Don't Mess With The Elderly

a forwarded email ....

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HOW TO CALL THE POLICE WHEN YOU ARE OLD AND DON'T MOVE FAST ANYMORE

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George Phillips, an elderly man from Meridian, Mississippi, was going up to bed, when his wife told him that he left the light on in the garden shed, which she could see from the bedroom window.

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George opened the back door to go turn off the light, but saw that there were people in the shed stealing things.

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He phoned the police, who asked, "Is someone in your house?"

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He said, "No, but some people are breaking into my garden shed and stealing from me."

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The the police dispatcher said, "All patrols are busy. You should lock your doors and an officer will be along when one is available."

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George said, "Okay."

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He hung up the phone and counted 30. Then he phone the police again.

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"Hello, I just called you a few seconds ago because there were people stealing things from my shed. Well, you don't have to worry about them now because I just shot them." And he hung up.

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Within five minutes, six police cars, a SWAT team, a helicopter, two fire trucks, a paramedic, and an ambulance showed up at the Phillips' residence and caught the burglars red-handed.

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One of the policemen said to George, "I thought you said you'd shot them!"

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George said, "I thought you said there was nobody available!"

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Moral of the Story - Don't mess with old people. They don't need a gun to do this!

Sharks In Our Lives

a forwarded email ....

The Japanese have always loved fresh fish. But the waters close to Japan have not held many fish for decades. So to feed the Japanese population, fishing boats got bigger and went further than ever. The further the fishermen went, the longer it took to bring in the fish. If the return trip took more than a few days, the fish were not fresh. The Japanese did not like the taste.

To solve this problem, fishing companies installed freezers on their boats. They would catch the fish and freeze them at sea. Freezers allow the boats to go further and stay longer. however, the Japanese could taste the difference between fresh and frozen and they did not like frozen fish.

The frozen fish brought a lower price. So fishing companies installed fish tanks. They would catch the fish and stuff them in the tanks. After a little thrashing around, the fish stopped moving. They were tired and dull, but alive. Unfortunately, the Japanese could still taste the difference. Because the fish did not move for days, they lost their fresh-fish taste.

The Japanese preferred the lively taste of fresh fish, not sluggish fish.

So how did the Japanese fishing companies solve this problem? How do they get fresh-tasting fish to Japan? If you were consulting the fish industry, what would you recommend?

HOW JAPANESE FISH STAY FRESH

To keep the fish tasting fresh, the Japanese fishing companies still put the fish in the tanks. But now they add a small shark to each tank. The shark eats a few fish, but most of the fish arrive in a very lively state. The fish are challenged.

Have you realised that some of us are also living in a pond but most of the time tired and dull? We need a shark in our lives to keep us awake and moving.

Basically in our lives, sharks are new challenges to keep us active and taste better ... the more intelligent, persistent and competent you are, the more you enjoy a challenge.

If your challenges are the correct size, and if you are steadily conquering those challenges, you are a Conqueror. You think of your challenges and get energized. You are excited to try new solutions. you have fun! You are alive!

RECOMMENDATIONS FOR US:

1- Instead of avoiding challenges, jump into them. Enjoy the game. If your challenges are too large or too numerous, do not give up. Failing makes you tired. Instead, recognize, find more determination, more knowledge, more help.

2- God didn't promise days without pain, laughter without sorrow, sun without rain, but he did promise strength for the day, comfort for the tears and light for the way.

3- Disappointments are like road bumps, they slow you down a bit but you enjoy the smooth road afterwards... don't stay on the bumps too long. Move on!

4- When you feel down because you didn't get what you want, just sit tight and be happy, because God has thought of something better to give you. When something happens to you, good or bad, consider what it means. There's a purpose to life's events , to teach you how to laugh more and not to cry too hard.

5- No one can go back and make a brand new start. But anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.

The Son

a forwarded e-mail .............

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A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art.

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When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war. He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.

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About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.

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He said, 'Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly. He often talked about you, and your love for art.' The young man held out this package. 'I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this.'

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The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting. The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the young man and offered to pay him for the picture. 'Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift.'

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The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.

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The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.

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On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. 'We will start the bidding with this picture of the son. Who will bid for this picture?'

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There was silence.

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Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, 'We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one.'

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But the auctioneer persisted. 'Will somebody bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?'

