Once in a while, I like to wake up in a different environment. A year out of cancer circus, my birthday this year is also a little more special than others. On the morning of my 33rd birthday, I woke up in Shenyang, with PT poking my face. It was such a glorious day.

It was just delightful. We laughed the PT & Rae laugh.

Imperial Palace of Shenyang, a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Highlights: Going Places

It has been a slow few days of recovery from a very mild chill, coldly reminding me of lower immunity, a weakened system that could once regenerate with only extra water and a good night's sleep. On days like these, memory management mornings are crucial.

Lying very still on my back, I'd wonder if I opened my eyes, would I see the clock on the left wall, showing the hour but not quite telling the time since I have no idea how long I had been under. I would tilt my head just a little, to feel for any nasal tube up my nose, or was I breathing unassisted? I would part my lips and swallow, to taste for blood from where the intubation tube might have scraped the back of my throat. I would feel for my right thumb, to see whether it was perched on that button of a gateway to morphine bliss. I would wiggle my feet, careful not to shake my left ankle too much, where the drip may be running through. Is there a catheter between my thighs? Have I ungracefully wet the ICU bed? I would listen out for that suction noise behind me to the right, from the drainage unit sucking out pleural fluids via a hose sprouting somewhere from my body, a sound that had me thinking it was raining all through the night.

All this with my eyes closed. And finally, with my left hand, I would gingerly reach for my chest. Do I have sensation there to feel my touch at all? Or is it staples under steri-strips still? Again?

For a few fleeting moments, I would allow my memory to wander, to search for new haunts even. I would then savour the fear, understanding it a little bit more each time, and appreciate that it is healthy to be afraid.

Inhaling at least two deep breaths, filling my repaired lungs with fresh air, I'd open my eyes, wipe the tears off my cheeks, then smile towards the light. I used to love waking up on my side.

Highlights: Cancer Talk

With a hole in my throat
a sty in my eye
I thank the forces at be
at least there are no staples down my chest

Highlights: Cancer Talk

some time circa 2002

Friend: You should start a blog.
Rae: Yeah, I know. But I just don't know where to start.
Friend: There are plenty of websites out there online that are easy to use.
Rae: No, I mean my life. So much happens in my life, where do I begin?

Updating the Rærity website had been a priority since its launch in December of 2004, two months after the birth of Rærity itself, my bedding and home textiles venture. Like most best laid plans, web content refreshing was steadily surpassed by the more demanding areas of the business: product development, sales and marketing endeavours, distribution expansion. By late 2006, Rærity had moved beyond the bedroom, and morphed into a full decorating service for residences in Shanghai, offering a complete, turn-key solution.

Working creatively in a three dimensional platform brought me immense satisfaction, I was indeed fortunate to have had the opportunities to realize and execute ideas and designs that were both challenging and inspiring. The most rewarding aspect was always the clients' reaction when they entered their 'new' home.

Always fluid and persistently in flux, life appears to take on a new direction for me every two years. After life-altering change that manifested in the form of a rare (can it be otherwise?) malignant tumour diagnosed in September of 2007, along with surgery for its removal and other adjuvant therapies later, Rærity once again shifts into a new dimension. As my creativity evolves, I have decided to withdraw my energy and efforts from interior decorating and focus on using my voice to reach and touch.

Rærity may exist as a separate legal entity, but it remains an extension of me. The New Rærity website now also functions as my blogging platform, a tool to keep me writing consistently. From nothing in four years to weekly updates - extreme and drastic is how we like it.

Here I am again, perched, happily, on the precipice of change.

Welcome to the New Rærity, it's constantly a work in progress. Hope to see you again soon!