! I was on the train to campus, on my way to take the CA test, when my head started throbbing painfully again for the first time that week. No words could aptly describe the excruciating pain. It hurt so terribly; I regretted making that die-die-also-not-going-to-eat-Panadol-again-until-I-recover vow on Sunday, and regretted weaning off the medication so early after only 2 days. Somehow, and I'm not sure how, but I managed to complete the CA test - comprising 11 SUPER-LONG QUESTIONS on ORGANIC CHEMISTRY (SCREAMS!!!), all in the span of a grueling 1 and a half hours.

The paper ended at 4pm. As plans for a movie (Mamma Mia!) with some friends were already pre-arranged a few days ago, I popped by the Science Library with N to photocopy some reference materials in preparation for another test next week. Besides, it's the only chance to do it. Confirm-plus-guarantee-plus-chop I won't be in school during Recess Week.

After having photocopied what was needed, we were about to get out of the Photocopying Room when my brain suddenly threatened to shut down. My limbs started to refuse to corporate. I could hardly stand upright, and had to lean slightly on the photocopier machine for support. I was starting to see bright spots. The feeling was just so horrible. And, just like magic, my nose started leaking all of a sudden. This is all so strange! My nose has been perfectly well all week! Maybe the doctor was right, afterall. Everything is because of the stupid nose.
My body was icy cold, but I was breaking out in sweat. In the air-conditioned library, I broke out in sweat.

Using the photocopier machine as support by propping myself up on it by the elbows, I bent my head over slightly, hoping that this would encourage more blood flow to the brain (I know I know, squatting down would be more effective). In the bent position, the watery mucus was threatening to flow out. I sniffed it in repeated. After a few steps, N noticed that I was not following her. Looking back, she called out, "Eh? Aren't you leaving with me?"

At her voice, I snapped back up and turned to face her. "Yea, I'm coming." I replied. Turning back, I looked at my bag and files, and the thick reference book which was loaned from the RBR desk under my name. I felt a wave of despair; I felt so defeated. Move it, I commanded, move it. My arms felt like heavy lead.

Reluctantly, I picked up my stuffs. For fear of missing my step, I held on to the staircase railing. We got to the ground level where the exit is located. By then, I really want to sit down. Handing the library book to N and asking for her help to return it to the RBR counter, I told her to leave first; and that I would be spending time here in the library as I've arranged to meet some friends later at 7pm.

I easily found an empty study table, and was only too glad to plonk my stuffs onto the table. Crossing my arms and burying my head in them, I prayed silently in tongues and perspired like a giant slug.

Everything was so horrible. I was near tears. The throbbing head hurt terribly, the muscles were pricky and limb, the body refused to corporate, and the brain kept irritatingly threatening to shut down. It cost so much - both physically and mentally - to keep it all together. For a moment, I thought, allowing myself to faint would be a much more easier path to take. Burying my head deeper into the groove of my crossed arms, part of me wanted to cave in and cry. I nearly did. For just a split second, I really did. Just there and then, I wanted so badly for the medication. If only I had not wean them off so prematurely after only 2 days. If only I had taken the medication for a few more days. If only I didn't leave them at home this morning. If only I have them with me now. If only I have the ability to teleport them over from my house to where I am now.

I rested there for about half an hour. Still feeling somewhat feeble and queasy, I wondered what to do next. I thought of the past few days, trying to pinpoint what went wrong. Maybe it's because I only slept a few hours the night before, and had not eaten anything until now; and to add on, I'm still not fully recovered from the recent bout of poor health. Blood glucose, I decided, maybe it's blood glucose.

I contemplated the Science canteen. It's not far from the library. But I was having doubt of being able to reach the canteen in one piece. The last thing I want was to black out completely, and get carted off to the very-nearby NUH by helpful, enthusiastic strangers. It'll be so exagerrated and malu. But still, surely I can't hide out in the library for long; it's not a solution. If it's really indeed blood glucose, then food is the answer. Reaching into my bag and taking out my water bottle, I took a small sip. Chances, I decided. Just take the plunge. No pains, no gains.





Thank goodness, I reached the canteen.

I don't want to have a single headache ever again.
Let this bout be the first; and the last.

SO, IT'S THE NOSE


Last Wednesday afternoon, my throat felt dry. I was coughing slightly. Nonetheless, I finished a BIG packet of tapioca chips. Later on the same night, my body started running a slight temperature of only 37.5oC. I attributed it to the untimely feast of tapioca chips.

