Wuzhen? [last]

continuation... and to anyone reading this, you might want to refer to archives on the right panel, and read in order from Wuzhen? [1]. This is one whole chain of events in the order of time. Regards. :]

-----Written 17/12/2008-----

Yesterday I went to NHC for my heart appointment. It was my first time going there alone to see my cardiologist. Scary day. I’m having mild palpitations now, actually since yesterday. I guessed it’s because of an underlying fear – the fear of having to go through a new and more dangerous method of surgery. Dr. Teo told me he doesn’t have any more ways to deal with my Wolff Parkinson White syndrome, and that he has one last trick left. That is to poke the catheter through my chest-diaphragm area to reach my heart. This would require the catheter to penetrate the fatty membrane lining the outer surface of the heart, which is a very thin layer of only about few millimetres. And he says that there is this possibility of poking the heart, thereby causing heart perfusion. If that happens, I’ll have to be sent to the Operation Theatre immediately for open heart surgery.

I’m not afraid of the poking, the surgery... I think I’m afraid of the possibility of open heart surgery, but definitely not the poking in the chest. I think I’ve long gotten use to pain – the pain of needles, wires, catheters poking everywhere. After these 7 years of battling against WPW, yes I have gotten use to it. But I’m afraid. I’m afraid of dying and leaving my parents behind, alone, childless – once again. I know they need me. I have to be brave, and I have to survive... through all rubble and ruins of life.

-----End of entry-----

Wuzhen? [7]

continuation...

-----Written 7/11/2008-----

Everything’s confirmed now. Didn’t expect the NTUC investment incident would be an opportunity to solve the many mental puzzles I’ve trying to fix in my head these past few months. Not exactly unexpected, yet why do I experience such strong feelings of despair, disappointment and betrayal? I guess there’s even more than that, just too much and too complex to be put into words perhaps.

I spoke to Amy (ah yon jiejie, my cousin) online the night before yesterday. It started with me asking her about her blood type, and then I found myself bluntly going into the topic. I told her about my encounter with the noodle man on bus 74, my observation that my blood group isn’t compatible with that of both my parents, as well as another discovery that my birth certificate date of issue is almost one year after my actual date of birth. And then she disclosed the truth to me. The truth I wanted to find out, yet didn’t wish to hear.

My parents aren’t my biological parents. So where do I come from? I’ve been racking my brains with many such repeating questions in my head. I think it’s only right for me to find out my family roots, genuine ancestral roots and who I resemble, the real man and woman who gave birth to me. But who are they? I tried finding out from Amy, but she said she doesn’t know and that no one knows, all uncles and aunties included. So I guess only my parents know. No, maybe they don’t. I may be some abandoned child, since Amy told me that when I was young I was very weak and sickly.

Now seated next to me are a mother and her daughter. The daughter is a down syndrome intellectually disabled kid around 7 year old, while the mother looked like a Filipino. Whatever it is, they are of vastly different skin colour. If I am not wrong, this is not the first time I see them on bus 151. From observation it is highly likely that the child is an adoptee. Very few would be willing to accept a child as they own when he/she is not. In other words, to take a child who didn’t come out of her womb as her own child. The greatest kind of love is the love an adoptive parent can give to the adopted child. I guess that’s the biggest lesson I gathered from my own incident.

Why do I have so many emotional wreckages to go through? Why is my life ever so dramatic? Why can’t I be part of this big family... at least the blood running in me isn’t the same blood running in all of them.

Somehow, I feel like I’ve just been taught a lesson on how to love; how to love better; and love with even more of me. I realise I do love my relatives, regardless of how badly they have treated my parents, how much they despised my family. I love them for their capacity to love and accept. I admire them for that, for everything they have done for me despite knowing that I am not part of them right from the start. I love them for treating me the same way as how they would treat everyone else under this big family tree. My parents and them – their love so great that I was totally convinced from the beginning. I never had any shadow of a doubt that I was actually an orphan. Because of this, I learned to love even more, to really accept everyone for everything. I love them, all of them.

