Nervous Happyness

March 2006 - In a General Practioner's room on a moonlit night

It was paralysis of the third kind. Not that I know of first or second kinds. But anyway - I was straining my right eye to see the top-left-hand corner of the room. There was light everywhere. I could even see the veins in my eye under such light. The doctor opposite me was bringing his needle slowly, but surely, closer to my eye. It became so close, until it was a Huge, Blur thing (HBt). As the HBt moved, the doctor produced sounds of stress – "ugh, uh, er, ugh" with short pauses in between. I wished he'd stop it as it made him sound like a dork. His sounds of stress and the HBt's imminent action was causing me to see more veins in my eye (ooh check those floaters!). The needle came closer, until I could feel the sharpness piercing my eye…

The week before, after brushing my teeth at 9.30am after dinner, just like how they had taught me in Blangah Rise Primary School, I rinsed my mouth (after this I was going to drink milk and sleep). As I rinsed my mouth, I felt a slight irritation in my right eye. Thinking it was some eye pus/phlegm/papaya, I tried to rinse it away, but it just wouldn't go away. I washed my eye again and again, but the feeling of a slight bump thinggie persisted. I looked at the white of right eye even closer and saw It. It was a smallish, transparentish, roundish, non-fish cyst-like cyst. Was It as cyst? I wasn't sure. But I sure as hell was going to find out. Went to the GP I did.

TBJ: Doctor, how ah? What is it?

Doc: (Looks at the horizon, thoughtfully. Looks to the right, in contemplation. Looks at th-)

TBJ: So how?

Doc: Oh. Yes. It's a cyst.

TGJ: Is it dangerous?

Doc: I can poke it out for you using a needle. It'll be very short.

TBJ: Let's do it.

And so. It was a paralysis of the third kind.

The needle came closer, until I could feel the sharpness piercing my eye… and I felt a small sharp pain. The doctor's grunting stopped. The floaters stopped floating. The doctor told me that the deed was done, that he had poked the nasty bugger and drained it out of all the fluid, and that I was back to being a normal person again. I was engulfed in happyness. My payment for the consultation fee engulfed the doctor in happyness.

One year later - - -

March 2007 - In a General Practioner's room on a moonlit night

TBJ: Doctor, how ah? What is it?

Doc: (Looks at the horizon, thoughtfully. Looks to the right, in contemplation. Looks at th-)

TBJ: So how?

Doc: Oh. Yes. It's a cyst. It has recurred.

TGJ: Great.

Doc: I can poke it out for you using a needle. It'll be very short.

TBJ: OK. Erm. Yes. Let's do it.

Paralysis of third kind

piercing my eye

bright lights

grunts, floaters

Fluids drained

happyness.

2 days later

March 2007 - In a General Practioner's room on a cloudy evening

TBJ: So how?

Doc: The fluid didn't drain out fully.

TGJ: (silence)

Doc: I can poke it out for you using a needle. It'll be very short.

TBJ: (silence)

Doc: No charge for this.

TGJ: Let's do it.

Paralysis

piercing

bright

grunts
drained

happyness.

TBJ: Does this cyst thinggie happen to a lot of your patients.

Doc: No, no one really.

TGJ: So I'm the only person so far lah.

Doc: (diplomatic laughter) ha ha ha. Yes.

TBJ: So I'll be back next year to do this poking thing again eh, heh heh (nervous laughter.)

Doc: Ha ha ha (diplomatic nervous laughter)

TBJ: Heh ha ha heh (lame attempt to continue diplomatic nervous laughter)

Conclusion: Take care of your eyes and make your you drain out the fluids properly the first time. Cheers.

Flatismo

With buying a new flat comes a whole array of decision-making situations and soul-searching incidences.

I, on the heels of getting married, received the flat keys on 27 Feb. Five-months, 20 signatures, and 300K later, the flat was worth the wait. [Some thoughtful and kind friends have discussed how I could possibly pay up the 300K. The answer is simple – you’ll cross the bridge when you come to it]. Walking out of the HDB office with the 24 keys in my hand, I felt like a top-class Home-Owner. 110 square metres, all ours. It's bare, but heck, it's there.

Then you think about it and you realise people in Singapore pay a whole truckload of money for what is essentially empty space that is strategically lined with walls. It's not a plot of land, as anything directly above the ground floor is "in the air". Then there are walls to create rooms. And there you go, a piece of property to call your own.

It's undoubtedly the single most expensive purchase or investment for many middle-income Singaporeans. I think it's a way to root folks to the country, as one is literally tied to paying up the loan over the x number of years you'll be expecting to stay in the flat. It's definitely not a healthy way to root people though.

Having said all that, the feeling of owning a flat is satisfying and empowering, even. It's a huge-ass piece of thing that you are free to inject your own character to and do all that you ever wanted to do. Lights, paint colour, furniture, all your choice. You only have to consult your spouse [that pretty much also sums up married life]. But the choice has to be a good one - no one is going to have a fallback plan for you.

I pray that the renovation work will be done well. Everywhere I turn, I hear horror stories of interior decorators who screw up, botch up and screw up some more. But logically speaking, not all homes will be 100% perfect. If you want it to be, you have to pay several bombs. We went to Modern Living at Expo 2 days ago, where the different combinations and packages and freebies can drive you up the wall-paper in confusion. I felt so mentally tired after listening to only 2 designers! Man I'm weak. But we later realised that with all the similar packages and combinations, it all boils down to whether you can hit it off with the designer. Let's hope the dude we chose will do a great job.