Madame Lady Bug

In a hill far away from civilisation, lived a colony of bugs. It was a quaint little bug town. The bugs who lived there came in all shapes, sizes and colours. Every day, you would see the town at its peak at the morning market. And it was during one of the usual morning market where it all started.

Madame Lady Bug was one of Bug Town's oldest resident. Being one of the town's oldest resident, she was made to be one of the council members. Queen Bee was the mayor of Bug Town. There had been peace for as long as anyone could remember.

One day, a new bug moved into Bug Town. She was a millipede and her name was Milli Snow. Why Snow? Because she was an albino. And she wasn't the usual millipedes that were in Bug Town. She was shorter and bigger as she was a pill millipede. Milli Snow had a pet whose name was Ghost. Ghost was abandoned as a maggot and would have died if Milli did not rescue it. Ghost was very loyal to Milli Snow. Ghost took upon himself to be Milli's protector.

When Milli moved into Bug Town, she was amazed by the town's peace and tranquility. It was unlike any other place she had known. Her neighbours were kind and helpful too. They didn't judge her because she was an albino.

After a few weeks had passed, Milli and Ghost finally settled down. They decided it was time to visit the morning market. 

As they browsed by the stalls, they were greeted by a friendly voice, 

"Hello there! You must be our new resident!" 

Milli turned around and saw a very beautiful ladybug. Milli smiled and replied, "Yes, I am. I'm Milli Snow and this is Ghost." 

The ladybug nodded at Ghost and smiled at Milli and said, "I'm Madame Lady Bug. Welcome to Bug Town." 

Milli Snow wanted to get some fruits but it was hung up too high up for her to reach. Madame Lady Bug requested the stall owner to help bring it down for Milli. The owner was busy and asked Madame Lady Bug to fly up and help get it for Milli. Madame Lady Bug was incensed at the suggestion and was about to give a piece of her mind to him. But Ghost flew up and got the fruits for Milli. Milli felt it was weird that Madame Lady Bug would be bristled by such a non-threatening suggestion. But she came to the conclusion that most likely Madame Lady Bug wasn't feeling well enough to fly. She did seem rather elderly.

The three of them started spending a lot of time together. Madame Lady Bug would always drop by Milli's place with all sorts of flowers and fruits. And she would bring them for walks around Bug Town. 

Milli did ask around about Madame Lady Bug not being able to fly. No one knew the exact story. No one seemed to remember Madame Lady Bug flying about. No one had ever been to her bug hut either. Milli thought that it was strange but did not give it much thought. Maybe Madame Lady Bug had injured her wings. Maybe she preferred to visit others instead of the other way round.

As time went by, Milli felt a bit uncomfortable as Madame Lady Bug would to try to 'change' Milli. When Milli wanted to buy a particular new pair of sunglasses at the morning market, Madame Lady Bug would 'persuade' her to change it to another one. Madame Lady Bug would 'gently insist' that the other one looked better on her even though Milli did not fancy that one. 

When Milli wanted to go walk in the forest next to Bug Town during the night, Madame Lady Bug refused to let her go as she had a very frightful encounter in the forest when she was younger. Milli said that she would go with Ghost as she would really like to have a look. She had heard countless stories from her neighbours that it was a beautiful place during the night. Besides, some of the neighbours were going too and a band of them bugs would be formidable to any foe. Madame Lady Bug became so agitated and fearful that she was on the verge of a fainting spell. It really looked like she was going into a full-fledged panic attack. Milli decided not to go and accompanied Madame Lady Bug instead. Madame Lady Bug was relieved. She then told Milli that she was doing it for Milli's own good. All she ever wanted to do was to protect Milli.

And then Madame Lady Bug would feel upset if Milli didn't view certain things in the same light as she did. She felt that Milli didn't 'support' her. Milli found that the group of millipedes were a cool group to hang out with even though they were from a different subspecies and that they've never encountered an albino millipede before. They accepted her as she was. But Madame Lady Bug dissuaded her from doing so because she and the group of millipedes did not see eye to eye to how certain things in Bug Town was done. She was upset that even though she got the council to approve extra budget for the maintenance of their millipede hang-out, they could not even support her by agreeing with her. Milli told her that it was ok to agree to disagree. And that each and everyone had their own point of views. And that there was nothing wrong in doing so. Madame Lady Bug threw a fit and gave Milli the silent treatment for weeks. 

Milli thought maybe Madame Lady Bug was right. She was 'elderly' after all. Maybe she did know better. 

Milli went and apologised to Madame Lady Bug. Things became 'normal' again.

One day, Madame Lady Bug pulled Milli aside and suggested to her that the both of them should go for a short stay at the lake which was at the end of Bug Town. 

"What about Ghost?" Milli asked. 

"You shouldn't have rescued him Milly," said Madame Lady Bug in an exhausted tone. "He's a pest, not a pet. For bug's sake, he's a fly! He belongs at the place where all the pests live. Not with you!"

Milli was shocked. Ghost was her companion who had served her with no complains as he was grateful to her for rescuing him.

"How can you say that?! He's a living bug too!"

"You know nothing Milli Snow!" retorted Madame Lady Bug.

As they were arguing, the ground suddenly trembled. 

As they both ran out of Milli's little cottage, bugs who could fly started flying away. Others crawled away as fast as they could. Ghost who was in the garden flew to Milli and hooked his legs around her to carry her up in the air. 

Bugs started shouting that they saw tractors and bulldozers excavating right next to their town and that they were heading towards them. Soon their whole town would be in ruins. 

As Ghost struggled to lift Milli up in the air, she screamed to Madame Lady Bug to fly. 

"Fly Madame! FLY!!"

Two of Milli's neigbour flew towards them to help Ghost lift Milli as he struggled with lifting her up higher. As they lifted up, the ground shook even more. 

Madame Lady Bug was knocked off her feet and her wings fluttered on automatic response. To Milli's horror, hundreds of tiny little crates flew out from under Madame Lady Bug’s wings and scattered in all directions. Madame Lady Bug frantically tried to collect them and stuff them back under her wings. And then they dropped out again as she flew around in a panic frenzy. And as she tried to collect them, the ground shook and opened up. It swallowed Madame Lady Bug alive.

The residents who made it out alive from Bug Town congregated at the Forest. 

Queen Bee said that the whole area was being torn down. Soon the Forest would be next. They could not take refuge in the Forest for long. Queen Bee said that scouts were sent out to locate a safe place to move to. And they would be back with word soon. And they would all move out at the break of dawn.