The fever left the next morning; and I was somewhat relieved. But gone as the fever may be, I was still feeling queasy though. You know, the queasy feeling of not being in tip-top condition. By the following Monday, I totally lost my voice out of the blue. To make it worse, 2 days later - on this Wednesday - I started developing a massive headache.

For the first time in my life, I HAVE A HEADACHE! And it's SOOO unbearable. My head pounds and aches with each step I take, and each cough sends such sharp, intense pain that I thought my skull was splitting open.

The totally weird thing is, I'm not experiencing any raging fever. At most, it's just a recurrent, on-and-off, mild fever which never crosses the 38.5oC mark. Kind of irritating, really, because if it would just rise higher, I would have gone to the doctor for an MC.

And because it's just such a mild fever that keeps coming back persistently and irritatingly like a pest, I doubt the doctor would deem it serious enough to warrant an MC. Thus, armed with a throbbing headache, I had no choice but to force myself to school this morning to take a test. I'm seriously going to buang the paper. I was totally ill prepared for it; and each time I bend forward to scribble my answers on the test paper, my head protests violently. How to deduce the correct molecular structure by reading the NMR spectrum, IR spectra, and Mass Spectroscopy spectra when my head is screaming murder, and the brain, refusing to focus? DIE LA.


After the test, I headed off for the second lecture - Instrumental Analysis II - from 12pm to 2pm. I could hardly register whatever the lecturer was saying. Linear sweep voltammetry... Cyclic voltammetry... Limiting current... Faradic current... Negative scan... Positive scan... Scan rate... Cathodic current... Diffusion layer... What... The... Bananna...
The lecture ended at 1.45pm. While we were packing up our stuff to adjourn to the next lecture threater, ML joked and asked whether did I have a through-the-night mahjong session. "NO LA!" I replied, "In fact, I slept very early last night at 11.30pm. I didn't even really prepare for the test this morning!" It's true, I am practically a hibernating bear these past couple of days.

"Is it?" She was surprised, "But your eyes are so swollen! And the dark circles! You look like you didn't sleep last night!"

I paused, and thought for a moment. Okay, I feel horrible. But I have no idea, until this moment, that I look horrible as well. I thought of the next lecture from 2pm - 4pm. Oh, crap! It's level 3 ORGANIC REACTION MECHANISMS! Instrumental Analysis alone already killed me! Deciding that attending Organic Chemistry lecture at this current state of health would be a pure waste of time, I headed down to the campus health center for a medical consultation.

The waiting time wasn't long. I had my consultation within 15minutes of waiting.

"How may I help you?" The doctor asked.

"Well, I've been having a recurrent, mild fever since last Wednesday. On and off. Then I lost my voice on this Monday. On this Wednesday, I started having a massive headache." I babbled away.

"Got phelgm?" She asked, while jotting down and making notes of my medical symptoms.

"Nope, no phelgm. Dry cough."

"Does your throat feel dry or itchy?"

"Nope, not itchy."

I involuntarily let out a cough.

"The cough just now, is it due to irritable throat; or did the cough just naturally come by its' own?"

"By its' own."

"Got runny nose?"

"Nope," I replied. Just then, I remembered vaguely of sniffing my nose late at night while I slept, and experiencing the resultant CRAZY headache that left me coiling in pain. Needless to say, I have been making a conscious effort to resist the tempting urge to sniff my blocked nose since then. "Ehmmm... Just a bit." I amended, "Stuffed nose. But no mucus."

She took a wooden stick prod from her desktop. Shining the torchlight onto my mouth cavity, she asked me to "Ahhh..."

"Ahhh..."

"Ahhh again."

"AHHH..."

She took a stethoscope from her desk, and proceeded to listen to my airway passage.

Satisfied, she returned to her seat; and scruntized the medical notes she had made. She looked stumped. Alright, I admit - even to myself - this illness seems so weird. I'm not having a fever; so that definitely rules out any viral infection or bacterial infection. I'm not having a runny nose; so it rules out the common flu or influenza. BUT I'm having a persistent bad headche, a stubborn, recurrent mild fever, and a spate of bad cough. The symptoms don't make sense.

"Your headache," she probed, "does it hurt always? Even when you're doing nothing?"

"It hurts slightly while I'm walking or turning my head." I replied, "But each time I cough, the pain intensifies like anything."