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Another voice angrily. 'We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Gogh's, the Rembrandts. Get on with the Real bids!'

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But still the auctioneer continued. 'The son! The son! Who'll take the son?'

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Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. 'I'll give $10 for the painting..' Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.
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'We have $10, who will bid $20?'
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'Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters.'

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The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son. They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.

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The auctioneer pounded the gavel. 'Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!'

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A man sitting on the second row shouted, 'Now let's get on with the collection!'

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The auctioneer laid down his gavel. 'I'm sorry, the auction is over.'

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'What about the paintings?'

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'I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings.

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The man who took the son gets everything!'

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God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on the cross. Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: 'The son, the son, who'll take the son?'

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Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.

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FOR GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD HE GAVE HIS ONLY BEGOTTEN SON, WHO SO EVER BELIEVETH, SHALL HAVE ETERNAL LIFE...THAT'S LOVE

Tenjewberrymuds

You will understand what 'tenjewberrymuds' means by the end of the conversation. This piece of conversation has been nominated for the best email of 2007.

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The following is a telephone conversation between a hotel guest and room-service, at a hotel in Asia, which was recorded and published in the Far East Economic Review:

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Room Service (RS): "Morrin. - Roon sirbees."
Guest (G): "Sorry, I thought I dialed room-service."
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RS: " Rye ..Roon sirbees..morrin! Jewish to oddor sunteen??"
G: "Uh..yes.I'd like some bacon and eggs."
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RS: "Ow July den?"
G: "What??"
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RS: "Ow July den?...pryed, boyud, poochd?"
G : "Oh, the eggs! How do I like them? Sorry, scrambled please."
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RS: "Ow July dee baykem? Crease?"
G: "Crisp will be fine."
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RS : "Hokay. An Sahn toes?"
G: "What?"
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RS:"An toes. July Sahn toes?"
G: "I don't think so."
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RS: "No? Judo wan sahn toes??"
G: "I feel really bad about this, but I don't know what 'judo wan sahn toes' means."
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RS: "Toes! toes!...Why jew don juan toes? Ow bow Anglish moppin we bodder?"
G: "English muffin!! I've got it! You were saying 'Toast.' Fine. Yes, an English muffin will be fine."

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RS: "We bodder?"
G: "No...just put the bodder on the side."
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RS: "Wad! ?"
G: "I mean butter...just put it on the side."
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RS: "Copy?"
G: "Excuse me?"
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RS: "Copy...tea...meel?"
G: "Yes. Coffee, please, and that's all."
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RS: "One Minnie. Scramah egg, crease baykem, Anglish moppin w bodder on sigh and copy....rye??"
G: "Whatever you say."
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RS: "Tenjewberrymuds."
G : "You're very welcome."

Low Cholesterol Levels Increases Cancer Risk

A forwarded email ...........

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American College of Cardiology

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For years, I've been telling my patients that the medical establishment' s obsession with lowering cholesterol to prevent heart disease is causing more harm than good.

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If your doctor continues to get you worried about your high cholesterol levels, here's a bit of news for you...

