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"You will probably never walk again!" the doctor said. Somehow the doctor's words did not come as a surprise. It was more of a confirmation of my fears. The lethal jump into the swimming pool had fractured my neck with devastating results.
Though I was conscious while in the water, my whole body was paralysed. The first thought that rushed through my mind was that I was going to die. Images of my family, my friends and my life racked my brains as I prepared to drown. Fortunately, or should I say, unfortunately, the colleagues who were with me managed to drag me out of the pool. There are times when I rather wished that they had not.
In the hospital, my condition gradually improved. I was able to turn my head a little but the pain throbbed with each movement. During the second week I started to have feelings in my shoulders and was able to give it a shrug. As my arms began to regain some sensation and move a little, I was really hopeful that all would be well, but I did not get any better. My fingers remained stiff and still. From the chest downwards, there were no sensory and motor nerves functioning, which means no feelings and no mobility. I became, using the medical term for it, a tetraplegic.
A physiotherapist in the hospital, whom I lovingly addressed as 'my physical terrorist' because of the firm way in which she made me exercise, helped me very much with her advice though I did not appreciate her words at that time.
"Look ahead. Think of the things that can be done instead of those that cannot. Being disabled is not being unable. Not handicapped, but handicapable" the physiotherapist said. "Easier said that done." I grumpily replied.
Being an architectural draftsman means I will never return to my trade, as holding a pencil is now beyond my capability. For someone who cannot comb his own hair, feed himself, take a bath, dress up etc., the possibility of gainful employment is certainly too much to ask.
One of the most infuriating and exasperatingly embarassing problems is incontinence. The total loss of control in urinating and bowel movements had led me to wet myself whenever the plastic bag that I wore became dislodged. Diarrhea is a 'mess in the pants' story that can never be adequately described. It has led me to be extremely careful about what I eat and to ration my water intake whenever I go out.
My family, especially my parents could not come to terms with this tragedy. Till today, more than six years later, they have yet to accept and believe the doctor's diagnosis. To see the hopes and aspirations they had placed in the future of their son crushed so suddenly was more than they could bear. They sought whatever help they could find. Any introduction from well-meaning relatives and friends to temple mediums or Chinese 'sinsehs' were grabbed at. The tally at the last count is more than 30 temple mediums and over 40 Chinese physicians some of whom were charlatans, quacks and outright swindlers looking for a fast buck.
The temple 'tangkis' or mediums, sinsehs, Malay bomohs and geomancers who treated me have cost almost a whole life's saving. 'Justice Pao', 'Monkey God' and 'Ji Gong' among many others have all come to see me. The oriental medicine that I consumed include snake guts, earthworms, bat wings, bees, cockroaches, frogskins, tortoises and other unmentionables. Concoctions of these exotic mixtures of different textures and various colours - black, brown, grey, red, yellow and even green, were gulped down with as much speed as humanly possible, and sometimes vomited out just as quickly. The stench from these herbal soup rivals the smell from any garbage collecting vehicle of the Environment Ministry.
In addition to these were the western medicines which I took. Each day, more than fifty tablets of assorted colours, shapes and sizes, which I learned were vitamins, laxatives, painkillers and antibiotics were ingested into my bloodstream. My three month stay in hospital meant that a staggering total of about 5000 pills were taken. This led to a joke that, with all the medicine inside my blood, a drink of it would lead to immortality, equivalent to consuming the flesh of the monk in the ancient Chinese fable, 'Journey to the west'.
One of my main worries was money. Though relatives and friends helped quite a lot, it would have been so much more satisfying to make my own dough. The words of a social worker have stayed in my mind. The things that I am able to do proved to be more than expected.
The ability to give tuition was a beginning. Being an 'A' student in English gave me the courage to give lessons in this subject. It was, nevertheless, a laborious task that left me exhausted.
I started to sell souvenirs, then stickers and then it was Christmas cards. The telephone soon became an inseparable part of me, as it is the medium in which I do most of my work. Soon there were other opportunities to sell bric-a-brac. I became a middle man, a sort of broker, to introduce friends to other friends for services like bridal make-up and hairdressings, printing and taking orders for cookies and cakes during the festive seasons. The commissions earned from all these services were small, but it help to boost my self-confidence.
I found myself doing copywriting work and writing articles for magazines. I learnt word-processing using a borrowed personal computer which helped greatly my "single-stroke" typing. With a gadget attached to the palm of my hand, typing on the computer keyboard at 15 wpm was easier than banging on the manual typewriter at 10 wpm.
With all these, an offer was made for me to design Christmas cards in partnership project with a printing firm. My flair for English and a technical drawing background came in handy for such a venture. The sales of the cards were so successful that a second series of cards was embarked on two years later. A third series is not being planned.
Life insurance sales was another avenue of income. I passed the Singapore Insurance Training Centre examinations at the first attempt. But my physical restrictions have taken their toll in this field where going out to meet clients is a vital element to ensure policy sales. I did not even earn enough to be taxed!
The latest happening in my life is becoming a student member of the Mouth and Foot Painting Artists Singapore Pte Ltd. Painting is therapeutic for me and is something that I have always wanted to learn. It is again a test of patience, as drawing with a brush held in the mouth has its share of frustrations. I am learning to be an artist with the stipends that MFPA have granted. It is an opportunity to develop a home-based vocation which will offer me financial independence with regular income.
It has been a very hard six years! Adjusting to my limitations is a trying experience. I have to get used to lying in the bed all day, my family members having to bathe and remove my urine and stools time and time again. Watching and waiting is the name of the game. Patience is one of the tools and humour the weapon, against going crazy and recurring thoughts of suicidal inclinations. My escape is to direct and drive my thoughts and energy towards doing productive and perhaps profitable things. I cannot help being a physical burden to my family, but I will strive against being a financial burden. To be able to give a few dollars to my mother eases my sense of helplessness and hopelessness. I hope to do more than that eventually. As for now, life goes on.
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