"Ah..." She smiled, "this is because when we cough, pressure is actually created inside. That's why your headache worsens when you cough."

She looked back at the medical notes again.

"Do you have any respiratory problems? Asthma?"

"Nope."

"Then how about allergies? Or are you sensitive to anything?"

I pondered for a moment. "Nope, I don't have any known allergies." I replied, "But my nose is kind of sensitive to dust."

"Ah..." She smiled finally, as if she's found the missing piece in a jigsaw puzzle. "I suspect this illness could be brought about by your nose. Nasal drip. Could be your nose's sensitivity to dust that's affecting your throat. As you know, the ear, nose, and throat are linked to each other. Your cough and persistent slight fever could have been superimposed as a result of the nasal problem. But sometimes because the mucus is not much, patients at times fail to realize that it's actually caused by the nose."

"I'll prescribe some pills for you. Paracetamol (that is, the active ingredient in Panadol) to curb your headache and mild fever, and some pills to help your nose. And a cough syrup for your cough."





SO! AFTER DAYS OF MYSTERY, IT'S THE STUPID NOSE'S FAULT!





And now, I have 4 medications to take. And it's such a bother. One has to be taken once in the morning, the other has to be taken 4 times per 6hours, another one has to be taken twice per 12hours, and the last one has to be taken at precisely 5pm and 11pm.

Keeping to medical complicance can be such a headache! So many pills at different timings! How to keep track?!

YOYO


Sick. Has been recurrently sick since last Wed.

Hit the bottom and was having the onset of a fever last Wed night. Thankfully, the temperature subsided the next morning. Have been feeling queasy ever since. Initially thought the immune system might conquer the virus/infection/whatever-it-is after all; as the fever did not come back. But now, exactly a week later, I hit bottom again. Nursing a throbbing head; coupled with a raspy voice. The back of my throbbing head screams murder with each cough. And my hoarse, raspy voice is just so soothingly sexy.

Don't call me.

PSYCHOLOGICAL?


After almost 4 weeks, I've somehow arrived at the conclusion that all the puking is psychological. How else can the Sakae Sushi Buffet at Century Square with LT after our gym session 3 weeks ago be explained? How else can the Bulgogi meal set which was shared with Dorothy on last Saturday afternoon before CGM be explained? And it's been 2 weeks since I've started school attachment. And from Monday to Friday on these past 2 weeks, I've been eating the canteen food heartily; with no resultant ejection or retching after each meal. 2 weeks prior to the start of the school attachment, I was only averaging at most 1 proper meal per day. It was so bad that I could hardly eat solid food, but killed off the hunger pang by drowning myself in Milo. Perhaps the activities in school have really been keeping me occupied and helping in taking my mind off my stomach.

But then again, if it's all psychological, how do I explain the Beef Rice in Expo 4 weeks ago? The Maggi Mee at home 3 weeks ago? The Shrimp Wanton SOUP at Vivocity? The breakfast on Saturday mornings? The Yuan Yang drink at Malan Ramen? The Garlic Tomato SOUP and ICE CREAM in Swensen?
Really, who has heard of anyone regurgitating Wanton Soup, Garlic Tomato Soup, ice cream, or a coffee-tea beverage?! Totally crazy. It's scaring me so much that I kind of dread eating out nowadays.

Madeline actually asked casually 2 weeks ago after service whether have I lost weight. I suspect I have, as my weight is now about 2kg lesser than usual. But as I look into the mirror, I don't seem to have shrunk in size. Maybe just a bit leaner, but otherwise, nothing else looks significantly different. So, I was really surprised when she asked. Of course, I would be lying if I say I'm not pleased - of not, delighted - about the loss of weight. But truthfully, what worries me more is that the weight loss is not even intentional or deliberate.

Today, almost immediately after lunch at the school canteen, my stomach just felt so uncomfortable. Horrible feeling of uncomfortable bloated-ness. It was so bad that I could hardly stand upright. AND to make things worse, it's not as though I overate. The food portion size is healthy. A burger consisting of a chicken patty and a sunny-side up. Plus a cup of Soya Bean. That's all for lunch today. And already the stomach was protesting and rejecting and churning and throwing tantrums and kicking up a ruckus.