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In fact, your high cholesterol may be protecting you from cancer.
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Today, I'll explain the truth behind the myth of cholesterol, and show you how to achieve heart health naturally.
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A new study published in the Journal of the American College of Cardiology revealed that driving down cholesterol levels actually increases the risk of cancer.
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Researchers at the Tufts University School of Medicine found that among people taking "statin" drugs - like Lipitor and Zocor - there was a higher rate of cancer. Although the link between the drugs and cancer wasn't clear, there was no doubt that drastically low cholesterol levels correlated to cancer risk.
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The big drug makers continue to sell the notion that the best way to fight heart disease is to lower LDL levels, the so-called "bad" cholesterol.
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Yet 75 percent of people who suffer heart attacks have normal cholesterol levels.
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It makes sense that low cholesterol levels are linked to cancer because cholesterol is one of your body's basic building blocks. You need it to produce testosterone, to build and repair cell membranes, and to preserve your nerve cells through the formation of the protective "sheaths" that cover them.
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Starving your body of this critical substance will lead to other health problems. We already know that extremely low cholesterol levels result in muscle weakness, fatigue, depression, decreased sex drive, and "brain fog."
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This new research shows that there may be even more deadly consequences.
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What really matters is not low "bad" cholesterol, but high levels of HDL, the so-called "good" cholesterol. As long as you have a high HDL count - 75 to 80, for example - it doesn't matter whether your total cholesterol is 150 or 350. A high HDL will always keep your risk of heart disease extremely low.
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So why haven't you heard this already? It may be because there's no drug that effectively raises good cholesterol levels . You can only effectively do it naturally.
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Consume natural fats. Avoid processed or fast foods containing "trans" fats - these man-made substances were never meant for consumption , and your body doesn't know what to do with them. They wind up clogging your arteries and putting you on the fast track to heart disease.
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Instead, get your fat from free-range or grass-fed animals, eggs, nuts, and unprocessed vegetable oils. These are some of the healthiest foods you can eat. (As with all foods, look for organic or minimally processed options whenever possible.)
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The health benefit of these natural fats comes from their balance of Omega-3 and Omega-6 fatty acids. Your body needs both but, as with c cholesterol, they have to be in balance. Omega-3s are great for your heart.
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They've been shown to prevent irregular heartbeat, reduce clogging of the arteries, lower blood pressure, and decrease inflammation in body tissues.
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If you stick to eating natural fats, you'll automatically get the right ratio of Omega-6 and Omega-3, which is about 2:1. As an added bonus, you'll automatically raise your "good" cholesterol levels and you'll reduce your risk of cancer.

The Stranger

a forwarded email ...........
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This is very interesting and not the ending I had expected!

A few years after I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to our small town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around from then on.

As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family. In my young mind, he had a special niche. My parents were complementary instructors: Mum taught me good from evil, and Dad taught me to obey.

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But the stranger...he was our storyteller. He would keep us spellbound for hours on end with adventures, mysteries and comedies. If I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science, he always knew the answers about the past, understood the present and even seemed able to predict the future!

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He took my family to the first major league game. He made me laugh, and he made me cry. The stranger never stopped talking, but Dad didn't seem to mind.

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Sometimes, Mum would get up quietly while the rest of us were shushing each other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go to the kitchen for peace and quiet. (I wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger to leave.)

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Dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions, but the stranger never felt obligated to honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our home... not from us, our friends or any visitors. Our longtime visitor, however, got away with four-letter words that burned my ears and made my dad squirm and my mother blush.

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My Dad didn't permit the liberal use of alcohol. But the stranger encouraged us to try it on a regular basis. He made cigarettes look cool, cigars manly and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (much too freely!) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing. I now know that my early concepts about relationships were influenced strongly by the stranger.

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Time after time, he opposed the values of my parents, yet he was seldom rebuked... And NEVER asked to leave.

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More than fifty years have passed since the stranger moved in with our family. He has blended right in and is not nearly as fascinating as he was at first. Still, if you could walk into my parents' den today, you would still find him sitting over in his corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures.
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His name?....... We just call him 'TV.' (Note: This should be required reading for every household!)

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He has a wife now....We call her 'Computer.'

What Grudges Can Do

a forwarded email .........

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This is long but worth reading and is a true story ...

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This is for all the single, married, divorced, widowed individuals, who take life for granted. Please I BEG YOU, read this story until the end, it is such an opener. You never Know.......!

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Just two years after our marriage, hubby brought up the idea of asking Mother to move from the rural hometown and spend her remaining years with us. Hubby's father passed away while he was still very young. Mother endured much hardship and struggled all on her own to provide for him, see him through to a university degree. You could say that she suffered a great deal and did everything you could expect of a woman to bring hubby to where he is today. I immediately agreed and started packing the spare room, which has a balcony facing the South to let her enjoy the sunshine and plant greenery.

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Hubby stood in the bright room, and suddenly just picked me up and started spinning round and round. As I begged him to put me down, he said: "Lets go fetch mother." Hubby is tall and big sized and I love to rest on his chest and enjoy the feeling that he could pick me up at any moment put the tiny me into his pockets.

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Whenever we have an argument and both refuses to back down, he would pick me up and spin me over his head continuously until I surrender and beg for mercy. I became addicted to this kind of panic-joy feeling.

