As expected, upon returning from Tioman, there is hardly time to breathe, nor anytime to blog.

Much had happened.

Too much.

I haven’t been well for much of the past 2 weeks, and a migraine had bugged me for past 2 days where painkillers didn’t seem to help enough.

Too much thinking? Too much stifling? Too much of everything that seems too overwhelming? Too much resentment towards myself?

And with my finger heavily bandaged(well, that’s another story altogether) and typing is too much a chore, I could hardly express myself here anymore.

Some stuff, I still want to jot down, before they slipped away.

I lost another friend. No, an acquaintance. A face I don’t see often, but when I do, it was always a joyous occasion where it was filled with booze and merry.

Birthdays, hen’s night, parties.. and always with the same cosy group of girls.

You know the irony of life? Just couple of weeks back, my colleague-mentor was speaking to me over MSN, and we spoke about life.

He shared with me stories, that inevitably made me teary.

We look around us, and there are people on their ways to their whole life ahead of them… achieving much more than we can ever do.

And then, suddenly, nothing.

There was this babe, hot, sassy, always with a mysterious smirk, witty.

I don’t know her well. There were many of us. There was always the next gathering where we would talk and joked, you know. There was always the… next time, with so much life ahead of us.

I used to bump into her at supper joints as well.

We don’t need to catch up much, there just isn’t any need to. There is always.. the next time, right?

Sometimes, we don’t have next time.

In a snap of fingers, in a blink of eyes, people around us, just cease to exist the next.

A chapter closed, a story ended.

Too much questions left unanswered. Too much questions we didn’t dare to ask cos we haven’t been fabulous friends to keep in touch nor catch up.

When reality hits too close to home, sometimes we distant a little to be soaked in surrealism, so that, it just seems…. less frightening.

A lifeless body who didn’t look like her anymore. Where did the brilliant shine of personality go? Where is the charismatic twinkle in the eyes?

It couldn’t be, right?

The thought couldn’t be gelled, how does it reconcile with… loud memories I have of her?

And then I look at people around me. Some of whom are closer, some of whom I have distant.. and many, many of us just go on with our lives with such hectic pace… that we never slowed down, to smell the roses, to know the people.

Rest in Peace Fengmin. You will be missed by those you loved, and there are many, who loved you.

It was a dark Thursday, 16th October, 2008.

***

Thursday night, WT dropped me off at the wake. Though it was unlikely to be a joke, it was still… a little shocking to see the wake.

As Wenmei, Uma and I sat around a big table by ourselves, I believe every, single friend of the group ran through our minds.

Did we miss out anyone these days? Did we forget how everyone is doing? Have we forgotten to slow the pace, to catch up with others…?

And we also spoke of this conversation earlier this year, where they said people who born in the year of Dog are likely to meet with mishaps.

One of us were injured by a piece of glass, one of us broke her arm and has yet to heal even though it is almost a year, one of us sprained her ankle… and the ailments on others.

It is an eventful year.

The extreme highs. And the extreme lows.

And suddenly, the little nip in the finger, gathered more attention than it should. Sometimes we overlooked the smallest of elements.

Like how she had overlooked the small bump after hitting her head into a glass door, which resulted in internal bleeding that wasn’t detected.

And suddenly, we can’t be complacent, no more.

***

Apparently, Fengmin’s story was out on New Paper today. I was read the report by someone, and answers were found.

Memories will never be filled.

And the heartbroken parents, deepest condolences.

***

And I was forwarded another report by someone else. From yesterday’s New Paper.

For 2 months, teen lived with dent in head

IN a few minutes, he turned from an active teen into an invalid.

Muhd Noor Azri Abdul Rahman was a bright and healthy Victoria School student who dreamt of becoming a cardiologist.

But an accident last year changed all that – his left side is now partly paralysed, he suffers from frequent headaches and pain in his eyes and he struggles to sleep at night.

In March last year, Muhd Noor Azri, who was then a Secondary 4 science stream student, and 19 of his classmates went to a cable-ski park at East Coast Park. They were accompanied by a physical education teacher.

The cable skiing was part of their PE lesson.

Mr Low Eng Teong, the school’s principal, said the activity is part of a module in their PE Enrichment Programme.

He said it was first introduced to the students in 2006 and is now part of the school’s PE curriculum.

In cable skiing, water skiers are pulled along cables suspended overhead from specially designed pylons.