WHEN WALKING IS A TORTURE


This Friday morning from 8.40am to 10.30am, while most of you guys were sleeping like pigs, I exercised more than I had in these past few years. Or, at least, ever since I graduated from secondary school and kissed NAFPA goodbye. From 8.40am to 9.35am, I was diligently playing tennis. From 9.35am onwards till 10.30am, it was frisbee.

This is the first time in my 22 21 (haven't birthday yet, okie?!) years playing tennis. Badminton, loads of times. Tennis, I'm a total greenhorn. Yes, I'm a loser, I know! And, to put it kindly, the hour spent was slightly better than "disastrous". It turned out that my partner and I are two horrible tennis players (yes, it's his first time attempting tennis too). Instead of soaring gracefully straight through the air, bouncing once on the ground, and hitting it with the racquet; both of us ended up taking turns running to retrieve the ball, panting like a dog. It's either we hit the ball with too much force, or we hit it with too little force. If it's neither of these, then it's that the ball got blown off-course. It's the wind's fault, I TELL YOU! (yeah, right)

Frisbee, in contrast, was much more enjoyable. It was totally fantastic! We jumped, leaped, dived, flew, cartwheeled, and somersaulted though the air like a cannonball. Overall, I make a better "catcher" than "thrower". Chances are, the only times when I failed to receive the flying disc are only because I chose not too. Either my partner had thrown it way too high, or the flying disc was plunging for the ground, or it was flying totally off-course. Not that it's entirely our fault it's flying off-course anyway, because the truth is, they're just some cheap, low-quality frisbees which are unable to stand against the force of stronger winds.

And when I failed to catch the flying disc, I ended up chasing after it like a panting dog again. And I just hate it when the disc - instead of landing flat on the ground - somehow flipped onto it's sides, and starts rolling happily and gleefully across the field. Poor panting dog thus panted across the same field. That stupid frisbee! GRRR!!! *growls* *snaps jaws* Wait till I lay my razor-sharp teeth on you and tear you into pieces!

Of course, I've my fair share of making my partner pant across the field too. I've said, I'm a better catcher than thrower.

Anyway, playing frisbee is not as simple as it looks. When we were clearing up the field, a PE teacher kindly taught us some frisbee skills. How to throw a frisbee straight. The different ways and methods of throwing frisbee. The techniques which can be used to distract opponents. He is such an expert in frisbee! He nearly became my living hero! And as he is also a Physics teacher, he incorporated some Physics theory behind it too. I declare, frisbee is really an art. I didn't know it then, but I know it now. There's more to frisbee than meets the eye.

I came home on Friday evening, and my legs felt funny. I was hoping it's not the much-dreaded muscles-ache. But by Saturday morning, even walking is such a torture. My butt cheeks and thighs hurt like crazy; they're killing me! The only consolation is: my calves are perfectly fine. But my thighs and butt cheeks! I nearly died in service today from all that standing up and sitting down.

Only 2 hours of exercise, and I already feel half-dead. This is so weak! It's high time to go gym-ing and get fit. So far, I've only been to the gym only once for the past 4 weeks. This is so pathetic! LT!!! !!! !!!

INTOXICATED ECSTASY


Last Thursday, I went to look for Jim, and spent an earth-shaking 2 hours with him.

There's just something about Jim. The way he sends my heart racing and pumping madly, with the accompaniment of violent gushing of blood to my brain, the shortness of breath and, not forgetting, the exciting adrenaline rush that can never be aptly and justifiably expressed in words. He makes me go all jelly. He makes me high!

There is just something domineering about Jim. He overpowers me easily, overwhelms me senselessly, and gains control over me assertively; making me feel like a submissive little woman once again. Personally, I like being given the role of the little lady; and have an unexplainable soft spot for men who are assertive and firm. AND Oh! My Jim. He makes it pristine clear - from the very start - who's boss. AND I LOVE IT.


He pushes my limits; with the sole aim of bringing me to a higher climax. He leads me to places unimaginable; a higher level of intoxicated, ecstatic pleasure that totally blows my mind away.

He challenges my stamina, while at the same time being mindful about not letting me over-exert myself. Like a protector, he watches out for me vigilantly. He complements me, and thoughtfully adjusts himself to accommodate me. Too fast, and he slows down. Too hard, and he eases the force. We bond together, and move rhythmically in unison as one; towards a common purpose with joined hearts. We are created and made for each other. Jim and I, we're an item.

The thumping heart. The racing mind. The numbing of the senses. The shortness of breath. The flushed face. The slick, wet body. The adrenaline rush. The climax. Pumping. Pumping. And pumping. Oh! The pleasure of it all! Every inch of my fiber writhe in distress; but yet, at the same time, hungrily lap up the ecstatic experience of it all and yearn deeply for more of him; more of Jim.


And at the end of each breath-taking and mind-numbing session, my limbs went all jelly. Literally.

He was done, but I always end up begging for more. He has this vigor and vitality in him that always leave me hungry for more. And my Jim, he always obliges. He never refuses any of my requests, but dutifully and lovingly and patiently fills up the needs in me.

I feel so complete. Jim always makes me sooo satisfied. He makes a satisfied, complete woman out of me. I crave helplessly for Jim like a drug. He makes me want to crawl back for more. The thumping heart. The racing mind. The numbing of the senses. The shortness of breath. The flushed face. The slick, wet body. The adrenaline rush. The climax. Pumping. Pumping. And pumping. Oh!


Oh! My heart!
I'm falling into the bottomless abyss of love. With Jim.

I'm definitely going back to him one of these days soon, for another session of ecstatic, erotic escapade.



P.S. Ok, ever since this post, quite a number of people have come up with their own postulations. Once and for all, I clarify:
1) No, I'm not attached, and
2) No, it's NOT a vibrator.

What are you guys thinking?! Honestly!

WHAT A WASTE!


Spending on food is a pathetic waste of money. Especially when you have trouble keeping it down to start with.


Update:
12.32am: I know for a fact that it has been recurring on and off. And I just realized - what I DON'T KNOW for a fact - is that it has already been recurring on and off for a couple of years. Maybe it's high time to be worried or something.

AND these only constitute the times when I bothered to blog about it. Shucks!

24th December 2006. 31st December 2006. 1st January 2007. 1st May 2007.

FEELING DEPRIVED


Mom has been rather weird lately, getting increasingly health-conscious. She loves to cook broccoli and carrots on Saturdays and Sundays (the only days when she's at home to cook dinner), hailing its health benefits. A few months ago, she introduced brown rice into the family dinner menu. Just the other day, because of the recent humid weather, she bought barley drinks, claiming that it's "cooling" for the body. Sitting in our refrigerator, currently, are also two 1.5L of Oat Milk from Magnolia. Gone too, is my favourite coffee, to make way for instant Milo sachets instead.


Not that I'm complaining, anyway.
I've always been more of a hypochondriac, afterall.
Brown rice. Broccoli. Celery. Wheat. Oat. Wholemeal bread. Milk. Bring it on!



It's no secret - to anyone who knows me well enough - that coffee is my best friend. Literally. Instead of replenishing my body with pure, pristine H2O, my hands would wander ever so naturally to the particular drawer containing - to my extreme delight - the much-beloved coffee sachets. On any typical day, it is not uncommon to consume an average of 3 cups. Of course, in the face of exams, the statistic easily goes up to 6 cups per day. Coffee keeps me company as I study.

It's not healthy, I know, I know. But try as I might, kicking off the addictive lure of caffeine eludes me like a plague. Previously, I had tried - in vain - to replace the daily doses of coffee with a healthier alternative of milk formulas. Chocolate-flavoured, even, to make it more enticing to the taste buds. But my hands always seem to possess a life of its own, and would rather stealthily reach out for the coffee sachets than the tin of calcium-fortified, low-fat Anlene. I only lasted 3 months at most, before reverting helplessly back to the caffeine-vein demoness that I was and always has been.



Now that no one in the family is re-stocking the already-depleted coffee supply, it seems so much easier to kick off the habit. Afterall, there is no temptation in the first place. I could search the whole house and find not even one grain of aromatic coffee powder.

And now I'm happy. Because my body seems to have adapted to taking Milo as a replacement for the usual doses of caffeine. Sure, the occasional urge for coffee is still there. It rears its ugly head once in a while, but at least it's manageable - for the time being, that is.


The bad thing is, having no coffee to drink, I'm now sort of addicted to Milo; and am drinking it with the same fervency and frequency as I did with coffee. And it is still the studying period; my last paper will only end tomorrow. After I'm done with CM3232 (Physical Chemistry of Solid State & Interfaces) tomorrow, I'm a liberated woman lady. And I'll work hard to keep it to 3 cups of Milo per day.



