Exploring Option Three

The journey to Singapore was relatively smooth. Except maybe I didn't quite have the appetite to eat anything, even though the coach steward served muffins, tuna sandwich and chocolate cake. The Filipino man sleeping across me in the lounge had his leg sticking out in my direction, not bothered with his daughter, and his wife who was seated next to me. The scenery along the way would be refreshing for city dwellers; expressway lined with rows of oil palm or rubber trees.


In less than five hours, the bus arrived at the Singapore Customs and Immigration checkpoint through the Tuas Second Link. If not for the heavy human traffic (mostly Chinese nationals), I think I would have reached the city centre sooner. Since the appointment with the neurologist at Mount E Hospital is at 12.15PM, there was still a lot of time but I tried my luck by going there earlier and see if I could fit in a preceding slot.




The wait for the neurologist took longer than I expected. At his clinic, a couple of other patients were waiting. What drew my attention were rows of awards hung on the wall and the many souvenirs he received in the course of his service. "Fancy and flashy." That came to my mind the whole time I was there. The meeting with the doctor was brief and his assistant explained to me in detail the kinds of treatment Mum should consider. They are definitely very pricey but I was gonna hold that decision until I have discussed with my relatives.


The journey home stirred a lot of thoughts in my head. I was thinking about the many questions I would have to answer back in KL. The ring tone on my phone turned soundtrack in the whole five hours I was in the bus. Thankfully, and surprisingly, First Coach buses are upgraded with a mini TV set on each seat so passengers get to enjoy movies and music by picking from the list on the panel - a private entertainment. By 9PM, the bus halted at Bangsar LRT station. And I didn't miss much of the opening ceremony of Beijing Olympics!

08.08.08: Daytrip Express

The Friday we have been waiting for finally came, oblivious to the fact that I could miss the live broadcast of the Beijing Olympics opening show at 8.30PM. It didn't matter to me as I wanted to get the decisions done with, having possible treatment options for mum laid out clearly to be considered. The night before, I called and booked a taxi, scheduled to arrive at my place at 4.45AM, just so I would reach the departure location; Côrus Hotel, Kuala Lumpur before 6AM.

The taxi driver who waited downstairs is his mid-twenties, a pleasantly friendly Indian man who chatted with me all the way to the city centre. When I needed peace and quiet, he got the idea and just concentrated on the driving. A relatively smooth ride all the way there, with hardly any traffic, left me indulging deep in my own private thoughts.

I was greeted with a yellow and grey coloured Aeroline bus when I arrived at the hotel with more than enough time to hop on the bus. Reached for the ticket to be processed by the Aeroline receptionist. It wasn't long before the passengers were told to board on the bus. I chose the seat in the lounge as I figured it'd be easier for me to get out of the bus when I arrive in Singapore. A Filipino family of three was seated next to me. I was half expecting to have the whole lounge to myself so I can rest peacefully without anyone babbling away. Fortunately, they slept all the way to border. So did I.

Option Number Three

I received an important call from Aunt Amelia at half past eleven on Tuesday night, right after mum and I came back from Singapore. She wanted to find out how it went with the two oncologists we saw in the last two days. Actually we decided to skip the appointment with a neurologist in the afternoon because everyone was already tired and mum was concerned with the costs arising from these consultations so collectively; Aunt Tua Ee, mum and I decided to forgo the appointment.

Aunt Amelia and her husband explained the necessity of seeking professional advice from a brain specialist, at least, before deciding on what to do next. It dawned on me the next day about the relevance of their advice and that it's perfectly harmless to seek for another opinion even though it will cost a bit more. I quickly made some calls to arrange for my transportation and to arrange for a 12.15PM appointment on Friday with the neurologist from Mount Elizabeth Medical Centre. The coach service that I usually take is Aeroline. To ensure that I arrive in Singapore on time, I got the 6AM coach but their SG-KL route for the afternoon have just limited seats and only the 1.30PM coach was available. 1.30PM is just too tight for the doctor's appointment so I decided to seek other options.

Called up First Coach, a coach service I used to take in the past. A male voice answered the phone. He told me 2.30PM, 4.30PM, and 6.30PM coaches are still available.

I thought to myself, "2.30PM sounds possible".

And with this arrangement, I would be able to optimise my time in Singapore and still make it back to KL early. Told the man on the phone if I could reserve a seat and collect it in a while. Left my name and phone number with him and made my way to their Bangsar office to get the ticket. So all the necessary arrangements were made and I told my aunts about it. Mum is not aware of this because I didn't want her to worry about me. She tends to be very concerned with my work and how all these will affect me. To let her worry is the last thing I want her to be occupied with.

Discovering GBM

"Why is this happening to me?"

"What did I do to deserve this?"

These two questions which Mum uttered when she first came to realise her condition, till this day, still ring in my head every now and then. I remember vividly on that Monday morning, July 19, 2008, right after the neurologist explained to us on the outcome of the biopsy, with dad in presence, we went into a state of shock. I was stunned. Dad probably did not have a clue just yet what Prof. Vicky said in English. The term he used, GBM or Glioblastoma multiforme, sounded foreign. His dry humour didn't hit our turf.

"Look at this way, at least it's going to be painless, and you won't feel much."

How could that be funny? I know Professor was trying to make it sound positive but we certainly were not amused. Words like "five months", I bet Dad can understand. By then, things started to make more sense and we began to see the reality of the whole situation. I could not read what was in Mum's head. But she was clearly deep in her thoughts. And I tried really hard keeping her mind off by telling her about work and talking fondly about how surprisingly friendly the nurses were there.

At the payment counter, I insisted on paying for the doctor's consultation fees which Mum persistently pressed that she is responsible for. I told her, "Mum, I'm your son. It's time I take care of you. Don't worry about this. Let me handle it." She was worried about me, about my financial health. Just a week ago, I paid the remaining balance of her hospitalisation fees and other clinical charges which run in four figures. That was the start to a series of modern day medical costs cancer patients would have to bear. It was the least of my concern as I just want Mum to be well again. I will do whatever it takes to bring her for treatments and consult with specialists as long as they are confident of healing her.