Worse than Cancer?

It was a solemn moment when my Gong Gong asked his daughter, two weeks after the event, "Did I almost die?"

"You almost died twice", came the reply. Gong Gong nods his head slowly, as a small explosion set off inside him. It's not just shocking to find out you almost fell off a cliff. It's shocking to find out you were actually standing on a cliff in the first place.

His last admission to hospital lasted 14 days (10 of which were spent intubated in ICU and involved a surgical drain of 1.2L of fluid from his pericardium). But just before to that admission, Gong Gong had gone to the hospital twice wanting treatment. Twice, the doctors turned him away because they couldn't find a cause of his symptoms. They couldn't see how close Gong Gong was to the edge of the cliff.

They had lots of trouble diagnosing him. We longed for a diagnosis. It was obvious that something was wrong, but it's terrible not knowing what that was. No diagnosis meant we were in limbo and couldn't pursue the course of treatment. The enemy is unknown.

Today, only days after being discharged, Gong Gong was readmitted to ICU with different symptoms. Doctors are still unsure what has caused his latest troubles. (Stroke? Pulmonary oedema? Decompensated heart? Malfunctioning heart valve?) Getting a diagnosis is a tricky business. The window to really fix the problem is closing and there's the unpleasant business of dealing with each new presentation. We would really appreciate some prayers.

But this post isn't really about Gong Gong, his treatment or his cardiologist, but about diagnosis.


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Imagine the worse disease ever. (Cancer? HIV/AIDS? Flesh eating bacteria?) Now imagine having that disease. What's worse than having that disease?

What's worse than having that disease is not knowing that you have that disease. No diagnosis. This means not being able to seek the right course of treatment. It's not understanding how the disease may develop. It's not knowing you need help. It's not knowing that you are about to fall off the cliff, teetering on the edge.


... I think Christians and non-Christians often have difficulty with "judgment" (here, I mean telling others about sin, about God's "capital-J Judgment" which finally condemns sin like a judge's court final pronouncements and about hell. Perhaps you have read one of the many judgment passages in the Bible, which point out how people don't live God's good way.).

Everyone sins but no one likes that pointed out to them. No one should take pleasure in saying a message of judgment to someone else. And no one enjoys being on the receiving end. It's all an unpleasant business.

But is the "judgment" a bad thing in itself? No, judgment is merely the diagnosis. It identifies the problem. This is the bad thing. Sin is the personal cancer that robs people of life. Sin is the debilitating illness and painful ailment. Sin ends in a horrible death, without fail. It's chronic and terminal. Sin is the worse problem imaginable.

Judgment is the diagnosis; it points out sin. If Christians see the sin and but do not acknowledge it, they are like doctors who withhold the diagnosis. Who sends sick people home with a clean bill of health. Who impedes treatment and healing. Who fails to warn patients of grave danger. This doctor is not only negligent, but contributes to the death of sick people. The silence is not kind but cruel.

Now, sin is the disease and judgment is the diagnosis. But the remedy is grace. In Jesus, people can have grace for free, the full strength and full spectrum remedy. It's the only remedy for sin and death. God's grace is the cure that he freely offers to people who acknowledge their sin. But...

If there is no diagnosis of disease, there is no remedy. Just death.
If there is no judgment of sin, there is no grace. Just death.

Doctors may not like breaking bad news to people. But not telling them is worse. They will miss out on the treatment they need to live.

Book Review: Onion Tears

"Kids, we are halfway through this book. Do you want me to keep reading?" resigned the patient librarian, sensing great boredom. Her fingers kept the place two-thirds of the way into Diana Kidd's "Onion Tears".

"NOOOO!!" replied the emphatic and impatient chorus of 3rd graders. She interpreted their listening body language well - they were bored.

But I desperately wanted her to read on ~ she had been reading so beautifully. I wasn't Vietnamese like the main character, a primary school girl named Nam-Huong, but I was also an Asian migrant in Australia. I never risked a dangerous boat journey without parents to flee my homeland, but my family also had a recent and dramatic migration story. I was the only third grader who bawled in the library when the librarian read about Nam-Huong's grandfather sacrificing what he needed to to help his granddaughter arrive safely. Because mine would have done the same.

A shocking, powerful and heartful children's book with a hint of onions.

