Knee-deep in pain

I have not been well for close to two weeks now. It is not so much that I've been in denial about this ailment, but more because I was trying my best not to let it get to me.

I had thought by doing so the pain would slowly dissipate.

But in this particular case of mind over matter, I had been proven wrong. It hasn't got any better.

Two Saturdays ago, we stopped for our customary mall jaunt in The Gardens following a lunch date at my parents' place. Sadia was sleeping on my lap at the back seat of the car when the car pulled into a spot in the basement parking. As I wiggled my way out of the seat while holding onto a sleeping toddler, something snapped inside my right knee. Dismissing it as just another muscle twist, I went out and walked towards the carpark's entrance.

My walk however slowed and came to a complete stop as soon as I reached inside of the automatic door. I practically screamed for my husband who had already walked ahead with the empty buggy when any further movement proved to be excruciating. I was writhing in pain.

We usually walk fast in any crowded areas such as this carpark's ticket payment booth in order to avoid Sadia from waking up. Luckily Sadia didn't stir when I hollered for hubby.

I asked him to carry Sadia instead as I tried to regain my footing, so to speak. The pain crept down from the right knee to the foot, thus causing me to hold my breath. We decided to forgo eating in Chilis which was farther away from our parking spot near to the Cold Storage supermarket and sat down at Italiannies instead.

The pain subsided for a bit when we sat down to eat but resumed as soon as we started walking toward Borders, the bookstore. And the crunch (pun intended) came when I proceeded to sit on the floor with Sadia for this interactive kid song-and-dance demo. I couldn't make a slightest move without grimacing in pain. I couldn't even come to a standing position when Sadia bawled her eyes out when the super-chirpy lady asked all the kids to scream. Fortunately, Yayah came to the rescue. It took me quite a while to bring myself up.

We stopped by the neighbourhood clinic on the way back home to Ampang. The familiar loudmouthed doctor had the gall to suggest losing weight as the solution to my knee pain. He attributed it to being overweight for this unexpected pang. I was more disturbed that he came to this conclusion only after I told him what had transpired and before physically checking my knee.

I admit that my weight has gone up considerably, but I wouldn't say that it is a gross increase. After debating with him about the BMI calculation, I shot back "Aren't you also overweight then?" He readily admitted to this obvious fact and that he's constantly using a muscle relaxant to combat his back and leg problems. He offered me the same, along with some painkillers.

The next day my hubby left for Saigon on official business while Sadia and I moved into my parents' place. I had thought the pain would go away on its own. After weighing the truth of the doctor's prognosis, I decided to perform some mild exercises - walking up and down the stairs several times. As it turned out, the pain became worse.

Subsequently, my mom thought that it must be some angin or loose wind trapped inside my knee cap and asked me to use her hand-held electronic massager to rid my knee of angin. Desperate for any quick fixes, I utilised the machine. Yet, I didn't feel any better. On the contrary, the knee area throbbed and turned swollen. So much for self-diagnosis and home remedy!

When hubby came home on the previous week's Wednesday, we dropped by the swanky clinic in KLCC for a different opinion. I was given some herb capsules and a gauze bandage to wrap the fragile knee in place. All the walking that I'd done only caused the pain to be more severe. The pain travelled up to my right buttock and down to the sole of my right feet.

We even went to the KLCC clinic again on Saturday morning with the possibility of getting my right leg x-rayed. However, the doctor didn't feel the need to do so since my knee wasn't crackling like a typical arthritic condition. If the same doctor that I'd seen were on duty that day, she would have administered the x-ray.

I feel sorry for my left leg having to bear the burden as the right side continues to be in state of suspension. By the by, a more 'feasible' explanation for this sudden spasm of pain is that I always carry Sadia using my left hand. (Turns out, I'm left-handed by nature, but that's another story) In other words, the transference of extra weight on the left side of my body 'carried' a physical toll on my right side as it tried in vain to find a point of equilibrium.

Last Tuesday serves as a final straw for me when walking turned cumbersome and laborious after I drove from Ampang to Kota Damansara to let Sadia play with her cousins. With a clingy toddler who 'prefers' to be carried around as and when she needs reassurance, I can't afford to lose my mobility. However, Sadia has somewhat grasped the gravity of the situation. 'Mama sakit knee' she would remark and asked for Yayah to carry her.

