First of all, really thank God that I am finally at home and not in the hospital anymore; for not getting any infections so serious that it became life threatening; and letting the days go by more easily compared to the last time I had this session of chemotherapy.
So… let’s see what happened during that month.
I was admitted to the hospital on November the 6th, that’s a Monday, and had originally planned to just have my lamba puncture done and nothing else that day in order to reduce the stress on my body. Somehow things always doesn’t turns out right with the doctor who does my lamba puncture and the nurses: well, the nurses said that the doctor doesn’t want to do the procedure because he had an MC that day and was not on duty (if he wasn’t on duty why is must he come to the hospital then?), on the other hand, the doctor said the nurses didn’t prepare the drug for the procedure that’s why he couldn’t do anything. Hmmm… so who’s telling the truth eh?
Because of that, the lamba puncture procedure was postponed till the next day, and I had my first dose of chemo (the white colored one) the first day itself at around five something in the evening. Of course I started to feel nausea and all, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought, really thank God for that. Just when I was starting to feel comfortable and think that everything would be going alright, the nurses told me that after 12 hours I am going to have another dose of that chemo (the white one). I was like: “Huh? I thought only got 4 white and 2 blue last time wan? How come now different.” Tossing and turning around the bed that night because I thought it must be some mistake, I decided to walk out to the nurse counter and double check with the chemo drugs I am suppose to take for the entire week.
The first thing the nurses asked me when I was looking at the chart that contains my medical details was: “Boleh baca tak?” My goodness, for the first time I truly understand what they meant by ‘doctor’s handwriting’, and it gives me a new respect for all the nurses that could understand this ancient text. It was so hard to read that if I become a kindergarten teacher, teaching a class of 3 years old student, I’ll give them all an A++ for their handwriting. Basically the chart was filled with lots of signatures and scribbles; I manage to decipher a few facts, but most of it was translated by the nurse who was in charge then. Guess I was wrong about the chemo and it really was 2 white chemo a day for 4 days, which would be 8 white chemo and 2 blues then for the entire thingy. That truly was demoralizing though, it means that I would have less rest in between the days.
The second day, around noon time I had my lamba puncture. Thank God that all went well this time without any complications or side effects; otherwise it would really be unbearable. The only problem is that the doctor is starting to pester me to write a testimonial and you know how lazy I am (he already asked me to do so the last time I had my lamba puncture). Well, it’s for a good cause actually; it’s to comfort those first timers who are doing their lamba puncture to assure them that this treatment does not hurt, except the part where they put the local anesthetics of course (although somehow it seems to me that he’s trying to promote that he does lamba puncture best compared to the others ha-ha). Not that hard of a task to write a testimonial I suppose, but somehow I am just too freaking lazy, but I know if I don’t do it soon, the next time I see him, he’s going to lecture me again… oh no~
During the 4 and a half days of chemo (the half was because the last chemo ended at around 5 in the morning on Friday), I totally lost my appetite because of the nausea feeling and was always dehydrated and really tired. But amazingly, despite all the suffering of feeling nausea, need to thank Christ Jesus our Lord as the side effects wasn’t too hard for me to handle, miraculously. Vomited heavily twice I think (first one was around the middle of the week, while the second and final one was around Saturday or Sunday of the first week, which after vomiting I felt much better and my appetite started to return). Thank God that it wasn’t the food that came out both times but errrr… the acid from the stomach? Or a mixture of water and errrm… sour stuff… That’s because if I actually vomited the food out, and since I only eat like bread for lunch, and mee soup or porridge for dinner, I would have zero nutrition and that is bad because my body won’t have enough energy to actually repair the damage done to my body and give me the strength to move about.
One thing that really annoyed me during the first week of my stay in the hospital was the fact that the nurses need to keep a record of my food and drinks input and my errm… output (I think you know what I mean).It wouldn’t be much of a problem, but when I only wake up around 1-2 pm (which is the time they do their record) and they asked me what did I eat starting from 7 in the morning, in which I answered nothing because: “I was sleeping and just woke up when you came in”, they will start giving me a lecture of why I must forced myself to eat and drink etc. or give me that worried look that pressures me somehow. They were some that actually understood the reason why I didn’t eat or drink well without me explaining to them, but some… sigh….Well their intentions were good, but ‘hello’, I know I don’t have such a good appetite because of the chemo, but I told you I just woke up, how can I eat and drink in my sleep, and go to the toilet… I don’t walk in my sleep sister! Because of that sometimes I just eat a piece of bread and a cup of water when they first wake me up to do their temperature check around 7-8 in the morning, and go back to sleep, just to avoid the lecture, or the worried look on their faces that makes me even more stressed up. Why don’t you just lie to them you may ask… would love to do that, it’ll minus the hassle, but then again, I am not a medic student nor a doctor, and if I don’t take their advice it might cost me my health. And the thing that would annoy me more than what I have mentioned would be the nurses telling me straight at my face: “I’ve told you so.” Thank God that when my white cell count dropped really low they stop doing this recording as the doctor wanted me to have minimal contact from the outside in order to prevent me from getting infected, thus the annoyance ended, phew.
