Raffles Hospital called me today – two months after my lengthy email to its co-founder Loo Choon Yong – informing me of the measures it has taken to address the concerns I had after my one and only visit to the facility.

Firstly, the hospital has now arranged for another equally qualified doctor to sign off on the medical report, should the attending doctor goes on leave or disappears for whatever reason. My doctor went on leave and my medical report was left collecting dust for a week.

Secondly, the hospital has done away with the requirement for patients to wait at the radiology department for X-ray results. The hospital admitted that the 45-minute wait is redundant. It has since arranged for staff to pick up all the X-ray results at the end of the day.

Unfortunately, they have yet to come up with a solution on how to eliminate any tampering of medical report or patient losing bits of the report. I would suggest they have a runner to handle all the transferring of documents. But I guess it isn’t too realistic considering the low level of efficiency the hospital is currently running at. If staff have to be deployed to run medical reports from one end of the room to the other, patients will possibly spend an even longer time waiting in between tests.

Nevertheless, I appreciate the hospital stepping up, taking responsibility and implementing steps to improve the process. And, keeping me in the loop.

Me: By the way, we are giving $xxx each to my parents and bro for Chinese New Year. I’m sorry to tell you this… But cause you’re marrying a Chinese you have to know. It’s Chinese New Year.

Eli: (smiles) Of course! Give more!

Me: YOU’RE AMAZING! Well if we don’t have a wedding and a house to pay for this year, I wouldn’t mind giving more. But! We have the wedding etc… Next year we can give more.

Eli: You think $xxx is good?

Me: I don’t know. I kind of want to give more, but if you multiply… It is a lot?

Eli: Alright then. I am fine with it. We can give $xxx now, then $xxx later. This would be a raise.

Me: Oh honey!

—

Eli: I have a very strong feeling – and my gut feeling is usually always accurate – that we will be very comfortable financially in our marriage.

Me: Oh honey!

—

Here is the answer for those of you who talk like this: “Today or tomorrow, we are off to this town; we are going to spend a year there, trading, and make some money.” You never know what will happen tomorrow: you are no more than a mist that is here for a little while and then disappears. The most you should ever say is: “If it is the Lord’s will, we shall be alive to do this or that.” – James 4:13-15

My beloved groom has always said to me “if God wills…”, and I will always take it negatively, asking him if he is suggesting that his will is of otherwise, that perhaps he isn’t quite so keen on that particular thing we are talking about. Today, I have a better appreciation and understanding of what my good Catholic man has been trying to tell me. I have just fallen in love with him again for the nth number of time. I am indeed blessed.

We believe that the more we give, the more blessings we get in return. And we are truly thankful to God for the many blessings we have received. So this Lunar New Year, on top of paying our parents due respect with a token of our love in a more tangible form of money in auspicious red packets, we are also passing on the blessings we have been showered with.

Eli has been a very good influence on me in this respect. More than supporting me in giving, he has led by example with his generosity. And I’ve surprised myself by not jumping down his throat for giving away his entire pay packet to a family in need, when we presently need all the money we can have to pay for the party of our lifetime and for our marital home.

She’ll change her name today
She’ll make a promise and I’ll give her away

Tears rolled down my cheeks, as I sat in church with my parents by my side witnessing the marriage of a family friend. In ninety-nine days, a hundred family and friends will watch as my daddy walks me down the aisle of an old stone-walled church, and give me away to the man who promises to spend his life striving to love and care for me more than my father ever can. A tall order that a brave young man has undertaken in his three and a half years of passionate pursuit.

I love my groom more than I ever thought I would love. I look forward to eternity with the first and only man to make me want to believe in forever. I will go where he goes. He is my priority and our family will come first.

At the same time, I am failing to put into words what it’s making me feel towards my parents. Why am I crying? I’ll always be the petulant middle child who refuses to eat at hawker centres, throws a tantrum in humidity, get grumpy when not promptly put to bed, and squirm at just about anything. I’ll always be daddy’s little girl.

Only now, I have another man to handle my obnoxious demands.