Milli spoke up and said, “I need to go back to check on whether there are others who had made it out alive. They would need our help.”

The bugs voiced their disapproval. It was too dangerous and risky. Milli said that she would be back before dawn. She would hide in the darkness of the night and be alert. She needed to do this. She then left with Ghost.

When they got back to Bug Town, there was nothing that resembled it anymore. It looked like a major hurricane had ripped through their town. Milli and Ghost went to the spot where they saw Madame Lady Bug got swallowed alive. And they began to dig. As they dug, they came across the miniature crates that had flew out from under Madame Lady Bug’s wings. They set them aside. After they had dug for half an hour, they finally found Madame Lady Bug. But she was already gone. Even when faced with death, she would not let go off those miniature crates. Milli then opened them, one by one. Milli gasped when she saw what was inside them. Inside every single crate, were pictures of different bugs with a big red X crossed over their faces! And every picture had a date written on it and what they had done to her. 

“Mr. Centipede spread vicious lies about me saying that I had said horrible things about him,” written on Mr. Centipede’s picture.

“They laughed at me and called me ugly because I had mud splattered all over me,” written on the picture of The Butterfly Sisters.

“She IGNORED me,” written on another picture. 

“He wouldn’t follow MY way,” said another picture.

“She disagreed with me,” written on Milli’s picture. 

Every picture was the same. The pictures were crossed by a big red X, the offence and the date it happened. 

Milli cried as Ghost hugged her. Madame Lady Bug chose a life of keeping all these crates filled with hurt, resentment, bitterness and anger under her wings than to live a life with the freedom to fly. She chose death over life. Milli had never felt so sad in her entire millipede life. 

Suddenly, Milli noticed a crate which was still stuck under Madame Lady Bug’s wing. She and Ghost tried to remove it but they realised that it had been under her wings for such a long time that it was fused as one with her tiny body. Milli and Ghost pulled the crate with such force that it broke and out fell many faded pictures. One of the pictures was a picture of two adult lady bugs hugging many mini lady bugs. Everyone was in the group hug except for one mini lady bug in the background. That bug was crying. 

Written in red bold letters across the picture, “THEY CHOSE THEM OVER ME!”

On other pictures were written:

“THEY BLAMED ME FOR EVERYTHING.”

“THEY TOLD ME TO GO KILL MYSELF FOR I WAS NOT WORTH IT.”

“SHE SLAPPED ME BECAUSE SHE HAD A BAD DAY.”

“HE KICKED ME AND CRACKED MY SHELL.”

They buried Madame Lady Bug and all her miniature crates. Milli had one last thing she had to do before they went back to the Forest. She told Ghost to bring her to a place.

The little hut was in ruins but they both somehow managed to enter. What appeared before them was even more shocking. Thousands upon thousands of broken miniature crates were strewn all over the place with even more pictures marked with big red Xs. This was why no one was ever invited to Madame Lady Bug’s hut. Milli went around digging and searching. She then finally found what she knew would be there. 

In the midst of the rubble, stood a jewelled crate. As she opened it, there was another very old, faded and torn picture of the same ladybug family. 

Not only was the picture marked repeatedly with huge, red Xs, it was pierced over and over again with something sharp. 

“I HATE THEM!!!!!!!!!” was written in bold letters. 

And in very bright, red ink, this was written at the back of the picture, “THEY ABANDONED ME! THEY SAID THEY DID NOT LOVE ME!”

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“Forgiveness has nothing to do with absolving someone’s offense or betrayal. It has everything to do with relieving oneself of the burden of being a victim – letting go of the pain and transforming oneself from victim to survivor.” ― C.R. Strahan

*picture taken from HERE

Just For Laughs (28)

Yes, we all would like to tell Death, "Not today!"

*picture taken from HERE

Happy 2nd Bloggersary!

Another year has passed.

'The Right to be Alive' is now officially 2 years old.

2 years old. The age where a toddler begins to understand 'now', 'later' and 'a few minutes'. It is a stage where the toddler is able to follow simple instructions, realizes that she/he is a separate individual, where temper tantrums manifest itself quite often, and is also able to command about 50 words.

Well, 'The Right to be Alive' certainly does understand the meaning of 'now' and 'later'. I mean, the slow climb to better health did not magically appear overnight. Neither did it come 'later'. It happened 'VERY, VERY, VERY much later!' And it's not even back to 100% normal. It's like about 40%. So I guess this 2-year-old toddler GETS the meaning of now, later and a few minutes.

And don't get me started on the 'temper tantrums'. I think it can be likened to 'menopausal craziness'! Anyway, I think this toddler has learned to follow simple instructions such as 'cannot eat or smell', 'must sleep early', 'sleep is thy vitamin', 'you must eat even if you don't feel like eating' and etc etc etc....

50 words?!! I think this toddler surpasses 50 words. Hell, this toddler can even swear like a sailor...Oh shit!

A very happy 2nd birthday to 'The Right to be Alive'! You are indeed alive! Alive with much frustrations and joy, sadness and happiness, health and sickness, peace and burdens, insomnia and deep-sleeps, calm and tsunami-filled days and the-never-ending fight to attain the finish line in one piece.

The Wheelbarrow

The little wheelbarrow was rusting life away at a faster pace from being exposed to the elements of the earth: sun, air and water. Life can be a paradoxical journey.

It all began 51 months ago.

It had been kept in the garden shed for a very long time. When the door to the garden shed opened and flooded the shed with the glaring sunlight, the wheelbarrow flinched in pain. It had been kept and was unused for such a long time that it had forgotten what it felt like to be bathed in sunlight. But instead of warmth, a stinging pain seared the wheelbarrow.

The owner brought the wheelbarrow into the courtyard and scraped the old paint and rust off its body. It hurt the wheelbarrow real bad but it had to be done. If the owner had just painted new paint over the rust and old paint, it would not last. It was off with the old and on with the new. Even its wheels were oiled.

The wheelbarrow was used daily to cart earth, pots, manure, compost, even new born kittens and puppies, the fruit of the garden and every other imaginable thing under the sun. It was exposed to all the elements of the earth everyday: the sun scorched, the rain drenched and the air breathed over it.

The thing with being exposed to all the elements of the earth, it caused the wheelbarrow to rust all over again at a faster pace.

One quiet evening, the wheelbarrow sat under the porch and watched the pouring rain with the booming thunder and flashing lightning. Mud and water splashed on the wheelbarrow. It then noticed that certain parts of its paint were peeling off. It also noticed that its wheels were squeaking again.