For those who are wondering, I wake up around 1-2 pm not because I watched too many late night movies (I sleep around 10-12 pm the first week), but it’s because firstly my body needs a lot of rest to regenerate, and secondly by sleeping I actually reduce the amount of time I need to suffer from feeling nausea and all.
Feeling nausea and tiredness was the first effect, the second side effect started around the fourth or fifth day after the chemo (or was it right after the blue severe chemo… can’t remember), in which rashes (deep blood red color marks on my skin, it’s somehow like internal bleeding) started to appear on my body (my hands, stomach, thigh, legs) and it really itches if I somehow manage to disturb it (in which I will always do as my skin would definitely touch something). The first week wasn’t a problem when I still had my white cells at a safe level, but during the second week on Monday which my white cell count dropped to 0.5 percent, a simple act such as scratching was a huge problem. If I accidentally scratch too much and made it bleed, it could get infected because of the wound and that could cause a huge load of trouble. Plus the fact that my blood components (which I think is due to the platelets, not sure though) dropped to an all time low, scratching the rashes gave me internal bleeding, which made dark red dots appear on the rashes. This really thought me self-control ha-ha, as I need to keep resisting myself from scratching the rashes in order to protect my own body. Well I assumed that it was the low amount of platelets that contributed to the internal bleeding because whenever I had packets of blood platelet (4 packets normally, I think I had it 2 times for this whole treatment) transfuse to my body, the red marks of the internal bleeding starts to fade away, then again I might be wrong ha-ha. Even after a week since I left the hospital I still have some mark of the rashes on my hands though, the last time I had this treatment I think it took months for it to go away.
*This paragraph is a little disgusting*
The third side effect was constipation. I was really hoping that I would at least pass motion while my white cell count was up, and I was expecting the white cell count to drop after around seven days from the day my chemotherapy ended, should be a lot of time I thought to myself. But… frustratingly my white cell count dropped to zero in just 3 days from the last chemotherapy, and only during the next day when my white cell count dropped to a big zero (2nd Tuesday) must I ‘do my business’. As most of us know, when one has constipation and finally needs to ‘do his business’, the stool would be incredibly hard and that caused my anal to tear and bleed (due to the insufficient blood platelets, it took a longer time to allow the wound to stop bleeding, the toilet bowl virtually became the red sea, imagine that) plus me having hemorrhoids because of that. Wouldn’t cost much harm to a normal healthy human being, but because of my low white cell count (again, blame it on the white cells), the wound that was caused from the tear would later gave me an infection (which I did not realized at first, as I couldn’t feel the ‘infection caused by the tear’ feeling which I had the last time I was on this treatment).
During the 2nd Tuesday another annoying thing started to happen, despite the fact that I was totally isolated since the 2nd Monday when my white cell count dropped to a dangerous level, and there was a sign outside indicating that fact (I think, the last time they put that, got to ask my mom again ha-ha), there were still clueless people that come in my room looking for the person they are suppose to visit. First was some Malay bearded dude who apparently couldn’t understand words and numbers; if the person on the bed isn’t the person you are suppose to visit (and it’s really obvious considering I am a Chinese), and the room number is 719, which obviously is a single bedroom since there wasn’t a 719 A, B, C, D or 719 1,2,3,4, don’t lah walk until 2/3 of my room only to realize it’s a single bedroom and the patient isn’t the person you’re suppose to visit, in addition there’s the sign telling people that I am isolated, I mean you’ll at least know what’s the sickness of the person you’re visiting right? Goodness… was really paranoid then as I didn’t wanted any outsiders coming in because of the fear of getting infected by the germs they carry, even the nurses that check up on me who don’t wear their mask makes me go cranky (thank God that only a few times the nurses did that, otherwise I’ll become crazy ha-ha). Just when I thought that was the last, that night another lady with kids opened up the door, thank God that at least she had more intelligence than that bearded dude, she quickly apologize before even stepping in the room when she sees me. But then that wasn’t the end of it… apparently some weird delivery dude came and send me a bunch of flowers, not telling me the name of the sender or who he was supposed to send to. Being the paranoid boy as I am, I quickly ask him to leave the flowers at the door and said I couldn’t sign because I am isolated. He was considerate enough to allow me to escape without signing for that delivery. I was sure the flowers weren’t meant for me as everyone who wants to send their flowers has already done so the first time I was admitted to the hospital. Didn’t wanted to check it out though, as I was too afraid that the flower may be infected (paranoid again). So, when my mom came she too was surprised, and found out that the bouquet of flowers actually belonged to a girl name Sophia whose room is actually at 709 (or 790 can’t actually remember). No wonder there were unknown dudes that came popping up at my room… guess they couldn’t get the room number right because they were too lazy to ask the nurse at the counter.