A Lebanese priest who didn’t yet know I was my sister’s sister, and Eli’s my fiancĂ©, once told my sister, upon hearing that her sister is dating a Lebanese man, to tell her sister to be careful of Lebanese men because they are known for their philandering. My sister told him not to worry because for Eli to be able to tolerate all that I am, he must really love me a lot.

And I have no doubts about it. For all that we’ve been through, and for all the time and distance we have between us today, I never once felt insecure about my position in his life or doubted his faithfulness. I end each day with a great big smile on my face and joy in my heart, as I thank God for the wonderful man who has chosen me as his wife.

As we left the church today, I couldn’t help but think: So this is it? After a year of planning, stressing out and spending big, big money… Guest arrive, sit in church for an hour, eat, shake hands and that is it. The wedding is done. I think I’m a little let down. And it does not help the stage I’m in whereby I just want to get it all over and done with already – and I’m not even the one planning and doing the running around for our big day.

In the new year, people collect their bonuses and quit their jobs. Lately, news of people quitting their marriages are also surfacing. Many, too many, couples split each day, I’m sure. But each time I learn of one, it is one too many.

A priest once told us this story:

It was a Friday and a Catholic on a flight requested for a no meat dish. The man seated next to him declined any meals as he was fasting. Impressed by his seat-neighbour’s sacrifice and discipline, the Catholic asked, “Are you Catholic too?” The man replies, “No, I’m making a sacrifice to Satan. For every fast, a marriage ends in divorce.”

As much as a union thrills me, a breakup saddens me.

It also serves to remind me to treasure what I have. To never take for granted the partner God has chosen and given to me. I want to remember to make my beloved feel special and to know that I choose to love him everyday. Despite our busy schedules, the distance and our preoccupation with other things, to remember that every effort is in naught if not for the person we love.

And this is easier said than done. I’m often tired and irritable at the end of the day. It is easier to just let time together slip away. There is always tomorrow, right? Before we know it, it would have been night after night of not talking, not connecting and eventually “irreconcilable differences”.

The MRI scan came out clean. And I certainly have brains.

I told the neurosurgeon his job is really cool, “Cause you get to read scans.”

He laughed awkwardly, possibly thinking to himself, “What an idiot.”

My headaches have gone away and while the instability comes in waves, I was delighted to inform my beloved, “Doctor says you can’t get rid of me just yet.”

Unfortunately, I have had the opportunities to experience the service of both Mount Elizabeth Hospital and Raffles Hospital in the short span of three months.

Mount Elizabeth Hospital
I have only been to the private clinics within Mt Elizabeth, but I have used their facilities and each experience has been wonderful.

I first visited Mt Elizabeth to have my wisdom teeth surgery. I paid $3,000 for a top-notch surgeon. While the price is a little steep, my experience was sweet and that justified the money spent.

Recently, I visited Mt Elizabeth to see my neurosurgeon and get a brain MRI. They had no issues rescheduling my appointment and was prompt in processing my paperwork. While I had to wait a little for the previous patient to finish with the MRI, a radiologist came out as scheduled to apologise for the delay and explained everything to me. I was told what to expect. Everything was peachy. I went into the MRI machine, comfortable and confident.

I came out of the machine a tad disoriented but happy. Radiologist gave me his name card and said to call if I have any question at all. I thanked him, got changed, paid and left the building. The scan results were delivered to my neurosurgeon – who runs a private clinic within the hospital – the next day.

Raffles Hospital
I visited Raffles Hospital in November for mandatory immigration medical checkup and was appalled by the lack of service. On my first trip, I was directed to the wrong clinic twice and when I got to the correct clinic, I had to wait 20 minutes at “registration” only to be told the doctor was unable to see me that day.

I returned a week later, at 8:45am (they open at 8:30am), and waited 30 minutes for my turn to register. I was told to fill up a form that clearly printed should be completed before the examining doctor. Despite my resistance, the administrator said that’s how it is done around this pricey hospital. It wasn’t until 10:20am that I was called up to have my height, weight and vision tested. I kept waiting and waiting for what will happen next. Nothing, apparently, as I kept waiting in a holding area that truly resembled a government polyclinic from the 1980s.