But the wheelbarrow realised that without the sun, water and air, life would be confined in the garden shed with cobwebs and spiders as its companions. It would definitely rust at a slower pace. But it would not have met the different plants that it carried and hear their different stories of life, smell the horrifying manure, feel the worms and ants (and every other bug) crawl over it while it ferried the dirt to another part of the garden, experience the warmth of the morning sun or the cooling effect of the rain, see the leaves rustle as the result of the wind or even experience the force of the gale that sweeps across the garden occasionally.

And that is the paradoxical journey called Life.

After The Storm

After the rain comes the sun.

Once the night is over, the day will come.

When the storm is over, out comes the rainbow.

In adversity, we find strength.

When the War is over, we plunder.

After Death is Life.

In Sickness we find Health.

After the storm...

The Only Way Out Is Through

A ship in the middle of the great, giant ocean caught in a typhoon-ic storm.

A warrior in the midst of battle with a torn arm and a spear through the shoulder.

A cancer patient going through chemotherapy with all its never-ending horrendous side-effects.

A single mother whose left foot is in the shoe called Father and the right, Mother working nine to five everyday to give her children the life that they deserve.

An addict in the midst of cold turkey.

A patient with an unknown ailment which perplexes doctors to no ends, with steroids as the only answer.

A person who had sunken into the chasms of depression with Suicide, Fatigue, Exhaustion and Insomnia as constant companions.

A dreamer whose dreams that got stolen, ripped apart and discarded like ash.

A husband who lost his wife and children in a tragic accident.

A child who had to grow up too soon as she was now an orphan.

Upon escaping Death, the Human became afraid to Live.

They all had not one thing in common, except this:

The only way out is through.

Happy 1st Bloggersary!

It has been 1 year since I started this blog. Time truly flies.

This blog was the thing that brought me out of the deepest period of depression that I was in. I could express my deepest emotions and feelings which I could not vocalize. This blog has helped me to find people like me all cross the world which I cannot not do physically.

I have met so many wonderful people who are in the same boat as I am in. I have learnt so much from them. I have been encouraged much by them. I have grown so much where this area of my life is concerned. And yet after battling this condition for 42 months, I am nowhere near being healed. Yes, I have grown stronger. But I still react to salicylate in foods at different points in life, chemicals in daily products which have smells/scents. Even certain foods. But life goes on.

This year has been an amazing journey for me. Traveling approximately 50 kilometers everyday from Monday to Friday is no small feat for someone like me. But it is totally worth it as we have seen Joel grown in courage, confidence and boldness. Though he is afraid, he still manages to overcome his obstacles. Yes, he takes more time than other children. But he is an overcomer. Thus, that 50 kilometers a day for 5days a week, 4 weeks a month that I go through  is worth it. And Joel could not have done it without the help of the school's principal, Joel's teachers and counsellors. 

I have grown all the more sensitive where smells are concerned. I have even become sensitive to sanitary pads. And that has caused much misery, pain and frustration for me. For 5 months in a row, I have had infections after every period. The pain in the bladder was just too excruciating. The pain drained all my energy. And when the infections finally stopped, my period decided not to stop for 2 weeks. And when it did stop, I was exhausted. And it came again in 2 weeks.

My low blood pressure at times has given me hard times. And it has prevented me from driving as I could only lie in bed waiting for the plunge to be over. 

There have been times where I just crash in front of the TV till the wee hours of the morning and cannot get up to go to bed. It is as if I have been weighed down by shackles, strapped with an anchor the size of Titanic and thrown into the sea. The will to go on just sometimes get sapped out of me and I feel so trapped. At times, the gnawing desperation gets me. And when I sleep, I sleep in a phantom void and wake up more exhausted than ever. And when I do finally sleep, I have the same recurring nightmares. 

I'm exhausted at this point. Exhausted of fighting. Of not giving up. I had thought that being in the battlefield everyday would have somehow numbed my senses. But yet, my skin crawl every time I hear the sound of the battle horn. The weariness of putting on the armour, of arming myself. It came to a point where the armour had become me. I had become a warrior and nothing more. I lost my 'human' side. Somewhere along the line, other than fighting, I have forgotten how to live. I have somehow 'lost' myself. I had forgotten how to feel.

Thus, I became trapped in quicksand with everything being swallowed by the sand except my head. 

The thing about being trapped in quicksand is that the more you struggle, the faster you will sink. The trick is to stop flapping and flailing one's arms and legs. 

Therefore, I will stop flapping and flailing my arms and just relax and breathe. And by doing so, my body will float and once again, I will have found myself and be ready for another round of journey in the right to be alive. 

Not all that glitters is good. Not all rejoicing is real. Not all triumphs are triumphant. Not all pain is detrimental to one's soul. Not all quicksand will drown you. And many times, death does not kill you. 

Therefore, here's a very happy 1st blogger-sary to 'The Right to be Alive'. You deserve the birthday cake, candle, presents and the birthday wish. 

41 Months

Time sure flies. It has been 41 months since the day I met Death. As I am writing this, reminiscing all that has happened, all that I have gone through, the places in Life that I have gone through during these 41 months, I feel satiated and a sense of accomplishment.

WHAT?!
You exclaim.

Am I healed?
No.

Have I overcome the biggest obstacle of my life: to live in perfect health?
No.

Can I smell, eat and use anything that I fancy?
No.

Can I drop everything and go anywhere in a heartbeat?
No.

Can I live life as 'normal' people do?
No.

So how can I feel satiated and have a sense of accomplishment?

I can feel satiated because I fought the fight with all of me. I did not go into battle with a half-hearted, half-prepared Evelyn. I did not give up, although I fell down many times. I did not mop in self-pity. I made sure I got up after every fall. I climbed back up the mountain of Salicylates-and-Chemicals after sliding down a millionth time. I got up again and again and again and again AND again. And the 'again and again' is never ending.

And I have started to see a glimmer of hope.

My body started healing in different ways.

My eyesight has improved.

I have been able to take two different types of biscuits and a type of organic flakes. And they are not made by ME!!!! I bought them of the shelves of supermarkets!

I have traveled for the first time on a plane in a very, very long time to another country.

I have pushed myself beyond the boundaries of the life of a salicylate-chemical-sensitive person.

I drive a minimum of 180km every week.

I am able to eat food with salicylates in small amounts.

And that, is a great accomplishment for this warrior!