Things started to become quite bad on the 2nd Wednesday. Perhaps because there were bacteria in the food I ate, or the fact that I got infected during the tear or perhaps someone who got close enough to me had some virus or bacteria on them, my body somehow got infected and started to have a high fever starting from around 3 in the afternoon. It took a really long time for the nurses to bring Panadols to me (around an hour), and that caused me to shiver and allowed me the privilege to suffer the coldness of winter in the comfort of my own room. During the night, upon receiving instructions from my doctor, the nurses began drawing my blood and injecting it to the antibiotic and later sending it for testing in order to ensure that the antibiotics would be effective against the infection. After around 3 hours, the antibiotics which was proven effective was dripped into me and that helped a lot because when I first ate the Panadol, I was only relieved from the fever for only at least 30 minutes and the fever came back (was really discouraged then, I was like: “WHAT! 30 minutes of relief only??? Don’t tell me this is going to be a really serious one”). Eating another Panadol and having the antibiotics later that night allow me to sleep till the next day undisturbed (the fever did not come back). And I really really really thank God for that, for His grace where I did not need to suffer so badly. The last time when I started to have fever during this treatment, it came non-stop whenever the effect of the Panadol wears off and the fever only settled down when my white cell was back at the normal level, and that was a really suffering experience. So I suffered the effects of that high fever only from 3 in the afternoon till 11 at night, and then I had rest… sweet rest for the next few days as the fever did not came back non-stop like last time. Because of me having this high fever, I was put on antibiotics every 6 hours to prevent the infection from becoming worst, and hoping the fever does not come back.
I knew it was an infection that caused the fever, but had no idea specifically which infection caused the high fever. It was only on the second Friday did the doctor told me that the high fever was caused by an infection of the blood from some bacteria. Where did the bacteria came from? I have no idea, as I have mentioned it earlier it could have come from many possibilities. The doctor assured me that the antibiotic was effective against that blood infection and need not worry much as the fever have subsided, meaning that it was a success. There and then I did not worry much about the infection, but later I realized that if the doctor did not gave me the proper antibiotics in time, and the infection had spread out to my entire body, it may have caused me my life. Woah! And there I was thinking that it was just something like the common cold or cough (but then again, any common bacteria or virus could have killed me, ha-ha). Therefore I really thank God for His grace and mercy and love, to preserve my life once again, and not letting me go (and the comfort of allowing me think that it was just something normal keke).
On that Friday night my beard hair started to drop too (was pulling it and it came off, don’t ask me why I do that). Just as my secondary classmate Harold once joke to me, that having my hair dropping because of chemotherapy isn’t a bad thing, as if anytime I think I need a shave, one swipe to the mouth and my moustache and beard would all be gone, viola, as easy as that ha-ha. Yeah, it does save ‘me’ a lot of trouble, but to the person who needs to clean up all the hair, it would be a mess. It was only during the 2nd Saturday that the hair on my head started to drop rapidly. It was a mess with all the hair dropping around my bed as I roll around my pillow and my towel whenever I try to wipe my hair dry after bathing. Was thinking of trying to salvage as much hair as possible and not shave it, but seeing how my head is becoming more like badly made crop circles and giving me a really sickly look because of that, mom forced me to shave my head using an electric shaver that I haven’t used in years. Got to give credit to my mom though, she did do a great job off shaving my head to become that of Zidane, thus allowing me to feel much more refresh with the completely shiny bald look, and not having that trauma of seeing how my hair drops whenever I pull at it.
