Clueless on The Brink of Death

By Foo Yee Ching (Althea Reese)

Chapter 1

A Storm Brewing Beneath the Scalp

Singapore, 2004

On a Saturday evening, Fang Zhiyi, 24, eagerly awaited at the void deck of her Tampines block for her friend, Edwina Neo, 24, to pick her up. Zhiyi could hardly contain her excitement. They were heading to Pasir Ris beach. 

A fair-complexioned woman with contemplative eyes, a sharp nose, a long fringe, shoulder-length hair about 1.56 metres tall, Zhiyi has loved beaches since she was young. 

Zhiyi donned a pink beach dress with floral prints. At exactly 6.30 pm, the appointed time, a white Mazda appeared below her block. Edwina, with observant eyes, a sharp nose, and a fair complexion, shoulder-length hair, about 1.62 metres tall, wearing a yellow beach dress,  pressed the button in the car to open the door for Zhiyi to get in. The car belonged to Edwina’s parents, but Edwina used it for their outing. 

In her eagerness to head to the beach, Zhiyi accidentally knocked her head on the car’s roof with a loud thud as she was getting into the car.

“Ouch!” exclaimed Zhiyi.

“Are you ok?” Edwina enquired. 

“I was too eager to get in, I knocked my head against your car’s roof,” Zhiyi acknowledged. 

“Does it hurt?” Edwina queried.

“Yes, it does. Let me rub it for a while,” Zhiyi suggested. 

“Hopefully, it won’t create a large bruise,” muttered Edwina. 

When they reached Pasir Ris beach, they sat at the breakwaters, watching the sun set over the horizon, with its purplish, pinkish, and orangey hues. When the waves hit the breakwaters, it sounded like an orchestra to Zhiyi’s ears. 

The breathtaking and panoramic views at the beach, its scenic serenity, and tranquillity were an oasis of peace and calm. The beach provided the perfect getaway from the hustle and bustle of work and personal commitments, enabling her to relax, unwind, rejuvenate, and re-energise. 

They satiated their appetites at Georges @ The Cove bar cum restaurant at the beach, which offered palatable American finger food. Edwina drove Zhiyi home after dinner. Wherever they went that evening, Zhiyi kept rubbing her head to circulate the blood, hoping that the bump would not leave a bruise. When Zhiyi returned home that evening, she rubbed her head with Zam Bak, a green ointment paste that was perceived to be beneficial to relieve the bruise. 

Chapter 2

A Doctor’s Consultation

Zhiyi stood at the entrance of the bright, white-washed Tranquil Clinic in Tampines. The clinic was nestled in a row of shops below a multi-storey car park. 

“I would like to consult the doctor,” Zhiyi muttered.

“Can I have your name and your contact number?” the receptionist requested.

“Sure, Fang Zhiyi. My mobile number is 8123 4567,” Zhiyi stated.

Her turn eventually came following a 45-minute wait. She took a deep breath before knocking lightly and opening the white door of the consultation room. The consultation room was white, with day-light lights. The doctor sat at a gray desk with a computer and stacks of papers. Behind him were certificates hung on the wall. 

Dr Winston Tay looked up from his desk, his compassionate eyes glimmering behind the dark-rimmed spectacles. With a calm and attentive demeanor and a yellowish complexion, Dr Tay appeared to be in his early thirties. 

“Good afternoon, Zhiyi. What brings you in today?” he enquired, with a professional voice.

“I had a bad knock on the head a few weeks ago while getting into a friend’s car. I hope it’s not serious. I thought it might be wise to check,” Zhiyi explained. 

Dr Tay’s expression remained neutral but perceptive. 

“I see. Have you experienced any symptoms like vomiting, blurred vision, or migraines since then?” he probed.

She shook her head, and replied, “No, not at the moment. I feel alright for now.”

“Well,” he said with a reassuring nod, “it sounds like there’s nothing to worry about at this point. Sometimes, head knocks are minor. However, monitor things. If you experience any vomiting, blurred vision, or persistent migraines, do come back in.”

Zhiyi thanked him and rose to leave, a sense of relief mingling with lingering doubt. She had no notion that the symptoms Dr Tay alluded to would become part of her life fifteen years later, setting into motion an unanticipated journey.

Chapter 3

An Acupuncturist’s Expertise in the Spotlight

Singapore, 2019

One Saturday afternoon, Zhiyi reunited with her four close friends for lunch. They had pursued their undergraduate studies together from mid-2000 to mid-2002.  