Because of the fact that the secret was kept so well that I didn’t have any doubt about it, I am finding it hard to accept the reality put forth before me now. I want to turn to someone, but I don't wanna disturb people. Mei’s got her own problems. Neng’s busy with her ‘A’ levels. But it really helps a great deal penning my thoughts down. That’s the only comfort now. Hang in there, wuzhen. Tough times don’t last; tough men do. Below is a short poem I found in the book “Gift of Roots”, which writes about adoption and a few real stories.

Could we only draw the curtain
that surrounds each other’s lives,
See the naked heart and spirit,
know what spur to action drives —
Often we should find it better,
purer than we judge we should,
We would love each other better,
if only we understood.

— Author unknown

Papa and mummy, I understand now, and I love both of you.

-----End of entry-----

Wuzhen? [6]

continuation...

-----Written 1/11/2008-----

Why are all the forces pulling me apart? I'm snapping, I seriously am. I thought I've gotten over nightmare, but I have not. I've been crying without trigger almost everyday since the first day I pen down entries in this notebook secretly. Every morning on 151 to school, I would sit at the same corner, look out of the window and let the tears wash me over. In school, I could just start crying in the middle of statistics tutorial for no apparent reason. The flashbacks are totally crushing me.

I hate myself. My palpitations are back recently. Let's hope I'll just suddenly die of it so that all these will end. Yes, put an end to all this. I'm seriously tired.

-----End of entry-----

Wuzhen? [5]

continuation...

-----Written 28/10/2008-----

Almost three weeks have passed since the traumatising encounter, 2 weeks since the discovery about the date of issue. I think I'm recovering fast! Like in the past, nothing has really changed except feelings on my part. Just a few days back, I went to AMKHub with my parents for dinner, walk-walk, and settle NTUC Income stuff. This is what we do once in a while. Maybe it's because I've already fully accepted the fact that they aren't my biological parents...but it could also be a case where I just totally dismissed all that happened in the past three weeks behind my head, and treat it like errors happened in the lab, on the birthcert there was typo, and rumours were going around in the market 19 years ago. I don't know which way it is also but I'm really just glad that I'm almost over and done with this emotional battle.

I'm hoping that my parents will soon reveal to me the truth. I think I still trust them as much as before...so much that without affirmation from their side I wont 100% believe in all the proof and discoveries I have made. So I'm really hoping that they'll tell me soon. Part of the reason is that I want to share this story (together with my already-happening life journey) with many people, and encourage those who have fallen amidst life's odds to stand up and embrace the challenges bravely once more. I want to teach everyone to love - everyone else. So that this world would be a better place. No, maybe not that impactful to change the world, but at least within this circle in Singapore. :)

I have a plan for myself now after the exams in november and YEP to Myanmar this december. I am going to contact National Youth Council to see how much they can help me with my plan - to speak at many many schools, spread this and hopefully be able to help someone. If the schools pay me for the service, I can donate all the money I managed to collect to any organisation which needs help.

From next January onwards, when I'm already back from Myanmar, I will be starting on this plan of mine. There is something else I want to do on top of what I mentioned above. I would also hope to go for a professional speaking course. With these two goals in mind, I will be putting aside all my other commitments, and...troubles.

Wish me luck! :)

-----End of entry-----

Wuzhen? [4]

continuation...

-----Written 16/10/2008-----

Today's a special day - papa's birthday. Shall give him a call to wish him later. I don't know if this is considered running away from reality...but I've been searching high and low for evidence to prove my own suspicion wrong.

First, the blood group. Despite knowing that mistakes in such scenarios happening in the lab like getting patients' data mixed up are almost impossible, I still chose to believe that I might be the lucky (or unlucky) one. Secondly, the day I ran into the wanton mee uncle. I was thinking it could just well be another rumour. People love rumours don't they? But I do know very certainly that rumours don't come from nowhere and there is sure to be some basis to it. Maybe they didn't see my mum getting pregnant yet I popped out all of a sudden. And to top up with that, the uncle sounded really sure. His tone sort of convinced me that all these are true.

For the 1 week or so after the traumatising encounter on bus 74, I've been going through a seriously hard mental battle. Subconciously, I've been solving puzzles unsolved this past 19 years... and for every action they (my parents) take I will just pay a little more attention to them. Almost every minute where my mind is not occupied with schoolwork it will be thinking about this. I kept looking for ways to prove the suspicion wrong (or maybe it isn't a suspicion at all), but time and again things happen to prove me otherwise.