Just as our national badminton shuttler did not win the gold medal in last night's Olympic 2012 badminton competition, he is a winner indeed even with the silver medal. A champion. A glorified fighter. Because he fought all the way to the end without giving up. He gave his very best. He gave his all. And that makes him a winner!

My battle is far from over. My struggles are far from being over. But at where I am now, I can say that I have fought with all of my heart, with all of my might, with all of me. And that makes me a winner. And thus, I can feel satiated and say that I have accomplished much.


'I shall not die of a cold.  I shall die of having lived.' - Willa Cather

The Day I Got Off My Ass

It has been 40 1/2 months for me now.

The year 2012 has so far has been a year of new challenges, breakthroughs, taking leaps of faith, and new levels of frustrations for me. The one thing that has been constantly consistent from the month of January till today is me being continuously, faithfully, diligently, and at times psyching myself to get off my ass. Yes, getting off my ass everyday made a huge difference!

I have been continuously moving everyday. I have to drive nearly 50 kilometers every Monday to Friday. I have to cook. I have to go to the market. I have to get the laundry done. I have to maintain the garden. I have to do the grocery shopping every week. I have to be a mother and a wife everyday. On some days, my ass don't get a rest until it is time to hop into the car to go pick the little boy up from school. And then once we reach home, I'm on my feet again 'till it is time to go to bed.

Being constantly on the move was the switch that switched off the severe depression that I was in and the constant reaction to everything and anything.

I am not asking you to start by running the 20 kilometer run this weekend, be a triathlon athlete or even drive 50 kilometers everyday. If you were like me, spending most of the day sleeping away and not doing much physical activity, you can start by just walking on the inside of your house or apartment. Or even back and forth from the toilet is great news! At least you're up and out from the bed. Even 2 minutes for starters is good. And when you are comfortable, expand your territory or increase the time.

Candace Van Auken, who is the moderator of the support group which I am part of, wrote a post on her blog which is titled, 'Rethinking Exercise'. I would like to quote a few of her passages here.

'Like I said, I’m neither Jack Lalane nor Jane Fonda. I’m like you. I have some mornings where it takes me a half-hour just to sit up in bed, by which point I feel like I’m ready for a nice nap. If I sit too long in a chair, sometimes my right hip does something so ugly that it takes several agony-filled minutes for me to manage to put any weight at all on that leg. I’ve got a couple of toes on each foot that come (the morning after taking Methotrexate) and go (a few days later), and more than once I’ve been walking along and wondered how a ball of wet newspaper ended up in my shoe, only to discover that what I was feeling were my own numb toes.

So when you tell me, “I just cannot exercise.” I hear you. When you tell me, “I said it’s impossible for me to do that.” I know just how you feel.

But I would also claim that part of your problem is that, like me, when you think of exercise, you envision Jumping Jacks. Or you think of some article you read in the Reader’s Digest about a man who, having lost all of his limbs in a terrible accident caused by his congenital lisp, still manages to perform on a trapeze using only his mouth and a splendid set of abdominal muscles. And you think: “That is definitely not me.”

Well, of course not. Our situation is different, and our definition of exercise and accomplishment need to be different, too. It’s not that you cannot exercise – it’s that you cannot do what you think of as exercise. You think that walking to the refrigerator for a beverage is not exercise – exercise is running a 10K race. You think that standing up from a chair is not exercise – exercise is careening down a hillside on skis at 70 mph.

The first thing you need to change is your conception of exercise. If you have a serious chronic illness, especially one involving arthritis, arthralgia or fibromyalgia, then it’s time to create a definition of exercise as something that you can do.'

I can hear my mother's 'I told you so' when she reads this. She told me over and over again that I needed to get out of the house. That I needed to move. That I needed to push myself. If not for myself, for my son's sake. Because my son started to mimic my depression and did not want to get out of the house at all. He became afraid of leaving the house. He wanted to 'stay-in-the-house-forever' as he puts it.

I would be lying if I said that it was easy-peasy-piece-of-cake. It was exhausting. The amount of will-power+mind-power to just keep going at it everyday was enough to wear out a herd of elephants. But like a new car's engine which will run smoothly only after a period of time of being used continuously or like a new pair of shoes which would not cause any blisters on the feet IF they were worn continuously for a period of time, the body and mind would find it easier as time goes by. IF you do it continuously day after day after day. And then one day, you would suddenly realize, 'Hey! I am not struggling anymore!'

I started pushing myself in November 2011 as I knew that I would be in deep, deep shit by 2012 if I did not get myself up and out of the sink hole that I was in. And then I got the mother-of-all-flus. And then I started reacting to everything and anything again! But I kept myself moving, even in sickness. I have not been sick since November for 8 months. For these 8 months, family members fell sick, Joel was sick, the neighbour was sick, friends were sick, teachers and people working in Joel's school were sick. But I never succumbed. Until July. For a person who has a very restricted diet, who has no vitamins or supplements, herbal concoctions or even medications, I think I did very well in combating viruses and even the Idiopathic Anaphylaxis. And I know being active and on the move constantly contributed to my well being.

There were days where I was too exhausted. There were days where I just slept in and only woke up after noon. There were days where I just gave up for one day or a few days and not move. But then I get up again and MOVE all over again.

Candace also wrote:

'... My point is that just because you are not able to do something the way other people (or you!) think you should, that does not mean that you cannot do it at all.

As chronically ill people, we need to define exercise as the fine art of getting our blood circulating, of quickening – even if it’s just a little – our heartbeat, of strengthening our muscles and improving our sense of balance.

Think of exercise as a chance to commune with your body and the world around you. It can be a way to encourage the release of those nifty little beta endorphins that would make you feel better. It can be an opportunity to reduce perceived pain by lubricating your joints and soothing your muscles.

If your attempts at exercise are not doing those things, then you’re not exercising in a way that is meaningful for someone who has a disabling chronic illness.

The very first thing you need to exercise, is your imagination. You need to redefine physical activity in a way that it’s something you can do.

If all you can do is get up and walk once around your living room. Do that. Set your watch or a clock to beep on the hour, and when you hear it, get up and hobble around your living room, once. Then sit down. Over time perhaps you can increase the frequency or the number of times you walk around the room.

Start small, be kind to yourself, and give yourself an “atta girl” for whatever it is that you are able to do.'

So YOU, get off your ass NOW! Even if it is for just 2 seconds. 'Cos it's a start to getting back your health and life. I am a living example.

The Greatest Miracle of All

Please click here. Thank you!