(Why 1980s? Because our current government polyclinics are immaculate! With enough seats! Strategically placed television sets and call numbers! i.e. Polyclinic experience was more pleasant than that of the leading private healthcare provider in Singapore – Raffles Hospital.)

By 11am, I was still waiting to be called for a blood test. Following the blood test, I had to wait to see the doctor. Are you tired of the word “waiting” already? Cause I was surely miffed. I see the doctor for five minutes and was told to take all my papers with me, make payment and proceed to get my X-ray done.

I held my medical report in my hands, while carrying all my other barang barangs, make my way to the cashier. Cashier tells me to call the hospital in two days to get the courier tracking number, and that I can go off after my X-ray.

The radiologist made me wait after the X-ray was done to collect my own X-ray film and bring it to the radiology department upstairs. This SHOCKED me. What? Did she just ask me to deliver my own X-ray film and medical report? Am I really in a 1980s government hospital?

At the radiology department, I was told to wait 40 minutes for the X-ray results. WHAT? No way, I told to just drop it and leave. So the lying hospital staff said to give her five minutes to check if I could go off. Five minutes later, wait another 10 minutes. Eventually, I waited 45 minutes for the staff to tell me, “Oh the results are ready, here take this downstairs.” I retaliated. “Nope, why should I be delivering the report myself? I just paid your hospital to deliver the results to the immigration department. And, did I just pay $500 for the liberty to tamper with my own medical report?”

Staff then said she would accompany me downstairs to “make sure” there was nothing else required of me. She wouldn’t believe when I said I was told I could leave as soon as the X-Ray was done. These liars, they are unable to believe anyone, right?

I did not call the hospital two days later. I figured they are a reliable hospital and would deliver as promise. Bad mistake because when I called them a week later – after many failed attempts at getting through the hotline – I was told that no tracking number is available because they have yet to dispatch my medical report. I hit the roof.

“What do you mean it has not yet been dispatched? I was told it would go out latest by last Friday. What day is it today?”

“Oh, this you have to talk to the dispatch person. Hold on, I will ask her to talk to you,” she said.

I was told that the examining doctor had gone on leave and so there was no one to sign off on the blood test results etc, until he returned on Sunday. So the entire report would be dispatched on Thursday (the day after I called).

I asked, “If the report was signed off on Sunday, why wasn’t it dispatched on Monday? If I did not call today, will the report ever be dispatched?”

Ummmm. Crickets.

“Is your hospital going to be responsible for any problems I may experience with immigration?”

“Ummmm. Are you flying off soon?” she asked.

IS THAT ANY OF YOUR BUSINESS? Just get your job done! Turns out, she didn’t know where to send the report to! How professional. Can you be sure that your medical report is safe with this hospital? I can’t. Not anymore.

Eventually, she got the courier company to pick up the package that very afternoon and told me to call the courier company the next day to get a tracking number from them.

I fired off an email to Loo Choon Yong, the co-founder of Raffles Medical Group.

“Perhaps it is my high expectations of the Raffles branding. Unfortunately, at this point, I highly regret my choice of going to Raffles Hospital, and will most unlikely recommend Raffles Medical Group to anyone.

While I may never again step foot inside any of your establishments, by choice, I hope by highlighting my experience to you, as executive chairman of the Raffles Medical Group, you will be able to do something about it and bring value to your shareholders before more and more people get turned away.”

A very nervous man from his customer support team called me back a few days later to say they are looking into the issue. It has been two months and I have not heard from them since.

–

My experience with Raffles Hospital demonstrates that the staff are ill-informed. They do not know the procedures themselves. And to top it off, patients are trusted with their own medical reports and have to do their own running around. Waiting time was much like that of a free clinic and really unexpected for a private hospital.

Also, Raffles Hospital was not forthright with the fees chargeable. They only tell you how much you have to pay when you’re at the cashier, giving you no opportunity to back out because you cannot afford it.

At Mt Elizabeth, I was told at registration, how much the MRI would cost and how much additional injections etc will cost. Only after I said “Okay” did she proceed with all the paperwork.”Perhaps it is my high expectations of the Raffles branding. Unfortunately, at this point, I highly regret my choice of going to Raffles Hospital, and will most unlikely recommend Raffles Medical Group to anyone.