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Mother brought along her countryside habits and lifestyle with her. For example; I am so used to buying flowers to decorate the living room, she could not stand it and would comment: "I do not know how you young people spend your money, why do you buy flowers for? You also can't eat flowers!" I smiled and said: "Mum, with flowers in the house, our mood will also become better." Mother continues to grumble away, and hubby smiled: "Mum, this is a city-people's habit; slowly you will get use to it."Mother stopped saying anything. But every time thereafter, whenever came home with flowers, she would ask me how much it costs. When I tell her, she will shake her head and express displeasure.

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Sometimes, when I come home with lots of shopping bags, she would ask each and every item how much they cost, I would tell her honestly and she would get even more upset about it. Hubby playfully pinched my nose and said: "You little fool, just don't tell her the full price of everything would solve it."There begins the friction to our otherwise happy lifestyle.

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Mother hates it most when hubby wakes up early to prepare the breakfast. In your view, how could the man of the house cook for the wife? At the breakfast table, mother facial expression is always like the dark clouds before a thunderstorm and I would pretend not to notice. She would use her chopsticks and make a lot of noise with it as her silent protest. As I am a dance teacher in the Children's Palace and am exhausted from along day of dancing around, I do not wish to give up the luxury of that additional few minutes in the comfort of my bed and hence I turned a deaf ear to all the protest mother makes.

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From time to time, mother would help out with some housework, but soon her help created additional work for me. For example: she would keep all kinds of plastic bags accumulating them so that she sell them later on, and resulted in our house being filled with all the trash bags; she would scrimp on dish washing detergent when helping to wash the dishes and so as not to hurt her feelings, I would quietly wash them again.One day, late at night, mother saw me quietly washing the dishes, and "Bam" she slams her bedroom door and cried very loudly in her room. Hubby was placed in a difficult position, and after that, he did not speak to me for that entire night.

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I pretended to be a spoilt child, tried acting cute, but he totally ignored me.... I got mad and asked him: "What did I do wrong?" Hubby stared at me and said: "Can't you just give in to her once? We couldn't possibly die eating from a bowl however unclean it is, right?"

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After that incident, for a long period of time, mother did not speak to me and you can feel that there is a very awkward feeling hanging in the house. During that period of cold war, hubby was caught in dilemma as to who to please. In order to stop her son from having to prepare breakfast, mother took on the "all important" task of preparing breakfast without any prompting. At the breakfast table, mother would look at hubby happily eating his breakfast and cast that reprimanding stare at me for having failed to perform my duty as a wife. To avoid the embarrassing breakfast situation, I resorted to buying my own breakfast on my way to work. That night, while in bed, hubby was a little upset and asked me: "LD, is it because you think that mum's cooking is not clean that's why you chose not to eat at home?" He then turned his back on me and left me alone in tears as feeling of unfairness overwhelmed me. After some time, hubby sighed: "LD, just for me, can you have breakfast at home?" I am left with no choice but to return to the breakfast table.

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The next morning, I was having porridge prepared by mother and I felt a sudden churn in my stomach and everything inside seem to be rushing up my throat. I tried to suppress the urge to throw up but I could not. I threw down the bowl, rushed into the washroom, and vomited everything out. Just as I was catching my breath, I saw mother crying and grumbling very loudly in her dialect, hubby was standing at the washroom doorway staring at me with fire burning in his eyes.. I opened my mouth but no words came out of it, I really did not mean it.

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We had our very first big fight that day; mother took a look at us, then stood up and slowly made her way out of the house. Hubby gave me a final stare in the eye and followed mother down the stairs.

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For three days, hubby did not return home, not even a phone call. I was so furious, since mother arrived; I had been trying my best and putting up with her, what else do you want me to do? For no reason, I keep having the feeling to throw up and I simply have not appetite for food, coupled with all the events happening at home, I was at then low point in my life.

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Finally, a colleague said: "LD, you look terrible; you should go and see a doctor." The doctor confirmed that I am pregnant. Now it became clear to me why I threw up that fateful morning, a sense of sadness floated through that otherwise happy news. Why didn't hubby, and mother who had been through this before, thought of the possibility of this being the reason that day?

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At the hospital entrance, I saw my hubby standing there. It had only been three days, but he looked haggard. I had wanted to turn and leave, but one look at him and my heart soften, I couldn't resist and called out to him. He followed my voice and finally found me but he pretended that he doesn't know me; he has that disgusted look in his eyes that cut right through my heart. I told myself not to look at him anymore, and hail a cab.