A Happy Place

Someone asked me recently, 'Are you happy?'

I then asked the person, 'What is happy?'

To which he replied, 'Happy means happy loh!'

Hmmm....

So what is happy?
What is happiness?
What is being happy?

Happy can be defined as:

1. Delighted, pleased, or glad, as over a particular thing
2. Characterized by or indicative of pleasure, contentment, or joy
3. Favored by fortune; fortunate or lucky
4. Apt or felicitous, as actions, utterances, or ideas.
5. Obsessed by or quick to use the item indicated (usually used in combination): A trigger-happy gangster. Everybody is gadget-happy these days.

Happiness can be defined as:

1. The quality or state of being happy.
2. Good fortune; pleasure; contentment; joy.

Does it mean that I am happy when I am always flashing my teeth in a Cheshire's cat-like-ear-to-ear grin?

Does happy mean that I am always laughing the boisterous laughter of the land of the Giants?

Does being happy mean that I am never sad?

Does happiness mean that I should rename myself with a new name called Joy Unspeakable and assign a new job title which is called the Minister of Making People 'ROFLMAO'?

Does living in the state of happiness mean living in the transcendence of happiness while constantly mantra-ing OMs which are bursting with happiness?

Well, here is what I think happy is.

I think happiness mean that I live my life to the best I can even with Death breathing down my neck and hearing its tick-tock-tick-tock in my ear.

I think happiness mean that I when I go to bed at night, I can still smile to myself and say that it was a good day even though the bowels misbehaved themselves tremendously till the bum-bum had the imprint of the toilet bowl. Because I still have my bowels and tomorrow will be a better day. Or the day after. Or the week after that.

I think happiness is when I did not do anything constructive but lazed around, taking a well deserved break which my body, soul and mind needed. Though i think hours on the iPad playing finding-hidden-objects-games is VERY constructive!

I think being happy is resting much and using my brains to rationalise logically that Rome wasn't built in a day. Neither can my health be built in a day. It has been 38 months now and I am happy at how much I have progressed.

I think happiness is when your true self is spoken out.

I am happy because I have learnt so much, gained so much in the midst of my losses and grown so much. I can plant my own vegetables! I can eat so many more foods now! I have a very beautiful and supportive family! I have great friends! I found people who are in the same boat as I am in! And I am alive! If that is not happy, I do not know what happy means to you then...

And if I am never sad, how can I know what happiness is?
If I never know what pain is, how then can I know what it is like to be relieved when the pain is gone?
Happiness is sweet when you fight hard for it or when you stop struggling to be happy.

And happiness is being able to find a constant in the inconsistency of IA.

38 Months

So here I am. 38 months later, writing my 166th post for this blog. 38 months on being alive. Or supposedly alive. Or getting-there alive. Or maybe it's a barely alive?

Am I alive?

What is alive?

How am I alive?

The definition of alive according to the dictionary:

1. Having life; living.
2. In existence or operation; active.
3. Full of living or moving things; abounding.
4. Full of activity or animation; lively.

I am a living being. I breathe, I eat, I poop and pee, and I breed. The little young man is the proof!

I am in existence. Evelyn Chua exists. Ask my family and they will tell you that I am no ghost! I must be one VERY loud ghost!

I am active. Actively being alive with satire, sarcasm, and madness. Hey, it keeps me sane!

I am constantly moving. Moving people to tears or frustration by my blog posts - according to them.

I am full of activity. I am a full-time wife and mother who is also a full-time cook, cleaner, driver, Florence Nightingale, maid, container-gardener, and not forgetting blogger! Oh, and I am lively too! Lively with anger (according to my son) and sarcasm (according to my brother).

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I had an encounter with Death and lived to tell the story of it.

So am I alive?

Hell, yeah!!!

So how has the 'alive me' grown in this 38 months?

Hmmm....

Let me see.

..............................

Damn!

I can't think of anything.

My mind is like a blank piece of paper.

Come back and ask me when it is 39 months. Or maybe 39 years. That is if I am still ALIVE!

Oh by the way, are YOU alive?

Girl Alive

Once upon a time, there was a girl who went by the name Girl Alive. Why she chose that name for herself perplexed many. To many, she wasn't alive. Neither was she dead. She was sick. And full of shit according to many who saw her as a person who refused to believe that God could heal her if only she followed the rituals and religious methodologies.

Now she went through a lot of valleys where the shadows of Death loomed. And occasionally, Death itself showed up. Many times, she felt like giving up. Many times she was so frustrated and exhausted that the fight to stay alive for her child seemed to be worthless.  Many times she felt that she was a bull in the ring, going in circles never knowing where and when the matador would stab her and cause her to bleed and to die on the fighting grounds. And the cycle would repeat themselves all over again the next day.

So I saw the signs of her reaching another breaking point. And I waited.

True enough, one day she barged into my office and screamed like a mad woman and banged her fists on my table and cried like a maniac. I was used to it. It happens everytime her fighting spirit maxed out.  Out of her mouth came profanities that would make a sailor blush. She wailed, she bawled, she screamed till she was hoarse. She turned my table upside down. She stomped on the broken glass shattering them further into a million pieces, cutting the soles of her shoes and piercing her feet. But she did not stop. The pain in the soles of her feet could not match the pain that was in her heart.  Finally, she was spent. And she collapsed on my couch with blood dripping onto my carpet.

After a lengthy period of silence, I asked her this question. 'Why are you alive?'

'Because I'm not dead!' she replied.

'And why is that?'

'How would I know?!'

'I am going to ask you again. Why are you alive?'

'BECAUSE I am not DEAD, you dimwit!'

'And why is that?'

'I don't know damn it! Why don't YOU freaking tell me?!'

'Why are you alive?'

'Because I am not dead!!!!!!!!!!'

'And why is that?'

She stormed out of the room and slammed the door so hard that my paintings fell of their hooks. I smiled to myself. She will be back.

Two weeks later, she barged into my room and had a face off with me and said, 'I am alive because I AM alive!'

'I am alive because I can smile, I can cry, I can laugh, I can love, I can be pissed.'

'I am alive because I can breathe till the air reaches the bowels of my stomach.'

'I am alive because I can taste the food that I eat though the taste of my food is only limited to sweet and salty.'

'I am alive because I can enjoy the wondrous facets of the firmaments.'

'I am alive because I can sleep, I can shit, I can pee, and I can scream and swear.'

'I am alive because I have two eyes that see, two ears that hear, a mouth that speaks what I think, a heart that beats life, hands that produces life, and legs that bring me to my destinations.'

