Last Thursday afternoon, my Cousin Mien called me.
I’ve got a craving for Akashi, she said, and I’ve made a reservation. Wanna come along for dinner?
On Friday afternoon, I received some sombre news from my doctor. I didn’t cry but I probably looked as despondent and hopeless as I felt. This sucks, I said to him.
He patted my hand and replied, I know. I treat you as a friend, I want things to be better for you too.
He didn’t charge me for the consultation that day.
As I was walking out of the clinic, I felt lost. I didn’t know what to do or where to go or who to talk to.
But when I fished out my phone, the first number I dialed was my Cousin Wan’s. And then I texted my dear friend in the prairie. And then I texted Cousin Mien. And they all made me cry, not because the situation had gone beyond my imagination, but because each of them made me feel stronger, braver, and most importantly, loved.
I guess what I am trying to say is that I constantly have to remind myself that I am very blessed. I’m surrounded by family who cares for me a great deal. I have a friend who cheers me on and lets me whine without any resentment. I have a wonderful doctor who is as competent as he is warm. The fact that he is our doctor only because of Cousin Wan’s tireless search for recommendations is not lost upon me.
I may not have money nor the looks. I don’t have much talent for anything else. I may have had a tougher journey than most people.
But that’s okay.
I know that I am loved.
Yannisms 