This persistent pain is by turns draining my strength and inducing me to cry. Now and then, I reminded myself that others have suffered worse ordeals and I should be thankful for whatever I have. In the midst of this self-inflicted misery, I came to the knowledge that a fellow Facebooker and a former Primary (Elementary) School friend passed away the previous week's Tuesday in a car accident and left behind two daughters and a husband (Please see here for details). That in itself kept me grounded and jolted me into a realisation that life is far too short to mope around.

So last night, as a final attempt to get a move on with my life, I pleaded for a reference letter to see an orthopedic specialist from the same neighbourhood clinic . Since the beguiled doctor on duty couldn't accurately diagnose me ( I didn't have any fever so it couldn't be septic arthritis, he said), he assented to my request.

We will see how things pan out from thereon. In the meantime, let's hope and pray I get well soon.

The Trouble With Love is...

Let's see, what shall I write about this time. I have many issues percolating in my head - Anwar, Obama, ISA - but I'm too tired to do my thorough homework on them lest some zealots shoot me down for my inconsistencies or lack of patriotism.

I'm writing this from my parents' house since the other half is out of the country again for business. Luckily, he's not gone for long this time.

The Anwar case is getting on my nerves while Obama's rise to success piques my interest. ISA is the kind of legislation that we can do without in this day and age, considering how it has been abused in some politically-charged instances. I won't pretend to be well-versed, nor feign an interest in politics since I have better things to do than watch a battle of nerves between old, bitter men. And what I mean by old here is having reached one's puberty.

However, since I'm getting 'old' myself - not in the physical kind but in the responsible-adult-kind - I must at least hold a semblance of interest in some things politics.

Before I veer off topic again, I found this gem of an article in the New York Times online which describes love lessons in interesting economic terms.

My favourite analogies are:

• In general, and with rare exceptions, the returns in love situations are roughly proportional to the amount of time and devotion invested.
  
  I duly believe in this mantra. Not only does it work for love, it also applies to other realms of your life like work and spirituality. However, some cynics might counter that the amount of time you slog off at work does not necessarily commensurate in monetary terms. In such a case, it is not the job you should be doing anyway! To paraphrase a quote, "Money is not everything especially if you love doing what you do".


• In every long-term romantic situation, returns are greater when there is a monopoly. If you have to share your love with others, if you have to compete even after a brief while with others, forget the whole thing.
  
  How true. I remember a guy friend who was chasing this gorgeous girl with a string of other admirers lining up. He bemoaned the fact that he won't stand a chance to win her heart even after he thought he had played his cards right. He had been Mr. Nice, but that was apparently not 'good' enough. Alas, he removed himself from the battle line lest he would be permanently scarred and bitter from an unrequited love.


• The returns on your investment should at least equal the cost of the investment. If you are getting less back than you put in over a considerable period of time, back off.
  
  While this is true for the most parts, I must reiterate the 'cost' involved may not always be financial in nature, but could also count time and emotions as their cost. I believe in the sincerity of the hearts and that in itself will pay out in the end.


• Long-term investment pays off. The impatient day player will fare poorly without inside information or market-controlling power.
  
  Indulging in 'fast love' would only eat you up in the long-run as you fail to stick your guns when it comes to the 'fundamentals' and 'intrinsic value' of love. Standing by your man/woman in all sorts of weather, so to speak, reaps a bountiful reward.


• When you have a winner, stick with your winner. Whether in love or in the stock market, winners are to be prized.
  
  That, ladies and gentlemen, is a no-brainer.

Read the article in full for other fun economics take on love. The rules are not earth-shattering by any means; but by providing an insight to the obvious, they are reminders of things we often neglect when juggling the various roles in our lives.

Dominant vs. Recessive

The heavens have opened and aided in cooling the temperature inside the home. Except for the present cicak (gecko) problem scuttling on my floor, the apartment looks very much lived in. There's a large cardboard box in the living room with its own cut-out roof and window where Sadia plays house with either one of us or her platoon of soft toys.

Toys are strewn on strategic corners of the living room, but mostly dwell in the guest cum toy room. The TV shows its typical black screen, indicating no Astro (Cable) reception as the rain continues pummeling down to earth.