'I am alive because I choose to be alive. I choose to thrive. I choose to fight. I choose to conquer. I choose to win this fight. I choose to die as Girl Alive.'

'I choose to be A.L.I.V.E. Abundantly Living In Volatile Environment! I choose to BE alive!'

'And by making that choice to be alive, my son too, can be alive.'

With that she sat down on the chair and stared deeply into my eyes. And I saw her soul. I saw the essence of her person. I saw the core of her being. She WAS alive. Because she chose to be. And with that I was satisfied.

And when she left my office that day, I knew that I would not see her again for a long period of time. Though she will go through many more valleys, many more storms, climb many more mountains, fall down over and over again, I know she will walk into my office again, some day. And I know she will, because she is Girl Alive.

How would I know, you asked?

Because I am the Man who bent down and wrote in the sand.



'... everyone dies. But not everyone lives.' - A. Sachs

Mall-Culture Society

The thing with living in Malaysia is that we are a mall-culture-society. We hardly have parks. And when we do have, it is either situated at one end of the world where driving is the only option (and where you have to brave the traffic jams in order to reach them). OR they are packed with people to the point you feel like sardines in a can. And if it's not packed, it is a damn hazy day! We have haze perpetually all year round now. Here, have a look at this picture below and then tell me how can we go out for a 'picnic' at the park to enjoy the 'fresh' air.

Malls. They are places which sell everything from nail clippers to crook-locks for cars. They have spas, nail spas, slimming centres, cinemas, furniture outlets, hair saloons, gyms and supermarkets (which sell raw food too!). Some even have clinics in them. Not forgetting pet shops! Oh and yes, how could I not mention this. Eateries. They are EVERYWHERE! We Malaysians love to eat. It is second nature to us. Food ranging from Chinese to fast food to Western to Indian to many, many, MANY more.

So what point am I trying to drive home today, you asked? Imagine the smell each and every mall has. The onslaught of perfumes, food smells, and chemicals all mixed up in one lethal combination. Even a person with a non-smelling nose would be able to smell it. Smells so pungent that it could cover the smell of rotting corpses!

Let me paint for you the smells that are in malls the moment you step into one.

The air in the parking lot itself would be filled with the smell of petrol. You will also smell the smell of deep-fried recycled oil blasting from the vents above. And nicotine from smokers  hanging out at the parking lots. And then when you walk into the lobby, one would be blasted with fragrance from the air fresheners trying to mask the smell of petrol and deep-fried-oil which had seeped in. Once you are inside the mall, there will be MORE fragrance coming from each and every shop (in an attempt to lure customers into their nice-smelling shops), perfume wafting from the perfume shop; new plastic smells from shops which sells things that are made of plastic; chemical, paint and industrial smells from the vacant shop lots which are undergoing major renovations; incense from the incense shop; food smell of all kinds and last but not least powerful, cleaning detergents from the restrooms. AND air-fresherners too!

On top of all these smells, there are air cons that do not function properly. Many are blocked with dust and grime. And I can smell the musty smells that are emitting from the air-cons and sometimes even mold.

Going to malls is equivalent to walking into a 'fragrance-induced-nuclear-bomb'. Patrons are bombarded by fragrance, ordour, chemical smells of all kinds and food smells. A combination of these smells can make a well person quite sick. And end up in anaphylactic shock for people like me. Oh did I forget to mention the perfumes, colognes, hair-creams, clothing detergents and softeners that waft pass me all the time?

And outside the malls we have 'The Haze'.

My ENT shared with me that he has a patient who is a Caucasian female living in Malaysia who upon breathing in the smell of seafood dropped dead from an anaphactic attack. And the market was about 500 meters away! She was lucky that her husband was with her. He jabbed her with the Epi-Pen and rushed her to the hospital. She survived. All by breathing in something she could not smell.

So we wonder why Malaysians are falling sick more than often. Why children's asthma is on the rise. Why allergies are on the rise. Why a lot of people are constantly bugged by the 'allergy-cough'. Why we have sinusitis.

I say it's the hazards of smells!

Epi-Pens in Malaysia (An Update)

So I finally got a doctor who is from a company who orders the Epi-Pens in bulk directly from MERCK to keep in their airplanes. For NOW, I can obtain new Epis. I spoke to a lady who is the one who deals with MERCK and apparently MERCK was the one who brought the Epi-Pens into Malaysia. Because of low-demand, they discontinued. And now they have brought them in again BUT we have to wait for more than a month to get our refills. Why the long wait? So explain to me how can I survive IF (GOD FORBID) at any point of time I use up my two pens and yet have to wait for more than a month for my refills?

Anaphylaxis is no small matter. It is a life-threatening situation which require quick administration of Epi-Pen to save lives! I have been told to 'try not to fall sick' during this period of time! Oh my God! My emotions are numb.

Mine is expiring in June so I have some time. My son's Epi Pen has expired a long time ago and I have yet to get hold of any!

The hospitals that I have contacted have said that they do not have stock. The one that has stock has the same expiry dates as mine. And they only have TWO! And I was told it could have been 'booked' by another patient!

I appeal to the Ministry of Health to look into this matter. This is a matter of life and death for people like me. Not everybody can go overseas to buy them. And hospitals need to have non-expired stock in their pharmacy! At all times!

Epi-Pens Distribution in Malaysia Discontinued

Dear MERCK,

I am a 34 year old female who met death 3 years ago due to an anaphylactic reaction. Suffice to say, the Epi-Pen saved my life. In fact, it saved my life TWICE, as I had ANOTHER anaphylactic shock months down the road.

The very disturbing thing is that I have found out that there are currently NO distributors for the Epi-Pen in Malaysia. I have been scouring clinics, asking doctors to help me look high and low for Epi-Pens, asking pharmacists to look for ways to obtain the Epi-Pen to no avail. Apparently the sales of Epi-Pens in Malaysia is low and with its short life-span, no one wants to be the distributor. So my question to you MERCK, is why can't you bypass the distributors, go directly and sell them to hospitals. There are hospitals which DO NOT have Epi-Pens in stock. I know this because I went to the pharmacy and asked them.  A student of an ex-colleague of mine had to go all the way to Australia to get her Epi-Pens! And this was in November 2011! It is sad that there is a huge MERCK company in Malaysia and yet people have to go all the way to Australia to buy their Epi-Pens.

