life, death, meaning and lack of...

I should really plan this note better before I start writing but there is a spur of the moment urge here. Read from the facebook update that the pastor in my old church had passed away. He was only 50. It sounded like a very fast decline and he died within weeks of diagnosis. The details I'm not clear on and I don't know if I really want to know. My first...feeling, really, was a sense of helpless despair. I guess questioning "why" or anger that "this isn't fair" had never really been my strength. But a gentler, more patient and caring man, you would be hard pressed to find. I suppose you have to be, if you took up the career of a pastor. But somehow it made the injustice and suffering of it all, seem that much more intense. I thought of his teenage children. Regardless of Christian belief, the cruelty of a life taken too early, sons unable to be mentored by a father, remain mourfully poignant. I get some comfort in knowing that they probably coped with a reality of life, as best as they could. Life seemed to be a preparation for death all along. At least, if you are a Christian, regardless whether the belief is true or not, adversities and death seem more acceptable because of the hope of an afterlife, where wrongs will be rectified, evil punished. I suppose that's why people need religion - it may not explain the scientific facts of life, but spiritual needs of life seem to lie in a different realm of human need all together. It ties in with my increasing apathy towards life - I wonder if atheists and humanists would have the same issue. I've also been rejected for a consultant position that I thought I would surely get. Despite various people in power, demonstrating some real sincerity in helping me to avert unemployment, nonetheless, the humiliatation of rejection was angering. Part of my confidence stemmed from certainty that my CV was better and that my interpersonal skills were better. I thought scoring full marks in the clinical exams would have added some weight. Having this disproved seemed a direct comment on my character. I can only accept that I am a narcissist. There seems little point in anything - relationships end up hurting, accomplishments are not necessarily the outcome of hard work, nothing said in front of you can be trusted. I don't know what my reaction would be when I eventually get a terminal diagnosis. It's somewhat a depressing relief to know that nothing much would be amiss, in that eventuation. I have yet to reconcile my "lapsed Christian" status with the comfort I see from it. I guess I wondered how much it is a man made creation to explain life and substantiate the need for morality. It seem to ask us to accept all the injustices and sufferings by defering to an afterlife. I suppose the problem seems to be my lack of personal experience of interventions from God, I'm sure most Christians would say it's my lack of faith. If I trusted, I would see His Grace. May be... May be I"m actually dementing and my apathy and social withdrawal are symptoms of this. May be my interest in psychogeriatrics is an altruistic way of coping. I gugess I should re-read Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning...

death clock

"LORD, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is: that I may know how frail I am." Psalm 39:4. Made it to church today. And I don't think it is a coincidence. A friend's friend wrote him a note, essentially saying how ridiculous it is to believe in creation. Although I am Christian, I have my views about evolution. That, however, is not what I want to drivel about today. In so many ways, I could call myself a "lapsed" Christian. I find it hard to work up the enthusiasm I had as a teenager for God - go to church, go to cell group, lead cell group and so on. I seem to have developed a skepticism about life, may be even about people. Went out for dinner with some friends the other night. Topic was the cruelty inflicted on animals, for no good reason other than for the financial gain from breeding for animal shows. Given the evident tolerance man has for wars, torture, disasters, I think it is near unrealistic to expect us to show compassion to other species. May be it is this lack of faith that made it so difficult for me to reconcile with the unreserved positive regard Christianity has for people. I've been watching the BBC series 49 Up - a documentary that followed the lives of 7 people from the age of 7, til now, aged 49. They came from startling different backgrounds. It was sad to see how the big dreams of being jockeys, boxers got lost along the way of living. What was more sobering though, was the way that the rich and upper class got so much closer to what they aspired to be in life, compared to the tumultuous fights for survival, the already disadvantaged have to go through. They say that aristoscracy has been abolished but more disturbing is this globally, albeit subliminally, accepted discrimination by wealth. Of course, I am not one to make such complaints given all that I've grown up with. It is interesting though, the pity I feel for my own self. May be it's because of the regret I have, over how well I should have done, given my circumstances. In all honesty, I am insanely jealous of friends who have their own families, partners, friends that travel all over, friends that are surgeons in training, medics in training. Even worse, illustrating how superficial I am, friends that have nicer skin, wears make up, bigger boobs and so on. And I resent the cliche of describing myself as having low self esteem but that is the only plausible explanation I have come up with, in my years of studies of psychiatry and the human mind. A friend was commenting on some babe at a concert we went to. In my wise mind, I replied "it doesn't matter how others see you, what matters is how you feel about yourself". But if I am so wise, why do I allow jealousy make me fluorescent green?! I experienced a further narcissistic injury this week, finding out that the job I thought was being offered to me, they are also going to interview my colleague. Despite my rant last week about how people are superficial, I also have to be nakedly honest that having the offer, thought wrongly to be exclusive to me, made me feel wanted. I have now displaced the disappointment to anger at the DHB, for employing an external consultant, when they knew full well that there were two advanced trainees coming up for consultancy. Nonetheless, I guess I should be grateful that they told me about the vacancy and invited me to apply. Jealousy is such an evil feeling. It distances and separates. May be that is why I am still single... On the deathclock, I die on 2nd March 2037. At least I am almost half way...(www.deathclock.com)