The quietude that has lay in its wake calms my frayed nerves somewhat which badly need some kind of intervention or diversion, or both. Despite the cold ambiance, sleep eludes me as my mind tries to uncouple itself from incessant worries. Perhaps, if I just close my eyes, peaceful slumber will overtake me.

---------------------------------------

My mother asked me when Sadia and I were staying with her last week whether Sadia is more afraid of me, or her dad. I couldn't give a definite answer, at least fast enough to convince her. I had wanted to say she's more afraid of her Yayah, but then there were moments when I struck the fear in her. So I ended up saying it is the former, but my lack of conviction proved otherwise to her. In parenting, she firmly believes that a child must fear one of his parents so as he would think twice before acting out of line. While this principle is great in theory, I have a problem emulating this parenting style. I feel if a child recoils from one parent, she would end up distancing herself from that parent. Instead of cultivating a close relationship with said parent, they would be more like strangers to one another. Something that hits closer to home.

I think what my mom had wanted to convey here is that the 'fear factor' equates to commendable respect for said parent. A feeling that engenders humility and obedience comes from a great, wholesome upbringing. A child should want to avoid misbehaving out of embarrassment for her parent(s), not because of being fearful of the consequences. However, for toddlers, I suppose the more effective and least confusing route of invoking fear is preferred to get them to toe the line.

Somehow the thought of putting the fear of God into one's child compels me to draw comparison to that of a marriage. Must one need to fear one's husband (or wife, if it strikes your fancy) in order to attain a harmonious relationship? Again, I think some people still mix fear up with respect. Mistaking the former for the latter, or vice versa.

While respect has to be earned, fear is an automatic reflex that occurs once the other person demonstrates his might - verbally or physically. In other words, it takes a long time for respect to evolve whereas a short-term frequency defines fear.

This brings me to a line of thought - a familiar refrain, if you will - that there has to be a dominant half and a recessive half for a marriage to work. The dominant partner will exert his influence and behaviour on the recessive partner who will succumb to his (or her) commands. The recessive partner's signature traits will be suppressed in the process, thus making way for a different psyche to emerge.

Whether it is to her detriment or her benefit is a different story altogether. For instance, I was surprised to discover that a strong-willed, self-possessed friend turned squishy and subservient following her nuptials. And there's one who became more frugal (read : penny-pinching) once getting hitched to an equally thrifty partner. On the positive side, one partner who was wild and crude was transformed into a docile creature under the 'tutelage' of a patient half.

To be sure, there are many permutations to this personality make-over which arose from a marriage, be it good or bad. One cannot expect to remain the same old person after undergoing one of life's important rites of passage. In essence, you are the same person, but certain behaviours will either be stymied or replicated for the sake of one's marriage (or if you will, one's peace of mind).

Again, I have a problem when people start pigeonholing a married couple into one that is dominant and another recessive. Naturally, that is what comes to one's mind upon seeing these people in action, especially when such a change is so glaring. It's part of human nature, I guess, to hastily draw a conclusion.

Instead of these labels, I suggest that we look to other more appealing adjectives, like sacrifice and compromise. After all, they are synonymous with the concept of marriage. That way, when one looks at a seemingly subservient wife or a outwardly submissive husband, one would keep those undue thoughts in check for there are many secret ingredients and controlling agents to whip up a great marriage.

For the sanctity of one's marriage, I believe some changes are better than never.

While The Husband's Away

The other half has been out of town since late last Friday night. Predictably, I had a considerable misgiving about having to hold the fort alone in the interim.

Despite the fact that we both know this day would come sooner or later, I was not at all pleased when it came knocking on my door. His new position entails travelling, at least initially (I hope) as he needs to tie some loose ends and configure a firm plan for action.

This is different from the days when there were just the two of us. I could just pack my bags and stay at my parents when he was away overseas. Now with a toddler in tow, I have to execute my plans in a better frame of mind and with (almost) perfect timing. The former refers to my tendency to be overemotional whilst the latter relies on Sadia being a creature of habit. I simply cannot afford to indulge in my 'boohoohoo' moments since Sadia would take a bulk of my free time - more so as the hubby is not available at night to take over - and my reprieve only comes when Sadia abides by her routine which, as far as toddler standard goes, is noncommittal.

This six-day trip marks the first time my husband is away from us as a family unit. While he attended classes in The Netherlands, the arrangement was fine with me as he did get to come back to check on us once in a while, like during lunch break or in between classes. At times, he even skipped having dinner with the classmates just so he could spend time with us. Bless him.

Oh no. My bad. He was away twice during my confinement, but I didn't mind that much since Sadia was, on hindsight, relatively easier to handle back then.

So, this signals his first time abroad after coming back from the honeymooning year in Holland.

As wont, I felt apprehensive having to be left on my own to take care of Sadia, despite staying at my parents' for the most part of the duration. But Sadia turned out to be on the whole cooperative with me; our long drive from Ampang to Kota Damansara together was somewhat smooth. She even asked me on few occasions "What's wrong Mama?" whenever I looked sad or stressed out. Bless her.

With husband coming back tomorrow God willing, the following are some observations that I've made from this whole experience :

1. It is possible to fit one set of parents, a brother, two nephews and a niece in one's small apartment when one (and one's sanity) is more than willing to share the same cramped space.


2. Acute lack of sleep doesn't give you the license to unleash your anger on a toddler, or an unsuspecting waiter.


3. It is possible to leave your ostensibly clingy toddler with your mom and her cousin(s) to play while you go about your chores, once the toddler grows accustomed to these people.


4. Imploring a toddler to eat her food is like trying to turn stone into gold.


5. Never underestimate the energizer-bunny power of one's toddler who could go on for a long period without food when she is preoccupied at play with her cousin.


6. Don't ask me how but this nomadic existence somehow helps in shedding a few kilos (or less optimistically, a few pounds). Must be all the running around the places.


7. Catching up with old friends over coffee has a more copacetic ring to it when the toddler sleeps throughout most of the tête-à-tête. Thanks Eng for the skinny latte and the barrel of laughs. :P


8. It is possible to keep your emotions in check in the presence of responsibilities and priorities as a mother. Dwelling on the empty space on a spacious bed or the pangs of loneliness won't take you anywhere.


9. This brief distance apart also serves as a time of reflection on one's marriage and the things one has taken for granted and one can improve in this union. (Trust me to romanticise this short stay)
   

With almost a week behind me, surprisingly I feel fully recharged and raring to go. As Michael Bublé intones in Home :

Let me go home
I’m just too far from where you are
I wanna come home

My Mode Evolution

Now that I'm more or less out of my doldrums, let's move on to a more sanguine topic.

The July edition of Instyle magazine plays homage to a woman's personal style. The featured article centers on our style profile which roughly falls under the following five categories : (a) The Naturalist, (b) The Bombshell, (c) The Sophisticate, (d) The Trendster and (e) The Romantic.

After tabulating the 22-question fun quiz, I am predictably bobbling around The Romantic spectrum. Unfortunately, this means my fashion sensibility lies in ruffles, bows and floral patterns. While I have dabbled in some ruffles during my lifetime, I'd need some convincing trying the bows. Well, you never know.....

But, I am guilty as charged when it comes to florally-infused fabric. To say I have a propensity towards the floral is in itself an understatement. I live for and thrive on flowery design. More specifically, I am so gullible when it comes to floral skirts.

Yes, skirts. Skirts of epic proportions. Not those mini or micro-mini, just long-ish or maxi ones that would suitably hide a multitude of sins. I love the Flowy Flowery concoctions - paisley notwithstanding - more than I do wearing a pair of pants. Yes, it has gone to that extent.

But it has not always been that way. Long, long ago when I was an addlebrained teenager, I wouldn't be caught dead wearing one. I was a bit rough around the edges, which euphemistically speaking, I was a tomboy.

However, I am not one of those full-fledged tomboys who sport a crop and disdain everything feminine. I still read Jane Austen and anything of its ilk. It is safe to say I have yet to find an identity that is aligned with my (then) inhibited personality.

Another stumbling block to my road of 'skirtification' was my perceived big body size which hampered any desire to put on a lovely skirt. For some reason, I didn't like my thighs rubbing against one another back then. I attribute it to being self-conscious about my body size and the fact my gait changed as soon as I hopped into a skirt.

Subsequently, the mostly meat-less (and non-Malaysian, I might add) diet, long walks to college and caffeine dependence saw me losing some weight while studying in the States. I was more than ready to try on the skirts that I'd been eyeing at the mall. :)

After that moment, I never looked back. I would hoard anything that remotely resembles a floral skirt. Yet, since working life prevented me from sashaying one at the office, I had to make do with neutrals like black, black and black. I do admit that at times I defy convention and wear some at work, especially after I left the short-lived banking stint.