So today, I finally found one hospital who said that they could help me. Don't smile so fast. Here is the catch. I have to wait for more than one month for my order to arrive!

Let me illustrate a situation for you. If a new patient with anaphylaxis winds up in hospital and with all the luck in the whole universe, manages to survive and gets discharged but has to wait for more than one month for an Epi-Pen. How is this person equipped to deal with another anaphylaxis attack?! It is equivalent to sending a soldier into the battle fields with no armour. So if I get another anaphylactic attack and use up my Epi-Pens, I have to wait for more than a month to get my refill?! Where is the logic in that? It is equivalent to sending me to my death. I was even told by a pharmacist to 'try to rush to the nearest hospital as fast as possible!' I had thought that my hearing had gone wrong for that moment. Rush to the hospital? By the time I reach the hospital, I would be ready to be buried six feet under! I am sure that you MERCK understand what an anaphylaxis is since you are selling the Epi-Pens. Right?

Now MERCK, I noticed that that your motto is 'Be Well'. How can I be alive, what more well, if I cannot have my Epi-Pens with me, ensuring that I have time to rush to the ER to be saved. The Epi-Pen was invented to give people time to rush to the hospital to be saved. Before the Epi-Pen was invented, there was no chance for a person with anaphylaxis. You know that.

I saw this on your website and I will quote it here.

'We try to remember that the medicine is for the patient. We try never to forget that medicine is for the people. It is not for the profits. The profits follow, and if we remember that, they have never failed to appear. The better we have remembered that, the larger they have been.'
George W. Merck, December 1950
President of MERCK 1925 - 1950
Chairman of MERCK 1949 - 1957

So MERCK, resolve this issue ASAP. People like me need our EPi-Pens to ensure our survival.  

Anaphylaxis - An Introduction

What Anaphylaxis Is

I have been asked what anaphylaxis is one too many times. Before I had an anaphylaxis attack, I too did not know the term 'anaphylaxis'. I only knew that people could die from allergy, but never knew the 'how' of it. Until I experienced it myself. 


What is anaphylaxis? Anaphylaxis is a fast moving hypersensitivity reaction that can either lead to death either by circulatory collapse (shock) or by obstruction of a person's airway. Click here for more information.The term comes from the Greek words ἀνά ana, against, and φύλαξις phylaxis, protection. (See here)


Many times people think anaphylaxis is a result of an allergy reaction. The thing is there are people who go through all sorts of blood tests and have results which are negative and yet experience anaphylaxis. I am one of those who fall in this category. People like me are categorized under the term idiopathic anaphylaxis. The term idiopathic is an adjective used primarily in medicine meaning arising spontaneously or from an obscure or unknown cause. From Greek ἴδιος, idios (one's own) + πάθος, pathos (suffering), it means approximately "a disease of its own kind". A doctor I once saw told me that today's medical technology is not advanced enough to find out what is wrong with people like me! Tests like these do not exist!


Signs & Symptoms of Anaphylaxis


Anaphylaxis can present itself in a wide range of symptoms. Anaphylaxis can happen within seconds or minutes or even hours later after exposure. It is important to know that anaphylaxis can happen anytime!

Below are some of the symptoms:


* Abdominal pain or cramps
* Abnormal (high-pitched) breathing sounds (also known as stridor)
* Anxiety
* Confusion
* Cough
* Diarrhea
* Difficulty breathing
* Difficulty swallowing
* Fainting, light-headedness, dizziness
* Hives, itchiness
* Nasal congestion
* Nausea, vomiting
* Palpitations
* Skin redness
* Slurred speech
* Wheezing


Signs of anaphylaxis:


* Abnormal heart rhythm (arrhythmia)
* Fluid in the lungs (pulmonary edema)
* Hives
* Low blood pressure
* Mental confusion
* Rapid pulse
* Skin that is blue from lack of oxygen or pale from shock
* Swelling of the eyes or face
* Weakness
* Wheezing


Causes of Anaphylaxis


Anything could cause anaphylaxis! It can occur as a response to almost any foreign substance. Common triggers include venom from insect bites or stings, foods and medication. Less common causes include: physical factors, biological agents such as semen, latex, hormonal changes, food additives such as monosodium glutamate and food colors, and topical medications. Physical factors such as exercise (known as exercise-induced anaphylaxis) or temperature (either hot or cold) may also act as triggers through their direct effects on mast cells. Exercise induced events are frequently associated with the ingestion of certain foods. During anesthesia, neuromuscular blocking agents, antibiotics, and latex are the most common causes.The cause remains unknown in 32-50% of cases, referred to as "idiopathic anaphylaxis". (see here)


Our Saviour


Adrenaline (epinephrine) seems to be the only emergency treatment of anaphylaxis. Carry yours with you wherever you go. I have my Epi-Pen with me all the time!

Rafting in Idiopathic Anaphylaxis River

The moment I got assigned to go white water rafting on Idiopathic Anaphylaxis River in the country called Adventures in Arduous Land, I knew that I was in for THE ride of my life. The state that this river is in is called Not-For-The-Faint-Hearted. And so I got strapped on with a helmet called Use-Your-Brains, a vest called I-Work-Like-The-Epi-Pen and a paddle called Use-Me-If-You-Want-To-Survive.

Round One

I thought they would usually start you with the basics which meant that this was the easiest level. But NO, you are thrown into the sea before they put you in kiddies pool. And I had to raft with seven other companions. And so we introduced ourselves. There was Miss Courage (whom I thought did not look like courage at all with her full-of-fear-fishball-eyes), Mr.Know-It-All, Miss Grumpy, Mrs.Cannot-Eat-Or-Smell-Any-Chemicals, Mr. Panic-Attacks, Mr. Righteous and Mrs. Angioedema. And the eighth person is yours truly. What a delightful combination our team was!

And so off we went, into that crazy river, with its twists and bends and rapids and steep drops. Many times I had thought that I was on the verge of meeting St. Peter at the Pearly Gates the moment the raft had a sudden drop. It was as though the river was alive and was bent on swallowing us all alive. But we survived somehow. Miraculously.

Round Two

So we patted each other on the back, congratulating ourselves on surviving the toughest round. And we thought that this second round would be easy-peasy. Piece of cake. Boy, were we wrong! At the first drop, I thought that Miss Fish Ball Eyes would have popped her eyeballs out and fallen into the river. Miss Grumpy was grumpy as usual, grumbling away and swallowing mouthfuls of river water. One would have thought that she would have learned her lesson from round one that is; one should keep one's mouth closed. But no! Miss Grumpy could never stop her mouth from grumbling. And Mr. Panic Attacks was well... himself. So you can imagine what a ride we had. The turns were tricky. And Mrs. Angioedema thought that her throat was going to swell shut and then, she started having problems breathing. It was actually panic attacks caused by Mr. Panic Attacks.