Gong Gong is better, but not super

On Sunday night, Gong Gong had 1200ml drained from his pericardium in ICU. Today he got transferred to CCU. This is a step down in the level of care ~ a good sign that he's out of the immediate danger zone. He remains sedated, but was able speak to my Mum when she arrived in the US yesterday to be with him. What. A. Relief.

Doctors are investigating cause of all that fluid. We always knew that he had cardiac problems, but the speed of onset suggests another culprit. Need to rule out cardiac infection (which is hard to treat) and cancer before we can fully breathe out. Those tigers are going to have to wait.

Thank you so much to everyone who prayed for him and our family. Bless you! God has been kind to us by giving us extra time.

Picture of Gong Gong, mid 2009.

Super Gong Gong

Growing up, my Gong Gong (my Mum's Dad) seemed invincible. Now, I've observed him all my life and have come to suspect that he is, in fact, a Superhero. Here are a few clues:


Always looks the same

Gong Gong's wardrobe is perennial. He's always in the same outfit, immaculate and wrinkle free. In block colours, black, white, grey.

Gong Gong has always had exactly the same Clark Kent hair. Jet black. Not a hair out of place.


Standard one-liners

Whenever I'd ask him how he was, he'd say, "Ho! I fought off 7 tigers today!". Gong Gong's standard greeting is "Hello Sing Sarng, Singapore!" (less superheroic, but a classic one-liner, nevertheless.)


Superhuman strength & movement

Gong Gong is built and shaped like He-Man. His muscles were the density of thick linoleum. I used to give him massages, but my puny fingers were no match for his solid trapeziums. They couldn't even make a dent.

He is lightning fast with the abacus, faster than my Dad's super maths brain and me on a calculator. *Click Click Click*!

In Tai Chi, Gong Gong defies gravity! He can hold, balance and maneuver his full weight calmly, slowly, effortlessly, agilely and gracefully, at impossible angles.


Super powers

It's incredible that Gong Gong never had an education, but taught himself how to read Chinese characters by reading newspapers. Being really thrifty, he didn't buy newspapers, but read over people's shoulders, or picked up discarded editions. A few years ago, he learned English in his 70s, to pass his US citizenship's test. This probably means he has learned his village dialect, Khmer, Cantonese and English.

Gong Gong's throat must be made out of cast-iron because he can drain a bowl of piping hot congee (rice porridge) in two goes.

Olives to Gong Gong, is what Spinach is to Pop-eye. Gong Gong likes the Asian variety, where you'd chew the olive and spit out the fibres.

Gong Gong also has the uncanny ability to be able to sleep any where.

When his six children were young, Gong Gong also worked three jobs to save money to help his family flee the arch-villain, Pol Pot. Incredible!

Both my Gong Gong and Mama overcame adversity in extraordinary ways, but we'll save those miraculous stories for another episode.


Protector of the vulnerable & innocent

Whenever us kids got into trouble (often), he would stand in front of us, facing the oppressor of our efforts. His defense always came swiftly. We wouldn't even have to call out "Rescue me, Gong Gong!!", and he would come to our aid. It was one of the rare occasions when the gentle giant would raise his voice in conflict. And suddenly, our despair and humiliation would turn into joy and triumph, safely hiding behind this immovable mass. Go get 'em, Gong Gong!


Timely arrival

Gong Gong would be able to find the time to look after us for long hours on Sunday afternoon, when the parentals were in meetings. Gong Gong'd pick us up from choirs, always ready and waiting, chewing on some olives and reading a newspaper. Basically, he's always there when you need him!

If there ever was a Superhero to come out of his home town, it would be my Gong Gong. But when my sister last visited my grandparents in June, she observed that he was literally about half his size, gaunt and weakened by years of cardiac complications. A few steps would take away Gong Gong's breath...

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This post has been sitting in my "ideas" box since my sister's visit. And this morning we heard that Gong Gong is in ICU. If he doesn't wake up within 24 hours, he may never. His heart may have failed him for the last time.

Not sure how this episode is going to end and this cliffhanger has made me bawl. But I'm so glad that Gong Gong has a living hope (rare for a man in his generation). And that Jesus, the true and Immortal Saviour, is good for his word.

But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.

~ Phil 3:20-21

Gender Analyzer

Insert blog into Gender Analyzer and extract result:

We think http://solideohonoria.blogspot.com/ is written by a man (65%).

Books for 100th post!

To celebrate the blog's 100th post, Desiring God Ministries are giving away books for free!

So kind...

Abandoned Student Profile Picture '09

And here's a picture that didn't make it into the college magazine: