It’s 2300 hours and I’m in hospital by my Dad’s bedside at his request.  He is very much alive (thankfully), but just wants someone to stay with him through the night while he’s undergoing the stem cell infusion.
 
Unlike the last infusion 6 months ago, his body has not reacted badly this time.  There’s no massive puking or chills – in fact he is snoring now.  Very loudly.  I am glad for this miracle.  Yet I think it is rather selfish of him to demand that someone stay at his side through the night when it is not really necessary.  So typically my Dad … sigh …

Sunday Times published an article on A*Star chairman Philip Yeo’s thoughts on Singapore male scholars.  One Ms Chng, a female A*Star scholar, commenting on chairman’s remarks, said :

“It’s quite obvious that female scholars are more aggressive, Type-A, go-getting types, while the males are more soft-spoken and tend to be easily bullied by females … Once they enter NS, they complain a lot.  I didn’t know that guys could talk about the most minute things”.

The questionable validity of the sweeping statement aside, you would have expected more tact from “scholar-material”.  Then again, she’s in the elite.  I believe she’ll get quite a shelling from unhappy Singaporean males in the coming week.

Joyce and I have decided on a provisional name for our baby, one that we can continue using whether or not he / she is a boy or girl - Jerry / Geri !

It was the third visit to the gynae today.  Jerry / Geri is now 6.5 cm long / big / whatever, and his / her fingers are now visible !

Dad was admitted to SGH today for the final phase of his cancer treatment.  When we first discovered he had cancer two years ago, the cancer was at pretty advanced stage and how long he would survive was a question mark.  Midway through the treatment, he nearly died from a viral infection.  Following that, it was discovered that the cancer was no longer responsive to chemotherapy, and an alternative, more severe form of treatment was resorted to.

It has been a difficult time. 

For my father, who has to deal with the pain and uncertainty of recovery, but also with the boredom of restricted mobility.

For my mother, who has to spend more time with boring and grumpy Dad, tending to some really idiosyncratic requests, who I think could treat her better.

For me, because my sisters are almost non-existent, and because I try to give support to my mother whenever possible.

We’ve made it this far by the grace of God.  I never thought I had it in me to bear a burden of this sort.

I’ve been spending some time thinking about my Dad.  For some reason since young I’ve resolved that I never wanted to be like him (other than I suppose the fact that he is pretty smart).  I don’t want to be fat.  I don’t want to be a show off (I think my Dad is a bit of a show-off, in a thankfully not too intolerable way).  I don’t want to try and earn lots of money, only to spoil my kids to death with it.  I don’t want to neglect my wife.  And I don’t want to be dependant on my wife for support only when I am crippled.  (If I am to expect any love and devotion from my wife, I want to be the first to demonstrate that love and devotion to her.)But even as I thought how unlike my father I was, it struck me that I am in my current job because I am subconsciously modelling my father, living the life that he used to live when he was younger.  Just as he used to leave for work early in the morning and would return by dinnertime, I too am in a job that allows me to return home by dinnertime (if I want to), and I’ll be quite reluctant to quit unless the next job can offer me the same or better terms.

It is most humbling to realise that despite my desire not to be like him (in certain ways), I can’t avoid taking after some parts of him - to discover that he is a larger part of my life than I dare to admit.