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At that moment, I have such a strong urge inside me to shout to my hubby: "Darling, I am having your baby!" and have him lift me up and spin me around in circles of joy. What I wanted didn't happen and as I sat in the cab, my tears started rolling down. Why? Why our love couldn't even withstand the test of one fight?

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Back home, I lay on the bed thinking about my hubby, and the disgusted look in his eyes. I cried and wet the orner of the blanket.

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That night, sound of the drawers opening woke me up. I switched on the lights and I saw hubby with tears rolling down his face. He was removing the money. I stared at him in silence; he ignored me, took the bank deposit book and some money and left the house. Maybe he really intends to leave me for good. What a rational man, so clear-cut in love and money matters. I gave a few dried laugh and tears starting streaming down again.

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The next day, I did not go to work. I wanted to clear this out and have a good talk with hubby. I reached his office and his secretary gave me a weird look and said: "Mr. Tan's mother had a traffic accident and is now in the hospital." I stood there in shock. I rushed to the hospital and by the time I found hubby, mother had already passed away. Hubby did not look at me, his face was expressionless. I looked at mother's pale white and thin face and I couldn't control the tears in my eyes.

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My god, how could this happen? Throughout the funeral, hubby did not say a single word to me, with only the occasional disgusted stare at me. I only managed to find out brief facts about the accident from other people. That day, after mother left the house, she walked in a daze toward the bus stop, apparently intending to go back to her old house back in the countryside. As hubby ran after her, she tried to walk faster and as she tried to cross the street, a public bus came and hit her...

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I finally understood how much hubby must hate me, if I had not thrown up that morning, if we had not quarreled, if....In his heart, I am indirectly the killer of his mother.

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Hubby moved into mother's room and came home every night with a strong liquor smell on him. And me, I am buried under the guilt and self-pity and could hardly breathe. I wanted to explain to him, tell him that we were going to have our baby soon, but each time, I saw the dead look in his eyes, all the words I have at the brink of my mouth just fell back in. I had rather he hit me real hard or give me a big and thorough scolding though none of these events happening had been my fault at all.

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Many days of suffocating silence went by and as the days went by, hubby came home later and later. The deadlock between us continues, we were living together like strangers who don't know each other. I am like the dead knot in his heart.

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One day, I passed by a western restaurant, looking into the glass window, I saw hubby and a girl sitting facing each other and he very lightly brushed her hair for her, I understood what it meant.

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After recovering from that moment of shock, I entered the restaurant, stood in front of my hubby and stared hard at him, not a tear in my eyes. I have nothing to say to him, and there is no need to say anything. The girl looked at me, looks at hubby, stands up and wanted to go, hubby stretched out his hand and stopped her. He stared back at me, challenging me. I can only hear my slow heart beat, beating, one by one as if at the brink of death. I eventually backed down, if I had stood that any longer, I will collapse together with the baby inside me.

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That night, he did not come home; he had chosen to use that as a way to indicate to me: Following mother's death so did our love for each other. He did not come home anymore after that. Sometimes, when I returned home from work, I can tell that the cupboard had been touched - he had returned to take some of his stuff. I no longer wish to call him; the initial desire to explain everything to him vanished.

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I lived alone; I go for my medical checkups alone, my heart breaks again and again every time I see a guy carefully helping his wife through the physical examination. My office colleagues hinted to me to consider aborting the baby, I told them No, I will not.. I insisted on having to this baby, perhaps it is my way of repaying mother for causing her death.

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One day, I came home and I saw hubby sitting in the living room. The whole house was filled with cigarette smoke. On the coffee table, there was this piece of paper. I know what it is all about without even looking at it. In the two months plus of living alone, I have gradually learned to find peace within myself. I looked at him, removed my hat and said: "You wait a while, I will sign." He looked at me, mixed feelings in his eyes, just like mine. As I hang up my coat, I keep repeating to myself "You cannot cry, you cannot cry..." my eyes hurt terribly, but I refused to let tears come out from there.

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After I hung up my coat, hubby's eyes stared fixed at my bulging tummy. I smiled, walked over to the coffee table and pulled the paper towards me. Without even looking at what it says, I signed my name on it and pushed the paper to him. "LD, are you pregnant?"

