Happy 70th birthday dad
It's been 11 years since God called you home and I still miss and think of you.
My dad’s name is Daniel Chua Oon Hian, and it’s a weird thing - he’s pretty much a doer-kinda-guy, so I dont often have much conversations with him.
My memories of him of when I was younger was him
tinkering with his music sets and listening to music
feeding and hanging out with his koi fishes (I don’t know, he just sits or stands near the tank and look at them)
trimming his bonsai plants
once in a while he’d whip up a delicious carb-heavy meal of chow mein especially for Chinese New Year
and the occasional conversations about God, Christ, money, income tax (we spoke a lot about this when I started my business, as he’s really good as an income tax officer for the government).
He doesnt talk that much or maybe as a son and his busy life, we just didnt have that much opportunities to talk. Perhaps he would speak lots to his friends and family.
Leaving the Nest
At 20, I left the home to study in Singapore, scrimping and saving as much as possible as I knew my parents didnt have much money - my goal was to study, graduate and get to work so I can be less of a financial burden to them, as soon as possible.
Money (the lack of it as well the lack of financial education) strained their relationship whenever they have good intentions but insufficient money to support those good intentions.
I got busy to studying, getting my own occupational therapy bursary (thanks Hui Ting and Farah, for helping me, I will never forget your help — and God too, cos He knows I definitely needed that bursary).
After I started to stay in Singapore instead of the grueling daily JB-Singapore 5AM travels, I would come home on the weekends, usually Friday evenings after school ends, hopping on the bus to cross the causeway and the time is so short, with even less time to converse as they too were busy with the two younger children, so I would hang out on my own (my brother was in Malacca or KL, I cant remember) and then head back to Singapore on Sunday after lunch.
I remember my mum would always scold me for leaving so early and I would always get upset and explain that the human jam would be unreasonable if I left later, but now at 43, I realize it’s them missing me.
I’m summarizing much of my life between 20 to 32, but after I got married AND started my physical therapy and hand therapy business at 27, I came back even lesser, just once or twice per month, as I had to work Saturdays and even Sundays (so whenever I work Sundays, I cant come back as I’d be too tired right).
Later, it’d worsen and I would then come back once per month, or once every 6-8 weeks. It got so busy and bad that my dad would call me once in a while and ask me
“Hey you forgot you have parents is it?”
I smile sadly now, thinking back — my parents must have missed me lots, during my busyness, when I was trying to survive and thrive. I would love to hear my dad’s voice again and hang out with him.
By 32, I had experience quite a lot in my entrepreneurial journey, and my 3rd clinic (the first 2 had unfortunately, failed, which was both depressing and embarrassing, but learning points) was starting to thrive.
The Call
I got a call from my mum in April 2014, just after me and my wife came back from our delayed honeymoon (we got married in 2009, but were just too broke to go for one, so we delayed it until someone offered us to stay in their holiday home in New Zealand for a week, so we took the opportunity, but that’s a story for another time).
Just after we came back, we visited my parents in JB and that was when I heard my dad coughing and he told me that he’d been coughing for a month.
I took out a manuka honey that I brought back from New Zealand, made a manuka honey drink for him and asked him if he saw a doctor. He said no, and I insisted to take him to one.
We went to a general practitioner under his panel, who prescribed him some medication, and he said he’d take the meds.
Next week, I remember still very vividly, in the middle of the day, my mum called me, saying that my dad had been warded, and told me not to tell the younger sisters because she didnt want to worry them or that my dad said that.
Being in healthcare, that didnt bother me…until she told me that he was in ICU.
Now the alarm bells were ringing in my head, and I rescheduled all my patients and decided to head back to JB to see what’s going on. It was at this moment that I’m glad that the business can continue to run without me (this was an important moment as a business owner).
The travel back was quiet, and all the thoughts in my head was so loud. Even my heartbeat was so loud, and I couldnt really think straight. All the possibilities were
In the hospital, I could hear my dad wheezing and coughing, non stop. He was sitting upright on the hospital chair, and he explained between coughs and wheezes that he cant lie down as it’d worsen the coughs.
He looked absolutely miserable and said multiple times that he wanted to go home, and he was hungry but not allowed to eat anything…he wasn’t allowed to go home as his situation was dangerous and not allowed to eat for fear that if he coughs as he ate, the food particle may enter his lungs, causing pneumonia.
If I had known he’d pass away, I’ll let him eat all he wants. Anything.
I decided to stay for a few days to care for him and pray for him.
Eventually the doctor in JB decided to put him on sedated ventilation to help him breath and recover better, BUT seeing the oxygen levels in his blood being too low, the doctor decided to crank up the power of the ventilator ensure as much oxygen goes into his lungs, and little did we know this decreased my dad’s chance of living substantially.
Feeling Warmth Leave the Body
His situation worsened and somehow, we got a doctor who assessed his situation, I think we were thinking of getting him to a Singapore public hospital and the doctor explained that we needed to go straight to Gleneagles Hospital, where he can recommend us a very good cardio-thoracic doctor who can help my dad.
I sat in the front seat of the ambulance for the ride and the doctor was waiting for us and did emergency ECMO which was like an external heart and lungs for my dad, so that his own heart and lungs can rest and recover. It was heartening to hear that it’d bring comfort and recovery for my dad.
The next few days was a lot of ups and downs as the high output of the ventilator in JB has caused micro-tears to my dad’s lungs, and this made it easy for bacteria to grow in an already problem lung, and eventually, the infection got so bad that it went to his brain and my dad went brain dead.
It was too late, and I had to make the decision to pull the plug. That was highest grade terrible experience, it definitely ranks as one of the worst decisions I had to make in my life…
…but it’s worser to feel the warmth leaving his body.
Dad, I’m sorry.
Maybe you’d been alive if we moved you to Singapore earlier for treatment at one of my sister’s request…but we didnt have the funds. I even had to raise funds from online to contribute to it. Just a couple of days in Singapore had wiped out a significant chunk of your life savings, and it wasnt certain too.
I spent many months, years, carrying this guilt and thoughts of “what if”.
I’m sorry.
Let’s chat when we meet again in heaven.
For those of you whose parents are still around (and ideally, they aren’t narcistic assholes), do your best to call them, spend time with them, and tell them you love them. Better still, do video or audio recorded interviews with them so you can replay their voices and see their facial expressions again and again.
Ask them to tell you that they love you, that they’re proud of you.
If you have no parents living, then let me be the one who tells you — I’m proud of you, son, daughter, and may you be blessed by the Living God.