Snowdrops for Ike

     Just as I released a breath of relief, walking out of the building where I had given my case presentation, something on the ground caught my eye. This time it wasn’t shiny, the border was slightly irregular, but a coin nonetheless. Yes, a penny! Unwanted, ignored, but a precious treasure to people like me.

      The past 36 hours were difficult to go through. I was trying to improve the content of my presentation despite being in a low mood. Starting the rotations this year had pushed me out of my comfort zone where I have been feeling EXTREMELY uncomfortable. Therefore, seeing that penny smiling back at me, begging me to pick it up made my day. Finally, I received my reward! It’s a Friday at last, with the hardest bit of the day behind me now.

     My collection of British coins found on the ground started in my first year here in UK. And the whole thing began at 13, when I read a touching story (Lucky Penny) in Reader’s Digest in which a young boy was told by his grandmother to pick up coins that he spotted on the ground.

‘They bring luck’, she had said. Because no one has seen them except you. And you have to make a wish straight after and keep the coin. The wish will come true someday, she assured. I don’t really care if it’s true…because each time I pick one up, it gives a sense of well-being, that someone is watching over me. And I’m feeling fine again…

Pennies from Heaven (Author Unknown)

I found a penny today
just laying on the ground
But it’s not just a penny this
little coin I’ve found.
Found pennies come from
heaven thats what my Grandpa told me
He said Angels toss them down,
oh how I loved that story.
He said when an angel
misses you they toss a penny down.
Sometimes just to cheer you up
Make a smile out of your frown.
So don’t pass by that
penny when you’re feeling blue,
It may be a penny from Heaven that
an angel has tossed to you.

My collection so far..includes the 29th coin today =)

     ‘How are you, Ms Chung?‘, Mirabel would ask. Mirabel was my housemate last year, she was from Cameroon. I crave for that greeting now as I haven’t seen her for almost a year. Feeling a little guilty for not trying harder to keep in touch.

     So how am I at the moment? Not very well, I was pretty annoyed with myself earlier for taking 6 hours of nap, turning off my alarm clock without realizing it, and leaving my phone silent, causing Patrick to ring me 16 times. And now I’m wide awake at 3am, reflecting on my life so far.

     I met my counsellor, Pn Kasthuri, from college earlier and I haven’t seen her for about 3 years, since I left college in 2004. I was really excited, as she had made a great impact on my academic life a few years ago.

‘I remember you were in my office last time, thinking whether to do medicine or not?’, the first thing she said. I was hit, of course, I almost forgotten about that, but now it is all flashing back to me. How I knocked on her door so many times, disturbed her with my constant debate within myself and the troubles adjusting to college life, not having to live away from home before.

     And she mentioned also that my dad had rung her a few days before, just to say hi. I was surprised as he never told me that. And I also remember my dad had also ‘worked’ very hard during my 2 years in college. He was worried, concerned, and never failed to attend the Parents’ Day to keep in contact with my teachers. He never got anything more than ‘Iris is too quiet’, I guess. I am not sure, I didn’t want to be there so that my teachers could backstab me however they like.

     And sometimes, especially today, I miss my college life. I can say for sure, that it was the time i performed the best in academics (because there was no internet in my room), it was the time I actually had enough exercise every day with the sports centre so close by, and the swimming pool! yeah!

     I miss everything. The chalets. Resource Centre, Dining Room, Grand Hall with the piano in there. The uniform as well.

     Right now, I need to work harder. I don’t want my 2 years of effort in getting to UK go wasted just like that. Oh my teachers…Mr Vroege, Mr Amran, Mr Colin Dant, and…Dr Bano. Dr Bano, my tutor, had persuaded me to rise to the challenge, to reach for my personal best. How I would sit in front of her on Friday afternoons to unload my concerns and cry (when nobody else was around).

     And now I am here, with all the memories of college. The greatest times there with Nisa. My father, who never forgot my counsellor. I am touched with all the blessings. I hope I will feel guilty and humble enough to correct my mistakes, learn my lessons and simply, to become a better person.

    Recently, my mom gave a new nickname to my dad, Rok-ku. It means degeneration, aging, absent-minded, you’re-getting-old, anything along those lines. He’s only 55, but he’s been associated with all those when he’s starting to misplace his glasses. He doesn’t remember where he keeps my bank account book and has been searching for it a few years now. He has no recollection of my childhood, no memories of how i looked like then and the empty gap always fills him with guilt… and he always said to me, ‘I have not been there for you, where have i been in all those years you were growing up?‘. To which, I replied, ‘Dad, you’ve been there all the while, just that u don’t remember it. ‘

‘No..i remember when u were born, and the next moment, u’re this big!’

     Surely that was an exaggeration. Although it’s funny to laugh about his forgetfulness, I am worried the label will remain stuck on him. The Rok-ku label. ‘Your papa is getting rok-ku,’ my mom complained. And because of self-fulfilling prophecy, I am concerned my dad will allow himself to forget, allow himself to stop learning new skills.

‘Siau mei, nobody listens to me. Since you’re the youngest, you’re the only one who listens to my ramblings at the moment,’ he said. ‘But would you still sit down and listen to what I have to say if i really go rok-ku one day? When I don’t say things that make sense at all? Would you answer my repeated questions?‘

     I’ve across a few patients with dementia these months. There was one man in the nursing home who stays in bed all the time, unless he decides to roll off the bed during the night in his sleep. He has his mouth wide open and his eyes looked at his side all the time. No response to any triggers, any spoken words. And another old lady who sits in a wheelchair, with a difficulty of expressing herself. She couldn’t find the words to speak, but her eyes said it all when she reached for my hand to squeeze it, as if to say, ‘thanks for paying me a visit.’

     Of course, papa, I would. You have given me everything. As I stood there with the phone in my hand, I listened to my dad talking about the future. About having a library in the house, combining our books together to wow ourselves with. Me and him have a similarity, we buy books that we don’t read. My dad talked about doing what we used to do, eating ice-cream by the roadside. ‘Would you still do that with me after u’ve become a doctor? Would you buy me my favourite fruits even after i’ve gone rok-ku?‘

     But this man is far from becoming rok-ku! He intends to continue giving seminars after retirement (not too long from now). He gets more motivated after I told him the retirement age in UK is 65, 10 years older than his age now. A man who never fails to walk Ike every evening, who gives his wife a leg massage every night, who brings fruits to his daughter’s study room to freshen her up during a midnight revision.

     I love you, papa. Rok-ku, you are not! But for being a cute daddy who also pretends to bark, rok-ku seems to fit you for now. Hehe.