"I know of an acupuncturist who can treat blood clots," Raquelle Soo shared with the group.

"Wow! That is amazing!" Zhiyi exclaimed, eyes wide with curiosity.

Raquelle nodded, smiling. "Yes, it’s impressive. If you know anyone with blood clots, let me know, and I’ll give you the acupuncturist’s contact."

"I’m curious—does it hurt? How long does a session take? Does it require multiple sessions to clear the blood clot? How much does each session cost?" Zhiyi probed, her queries surfacing in swift succession.

Raquelle shrugged slightly. 

"I’m not entirely sure, as it probably depends on the individual’s condition. But you can always call to enquire. I'll send you his number later. You’ll need to call to schedule an appointment in advance," Raquelle suggested.

After lunch, Raquelle sent Zhiyi a photo of the acupuncturist's name card. 

Kong Choi Chinese Physician Acupuncture & Physiotherapy Centre

Block 163, Ang Mo Kio Ave 4, #01-464, Singapore 560163

Tel: 6352 8229

Email: kcpang@kongchoiclinic.com

Chapter 4

The Stabbing Migraine

Singapore, 2019

Zhiyi felt a stabbing migraine while working at the computer at her oak-coloured office desk at 6 pm, each throb more intolerable than the last. The office had maroon coloured partitions of about 1.8 metres in height, with warm-white light. The colleagues from her team were seated in one cluster on the third floor of a tall office building at Dhoby Ghaut. 

"Are you all right?" her colleague Elena Chong queried, approaching with concern in her eyes.

"I'm having a terrible migraine," Zhiyi replied, pressing her hand to the top part of her head where she had sustained the knock more than a decade ago. "I believe it’s because I didn’t dry my hair properly last night."

"Would you like some Panadol?" Elena offered gently.

"Yes, please. That would help," Zhiyi replied with a weak smile.

As Elena left to fetch the pain reliever, Zhiyi’s stomach churned, and she doubled over, regurgitating her lunch into the waste bin under her desk, its black plastic lining catching the mess.

“Oh dear, you must be feeling dreadful,” Elena opined with empathy, wincing in sympathy as she returned. “Why don’t you head home early and rest?”

After Zhiyi consumed the panadol, Elena accompanied Zhiyi home, as they were both staying in the east. Grateful, Zhiyi took a plastic bag with her, just in case. But by the time they boarded the train on the east-west line, her nausea returned with a vengeance. She spewed out like a merlion again, this time into the plastic bag. Passengers standing in the vicinity swiftly moved away, repelled by the pungent odour, but Elena remained close, standing stoically by her side.

“Thank you, Elena,” Zhiyi murmured, disconcerted but touched. “Sorry for the stench…”

Elena shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Just focus on getting home.”

When Elena’s stop arrived, Elena gave Zhiyi a warm smile and a comforting pat on the shoulder. 

“Take care of yourself and get some rest. Hope you feel better soon!” Elena urged.

“Thank you for everything, Elena,” Zhiyi replied, watching her friend disappear into the crowd.

Once home, Zhiyi collapsed onto the bed, but a strange sensation took over. Her vision blurred, and diamond-shaped patterns floated before her eyes. She blinked hard, attempting to clear her sight, but the shapes only grew more intense.

She recalled a memory etched in the deep recesses of her mind. “Do you ever experience vomiting, migraines, or blurry vision?” Dr Winston Tay had enquired back in 2004.

Now, fifteen years later, she was experiencing vomiting, migraines, and blurry vision. Zhiyi shivered, wondering if these were echoes from an old injury—the sharp knock on her head that she had sustained as she was getting into her friend’s car, one that she had dismissed long ago and forgotten. Was this just a dreadful night, or could that forgotten injury be underpinning all these symptoms?

Recounting her friend Raquelle’s recommendation, Zhiyi felt it was apt to consult the acupuncturist. She hoped the acupuncturist could help her resolve the blood clot in her brain, her relentless migraines, unsettling vision, and vomiting spells.

Chapter 5

Piercing into The Forgotten Wound

The following day, Zhiyi called to schedule an appointment with Kong Choi TCM & Acupuncture Clinic. 

“Kong Choi!” greeted the receptionist.

“Hi, I would like to schedule an appointment,” muttered Zhiyi, her voice steady, though a bundle of nerves pulsating beneath.