On the 2nd Sunday though, my fever started to return and the frequency of getting it seems to increased as each day passed starting from that day, but still, I really thank God that most of the time it’s just a slight fever, and even if my body temperature rises too high, I don’t really feel the suffering effects of the high fever like previously. Just pop in two Panadol pills and I would have around 5-6 hours of relief and I don’t really feel the severe shivering from fever or anything like that. Really thank God for His grace on this, too. In some ways it was a relief to me, as having a fever could mean that the body is starting to put up some resistance in fighting the infections, meaning my white cell count is increasing steadily. But at the same time, it could also be due to the fact that the infections are getting very much stronger and the antibiotics could not fend them of. Not taking any chances, the doctor added more antibiotics per day (he added one antibiotic that was taken every 8 hours and later another 4 small bottles that were taken once a day, totaling up to 11 bottles of antibiotics a day) to be dripped into my body starting from the 3rd Thursday. Why the 3rd Thursday you may ask and not instantly when the fever started to return? Well, from what I overheard, the nurses did not report to the doctor about the fever returning as they assume that since I am already on antibiotics (the ones that were dripped into me when I got my high fever) they shouldn’t worry much. Miscommunication again I guess, ha-ha. But still, all in all, thank God that this fever was rather mild, and most of the time I don’t actually feel the effects of having a fever.
But then again, it wasn’t really smooth sailing all the way. During the 3rd Monday night, somehow the anal infection became insanely itchy till the point that I almost when crazy since I couldn’t actually sleep through the whole night. I tried every thing I could think of to ease the itchiness: putting lotions, washing, trying differing positions while sleeping, scratching but all to no avail. At most I could only have 1 minute of relief and the itchiness would return. The lack of sleep because of this made me cranky and I started to feel really fed up of being in the situation that I am in, and somehow I began to question God why in the world must I go through all this suffering. But just when I started to think of all the questions, I realized that I shouldn’t have done so and asked God for forgiveness… God never make mistakes, and He knows what’s best for me. After checking the Internet the moment the sun rises the next day, I realized that there were certain creams just to ease this kind of irritation, and asked my mom to go to the pharmacy to get them for me, in which the doctor later gave me another more powerful version of the cream plus a pill that reduce itchiness and that helped to ease the irritation.
This time around I only had one blood transfusion and that was on the 3rd Thursday midnight. Two packets of blood were transfused to me at midnight because it takes a really really long time for the blood to come from GH (there’s a blood bank there I think) even though the order was given in the morning by the doctor plus the fact that they must make sure the blood isn’t infected in anyway and it matches my blood type, that’s why if you really need lots of blood fast, go to GH. The one thing I really don’t like of blood transfusion would be the fact that it takes around 6 hours minimum just to finish dripping in one packet of blood, and two packet would meant 12 hours. Being bounded to the drip isn’t very pleasant as it restricts my movement greatly, the antibiotics that took around 30 to 45 minutes were already frustrating at times, so 12 hours was arghh!!!! Thank God that at least they dripped it at night, so that reduces around 8 hours of feeling bounded ha-ha. Oh, another thing to thank God for would be that the rashes (it’s a different one) that appeared because of the blood transfusion did not cause any itchiness this time around, compared to some other times when I have transfusions of the blood which made me scratch my skin non-stop. During the transfusion though I mysteriously vomited twice, once during the night and the other early morning, the doctor did not explain why that happened, so don’t expect me to know the reason then. Still, thank God that everything went back to normal after the blood transfusion was complete.
