Get Well Soon, Auntie Jane!

Uncle Cheng is one of my father's ex-collegues from his Sri Lanka days. A few months ago, he was posted to the Singapore office of the company. Many of our weekends these past few months were spent around Singapore, for both he and my dad love to trek. (Actually, I think my dad loves to trek, and Uncle Cheng is game for anything.) They're very chummy, easily exchanging verbal jabs, cracking into unbridled laughter that only close friends share. Uncle Cheng is married to Auntie Jane and like our family, they have an elder son and a younger daughter.

Auntie Jane is perhaps the shrewder of the couple; a good cook, caring mother and loving wife. She is very outgoing: place her amongst strangers and she'll blend in easily. I've never been close to their children, having only seen them on several occasions when they visited Singapore and when we travelled to Sri Lanka. The boy cracks pretty standard teenaged schoolboy jokes (which I sometimes still find funny) while the girl... she behaves like a younger sister.

The kids finished their school term in Sri Lanka recently and they, accompanied by Auntie Jane, came over to Singapore for a holiday and to see their father. Just last week, we had a nice restaurant dinner.

Over the week, I found out that Auntie Jane went to a hospital for a checkup and was diagnosed with Stage IV cancer. 2 days later, she was on her first dose of chemotherapy. Outwardly, Auntie Jane didn't show any signs of discomfort. But Stage IV cancer. As my mom told me, Auntie Jane had felt a little "off" these past 2 months, but would never have suspected cancer. The doctors say that her days are probably numbered.

I never expected to be frazzled, if only slightly, by such grim news. Judging from my apparent lack of emotion on hearing the news of my grandpa's and my uncle's deaths, I'd think news of Auntie Jane's cancer wouldn't affect me. But somehow, I sat there listening intently to my mother tell me about the doses of chemotherapy and how expensive the hospital bills are.

Life goes on as usual for me. Meet up with friends, playing some computer games and helping out in the matriculation of the freshies. My parents, who would otherwise be staying at home, have been lending their moral support to their family. But, just like how incoherent this post is, I sometimes think about lots of things related to cancer and death. Like how sudden it can strike. How fast it spreads. The future. The daily struggles a person faces. Each one of these thoughts can be expounded into a post. But I shall not delve too deep. I fear the discussion will end up sounding very sombre. As such, I shall end abruptly. -Jimmy

Dearly Departed 6230i

Condensation from the humid, cold mornings, or a faulty Ziploc? We'll never know..

Dearly departed 6230i, I know it's only been 9 months since I've had you. You were the phone in my mind even before I ORDed. You had all the features I wanted in a phone. A card expansion slot, PC interface and a camera. It's not often that Nokia comes up with such a functional phone. And with a reasonable price too.

For 9 months, you kept me company on long bus journies, boring afternoons spent ironing clothes, or even when I had a few minutes to burn. I never knew the convenience of a portable music player. Short messages were a joy to type. Long messages didn't get chopped up. The calender kept all my important notes, or simply satiated my sudden panic urges to lead a more organised life. The camera, though only managing to capture grainy images, was functional and did provide some entertainment.

Oh, how you must have choked on all the water up on that mountain. Oh, how that Ziploc failed you. Oh, how the cold on the mountain ruined your insides with the condensation. Now you are nothing but expensive plastic and silicon and liquid crystal. Maybe I should have placed you in a valuables bag, to be kept safe by my side. Maybe I should have double, triple wrapped you, since Ziplocs are cheap and just a few extra ziplocs wouldn't hurt the environment that much. Maybe I should have just brought a lousy phone up to such a hard place.

Your replacement is functional, but old. In the age when new phones fly off the production lines, it is a relic. Who remembers the "butterfly" buttons, so funky barely 5 years ago? Who remembers the blue light, a "quantum leap in backlighting technology"? What is painfully obvious is the lack of long message support, the inability to store more than 30 messages, the interface which was way ahead back then, but comparatively clumsy now.

Oh, I missed the times I could just switch over to speakerphone mode. Oh, I missed the ease of adding a calender note. Most of all, I miss the music.

It'll be at least another 6 months before a worthy replacement is feasible. You, who has survived 2 terms in SMU, been through countless outdoor activities and been up Gunung Panti, rest now. Until Nokia removes condensation damage from its warranty exemption, there is nothing that can bring you back to life. You are missed, and will be remembered. -Jimmy