“Sure, have you been here before?” queried the receptionist.

“No, this will be my first visit,” replied Zhiyi.

“May I have your name and phone number, please?” requested the receptionist with quiet efficiency.

“Sure, Fang Zhiyi. My number is 8123 4567,” she declared. 

“Which day would you like to come over?” the receptionist enquired.

“How about today? Do you have a slot?” suggested Zhiyi.

“Yes, how about 2 pm?” the receptionist enquired.

“Sure, thank you,” replied Zhiyi. 

Zhiyi arrived at the bustling clinic at 2 pm. A quiet crowd burgeoned within the white walls of the waiting area of the clinic. Some middle-aged women and young men stared at their phones, their eyes dimmed with fatigue or pain, awaiting in silence while seated on their blue seats. The odour of antiseptics and alcohol swabs lingered in the air, reminiscent of a sterile and clinical ambience. 

The receptionist conversed on the phone with a caller, who had called to schedule an appointment. Somewhere behind the wall and curtains, someone moaned—a soft, guttural sound that curled around Zhiyi’s spine like an icy finger. Her breath tightened. Anxiety and apprehension mounted in her chest.

The physician, in his mid-60s, was about 1.75 metres tall, with a wide forehead, a squarish face, perceptive eyes, and a brown complexion. He belted out Chinese ballads reminiscent of an English opera singer; his voice was sonorous, powerful, resonant, and startling in its boldness. Zhiyi wondered if he sang to assuage his patients’ fears and concerns, perhaps as a distraction from the sting of the needles. 

Zhiyi was grappling with apprehension. This was her first time receiving acupuncture on her head. That thought sent a small shiver skating down her spine.

Her thoughts swirled, tangled in a web of questions. Would the pain sear through her skull, or would a pool of blood flow profusely, staining the kitchen towels? Was there a risk she would collapse under the weight of it all, because of the excessive blood loss? How would she get home if she experienced a fainting spell along the way? 

“Fang Zhiyi, you are next,” the receptionist pointed out.

Zhiyi rose, limbs reluctant, and stepped into the treatment room. The whitewashed walls of the treatment room had certificates hung at the back. The physician sat at his oak coloured desk, in front of a computer. 

Gingerly, she took the blue seat perpendicular to the physician.

He grabbed hold of Zhiyi’s neck and turned it.

“Ouch!” she exclaimed.

“This aligns your neck,” the physician explained.

“How can I help you today?” the physician queried.

“I have been having blurry vision, migraine, and vomiting. I think it’s because I knocked my head badly years ago,” Zhiyi disclosed. 

“It must have been a nasty knock. I can help you with that through acupuncture. Where does it hurt?” the physician probed. 

She pointed to the highest part of her head, near the back. 

“Did you go for a CT scan?” he enquired.

“No, I didn’t,” Zhiyi replied.

“Let’s go to the treatment area. Lie with your face down,” he instructed as he pulled the blue curtains to segregate her from the other patients. 

Zhiyi lay down, her chest pressing onto the blue, sturdy mattress of the bed. The bed was unique as it comprised a circular gap that cradled her face, enabling her to breathe while seeing through to the floor. 

Two nurses approached Zhiyi with a roll of kitchen towels. They quietly and efficiently tore four squares from a roll of kitchen towels and laid them carefully beneath Zhiyi’s head, a nest for whatever might spew out from her head. 

“Can you point out where it hurts again?” the physician asked.

Zhiyi raised her hand and gestured to the same spot.

The physician returned, this time with a slender case of sterilised, single-use, disposable needles. “The needles are for one-time use. It may sting a little when I insert the needles. Please bear with it,” he explained.

Zhiyi’s heart pounded like a drum, echoing through her ribs as the physician inserted the needles into her skull. She could not see the needles. But in her mind, they were sharp, gleaming, and cruel. Yet she lay still, face hidden in the cradle of silence. She inhaled deeply, mind bracing for the impending pain.

“Ouch!” exclaimed Zhiyi, as he penetrated the first needle into her scalp.

She gritted her teeth as the other needles pierced her scalp in swift succession, determined not to make further noise as she feared it might adversely affect the mental and emotional well-being of the other patients. 

“Now, rest for a while,” the physician urged, and walked away.

“Ok,” noted Zhiyi.

Zhiyi closed her eyes, attempting to quieten her thoughts. She stayed as still as a statue, fearful that any movement might induce the pain. The minutes passed like smoke.

