Oh damn I feel it coming…grabs the usual paraphernalia and rushes off to the 拉vatory.

“Please make it be solid. The watery type is shambolic.”

Plonk.

After the reverberating ‘plonk’, I heaved a sigh of relieve as I peered into the lagoon where that precious one was sun tanning – except that half the lighted bulb was eclipsed by buttocks (two to be precise) and it was more than already tanned (if you know what I mean).

Goodness! I had never embrace solid defecate this warmly (#punintended) since that last time I voided normally. I managed to pause my rise-revise-eat-sleep-repeat kind of June revision period lifestyle, while I frequent the bathroom due to my upset stomach. I hated being sick, especially when I had a whole week’s revision programmed jotted down, and much revision to catch up with. Anyway, you’ll have to place yourself in my shoe for the moment (though the fragrance could be a little unbearable), and imagine: I’ve been plagued with diarrhoea for the past 72 hours, and now I’ve finally managed to call my excreta ‘stools’?! Well, at least I felt that that was something to rejoice.

Regardless if I’m easily please or whatsoever and not that I can brag about being ‘thankful for the little things in life’, the point is that this feeling is golden. The feeling that your body is showing signs of recovery, the prospect of regaining your vigour, the assurance that you’ll get to spend more time with loved ones in your health self. All these, patients sought for. Not that I managed to down a concoction of these strong emotions all at once, but by having some lone time in the bathroom doing my one-man business gave me some reflection time,  albeit many better ways to have ‘lone time’. I reminisced the fun times with my granddad, but in a brief moment, all the sadness overwhelmed. I was reminded of his suffering as his body deteriorated and illness snowballed upon his ever thinning muscular dystrophic body. And in that moment, all he ever wanted was a sign of recovery, and to be able to spend more time with me. Through his illness-tormented late half of his life, he was brittle, but his determination was unwearied. Soon determination became desperation. Seeking second, third, fourth… umpteenth opinions from specialists to louche Chinese physicians from China, paying the exuberant medical bills (of which Medisave could not save apparently), and developing abstruse consumption habits (such as boiling banana skin to eat/drink?!). Looking at him wither as this world continue to toy his hope of recovery foolishly, saddens me. So it’s true: “No matter how good or bad you have it, wake up each day thankful for your life. Someone somewhere else is desperately fighting for theirs”.

So, yes, I’m thankful. Thankful not just for recoveries, not just for having the capacity to study, but rather more thankful for the people around (and the people who have passed) that morphed me into what I am, and perhaps what I will be ten years down the road. Meanwhile I’d be better learning to appreciate the things I have before time forces me to appreciate the things I had..

Plonk.

“Please make me less stolid.” The water ripples so symbolic.

Oh wow I see it shining… I grab my grandpa’s hand, rush off to toss the next coin and make my next wish.