While I may never again step foot inside any of your establishments, by choice, I hope by highlighting my experience to you, as executive chairman of the Raffles Medical Group, you will be able to do something about it and bring value to your shareholders before more and more people get turned away.”

“She’s not wearing my ring. Nope, not my wife,” Eli joked, as I spent some time today without his ring for the first time since we exchanged rings before family and friends, almost a year ago.

I went for my brain MRI today and had to remove all things metal. It was one of those experience I’m sort of happy to have had (although happy really doesn’t seem like the correct choice of word) and never want to experience again. Both the ring removal and the scan.

I wore a pant-suit scrub and a shower cap. They stuffed stuff around my head and placed a face “guard” over my face. I was asked to close my eyes, but of course I opened them from time-to-time; I’m a middle child. The coolest of the entire experience was the face “guard” they put on me which enabled me to see the radiologists seated at my foot while I was in the machine. I’m bad at all-things science so that really intrigued me.

I don’t really know what else to say about the experience, but I do have a lot to say about the difference in service standards between Mount Elizabeth Hospital and Raffles Hospital – both reputable private hospitals in Singapore, which calls for another post altogether.

Today did not happen but it did. Unreal is how it feels.

And at the end of this long, long, too long of a day, I am thankful for my family and our sense of humour. We are able to make light of bad situations and we keep on going, for and with each other. And maybe today happened so I would pause, take stock of my life, appreciate all that I have and quit complaining.

After many near misses, today I had my first accident as a licensed driver. A mere six years and a week after I secured my driver’s license on the first go, I drove the car, at 100km/h, into the centre divider of the highway. I said to myself, “That did not happen.” I pulled over, looked at the damage, ran my hand over the scars and said to myself, “That did not happen.” I did not cry. I said a prayer, drove all over the island trying to find my way, and came clean to my father as soon as I could. I apologised and took full responsibility. No excuses. I cried. He was quick to say, “It’s okay. It happens. Are you hurt?” He also told me that we should be thankful I’m alive. My father came round his office desk and hugged me. As we approached the car to survey the damage, my father said: “I guess it’s a sign that it’s time for a new car!” He also asked me if I took photographs of my “masterpiece”. My mother didn’t skin me alive as I thought she would. Instead, she was gentle and concerned. She even managed a laugh. My parents, they continue to surprise me.

Then on his way to the workshop, Dad dropped me off at my hair appointment where I would spend the next four hours of my life wondering what in the world is going on. The day could not possibly get any worse than it has already unfolded. Unless, at my next stop the neurologist would tell me my circuits aren’t working as they should. Then I’ll get all melodramatic, a la Japanese drama series of star-crossed lovers where the girl actively breaks her groom’s heart to force a breakup because of her illness. He never finds out the real reason behind her “change of heart” until she dies.

He ordered me an MRI. I never want to break my groom’s heart.

I returned home to a stinky backyard where the stray cats have raided the freezer. UNREAL.

The recent passing of a friend’s father took all of us by surprise. Learning about the circumstances surrounding his sudden passing was staggering.

His wife had gone to Disneyland with their daughter and was checking in for her 20-hour flight home when she received the most dreadful call. Her life partner was dead and her eldest son wants to know what to do.

He was found slumped over his steering wheel after his car wavered on the road. He was 60, a year younger than my father. His youngest child, a daughter, is almost a decade younger than my younger brother. He died from a heart attack. No one was by his side.

It is his widow’s birthday today.

The news was shocking to say the least. It is never easy to lose a love one, particularly to death because there is no returning. Yet it is a reality of life. I often lament about how unfair it is that men have a shorter lifespan yet the majority of women tend to marry older men. Of course we’re on the losing end. Frequently, I tell Eli to please outlive me because I cannot go on without him. I selfishly do not want to be the one left behind. I pray that his healthy lifestyle will sustain him, while my less healthy food choices will take me.

Ideally, I wish to be taken together with my partner. Neither will mourn the other and neither will have to experience the excruciating pain of having your beating heart snatched out from you. How sweet was that scene in Titanic where the old couple held hands and awaited the submersion of the ship? Or the scene from The Notebook, where Noah and Allie die in each other’s arms?