Muhd Noor Azri’s father, taxi driver Abdul Rahman Abdul Hamid, 45, said: ‘At first, I did not sign the consent form, and did not let my son join the activity. But a few days later, he came back and said his teacher told him the other students were also going.

‘When my wife told me this, I agreed to let him go.’

Muhd Noor Azri, 17, said he and his classmates wore their PE shirts, shorts, life vests and the skis provided by the ski park during the cable skiing.

He said he and his classmates had four previous cable-skiing sessions before the fateful day.

He said: ‘That day, I was skiing round the circuit at the ski park and holding on to the cable overhead. Suddenly, I stumbled and fell face down into the water. When I came to, I wanted to swim to shore but I could not move.

‘It was my classmate who jumped into the water and pulled me to shore.’

He was taken to Changi General Hospital.

His mother, housewife Madam Azizah Jaffar, 45, rushed to the hospital when she heard about the accident.

She said in Malay: ‘I was told my son suffered a stroke from the impact when his head hit the water and his left side was paralysed.’

The teen was later transferred to Tan Tock Seng Hospital (TTSH).

There, it was found that the right side of his brain was swollen and severely damaged.

Part of the right side of his skull was removed to relieve the swelling in his brain and a shunt was placed in his head to clear any build-up of fluid.

Madam Azizah said: ‘The doctors tried more oxygen and medication but they did not work. The doctors then called my husband, who was driving his taxi at the time, to ask for his consent to do the operation.

‘They said Muhd Noor Azri would die if he did not have the operation, so my husband agreed. For about two months, the right side of my son’s head had a sunken depression where his skull should have been.’

A plate was later put in to replace the part of the skull that had been removed.

After three months at TTSH and a month’s rehabilitation at Ang Mo Kio Hospital, Muhd Noor Azri went home.

But three weeks later, he developed a fever and started vomiting.

‘He returned to TTSH, where it was found that the plate and shunt had become infected. The plate was removed and the shunt was replaced with a new one.

‘The surgeons did not immediately replace the plate as they wanted his brain to recover first. The first plate cost about $2,000 but the new one was a titanium one worth $19,000,’ said Madam Azizah.

Muhd Noor Azri spent another seven months in hospital and went home in February.

Missed O levels

He missed his O-level exams last year and this year.

A tearful Mr Abdul Rahman said: ‘I could not drive my taxi for three months after my son’s accident because I could not focus on my work. My son had high hopes and dreams but those are nearly gone now.’

Madam Azizah added: ‘Unlike my husband, I do not cry much or show much emotion. I have to be strong for the sake of my son, husband and the rest of my family.’

Mr Abdul Rahman said the school paid his family more than $21,000 from its student insurance scheme and from donations.

Madam Azizah said the Islamic Council of Singapore also gives them $180 and food vouchers worth $60 every month.

She said Muhd Noor Azri underwent seven operations costing $70,000 in all. Her husband’s health insurance paid 90 per cent of Muhd Noor Azri’s hospital bills, and their Medisave helped pay the rest.

Muhd Noor Azri still has to attend weekly medical reviews at TTSH and physical therapy three times a week at the Society for the Physically Disabled.

Madam Azizah said the medical reviews cost $25 per session, while her Medifund helps pay for the physical therapy sessions.

Muhd Noor Azri walks slowly around the living room and corridor of his flat near Serangoon Road.

Twice daily, his parents also use a device they bought to electrically stimulate the nerves of his left hand and arm.

‘I can lift my left arm but the grip in my left hand is weak. My left leg is getting better but I am worried that my left hand is not much better,’ said Muhd Noor Azri.

He said a psychological assessment last year showed he was not ready to return to school as his visual and mathematical functions had been severely impaired.

Another assessment is due next month.

And with the report, the email:

Azri was my patient… he was hospitalised so long and so frequent that all of us know him very well.

poor guy that suffered a massive stroke that cost him half of his brain.

He recovered surprising well though he is still weak. Pretty good for someone with only one-half of the brain left.

***

And it reminded me of…

Darren’s story.

And at a grand old age of 27, everyone around has people who had stories.

Stories we can never imagine happening to us.

Stories, which, in retrospect, very likely could have been us.

To us, who take time for granted.

Or, to anyone whom we thought have it all.

Or, more disgustingly, people who least deserve it.

And then, nothing.

I suddenly feel frightened.

I am afraid I am taking things for granted. I am afraid I will leave too much room for regrets.

I am scared, of lost chances.

Alas, we sometimes, can’t have it all.