Then came the alarm—long, shrill, insistent.

“Wake up,” a nurse urged with a gentle voice.

The physician returned.

“I am going to remove the needles. It will hurt when I pull the needles out. Please bear with it,” the physician forewarned.

She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists as she braced for the pain. Despite her grimace, she held back her voice this time as she did not want to mentally or emotionally affect other patients around her. 

Chapter 6

Chilling Sight of the Blood-Soaked Towels

“Would you like to see the stain on the kitchen towel?” the nurse queried. 

 “Yes, I would like to take a photo,” Zhiyi requested. 

What Zhiyi saw was chilling. A dark red stain drenched the two kitchen towels, staining nearly to their edges. The blood was the shade of old rust, heavy with memory.

“The blood was maroon. It signified you sustained the injury several years ago,” the physician explained.

Zhiyi nodded, her throat dry. The dark-coloured blood was a stark reminder of a forgotten wound she sustained back in 2004, a shadow she had carried for 15 years. 

“I sustained a head injury when I hit my head getting into a friend’s car in 2004,” replied Zhiyi.

“That was 15 years ago!” the physician echoed, eyes wide.

“Yes, I had been going about my life as a normal person, not knowing that I had a brain haemorrhage for 15 years. It’s scary when I think about this. Thank you for helping me drain out the blood in my brain. I appreciate it. Help me thank the nurses as well,” asserted Zhiyi, her heart brimming with gratitude. 

“It’s good that you drained the blood out of your brain. Please do not wash your hair till tomorrow. You may have to come for another two sessions to drain the blood from your brain. No problem,” advised the physician, as he moved away to treat another patient.

“Please proceed to the waiting area. You can get your medicine and make payment at the counter,” a nurse declared. 

Zhiyi approached the counter when her name was called. 

“Please take this medicine every day for the next five days,” the nurse instructed, handing a white sachet containing the medication to Zhiyi. It was about the size of her palm. 

“Nighty-dollars, please,” the nurse declared. 

Fearful that she might experience a fainting spell along the way if she took public transport, she deemed it would be safer to take a taxi home. 

On her way home, Zhiyi sent the photo of the two blood-soaked kitchen towels to her family. 

When she returned home, Zhiyi discussed the experience with Ruiyi in Zhiyi’s bedroom. Zhiyi sat on her single bed with a lilac bedsheet, which was diagonally opposite the door of her room. On the left of her bed was the window with ebony square grills, akin to the Japanese grills. On the right of her bed was her white study table. Beside the study table was a white bookshelf. There was also a white cabinet opposite the white bookshelf, which is near the door of the room. Ruiyi sat at the chair of the study table, facing Zhiyi. Their mother was in the kitchen while their father was in the master bedroom. 

“Did you see the photo I sent of the two kitchen towels drenched with blood? I went for acupuncture today. The physician pointed out that when the blood is dark red, it means I sustained the injury a long time ago. How true! I sustained a head injury in 2004, which was 15 years ago!” Zhiyi shared.

“That was a lot of blood! That is terrifying! Was it painful?” pried Ruiyi, her sister, two years younger than her.

“Yes, it was painful when the physician inserted the needles, and when he removed them. But the remainder of the time, it was not as painful. I tried to lie as still as a statue and not move about too much,” Zhiyi expounded. 

“Don’t you think it’s chilling that you sustained a head injury in 2004? All these 15 years, your brain was bleeding, yet you didn’t know about it!” Ruiyi pointed out.  

“Yes, I didn’t even realise it! Years ago, when I sustained the head injury, the doctor shared with me that if I did not experience blurred vision, vomiting or frequent migraines, I need not worry. I didn’t experience these symptoms for 15 years. I went about living and working like a healthy person. The signs of internal bleeding only surfaced in 2018 and 2019, when I had bad migraines, vomiting and blurry vision,” Zhiyi recounted. 

“Huh! It took ages for you to experience the symptoms of internal bleeding in your brain!” Ruiyi exclaimed. 

“Yes, these 15 years, I thought my memory lapses stemmed from distraction and lack of attention. All along, I was walking around with a brain haemorrhage and on the brink of death. Yet I was clueless,” Zhiyi explained, shuddering at the realisation, which sent chills down her spine. 

“None of us had an inkling!” quipped Ruiyi.

“In hindsight, I should have gone for the CT scan right after the bad knock on my head,” Zhiyi added.  