But how will that happen if we are not together?

Naysayers will say I have an unhealthy attachment and dependance on Eli. Maybe I do. Maybe I’m just really passionate about the man whom my heart loves. And I really do not want either of us to lose out on a single moment in the other’s life. I want to be there for him at all times; physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually.

Come what may, I like to have shared it with the most important person in my life. While most brides taboo the groom seeing their wedding gown and seeing them in the wedding gown prior to the wedding, I wanted my groom to be there with me when I found the dress. I wanted to share the moment with him.

When adversity strikes, I want us to go through it together. As useless as I might have been in the incident, where my lack of physical pain was inversely proportionate to what he endured, I am somewhat thankful that I was there with him when it happened. Sure, I might have to live forever with scenes of what I could have done and should have done replaying in my head, I can blame myself for what happened, but at least I know quite clearly what happened. I don’t have to hear it from a third party, or from him who will try his might to hide the gruesome details from me.

(For the record, I am done replaying the scene in my head and if my beloved has forgiven the assailant, how can I not let it go and let healing take place? After all he calmed my trembling body despite being bloodied and swollen.)

Each time he is not by my side, I worry about what might happen to him. He is my beloved and I would keep him in a bubble if I could!

Till today, I cannot understand how my parents feel comfortable enough to drop us off at the school gates when we were teeny weeny kids with backpacks heavier than our being. Perhaps when I figure out homeschooling is not my forte I will have to learn to let my children leave my sight for a little while.

But beyond and above my stalker-like reasons, I really want us to experience everything together. For what is an adventure if not shared with someone that matters?

Missing someone isn’t about how long it has been since you’ve seen them or the amount of time since you’ve talked. It’s about that very moment when you find yourself doing something and wishing they were right there by your side. – Unknown.

My beloved fiancé and I spent our Christmas of 2011 and the eve of 2012 physically apart for the first time since we met. While the thought of it pained me initially, in many ways the distance was very special and symbolic.

This will be our last Christmas as part of the family unit we were born into. The Christmas before we leave our father and our mother, to be joined together as one flesh (Genesis 2:24). And so, instead of jetting off and spending a twosome Christmas as we’ve done in as many years as we’ve been together, we spent Christmas with our parents.

My family participated in the children’s choir at Christmas anticipatory mass, which “forced” us to spend the weeks leading up to Christmas, together as a family, as part of the greater community, to stretch our vocal cords. We spent Christmas eve at Church with practice, children’s mass and eventually, midnight mass – a family tradition.

In between mass times, I put together a short three-minute clip for my beloved to the tune of “All your Christmas needs is me”, by a Montreal band. Needless to say, it was filled with photograph after photograph of me in-your-face. I’m sure he appreciated it. Or at least that’s what he said, loosely. I think his exact words were more like: “I enjoyed looking at photographs of our old times.”

With divine blessings, sixty years from today, my groom and I will have plenty of photographs to reminisce from “old times” and a lifetime of memories together.

In this new year, we will have less of “I wish you were here” and, a lot more of “I’m glad I have you to share this with”.

In the meantime, my beloved and I actively set aside quality time to be together. Our relationship continues to be strengthened by the daily decision to put the other first and by communicating with each other as effectively as possible. We continue to learn more about each other. We have learnt to gift each other in creative ways. We have learnt to prioritise what is important and what is not. In the face of challenges and the cruel reality of distance, we choose each other and continue to want each other.

The Catholic marriage preparation retreat Eli and I attended earlier in December, reaffirmed our roles and positions in each other’s life and our decision to marry each other. It served as a very meaningful time for us to spend together and as we like to joke, it has provided us with hand-written evidence of where our priorities lie, and that is: I’m number one, always.

While we did not get to hold each other as we greeted Merry Christmas, or share a kiss to welcome in the new year, we were one in heart and mind. His love for me radiates across platforms, media, time and space.

Twenty twelve will see us begin a new journey together as husband and wife. I will move to a new country, adapt to a new culture and pick up a new language. We will both learn to keep house and deal with in-laws. I’ll have twice the amount of laundry to do. It is going to be a fabulous year!