When we were staying in Holland, I found myself being assailed by aesthetically-pleasing floral skirts especially during the Spring/Summer season (It's just impractical to wear skirts in the winter, even with woolen tights). My favourite one is the Danish fashion line, Noa Noa, with its ultra-feminine cut and soothing pastel hues. Luckily by then, I had lost some of my pregnancy weight and was happy to wear some during our summer sojourns.

Now that I am back home in Malaysia with a mostly sedentary existence (the operative word here is MOSTLY) and a myriad of halal meat and other food to choose from, I realise that I couldn't care less about the rubbed thighs more than I do about fitting into my beautiful flower powers again.

The reality and agony of slowed metabolism.

While my evolution from a fashion Dodo to a girly Confection might be a long-drawn, late-bloomer affair, I am nonetheless satisfied with the floriated results.

A hopeless romantic at heart and a guileless idealist, I'm truly in sync with my clothing style now. You could even say I'm comfortable in my own skin.

The Halo Effect

Almost everyone is inclined to believe that first impression matters a whole lot.

It's only human to fall into this sweeping generalisation. To be impressed on the first encounter calls for the crucial 3Ps - personality, physical beauty and that inimitable pizzazz.

Studies even show that people initially look at a person's attractiveness, even before considering her or his other traits, no matter how commendable or abominable they may be.

This Halo Effect - where our attractive quotient will explain away our other undesirable attributes - is especially important during interviews which require us to project our best possible selves to the prospective employer.

Once an impression is imprinted into another's mind, a sequence of expectations will take place with respect to the 'first trait' that stands out to said observer. For instance, a seemingly loquacious individual is expected to be at the forefront of social events and actively involved in public speaking initiatives. However, the person that we'd projected during an interview oftentimes falls short of the one we happen to be in real life. Ahh, the challenge of recruitment.

Of course, like beauty, attractiveness is in the eyes of the beholder. Come to think of it, (physical) beauty should be subsumed under the attractiveness category. Some people focus on the physical aspect of attraction, while others are attracted to one's comportment - the way one carries oneself which includes the clothes one chose to wear, body language, and superficial accents like accessories, make-ups and social connections. In some cases however, a larger-than-life personality pounces on you and trumps all the other more deserving qualities like, let's say, intelligence. Even so, what is one man's meat is another man's poison.

What's with this fixation with the Halo Effect, you might ask? Well, I'm just intrigued by the way people become easily swayed by the power of first impression and the consequences that follow from such an 'act.' Particularly, when it comes to making friends.

Since friends are supposed to stick by you through thick and thin, you have to weed out those who do not subscribe to the same philosophy. Those who run out the door as soon as the (emotional) alarm begins to ring. Those who would rather hover at the fringes of your life lest they have to defend your credibility. Such people exist, I'm afraid.

I, for one, was a sucker for those who are nice to me in any conceivable way. Experience has thought me that most often than not, they have a hidden agenda in mind. While I relished the attention that was given to me, I also imagined that we'd become the best of friends. When that person betrayed my trust for his or her career move for instance, I was beyond devastated. I'd drown myself in self-pity and wondered why did such an excruciating thing happen to me.

As a result, nowadays I am wary of the charade of niceties that assaults my senses. This in turn has transformed me to a person I loathe - prejudging others or second-guessing myself based on a person's treatment of me. Bitterness will only sour the flavours of an abundant life.

Someone wise once told me that it matters not whether this person is sincere or not, what's more important is that you are (sincere) and the rest is between this person and his Maker. How true. I always believe what goes around comes around.

Instead of harbouring possible ill thoughts towards those who approach me in friendship, I should just savour the rich tapestry of these relationships and take it one step at a time.

As for the Halo Effect that a person inadvertently emanates, with many years of experience behind me, I can rely on my gut instinct to plot the path to a better place where friendships are concerned.

What I've learned is that in the course of knowing a friend, always make sure that your expectations are reasonable and less than idealistic. That way, you won't be too disappointed if the new friend's oddities skew from your perception.

Making new friends are hard, especially at this age of mine.

Maintaining great friends that one has is even harder, I would think.

For now, I'm blessed with the ones I have or in the midst of having.