“But the doctors would have encouraged you to go for surgery,” pointed out Ruiyi.

“Yes, you are right. The doctors would have recommended surgery. It entails higher risks as the surgery is more intrusive and may take a longer time to heal,” said Zhiyi.

"Good that you went for acupuncture. But I perceive differently. With the advancement of technology, western surgeons can conduct keyhole surgeries, which might be less intrusive and the wounds may also heal faster,” Ruiyi opined.

“I agree that with the advancement of technology, keyhole surgeries can enable patients to heal faster. Yet, I am grateful to Raquelle for sharing about the acupuncturist, as he drained the blood from my brain. Raquelle played a pivotal role in saving my life!” Zhiyi affirmed.

“That is quite expensive. Singapore Thong Chai Medical Institution at Sengkang offers acupuncture too, you can pay any amount you wish. But you have to be there at the queue by 7.30 am or there may not be sufficient slots. Sian Chay Medical Institution also offers acupuncture at $8,” Ruiyi pointed out.

“You can give Raquelle a sumptuous treat to thank her for saving your life. But on a cautionary note, just to be safe, it may be better to go to the polyclinic, get a referral letter for a CT scan of your brain to ensure there’s nothing left unaddressed,” Ruiyi suggested. 

Zhiyi nodded with a serene smile. “Yes, I think you’re right. It’s safer to get a CT scan to ensure there are no other blood clots in the brain; it’s better to be thorough.”

Following that initial acupuncture session, Zhiyi underwent two other sessions of acupuncture to obliterate the internal bleeding from her brain. At the subsequent two acupuncture sessions, the blood stains on the kitchen towels were smaller than before. Gradually, the shadow of the injury seemed to lift.

When Zhiyi looked at the photos of the blood-stained kitchen towels, she no longer felt the chill. Instead, she felt gratitude welling up in her like spring water, clear and quietly overwhelming. She also went for a CT scan at a hospital. The CT scan was clear, no blood clots or haemorrhage. 

She salutes all medical practitioners, doctors, nurses, therapists, physiotherapists, pharmacists, acupuncturists and physicians. Their selfless dedication, professionalism, and compassion are inspiring. They are the silent heroes who give patients the inner strength to live on and hope to the patients and their families that their loved ones are still alive. 

Zhiyi also gave Raquelle a sumptuous treat to thank her for saving her life.

Chapter 7

Health is the Greatest Wealth

For Zhiyi, it was more than a journey of healing. It was a calling, paving the way to help others unravel the wounds they did not know they bore. 

“I feel there was a rationale why I had this brain haemorrhage,” Zhiyi opined. “Maybe I can tell others that, apart from surgery, acupuncture can be a viable option for people who sustained brain injuries.” 

“Yes, acupuncture could certainly be an option they could consider. What insights have you gleaned from this experience? How has this experience transformed your perception of life?” Ruiyi probed.

“Through my harrowing ordeal, I have grasped the truth in the adage, ‘Health is the greatest wealth,’” Zhiyi reflected, her voice steady with conviction. 

“Without good health, the material possessions we’ve painstakingly accumulated lose their meaning, as we can no longer enjoy them when we are unhealthy. Without health, we can’t even summon the clarity to dream, let alone act. Being healthy is a privilege, not a given,” affirmed Zhiyi.

"Yes, health is the greatest wealth, I agree," Ruiyi agreed.

“I hope to spread the message to others that without health, they cannot enjoy the material possessions they have painstakingly accumulated in life. Without health, they cannot focus on anything. Being healthy is a privilege,” underscored Zhiyi.

“But how can someone who is ill regain their health? I understand that some people turn to their religion and pray for good health. Do you know of any other way?” queried Ruiyi.

“I read a book, ‘The Secret’ by Rhonda Byrne. The book highlighted the law of attraction: what we think of most comes true, good or bad. It’s integral to keep our thoughts positive. If someone is ill, they can ask, believe, and visualise good health. The book shared the story of a woman who recovered from cancer by asking, believing, and visualising good health,” pointed out Zhiyi.

“Being diagnosed with cancer is akin to a death sentence. It is amazing that the woman’s positive visualisations of good health empowered her to recover from cancer,” affirmed Ruiyi. 

“Were there other stories of individuals recovering from a devastating setback?” Ruiyi enquired.