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Since mother's accident, this is the first time he spoke to me. I could not control my tears any further and they fell like raindrops. I said: "Yes, but it's ok, you can leave now." He did not go, in the dark, we sat, facing each other. Hubby slowly moved over me, his tears wet the blanket. In my heart, everything seems so far away, so far that even if I sprint, I could never reach them. I cannot remember how many times he repeated "sorry" to me. I had originally thought that I would forgive him, but now I can't.

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In the western restaurant, in front of that girl, that cold look in his eyes, I will never forget, ever. We have drawn such deep scars in each other's heart. For me, it's unintentional; for him, totally intentional. I had been waiting for this moment of reconciliation, but I realized now, what had gone past is gone forever and could not be repeated. Other than the thought of the baby inside me that would bring some warmth to my heart, I am totally cold towards him, I no longer eat anything he buys for me, I don't take any presents from him and I stopped talking to him.

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From the moment I signed on that piece of paper, marriage and love had vanished from my heart.

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Sometimes, hubby will try to come into the bedroom, but when he walks in, I will walk out to the living room. He had no choice but to sleep in mother's room. At night, from his room, I can hear light sounds of groaning, I kept quiet. This used to be his trick; last time, whenever I ignore him, he would fake illness and I will surrender and find out what is wrong with him, he would then grab me and laugh. He has forgotten that last time I cared for him and am concerned because there was love, but now, what is there between us?

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Hubby's groaning came on and off continuing but I continuously ignored him. Almost everyday, he would buy something for the baby, infant products, children products and books that kids like to read. Bags and bags of it stacked inside his room till it is full. I know he is trying to use this to reach out to me, but I am no longer moved by his actions. He has no choice but to lock himself in his room and I can hear him typing away on his computer keyboard, maybe he is now addicted to web surfing but none of that matters to me anymore.

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It was sometime towards the end of spring in the following year, one late night, I screamed because of a sudden stomach pain, hubby came rushing into the room, its like he did not change and sleep, and had been waiting for this moment. He carried me and ran down the stairs, stopped a car, holding my hand very tightly and kept wiping the sweat off my brow, throughout the journey to the hospital.

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Once we reached the hospital, he carried me and hurried into the delivery suite. Lying on the back of his skinny but warmth body, a thought crossed my mind: In my lifetime, who else would love me as much as he did? He held the delivery suite door opened and watched me go in; his warm eyes caused me to manage a smile at him despite my contraction pain.

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Coming out of the delivery room, hubby looked at our son and me, eyes tear with joy and he kept smiling. I reached out and touched his hand. Hubby looked at me, smiling and then he slowly collapsed onto the floor. I cried out for him in pain... He smiled, but without opening that tired eyes of his...

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I had thought that I would never shed any tear for him, but the truth is, I have never felt a deeper pain cutting through my body at that moment. Doctor said that by the time hubby discovered he had liver cancer, it was already in terminal stage and it was a miracle that he managed to last this long. I asked the doctor when he first discovered he had cancer. Doctor said about 5 months ago and consoled me saying: "Prepare for his funeral."

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I disregarded the nurse's objection and rushed home, I went into his room and checked his computer, and a suffocating pain hits me. Hubby's cancer was discovered 5 months ago, his groaning was real, and I had thought that... the computer showed over 200 thousand words he wrote for our son: "Son, just for you, I have persisted, to be able to take a look at you before I fall, is my biggest wish now... I know that in your life, you will have many happiness and maybe some setbacks, if only I can accompany you throughout that journey, how nice would it be. But daddy now no longer has that chance. Daddy has written inside here all the possible difficulties and problems you may encounter during your lifetime, when you meet with these problems, you can refer to daddy's suggestion....Son, after writing these 200 thousand words, I feel as if I have accompanied you through life journey. To be honest, daddy is very happy. Do love your mother, she has suffered, she is the one who loves you most and also the one who loves me most..." From play school to primary school, to secondary, university, to work and even in dealing with questions of love, everything big and small was written there.