Just yesterday, I made another discovery. My mum was looking for my POSB account savings book, so she was ransacking through the bag of important documents. I see my birth certificate. Actually I've seen that birth cert a couple of times already but I've never paid much attention to the details. To my bewilderment, the date of issue typed at the bottom of the certificate was dated 5th April 1990. This wasn't right. Aren't infants supposed to register their births within 14days post-birth? How could law be so extensively violated that birth was only registered almost a year after birth? (My birthdate is 25th July 1989.)

So I went to check out the details for birth registration at the ICA website...and I started doing alot of research on the procedures for adoption of infants in Singapore. Yes I was right, it needs to be done within 2 weeks. How did mine lag one whole year after I was born? I started to think of stupid reasons to account for this. Like maybe the technology failed for my case (like how it failed me in the lab test) or something. I read up about adoption, and everything seems (to an inexperienced eye), in agreement with my case! It says that an adopted child can change his/her surname to the adoptive parents' surnames and create a new birthcertificate with the parents' particulars filled in just like any other child's. And the only difference is the data of birth registration. This is what I felt has happened to me. If all these were true... then I'm certain lying somewhere else at home is my original birth certificate, the one registered when I was just born.

I randomly asked my mum whether they do birth registration immediately after they were born, my mum said yes, and it's the same for my case. Is my mum lying? The date of issue is almost a year after the actual date of my birth! She probably didn't know that the date of issue was written there, as both my dad and mum are iliterate.

I concluded that if I were really an adopted child (and everything now seems to prove I am one), I can find out easily at some child adoption agency or even, ICA. But then I realised there's an issue of confidentiality in government organisations so it is not possible for me to do that. Maybe for now it is not yet the right time to do anything about this. I shall just accept it for the time being - and gradually learn to accept this fact for the rest of my life, live with it, and get used to it.

This sense of betrayal is very strong and extremely hurtful indeed. So much so that at this moment in time I can't trust them already, at least not as much as in the past. Being a trusting person who believes in almost everyone it's weird I'm feeling like that. And I don't like to feel like that. But am I in the position to do anything about it? I guess not.

When it comes to affairs of the heart, things can really get quite complicated and difficult to handle.

-----End of entry-----

Wuzhen? [3]

continuation...

-----Written 10/10/2008-----

I have been crying to sleep every night since the traumatising event on bus 74 happened. I told the people around me that I will be strong, but I end up pretending to be strong... And on crowded bus rides I'll tear, looking out of the window hoping that no one will notice me.

I tried very hard to smile yesterday at NJC when mugging with gladys and neng. I succeeded I think, but it was really tiring. Especially when I see bio questions on their notes that talk about blood group alleles. I think if I were to write any book one day about me and my life journey, I might call it 'The B Allele'. Indeed, the B allele that came from nowhere.

Hitherto, I'm still drowned in feelings of fear, insecurity, and solitude. Just yesterday morning, I accidentally overheard my parents' conversation. Actually they were playing away...my mum was teasing my dad, telling him how unlucky she was to have married him..in a joking tone. But my mum accidentally blurted out something like: "no money, no luxury, no childr.." and then she held back very quickly. I was brushing my teeth then. So that second, I stopped too and turned to look at both of them who were in the living room. Mum was looking in my direction as well, stunned. But the eye contact only lasted for a while before I went back to my toothbrush and her, back to their conversation. I wonder if I did hear the right thing. Half of me is hoping that all these are but just false accusations on my part - but how to when I'm so totally convinced? I've got witness now, and scientific proof, not just my own rootless observations.

Academically, I'm almost lagging behind in everything. I've not been performing because I've not been giving my best...and all this because I'm already on the verge of snapping. Neng is right. When you really want to die, you won't say it. You'll just leave a letter behind. When you really don't wish to bother another person with your own issues, you'll do everything to safekeep it somewhere in your heart, or here, in a notebook kept from the rest of the world.