“Yes, ‘The Secret’ book also shared the story of Morris Goodman, who had crashed a plane.  He was paralysed from his neck to his legs. All he could do was blink his eyes. The doctors declared he would be a vegetable for life. But he did not believe it. Morris told himself that he would walk out of the hospital by Christmas. He set the goal for himself and believed in himself. Eventually, he achieved his goal by walking out of the hospital by himself by Christmas,” shared Zhiyi. 

“Incredible! These stories underscore that positive visualisations work wonders,” attested Ruiyi.

“Yes, if there is someone who is ill, he or she can visualise the light of inner strength, energy, healing, full recovery, and good health coming down on himself or herself several times daily. They can ask, believe, and visualise themselves being healthy again. Alternatively, a family member can visualise on behalf of a loved one who is ill,” shared Zhiyi.

Ruiyi nodded thoughtfully. 

“I agree, good health should be a priority in our lives. Without which, we can’t achieve our innermost aspirations. It’s a noble calling to spread the message to individuals to cherish their health and their lives,” acknowledged Ruiyi, nodding.

“Some teenagers or young adults have fallen prey to bad influences and picked up destructive habits like vaping. Not only are they jeopardising their health, they’re trading their future prospects and their lives for fleeting pleasure—sacrificing health, purpose, and time they’ll never get back. They may never live to fulfil their childhood dreams and aspirations or spend more time with their loved ones,” Ruiyi opined. 

“It’s a painful truth. It’s hardly worth it to sacrifice one’s ambitions and career prospects for the short-term gratification of vaping. When teenagers or young adults lose their lives because of vaping, it’s their families, loved ones, and friends who bear the grief, leaving behind only an aching void,” Zhiyi pointed out.

“I hope that teenagers and young adults will steer clear of vaping and choose life over the illusion of release,” Ruiyi said softly. 

“I agree. The costs far outweigh the momentary high, ” Zhiyi affirmed.

Chapter 8

Making Positive Contributions to Society 

“What other insights have you gleaned from this brush with death? What do you hope to do in your life now that you have been given a new lease of life?” Ruiyi pried, steering Zhiyi back to the topic of her experience. 

“My harrowing experience underscored the fragility of life,” Zhiyi paused, her expression gentle with cognisance.

“Yes,” Ruiyi murmured. “Life is so fragile. Illnesses or accidents may occur at any time and in any place, often striking without warning. We must never take our time for granted. We should cherish every moment in our lives to do good and live well.”

“Do you feel more grateful to be alive?” Ruiyi enquired after a quiet beat.

“Of course! Through this harrowing experience, having been saved from the brink of death, I realise that there is no greater gift than the miracle of being alive,” affirmed Zhiyi.

“Besides the emphasis on health,  I feel as if the divine has rescued me from the jaws of death and given me a new lease of life for another purpose,” acknowledged Zhiyi.

She picked up a book from her bookshelf and showed it to Ruiyi.

“Recently, I stumbled upon an inspiring quote by Charlotte Reed, Author of ‘May the Thoughts Be With You’. The quote was, “The wise are those who have travelled to the depths of their tragedies and then returned from them, bearing a gift for the world in their hands,” Zhiyi recited.

“Her quote inspires me to make the most of my life, while I am still alive, to maximise my potential to the fullest, and make positive contributions to society. Perhaps, I can create ripple effects by inspiring individuals to uplift the lives of others,” Zhiyi asserted.

Chapter 9

Embracing Gratitude in Our Lives

“My experience also serves as a gentle reminder to count my blessings with gratitude and joy. I learnt to cherish our loved ones, family, and friends while they are still around,” acknowledged Zhiyi.

“True, the time we spend with our family and friends ought to be cherished,” echoed Ruiyi, with a nod. 

“Besides being grateful for our family and friends, what other things are you grateful for?” Ruiyi enquired.

“I am grateful for nature. I relish the breathtaking and fiery sunrises, as well as the purplish and pinkish hues of the lavender sunsets,” Zhiyi shared.

“Going out in nature brightens my day. When I ramble out in nature, the warmth, hope, and cheer of the sun enliven and kindle hope in me. As I stroll beneath the trees, I am grateful for the strong, sturdy trees, plants, and flowers for providing lush greenery, the silent gift of oxygen, and beautiful, blossoming flowers,” affirmed Zhiyi.

“The chirping of the birds sounds like music to my ears. Being close to nature heals me and uplifts my spirits. It reminds me I’m alive,” Zhiyi added with a radiant smile.