Was starting to get quite depress due to the fact that I was expecting to go home around the late of the 2nd week and the start of the 3rd week, and as each day pass when they do my blood check on alternate days, the doctor would tell me my white cell count still hasn’t gone up yet, ah, depressing… was thinking I could have gone home much earlier and made it for the VBS in time. Thank God though, that since I have written this blog, I actually manage to have some reference of how long it took the last time I had this treatment, which was roughly around 24 days, so in a way that comforted me as it should take at least around 4 weeks compared to the last time if I were to be discharged, and that gave me a glitter of hope in some way. My mom also had a journal writing my days in the hospital too, hers was very much detailed, and thank God for that as it allows me to tackle some of the problems that I was supposed to face during this chemotherapy. One of them was the mouth ulcers, which I think wasn’t really ulcers but fungus growing out since it dropped off like mushrooms when my white cell count when up the last time. Back then I must have not kept my mouth clean enough when my white cell count was low and was subjected to the mouth ulcers because of that. It was really terrible to have those ulcers as breathing was difficult as it hurts; when I sleep, saliva comes out and that really made me unable to sleep properly and eating a simple meal seems as difficult as climbing a mountain cliff. Mind you, it’s not one or five ulcers, but the number of ulcers on my tongue alone was uncountable. White spots were all over the sides of my tongues, and in order for me to actually eat I normally need to put an anesthetic solution to numb my tongue so it becomes bearable. Through that experience, this time once I was staying in the hospital I kept rinsing my mouth immediately after food with antiseptic mouthwash to prevent it from being infected. There was also this salt thingy that the doctor prescribed for me to gargle, one of the nurses told me that it was used to prevent the infections of the mouth but somehow I remembered the last time I had this salt thingy, it was used to make sure my mouth don’t get too dry and irritate my throat. Not taking any chances I religiously gargle the salt thingy twice a day. It was only during the day that they stop giving me the salt which I asked another nurse why I don’t need it anymore, in which she explained to me like how I remembered it. Gosh, got conned again by them. But still, I really thank God as this time I did not have any ulcers in anyway, for I know that no matter how hard I try to protect myself, there’s still a percentage for me to get my mouth infected, and it’s only through God’s grace that I could avoid it, thus reducing the amount of suffering I must endure… YEE HAW!!!! At least I could enjoy the pleasure of breathing, eating and drinking.
Well, the white cell did start to steadily return of the 3rd Friday, rising from around 0.3% to 0.5%. Yeah, not much, but it’s a start ha-ha. Though it is encouraging to know that my white cell count is going to return to normal soon, there was one thing I really dread. Because I didn’t have enough white cell then, the anal infection which I mentioned did not hurt in anyway, as there are no white cells to fight the infections, and the infection kinds of like just stay there, unable to be healed (something like those who have diabetes). But once my white cell count goes up, the white cell will begin attacking all the viruses and bacteria and that caused my anal infection to hurt like CRAZY (on this 3rd Friday itself). This really gives me a great respect for all the mothers out there, for if I am woman I would have died during child birth as even this I couldn’t stand anymore. It was as if a knife is stabbing the wound repeatedly, and without any medicine it would be impossible to find relief. And through this experience I really thank God that I am born in the modern world and not during the medieval times, when anesthetics weren’t easily found. At first I put some anesthetic lotion on the wound… no effect; then I asked the nurse to give me some pain killers… still no effect; finally around 1 in the afternoon (I started to feel the pain the moment I woke up in the morning) when I could take it no longer, I asked the nurse if there’re any methods left to reduce the pain, and the nurses told me that the only option left would be an anesthetic injection. ARghhh, no injection please! Was starting to think twice when the intense pain reminded me that I shouldn’t hesitate anymore, and after having the green light from my doctor, I had the anesthetic injection. Of course the injection hurt quite a bit, but compared to the pain of the wound it was nothing, an immediately right after the injection was done, I could feel relief, and finally mange to sleep in peace once again. I did not have any proper sleep since the day the wound started to become itchy, which later started to increasingly hurt as each day pass till this Friday, was waking every now and then most of the night either because of the itchiness or pain. In addition to not sleeping well, it was also due to the fact that the injection will induce drowsiness, but it was good for me, as I really wanted to sleep. In fact, I manage to sleep so well that I snored and ask my mom not to disturb me in anyway, in fear that I might not be able to sleep like this anymore (or perhaps because the injection was actually some kind of morphine drug like thingy, as I kind of feel ‘high’ before I slept). Since the time after the injection the pain became bearable, and I thank God for that as I don’t want to have another injection anymore (even after a day it made my right legs felt numb). The next day and the after that though, I need to use the bathroom, and yeah, the red sea once again appeared, pain like crap (couldn’t sleep on one of the days because of the pain), but then again, thank God was bearable enough to not have the drug high injection ha-ha.
On the 3rd Sunday, my white cell count went up to 1.5, really thank God as on that day I could stop eating Panadols because the fever didn’t seem to come back. Was a bit disappointed again the next day as the white cell count dropped to 1.44, I was like: “what in the world? Shouldn’t it be just going up all the way now?” Then again, didn’t really bother much as I had no fever, meaning all seems to be going well, and that was more than enough to thank God. A surgeon was also send by my doctor that day to check the anal infection that I had, was glad that the doctor said that all is well; the only thing that could heal it is time. Phew, don’t need any surgery then, ha-ha.