I wish I could tell someone all these struggles, have a long conversation and heart-to-heart talk. But mei's hurt herself, and neng's gonna sit for As soon. Okay, I have an idea. Mugging might be a good distraction. I got my math midterm minutes ago, 76/100. Saw others with 93 and 98. I guess mine should be really bad.

Give me the strength to carry on, give me the ability to put all my troubles behind me...concentrate on my studies and even best, be able to help others along. I don't want to be like that forever. Convince me that my problem is nothing compared to others. Yes, I'll be able to do all this. I will.

On a further note, I realise writing out my inner and truest feelings help alot. It's like really telling someone about it so that I can put a little bit of it behind me and move on. Mei said it's selfish to keep things to myself, maybe I agree...but there are really times where you cannot share. Those are the times when sharing, or just being reminded of something, makes you want to crumble.

In any case, I'll be strong. I will.

-----End of entry-----

Wuzhen? [2]

continuation...

-----Written 9/10/2008-----

Yesterday was a bad day; in fact I am feeling terrible still. Where's the wuzhen who usually takes just one day to bounce back from disappointments? I woke up late yesterday, went to school for lectures and then met up mei at Kent Ridge Terminal. I'm glad I had her by my side...at least I won't be thinking too much about that thing.

I was glad to see such a positive change in her 2 nights ago, but yesterday it was sort of back to square one. It's been quite some time since I last saw her in a state of trepidation. I felt useless. I can't help her out of her situation.

This time, I was feeling even more useless than before. Because I am emotionally drained myself. A part of me is worrying about her, and the other big part of me is still traumatised by what happened on bus 74. I don't wish to approach Jianeng too much for fear that it would affect her revision for Alevels. And I won't tell mei too, cos she's worn out herself. So what I do now is to grit my teeth hard, put up an emotional battle by trying to put my troubles aside and help her get through hers. Sometimes when you get busy helping others you won't have time to think about your own troubles. So I did that. But that didnt last too long. By 1am, I was already so tired I couldn't continue to put up with a strong front. Jianeng once told me what Buddha said: "To help others, you've got to help yourself out first." Buddha's right.

It was immense heartache to leave a emotionally-beaten soul alone, but this time there's really nothing left of me that could keep me going on. So I decided to leave everything as it is, and go to bed. But no matter how hard I try, I just couldn't get to sleep. Each time I'm alone...no, maybe all the time, almost every single minute, I'll be thinking about - that thing.

First, the scene on bus 74 just keeps appearing in my head. When I finally stopped myself from thinking about it, the scene of me receiving my blood tgroup results will appear in my head next. And then there'll be a flashback of all my past 19 years of life lived so far, my childhood. I really don't know whether this will happen every night...but at least for these two nights I have been crying myself to sleep.

It is 9am now on bus 151, and I'm on my way to school for organic chem lecture. Crowded bus as usual. I better stop crying to avoid attracting attention. So I guess I should stop writing at least for now. Maybe I'll continue tomorrow.

-----End of entry-----

Wuzhen? [1]

For the exact one year that passed, I went through a series of events that taught me great lessons...however I have never had the chance to blog about it, little courage to share it, and due to some reasons I couldn't just tell everyone about it. Now, one year later, I'm transferring secret diary entries that were manually written down somewhere in a notebook of mine, all here. My only intention of sharing things so deep from my heart, is just so to inspire and encourage anyone who has a similar situation, or if not, are also caught in some other life's greatest wreckages.

-----Written 8/10/2008-----

Wu Zhen? Where do I come from? I used to think this is a stupid question, but now I no longer. I find myself asking a lot of questions in my head. Where am I from? Does it mean I have no kin if all these were to be true? Half of me still constantly attempts to convince myself that some error occurred with the bloodtest, or samples were mixed up by chance. But the possibility of that happening is... just too insignificant.

A couple of months ago, December last year, I represented SIngapore at the East Asia Youth Leadership Form held at Thailand. National Youth Council needed our blood groups, so I went for a blood test as I didn't know of mine. Results came out and I'm a B, rhesus positive (B+). How can that ever be possible? My mum is an O+, my dad's an A+. From my knowledge of blood group alleles, my mum should have only recessive O alleles and my dad's either double A alleles or 1A 1O. Where did my B allele come from?