Hope I won't pile on the weight.
Stupid Milo.

WHAT'S NEXT???


I remember reading --- some years back --- with overwhelming disgust and revolting disdain over a news article on milk formulas for infants. This particular unscrupulous company has been manufacturing substandard milk formulas and putting them on sales in the market. After noticing that infants and babies appear malnourished in the long run and, by a stroke of luck, laboratory tests were carried out on the suspicious tins of milk formulas and voila! No surprises here.

But what TOTALLY chills me to the bone, and remains deeply etched in my mind until today, is the fact that the laboratory chemical analysis results revealed that the milk formula is hardly more nutritious than a pail of water that has been pre-rinsed with rice.


Seems like it's the tip of the iceberg, after all.


It started with Rabbit Sweets being tainted with formaldehyde.

Then, it's the uproar over cardboard-stuffed buns (yes, it's a prank, I know. Oh well, but still...).

This is followed by toothpastes containing diethylene glycol, a chemical used as antifreeze.

After that, the paint on toys contain high amount of lead.

Following which, it's exploding mobile phone and laptop batteries.

While reading Today earlier just now, it turns out that 2 more items have been added onto the ever-growing and burgeoning list. Clothings and bracelets.

Apparently, in New Zealand, 2 little boys were injured when their flannelette pyjamas -- which has been labeled with "low fire danger" --- caught fire (so ironic). Upon launching a probe, it was discovered that the cloth contains HIGH amount of, again, formaldehyde. And some of the clothes tested had a reading of 900times the level which has the adverse potential to cause harm to human health. (!!! !!! !!!)

And formaldehyde, which is used for embalming and preservation, can cause problems ranging from skin rashes to cancer.

And, a British toy seller has pulled out 2 of its products after discovering that they contain high level of lead. One of these 2 imported products from C____ include bracelets which have been found to be made of 93percent lead --- a dosage level high enough to cause brain damage and potentially kill a child who chewed on it.

Harming innocent little lives really bother me alot. I get so pissed off whenever I read of things like these. The children are innocent and have done absolutely nothing to deserve such treatments, ok? Don't they have any conscience? All in the name of profits and monetary gains, is it worth it??? Won't they feel even a slight of guilt?
If the manufacturers want to get themselves poisoned to death by lead or formaldehyde or antifreeze or mercury or whatever-it-is, then go ahead. But leave the young alone.




Of late, I have been a tad more mindful than usual with the food I eat.

Having always been a careful consumer who checks the expiry dates before making any purchases, I've recently acquired the new habit of noting down the place of manufacture as well.
Before popping sweets into my mouth to perk myself up during lectures, I would double-and-triple-check to ascertain that they're not made in C____. I have no wish to foam in the mouth in the midst of a lecture, you know?


I've always known that I'm a little of an extremist. And admittedly, at times I wondered am I getting a tad too overtly paranoid over this whole made-in-C_____ issue.


However, after reading the article on Today, I'm thankful.
It's always better to err on the side of caution, if you ask me.


So now, I'm definitely NOT GOING to use any products that's manufactured in C_____, if I can help it, that is, considering that C____ is practically THE manufacturing hub of the entire universe. Just a glance around, and it's so easy to spot products made in C____.

And I'm not going to limit myself in terms of food only. Clothings. Toothpastes. Batteries. Hair conditioners. Body lotions. Shampoo. Body soaps. Canned food. Instant noodles. Tissue papers. Facial towels. Whatever.
I'm going to STEER WELL CLEAR OF ALL M.I.C PRODUCTS!!! From this day on, I'm NOT going to purchase ANY M.I.C products until their quality meets health standard and guidelines.






Paranoid me? WHATEVER. *shrugs*
I don't really bother about what you think of me because I'm the one who's ultimately responsible for my own health.


=)

OF AGE AND PAIN


I went to UHWC, the campus health clinic, this evening.

Cheerful, amiable, polite, and good-natured he is. Never mind his strange accent. The admirable and sunshine attitude he carries at work endears him to everyone almost immediately; maybe even unbeknownst to him himself.

"Here," he beckoned to a young lady in a friendly tone and handed her a piece of clothing, "change into this. Remove your shirt and bra. And oh! Your necklace too." And he directed her to one of the changing rooms.