olivia and the real boy

I don't usually write stuff on a week day but tonight... Just watched Lars and the real girl. A real warm fuzzy movie. Interestig idea - a man develops a delusional disorder and takes a sex doll for real girlfriend. But it was the way that the community pulled together, for the sake of him, that was truly movinng. It was ironic that Lars was so reclusive, yet so many around him, care enough about him, to care for his "girlfriend". I wondered if he used the reclusiveess to elicit care, so at least he knew his sister in law would care for him. On one hand, he long for relationship. On the other hand, he was frightened he would be abandoned, yet again, like his mother did, or be rejected, like his depressed father was. In so many ways, a sex doll provided the need for "someone" but avoided the possibility of rejectioni. Little did he know that rejection is just inherent in ANY kind of "relationship". People die, leave, or worse still, just change. May be that's why hugs hurt - once you get used to the warmth of a embrace, it'll always be cold when it's let go. I suppose he had been a very nice guy, anxious and a bit odd, but well meaning nonetheless. May be that's why his community were so willing to rally for him. Well, in real life, the complete opposite would probably happen. I woder if the wintry setting is a hint at the temperature of normal human relationships. Maybe that's why I "get so lonely I forget what day it is and how to spell my name". I, shamefully, admit that I almost envy him. Lars is loved by so many. I guess I wondered, where is my dorkish wee boy to go for a walk with...

Tiennamen Square and my career

First note since turning the ripe old age of 32. Let's see if I now overflow with pearls of wisdom:-) Received my first job offer this week. Initially I was elated, I love the feeling of being wanted. I know, it's sad that I feel needed only by a job. Given that there was only 1 position and they offered it to me, instead of another person (equally qualified and probably a lot more knowledgable), my narcissism was way over fed. During my week of nights, I read a book written by the political dissident of the Tienamen square massacre. It was both moving and sad. People who fought for something as basic as freedom, punished. Some of those writers now live as refugees in Europe - unable to speak the language, their health failing, alone in a country they do not belong to. Writers reduced to manual workers. Intellectuals silenced by the ordinariness of daily life. It is as if they have lost what they were fighting for. Along with it they lost themselves. I admire their courage, their dedication and their sense of hope. At the same time, however, I look on their passion with cold skepticism. May be I'm too cynical. May be I've lost my sense of patriotism. But to me, I fail to see the point in fighting for justice in a society that has no sense of morality. As an overseas Chinese, I am ashamed at the "get rich or die trying" mentality. The dazzling neon lights, high rises cannot hide the decaying mess of human misery - Sichuan earthquake being left in ruins, milk powder scandal found no one of authority responsible. May be living in China would arouse my anger at the injustice. At the same time, I look upon China with an overwhelming sense of futility. If a people can live through the trauma of the cultural revolution but not be stirred to rise up for democracy, I struggle to see any other cause would lead China to a democratic future. I mourn the loss of lives for a cause so few identify with. I suppose a sad fact of life is its superficiality. China as a nation forges on, painting a picture of prosperity and freedom, and the world goes along with it for fear of its vastness, cowers amongst its economic power. However, people are not that different between countries. I only have to reflect on my own situation. An equally good psychiatric senior registrar, if not more knowledgable than me, did not get offered a position, in a DHB he's already working in, in a team he's already familiar with. The reason? He's from the middle east? He doesn't smile as much as I do? He doesn't joke with his colleagues? "Interpersonal skills" they say, nothing more than whether you would lose yourself, in order to get into the "in" club. I went home to my mother's place today. As always, I'm fed up to my eye balls. She also cooked this curious stew of corn, beetroot and vegetables. She urged me to cook at home for better nutrition - take aways are full of trans fat, don't drink cow's milk, cake is evil, "rice" is a "no no". My sister urged me to stop drinking sugar free soda to save my enamel eroded teeth. Yet I cannot find the enthusiasm for life to the point that I would take steps to lengthen it. I wish I had the passion of the lone student standing in front of the tank on Tiennamen Square...