After the 4th Monday, my white cell count started to increase exponentially (I think that’s the term), went back up to 1.5, then 2.5, 4.44, 7-point-something and finally manage to be discharged from the hospital on the December 2nd, which was a Saturday. Had a total of 16 Neupogen injections on my stomach to increase my white cell rapidly (started on the 2nd Monday and ended on the 4th Tuesday), was more than what I had expected honestly, the last time I had this treatment it was around 8 times only I think. Painful when injected but wasn’t too bad later, though one part of my stomach got swollen because of the lack of blood platelets.
On the day that I actually got discharged I had one more task to do before I was home free, that was to wait for the same surgeon to come and check my infection one more time just to make sure that all is well. Hmm… waited for him for like 3 hours, but he didn’t come; then nurses told me that he won’t be coming as I am already discharged, and I would need to see him at his clinic (that’s another block in the hospital). Was thinking, is it better to make and effort to make sure everything is all right, or just go home straight away and hope for the best… I chose the latter ha-ha! Who cares man, I could go home!!! WOO HOO!!!! THANK GOD!!!
It wasn’t exactly smooth sailing as I got back though (should have at least see the surgeon ha-ha), just before the day I was discharged I had another trip to the bathroom and I think I had an anal tear this time (the infection was cured). So yeah, got home, suffered around a week with the pain, but still, it was somehow bearable and being at home beats staying in the hospital a million times I guess. Really thank God for being able to be at home.
So, yeah this is my report for the whole of the ‘blue’ treatment during the month of November. It took a total toll of 27 days. Watch almost every Sean Connery’s and friends “James Bond” there is and realized how lame it was compared to the James Bond series nowadays, also reminded me why I said that Pierce Brosnan’s ‘Golden Eye’ was terribly boring when I was young (when DVDs haven’t existed and we were using LDs- the CD that has the size of a dinner plate), though after that his James Bond role got better. Watched ‘High School Musical’ on Disney Channel and thought it was amusing, though I remembered that the plot was reused from another Disney Channel Movie (that’s what happens when u watch every Disney Channel movie there is for the whole month). Also watched cartoons series like “Emperor’s New School, Kim Possible, Totally Spies, Lilo & Stich” for most of the days (oh yeah, I only have Disney Channel for the cartoon channel in the hospital I was staying, that explains all the Disney thingy). Was really surprised (and thanked God) when somehow my Star Sports (my only sports channel) became ESPN (don’t ask me how) when Manchester United was having a match against Chelsea (was disappointed with the score though, should have watch Arsenal or Liverpool instead ha-ha). And the reason why I watched so many movies? It’s the only entertainment I could have that uses up the least energy, playing computer games and going online was a hassle then, I won’t consider it as a joy (it uses more energy). But I think the main reason was because of the ultra lousy internet line, playing DotA, I couldn’t complete more than three matches out of like 20 because I kept getting disconnected (and everyone started saying I am a ‘noob leaver’, wait let me rephrase that ‘Pro Leaver’ as you can’t have two negatives), and there are times when I couldn’t get on the net because of some weird error messages, which the helpline has no idea what it was, and in fact he was also experiencing the same problem (I was like, what in the world, aren’t you like the admin or something), goodness, not worth my 24 bucks a week, but thank God that at least I could like chat with some people during my isolation though, ha-ha. Gave me some sanity in the midst of all the chaos that was around me.
All in all, really thank God for bringing me through this whole treatment. If compared to the last time, it was easier to bear (didn’t had the suicide intend). One thing I really thank God during the treatment was for teaching me patience. The pain and all the physical suffering was hard to bear, but during that time the one thing that really bothered me was the frustration I had because I wanted to go home. Each day I asked the doctor how my condition was and whenever he said that my white cell count hasn’t rise yet, I began to have this intention to ask God why. The frustration became worst when my white cell count started to increase but yet it took me a week for me to go home. During this period of time I realized that in all things God has the power and authority to do things at His time, for He knows what’s best. We may think otherwise, but who can phantom God’s wisdom? Only God knows what’s going to happen ahead in the future. And in all things, I know God doeth all things well.
Really thank God for my mom too, for taking care of me during these 27 days. And for listening to my senseless ramblings and watching all those cartoons with me. Not forgetting for cooking porridge and Mee soup for those 27 days, and giving me comfort and some sanity.
All praise and glory to God, for persevering my life, for bringing me through this tough times by giving me peace and comfort, and for giving me Jesus Christ that I may enter His throne of grace so freely through the forgiveness of sins. Thank God for your love, Amen.