Up till that point in time, I only had one argument to substantiate the suspicion that they aren't my biological parents. That is - something must have gone wrong in the labs. One of us must have a wrong blood test result. I only had this argument that supports the suspicion. So I just dismissed that ridiculous thought.

Confrontation? Yes, I did approach my mum about it a few times. Although she seemed a little shaky for the few times I confronted her, I choose to believe her, that I really was born from her womb. There was once where I went quite deep into our conversation. I questioned alot. And my mum gave me an answer that wasn't very clear. She said this: "Aiya it doesn't matter right, as long as I dote on you, doesn't matter whether you're my real daughter or not." I got a little more suspicious, for I could feel my mum's statements losing their usual persuasiveness.

I approached a few people about this - and no one could give me an explanation to the part about the allelic differences.

Just yesterday, while I was on my way home from NJC (I went back to visit after my module lessons ended), on bus 74, I bumped into this wanton mee uncle whom I have known for many many years since young. The market which was once my second home will soon be demolished, so most of the stall vendors have moved out to other markets/hawker centres, including this wanton mee uncle. We were talking about the market, the stalls, and then he went on to talk about my parents - telling my about how long they have been working and it's been 30 years of tending the fruitstall.

Then, he said something that really sent me shaking from spine down. He told me I was bought with $$money, or adopted, and that my parents are not my biological ones. I could feel myself shaking from inside. It was just too, overwhelming. That was a crowded bus during the evening off-work hours, where passengers were standing only inches away...and he was talking very loudly. Everyone around us were listening to our conversation, whether they want it or not. The uncle sounded so convincing that no matter how affirmed I seem, I just couldn't help but feel that this is all so true. What a coincidence, to meet someone who told me everything about my past, just when I was still having doubts about things... just when I was thinking about our incompatible blood types...

-----End of entry-----

Dr. Roland Su

Dr Roland Su is a senior physics lecturer - and hence is someone I have never been taught by this 3 semesters in NUS. Not a person who would frequently knock at the doors of professors, I am not particularly close to any teaching staff in school. But still, I came across a small handful of really student-centred professors in the Faculty of Science. Compared to a big pool of those who are not, these profs really do stand out, and one of them is none other than Dr Roland Su.

My only contact with him was at my student exchange interview. It was a competitive interview with 12 interviewees and 5 interviewers including himself. Dr Su is himself the associate dean for International Student Exchange, the advisor for a residence in NUS, one of the founders of NUS High School...and with all these highest accolades he had never pitted himself at a higher level than his students. Sometimes I'll see him around S16 building at Science, with his wife and his young kids only around 5-year-old. He knows how to enjoy life's simplest pleasures and the last thing I heard from him was at the interview when he mentioned about some vietnamese food he's particularly in love with and would want to go there soon to try it again.

All of a sudden 2 days ago, Dr Roland Su died in the gym in NUS. I couldn't believe it when I saw the email from the science dean's office.

Memories and Condolences

Straits Times

After knowing of my successful interview results there were many occasions where I wanted to just go and thank him personally. Many times I see him walk past s16 or the canteen but I just decided to approach him next time - I thought I would definitely meet him again for many more times with issues regarding the exchange procedures. In the end, my word of thanks is still kept here, with me.

Dr Roland Su lived benefiting the lives of many - giving opportunities to whoever's ready to embrace them, and that included me. He died teaching me a lesson - don't ever keep your word of thanks to yourself for too long. In fact, don't ever try to keep it - or you may have to just keep it with you forever... and live to regret.

i miss octave

taken at Peiyi Exc 2007. my favourite octave photo does not have peiwen inside =( as well as pj, se, jane, th, hh...

I am missing days in NJ...ALOT...

I also miss the Golden Rooster eating place in Coronation plaza - no -- i forgot, according to Guohui and I, should be "Laughing Rooster" instead. Haha forgot why we came up with that... people do alot of funny things during those school-uniform days XD Sometimes when I pass by coro on 151 I really felt like getting down for lunch at "Laughing Rooster" but then I have never done it cos I know it'll feel so different having a meal there without the same group of people around but alone.

I miss Octave. :\