And then the turns became even trickier and the current grew stronger. I struggled to breathe as the ride was becoming very strenuous. Every breath I took ended up with water entering my nose. And I swallowed gulps of water. I felt like I was drowning in my own lungs. Fatigue set in. Exhaustion crept in. And then Mr. Righteous STOOD UP! Right in the middle of the rapids. Demanded that we kept our faith up. Insisted that we kept our spirits up. And demanded that we do it HIS way. And as he blabbed away, he fell off the raft and got sucked to God knows where. Lesson number one was to never ever stand up while rafting. So much for being righteous. Righteousness without common sense = a moronic idiot. So it was goodbye for him.

And then suddenly, it was calm. For it is when it's at its calmest, that you must be at your most vigilant stance. Things could just go haywire at the snap of the fingers. And it was then, that Mr.Know-It-All decided to remove his helmet and vest, and lay aside his oar to enjoy the 'serene surroundings'. Miss-Fish-Ball-Eyes told him off, but nooooooo, Mr.Know-It-All said that he knew what he was doing. I mean, he was Mr.Know-It-All right?! Unknown to us, the raft had been going in circles. We were caught in a whirlpool and we did not even know it. Talk about being savvy! Once we realized that we were caught in a whirlpool, we quickly used our oars and started paddling. Mr.Know-It-All started wearing back his helmet and vest in haste and in the process fell into the river and got sucked into the whirlpool. And there went our companion number two.

By the time we arrived back at base, we were soaking wet to the bones, exhausted beyond words and on the verge of puking out our guts and lungs. As I lay panting for breath on the ground, a pair of boots stood in front of my face. And then I heard his voice. 'What are you all?! A bunch of wussies?!! Now get off your asses before I make you all do 100 push-ups!!!' By the time we had gotten ourselves up, he had left. And we found out later that he was the new instructor. More like a boa constrictor than an instructor.

The next few weeks were never ending episodes of rafting, rafting and MORE rafting. Many of the women broke down. Many ended up in the infirmary. And I was seething with anger.

And then one day, I exploded.

It was during one of the days when we had arrived back at base during late evening, exhausted beyond words, that Mr. Slave Driver barked at us that we were to be up at 4am the next morning for ANOTHER round of rafting.

That night, with me being too tired to sleep, irritable beyond words and hearing my teammates cry themselves to sleep, I snapped. I got out of bed and promptly marched to Mr. Pompous-Arrogant-Bastard's quarters. I was an unstoppable locomotive. Steam was pouring out from my ears. Enough was enough!

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

I barged into his room and erupted like an unstoppable volcano. Lava flowed out of my mouth. Words with venom that could kill a thousand men. I screamed like a mad-woman.

'Do you even know what anaphylaxis is? Or is your vocabulary so limited that it only consists of words such as push-ups, rafting and wussies?!'

'Do you know what it is like to have an anaphylaxis?! DAMN IT! I was never given an option to whether I wanted to live on this land and to raft in this river! I was blindfolded, thrown into this place, and left to survive on my own devices!'

'Do you even know what it is like to have Death staring at you in your eyes?! Seriously, what is your *#@!ing problem?!! Did your wife ditch you that you are such a pain-in-the-ass? What the bloody hell is wrong with you? You are such an ass****!!!'

I could feel my blood pressure sky rocket through the roofs of the skies. And as I was panting from my tirade, I suddenly realized that the room was in darkness. It was so dark that I could barely hear myself breathe. And then I panicked. He could just overcome me and rape me!

As if hearing my thoughts, his voice came from the farthest corner of the room and said, 'You allow yourself to be raped.'

WHAT??!!! I was LIVID! If I was a volcano just now, I was now an armed grenade. I could kill this man with my bare hands!

He then continued, 'You allow yourself to be violated when you allow yourself to wallow in defeat. You allow yourself to be raped when you do not fight back. You allow yourself to be raped when you say you cannot, it's impossible and then give up. YOU allow yourself to be raped when you give up your dreams. And you allow yourself to be violated when you do not thrive.'

I wanted to see this mad man spewing crap before I beat the crap out of him. And when I flicked on the lighter, I had the shock of the night! There he was lying in his bed, with a drip in his hand and a used Epi-Pen lying on his bedside table. I could not close my agape mouth. I was too shocked. He looked so weak and frail. I sat on the floor with a loud thud.

'I've had this since I was 16. I am now 54. How would I not know what you all are going through? I lived with it before you were even conceived.'

'The problem with you bunch of people is that even though you go through the motion of rafting and going on in life, you are NOT on the insides. Your insides are dead. You allow this so-called 'disease' to rob you of your life. You smile without smiling. You laugh without laughing. You breathe without breathing. And you live without being alive. How can you conquer the river when you refuse to conquere yourselves?'

And then I suddenly saw what meant. We were all hoboes. We were all emotionally bankrupt. Not because we could not afford to live a lavish life of happiness and contentment. But because we chose to live a life of destitute, desolate and wallow in self-pity. And then we proudly shout from rooftops that we had made it! We are alive but we are in fact like he had said, 'Living without living.'

I left without a word. I could not speak. I was broken. And then I slept. For weeks. And then it became months. The realization hit too close to home. You mean to say I rafted all these while without rafting? I was deader than dead? I did contemplate on leaving. But that would mean that I had given up. On myself. On life. Which would be equivalent to hanging myself.

And so I finally got up and out of bed. And I rafted. And this time I really rafted. I truly rafted while rafting. Of course the exhaustion was still there. I still had 101 questions that still had big, unresolved question marks. I still swallowed big gulps of river water. I still craved for stability which this river could never and would never give me. This river would forever be unpredictable. Nothing was constant. Nothing was the same. But this time, I was constant. In my life. In rafting. In living.

You should have seen Mr. Boa Constrictor's face when we rafted in one of the roughest waters. We did not come out unscathed. We did not come out without exhaustion. We did not come out without suffering beatings to our fighting spirits. We did not come out without wanting to puke out our guts and lungs from sheer fatigue. But we were victors. Why? Because we truly rafted while rafting in one of the world's toughest river, the Idiopathic Anaphylaxis River. And that wide smile on his face said it all.