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Hubby has also written a letter for me: "My dear, to marry you is my biggest happiness, forgive me for the pain I have caused you, forgive me for not telling you my illness, because I want to see you be in a joyful mood waiting for the arrival of our baby...My dear, if you cried, it means that you have forgiven me and I would smile, thank you for loving me...These presents, I'm afraid I cannot give them to our son personally, could you help me to give some of them to him every year, the dates on what to give when are all written on the packaging... "

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Going back to the hospital, hubby is still in coma. I brought our son over and place him beside him. I said: "Open your eyes and smile, I want our son to remember being in the warmth of your arms..." He struggled to open his eyes and managed a weak smile. Our son still in his arms was happily waving his tiny hands in the air. I press the button on the camera and the sound of the shutter rang through the air as tears slowly rolled down my face....

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A fatal misunderstanding and the person who loves me the most in this world is gone forever...

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"Cruel misunderstandings one after another disrupted the blissful footsteps to our family. Our originals intend of having Mother enjoy some quiet and peaceful moments in her remaining years with us went terribly wrong as destiny's secret is finally revealed at a price, every thing became too late.".........

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This is a true story.

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LEARNING POINT - DO NOT EVER HOLD ON TO OFFENCES!!!

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I am totally speechless, this story brought tears to my eyes as I read through each line eager to know what would happen next. It truly showed the devastating power of grudges and anger! Simple humility and communication would have resolved most of the problems in that story, as well as patience.... This story has really touched my heart and life as a whole and it has stimulated a paradigm shift. Though it is very sad, it is also very refreshing to know that from today, I can consciously start to live a life free of grudge. People please let's live a life devoid of grudge.

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Communication is the key.

The Cure for Diarrhoea

I don't get diarrhoea very often but when I do, all I could think of is : gosh! What a great way to get slimmer. Having said that, I know of people whose stomachs are weak and experience diarrhoea often as a result of mild food poisoning.

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I received the following via email and even though I haven't had a chance to try it out yet, I'd like to share it with you.....

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When someone gets diarrhoea, sometimes the solution is so easy, we wonder why anyone has to suffer.

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The secret is in rice water.
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This is already known in this region. Ask your maids -- Sri Lankan, Indonesian, Filipina and they would know about it.

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My mother knew about it. When Dr Albert Winsemius came to Singapore many years ago for a farewell and thank you dinner in his honour, he brought along his wife Aly and his granddaughter, Jolijn. Both women came down with very bad gastroenteritis. They saw the doctor who gave them medication. It was slow to work.
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Mother boiled some rice in lots of water and went to their hotel with two 1.5L bottles of rice water.

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I cringed in shame at the offer of this folk remedy, which seemed so primitive to me. Never heard of this cure before. To my surprise, it worked, and they were even able to go out for dinner the next day. Both were exclaiming how the rice water did the trick of making them well again. Well, luckily it worked, I thought to myself.

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I was discussing this a few years back with Kim Ng, the ex-matron of KK Hospital. She said, yes, that is what Professor Wong Hock Boon, the notable paediatrician teaches. I was shocked and made some comments how could he? It was common knowledge so what had he got to do with it?

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Many months later, I regretted laughing at it. Dr Christina Shanta Emmanuel, who is the CEO of...uh, which group I have forgotten. Either National Health Group, or Polyclinics, or whatever.. regarded me seriously when I brought up the topic like it was good fun. She said that Prof Wong Hock Boon had presented a paper on it. At some conference. After he had done clinical trials.

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Then his results were published in the Lancet, the Medical Journal all doctors read. In fact, said Shanta, he was credited for saving the lives of 2 million African babies by this method.

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Ah, so! I am impressed.
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It is rice water and not rice, that does the trick. I have found it effective again and again. You take a handful of rice and boil it in a large saucepan with lots of water. Like three or four large glasses. Then you cool that and drink the water. If you are in a hurry to relieve the ailing person, take the saucepan off the fire and dunk it in a frying pan or basin of cool water with ice cubes if necessary.

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This gives the patient a chance to drink the rice water sooner and cure himself or herself sooner.
When drinking the rice water, make sure there is lots of it. You have to tell the patient that enough water must go in to line your guts from throat to other end, all 10 to 12 metres of it. If you take rice, it stays in the stomach. If you take broth, some of it may go into the small intestine.

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But if you take rice water, it will carry rice grains to every inch of your small and large intestine to the end where the problem is.
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How does it work? Even Prof Wong Hock Boon doesn't know. Read the attached file. Or go to ...
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*http://rehydrate.org/dd/dd06.htm#page2*