“Along the beach, I love the orchestra of the waves crashing against the breakwaters. They are like composing music only the soul understands,” Zhiyi said with eyes glistening with gratitude.

“I agree, it’s wonderful to go out in nature. We find joy in the little things,” Ruiyi replied warmly. “Embracing gratitude in our lives paves the way for greater abundance of spirit, joy, and peace in life.” 

Chapter 10

Helping Others

One day, when Zhiyi returned home. Zhiyi saw her mother placing a padlock gently on her head.

“I had a nasty knock on my head the other day. I bumped into the top door of the upper section of the fridge as I was getting up after getting some vegetables,” muttered Zhiyi’s mother, Lim Mei Shan, with a sheepish smile. “Maybe I should try acupuncture, too. Can you bring me there?” 

“Of course, I can bring you there!” Zhiyi quipped, a soft smile escaping from her lips.

Chapter 11

Quiet Reflections

For 15 years, Fang Zhiyi carried within her the quiet echo of a wound she never knew existed. It was a shadow shrouded beneath her scalp, whispering through migraines, cloaked in blurred visions, hidden behind a stoic smile.

But it was not death that came calling—it was awakening.

Through trembling steps into a clinic scented with antiseptic and song, she lay beneath the needles, not with fear alone, but with an instinct older than memory. With each prick, the past bled out—dark, rusted, forgotten—and with it came the soft stirrings of grace.

The narrative featured how Zhiyi endured pain and found healing, and a reminder that the body recollects what the mind forgets. What lies dormant within us may one day rise—not to destroy, but to be acknowledged, understood, and released.

It is in this quiet reckoning that Zhiyi found her purpose: not merely to survive, but to illuminate. To be a voice for those unknowingly carrying silent injuries. To exemplify that recovery is not always born in hospital wards or under fluorescent lights—but sometimes, in the hush of Traditional Chinese Medicine, in the kindness of friends, in the heartfelt gaze of a sister, or the gentle act of one soul guiding another toward embracing hope.

Through her awakening, Zhiyi came to embody the truth behind the timeless adage, ‘Health is the greatest wealth.’ Health is the silent foundation upon which all dreams stand, the quiet power behind every ambition. With a heart stirred by survival and a renewed sense of purpose rekindled, Zhiyi hopes to become an advocate, championing the cause of valuing one’s life and battling against the silent dangers of vaping. 

She aspires to spread the message that without good health, even the most ambitious dreams and aspirations wither. Without well-being, the material possessions and treasures painstakingly accumulated through toil lose their gleam. 

Zhiyi now embraces each day as a gift, counting her blessings with gratitude and joy. She reminds herself to be present and mindful, relishing the moments she spends marvelling at the beauty of nature; the blushing skies at dawn and dusk, listening to the symphonies of the waves hitting against the shore, breathing in the lush greenery of the trees, and appreciating the vibrantly-coloured flowers. 

Birdsongs delight her. The flapping of birds’ wings and the rustling of the leaves speak to her of renewal. Nature has become her sacred mirror, reflecting the grace of simply being here.

Her harrowing brush with death underscored the profound truth-the poignant fragility of life. Tomorrow is not a guarantee. There is no greater gift than the sheer miracle of being alive. With a second lease on life, Zhiyi cherishes every moment shared with family, loved ones, friends, and kindred souls. 

Being healthy, she realised, is not a right but a privilege—a sacred opportunity to live fully, love deeply, and serve generously. Zhiyi aspires to leverage her good health to maximise her potential in life and make a positive impact in the world, creating ripple effects that inspire others to rise, to make positive contributions and uplift lives. 

The End.

About the Author

This story was conceived, meticulously crafted, and penned by Althea Reese.

Passionate about writing, playing the piano, and appreciating the beauty of nature (skies and flowers), Althea Reese hopes to inspire readers with the inner strength, confidence, and courage to persevere and navigate challenges with an indomitable spirit, resilience, and fortitude. 

She encourages individuals to cherish their lives and perceive each day as a miracle and a present, with the reminder to focus on the present, as it is indeed a gift. Althea motivates individuals to pursue their passions, fulfil their innermost aspirations, optimise their potential to the fullest, and make a positive impact in this world. 

Althea also hopes her readers will embrace happiness, love, inner peace, joy, and gratitude in their lives.

By Foo Yee Ching (Althea Reese)