on birthdays

A long long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, I was born, on the firfth day of March. If I aim to live no older than 60, I would have passed more than half my life now. May be it's some sort of a reminder that I watch The Bucket List on dvd tonight. I've often wondered why people "celebrate" birthdays. Isn't it a bit morbid to be happy about being 1 year closer to death? In the therapy group I "lead" at the hospital, the most popular theme appears to be the lost of "role" with age - children no longer need the mother, business no longer need an aging boss, spouse dies so loved ones no longer need a care giver. In their eyes, there is me, supposedly in the prime of my life, telling them, there is no shame in getting old, with age, comes wisdom, which is invaluable still, despite what society says. Do I believe that? Just finished the novella "the uncommon reader" about the Queen picking up the habit of reading. Eventually (cover your eyes if you intend to read the book), she abdicates the throne in order to write about her life as The Queen. Moral of the story? She found "her voice". In the movie, Morgan Freeman asked "have you found joy?" followed by "have you given joy?" (well, words to that effect, in my old age, my short term memory is not what it used to be). Tonight is my last night shift this month. There is a new system for being "on call" now. We get given an iphone. Nurses from the hospital "bleep" us with vitals (blood pressures, heart rates etc) and flag how urgent the message is. We get the call, point at the appropriate icon to indicate whether we are "on our way", or text for more info. (old fashioned voice calls are still used for community crisis calls) I was most excited with my new toy. Yet in the back of my mind, I wondered when would be the day that I can't keep up with the techno. The day when I refuse to try the new stuff, like how some consultants refuse to put their notes on computer. I would be obselete, outmoded, some day, sooner and closer to that day than I was yesterday... I don't think I have given "joy" to people willingly - may be when I was born, my parents were pleased; may be when I graduated from med school my family was relieved. But I have to confess I didn't get born into the world to please my parents, nor did I complete med school for my family. I think selfishly. I can't say that I have ever known "joy" as such either. Even when I became a Christian, it was more... ow to put it ... like an obligation than joy (kinda like, you have to acknowledge something, when you realise it's true - so like, i kinda realised there had to be a God, and Christian God seemed to be it, kind of thing). So I fail on both counts. Like The Queen in the novella, books certainly opened up new worlds and experiences for me. That is the beauty of books, of arts in general - as a medium into a different experiences. It transcends. But I don't have experiences of the Queen, nor will I ever have. May be I would feel different when I hang out with the Jedi Council tomorrow night. Council business is carefree and amusing (that means gossip about work and other consultants :-). May be when I take dad to Circus Oz, if he likes it, I would find a bit more meaning. But at present, in essence, I may have a "voice" (like this blog) but nothing to...say! As to whether I've gained any wisdom with my age...may be one... Never trust a fart :-)

2009

Spent the last 2 hours of 2008 with some friends. I have to admit that I didn’t really want to be there. I participated in conversation but my mind was strangely (well, may be not so strangely, given I’m often talking shite) away. It’s not the company, although watching my paired up friends, the feeling was the familiar feeling of “unbelonging”. The thought again floated in my mind, “would I be alone forever?” The answer was unnecessarily clear. I am just psychologically unfit to be in intimate relationships. I think I’ve finally forgiven my father for having a stroke. I’ve finally managed, over the last few weeks, to spend time with him, in such a way that was pleasant for him. I didn’t feel angry any more, when he couldn’t get his words out; I finally managed to look into his eyes. This is 15 years later. I can only be thankful that he is here for me to reach this stage of acceptance. I realise how selfish this sounds. I can’t explain the anger I felt, as if he was responsible for having the most frustrating disability at the age of 57. He’s lived almost a quarter of his life in this horrible desert island of dysphasia. What has he done to deserve a daughter who only yells at him whenever she takes him out? I wonder if he sat in his little apartment and wondered. May be the progressive decay of vascular dementia have spared him of that insight and in that way, is a blessing. It always infuriated me when I offered him things, and he would always say “no”. When he asked me to do things for him, I would feel infuriated by his disability. And each time when I walk up the stairs to my own home, guilt twists my insides and I had nowhere to hide. I think I’m actually angry at God that injustice should occur on such an innocent man (tautology, I know). In “shrink speak”, my anger at life was displaced onto my dad. I don’t know what changed in me. I finally managed to treat my own father, the most gentle and kind person I’ve ever know, with the same compassion I show in such a nonchalant way each day at work. May be it’s a true weariness of my own mortality at this stage of life. While the crowd celebrated, friends snogged and hugged, welcoming the new year, I wondered, “how many more new years do I have?” Not your most celebratory thought. As one new year merges into another, time seems to gather speed and take off at alarming rate. As I was telling my friends last night, when kids are young, more memories are laid down via learning, but as the world becomes familiar, less and less new experiences can act as anchor points for memories. Hence time seems to pass quicker as we age. I digress. May be it’s the paradoxical sense of loss, since I’ve passed the clinical exam. Things seemed to progress to unbelievably smoothly that I keep expecting something drastic to happen to me. The fragility and futility of life impressed on me. May be having been denied for 2 years the fellowship but being granted it in such a dramatic way, I couldn’t blame God anymore. Dad certainly doesn’t need me to be angry for him. I hope I won’t be expressing the same regret on facebook next year. I am grateful for my brother and sister who can be my dad’s pride and joy. Gosh, relationships with my family is complicated enough, don’t need any more.