I winced inwardly. If there is one thing I dislike, it is indiscretion. Women deserve their privacy, you know? And it doesn't help that due to overcrowding, there were 3 gentlemen sitting beside me in the Female Waiting Area. To be fair, I can't fault the radiologist too. There's nothing much he can do. I feel bad for the lady, really. But well, at least that piece of clothing is in a dark navy blue shade, and not an embarrassing white.

In my opinion, some occupations are best left to womenfolk. Fine examples are gynaecologists and radiologists.

Luckily for me - as I was pretty far back in the queue - by the time it was my turn, only a professor was left waiting with me in the Female Waiting Area. The radiologist was keying in my particulars into the computer system when I was called forward.

"Miss Phua," He turned from the computer and smiled, "I'll need you to sign here. You know, the usual procedure to declare that you're not pregnant. And I'll need you to fill up this information here too." Pointing at the tiny box on the bottom-right-hand side with the words "LMP:_________", he continued, "The last date of your menses."

My eyes widened. Gosh. So strict, ah? They need to know the exact date of the last menstruation too???!!! And I thought it was already enough to declare that there's no life existing in my abdomen area.

"Errr..." I was lost for speech. Gesturing helplessly with my left hand and careful to face my back to the professor, I jabbed my index finger southwards, towards the floor. It's the universal body-language to indicate the word "now".

"Oh. You having?"

"... ... ... Yah"

"Which day already?" He asked conversationally, as though he's inquiring about something no more paranormal than the weather.

Something in me sank, and I groaned inwardly. Can't he spare me? Is there a necessity for such fine details? It feels weird and freaky, you know, discussing something this personal with a male. AND a stranger at that. Wrinkling my forehead in an attempt to backcount and careful to whisper, I replied, "The 3rd".

"3rd day ah? Ok, no problem. Sit down for a moment please, while I complete the registration."

I've said. Gynaecologists and radiologists should be females. Males should be banned from these professions.


Anyway, today's my first time doing a sacral scan. And it's a fresh experience, you know, not having to change into the X-ray cloth-apron that's reserved for females for lung scans. Definitely a lot less cumbersome. And unlike lung scans where we have to press up against some cold and hard vertical surface, I get to lie down on the bed. And what's more, there are no incessant, barking orders of, "OKAY!!! BREATHE IN BREATHE IN!!! INHALE DEEPLY!!! FULLY EXPAND YOUR LUNGS!!! AND HOLD IT THERE!!! DON'T MOVE DON'T MOVE!!! DON'T EXHALE, HOLD YOUR BREATH!!! 1! 2! 3! Okay! Done!"

Awww Ahhh... Peace and quiet.



Lying in a horizontal position, with the radiation-scanner towering over me like the dentist's spotlight, I can't help but to wonder, "Is this how it feels like to be in an Operation Theater?" And I started to wonder if this is also how it feels like for a pregnant woman in a delivery suit too. Except that it would be, in my opinion, much more worse because 1) she's in extreme pain 2) she's worried for the health of the baby and birth complications, and 3) she's in a room with a team of complete strangers and midwives and nurses and doctors.
The trepidation, apprehension, and the sense of foreboding. Shivers. It's something that men will never understand.

Anyway, I burned a big hole in my pockets. The sacral scan cost S$40.00. I had initially thought that it would be cheaper, at a price of at most S$20plus, since the fees are heavily subsidized by campus. It was only in the X-ray room then did I realize the reason behind the unexpected steep price: I had to take 2 scans of my lower back --- 1 from the front, and 1 from the side.

Grrr... S$40 flew away. And another additional S$1.82 for the painkillers and antacids. A total of S$41.82 off my pockets.

Hope that the X-ray films will reveal nothing wrong with my vertebrate column. The lower back pain has been bothering me for weeks. It's so bad that I can't fully stretch out both legs while sitting on the floor. And I can't incline or bend forward without sharp pains shotting off from the lower back region. And no, I don't intend to pop the painkillers. Because my daily movement is not very much hampered in any way; provided that I don't attempt to stretch my legs or bend my back. Because I believe that medicine should always be taken as a last resort. Because I believe that medicine generally have side-effects; known or unknown. Because the painkillers I've been prescribed with can cause gastric pain, and hence the antacid as a counteract. AND because I hate to sallow pills. As always, yours truly have a thousand and one excuses not to eat her medicine.




Sometimes, you know that age's catching up with you when pains and aches don't go away as fast as they used to.

Aiyo. Don't want to admit old also cannot, lah!