Strike Day 4

730am: Thane was awake and wailing his lungs out. I hurriedly carried him outside as Terelle was stirring. I didnt want her to wake so early as she would be tired and cranky by the time she had to go to school.

Hubby had to rush off to work and i quickly warmed up some milk for my helper to feed Thane. At that moment, Terelle walked into the living room. My heart sank...i couldnt face the prospect of entertaining her till the time she had to go to school and deal with Thane at the same time.


I begged her to go back to the room and sleep some more. She refused. I started to cry and begged her again to go to the room. She started to cry too. Hubby saw the drama unfolding and let out a sigh of despair.

In the end, with tears streaming down my face, i carried Terelle back to the room and set her down on the bed. I asked her if she wanted some milk and she said yes. After she finished her milk, i laid beside her and she quietly told me "Mummy dont be sad, ill sleep some more ok?"

With that, she started to smell her beloved blankie and closed her eyes.

I started to cry again. I could hardly believe that my little girl was so matured about this. She could actually empatise with what i was going through and didnt want to add to my misery. I thanked God for my little blessing.

Just before Terelle left for school, Thane smacked an entire bowl of milk onto the floor in his rage at being spoon fed. I was devastated as i watched my precious milk spilt on the floor instead of ending up in his tummy and yet i was helpless to do anything about it.

It was comforting to have hubby home yesterday but i knew i had to get through the days myself from now on. When Terelle went off to school, i took Thane into the room, closed the door, turned on the worship cd again and spent the next hour skin to skin with him. It worked, and he lay contentedly on my chest, listening to the music with his eyes wide open and he didnt cry one bit.

Encouraged, i tried offering him the breast again when the entired cd finished playing. Sadly, he started to push me away again. Dejected and thoroughly discouraged, i started to cry again. Inwardly i was telling myself, perhaps i was being too impatient. Perhaps i should give him more time.

While Terelle was napping, I spent more skin to skin time with Thane with the same music playing in the background. He fell asleep on my chest and i put him down next to Terelle and fell asleep myself.

When i awoke, hubby was home with a dozen donuts to cheer me up. Only he understood me best and knew that i needed food, sweet ones at that, to keep my spirits up. I had already gone through 2 packets of chocolates that day. I thanked God again for my other blessing in my life.

After dinner, hubby took out his guitar and song book and we spent the next hour singing some of our favourite worship songs. Terelle even tried to mimic Daddy by strumming her toy guitar with one of his picks. Thane sat in my lap and quietly observed us. He seemed strangely calm and didnt move much as he listened to our singing.

When it came to bedtime, Thane fell asleep in hubby's arms again, all the while listening to the cd. However, Terelle was talking rather loudly and woke him up an hour later and he started bawling again. I quickly started to heat up some milk for him but when i returned to the room, hubby had already put him down on the bed and he was fast asleep.

My tears started to flow again as i clutched that precious bowl of undrunk milk. My supply had been greatly affected by the events of the past few days and my breasts were sore from being unaccustomed to the harsh pumping action of the pump, so every drop that i managed to squeeze out was so precious. And there was this entire bowl of milk that wasnt going to go into Thane's system! I just couldnt bear the thought of that.

Hubby sat on the floor beside me and told me to let go and let God. He said that maybe if i finally could stop blaming myself and let go, my supply would return and God would make things right. Deep down in my heart i knew he was right, it was really up to me to stop trying to control everything. I washed my face and went to bed.

To my utmost surprise, Thane slept through the night.

When i groggily reached for my clock in the morning, i half expected it to be 3am. It was actually already 730am and he was still fast alseep. I was so happy i couldnt go back to sleep myself.

Strike day 3

Hubby took leave today to lend me support and help out at home. He helps me prepare Terelle for school as i struggle with trying to feed Thane via cup, bottle and spoon.
I realised that spoon is the best bet as most of the milk gets in that way. He simply detests the bottle and with the cup, most of the milk dribbles down his chin. I try to get him to latch intermittently without success; he continues to push me away, crying unhappily.

1230pm: Terelle goes off to school. Hubby suggests we go out for a nice lunch but i cant bear to leave Thane alone at home.

In the end, we bring him downstairs to the coffee shop for a walk and to get some groceries. I can hardly stomach any food. As i miserably pick at my hokkein mee, Thane stares ahead forlornly. He seems to have lost his spirit too. Is my misery rubbing off on him or vice versa? Either way we are both miserable.

Throughout the afternoon, I kept replaying in my mind what happened on Friday night. I kept wishing I had known Thane was going to go on strike. I would have treasured every moment of our last nursing session. I would have smelled his soft hair, kissed his forehead and nuzzled his little fist, and look on with amusement at how he liked to scratch his head with his free hand, until he fell fast asleep. I would have treasured every second of our special time together and not take it for granted by reading or watching tv.

That afternoon i cried each time he cried. At one point, he was just sitting quietly in my lap and staring sullenly in front of him. It seemed as if his spirit was broken. With tears streaming down my face, i told hubby i couldnt take any more of this.

Terelle was trying to nap when she saw me crying. She quietly gave me a hug and said "Dont cry Mummy, I love you." I could hardly believe my ears. Here was my 3 year old baby actually comforting me!
My little girl has really grown up. I picked her up and hugged her. I asked her why baby keeps refusing to drink mummy's milk. Her innocent reply was "Baby dont want to drink milk becos he wants to go to school with me."

Smiling through my tears, i marvelled at how matured she could be one moment and just a kid again the next.

We brought Thane to see the pd in the evening, just to get him checked out and make sure there was nothing physically wrong with him. The pd gave him a clean bill of health and told me that he has a strong character to be able to protest so vehemently at 9mths.

When i told her i was not ready to wean, she looked me in the eye and said that it was not up to me anymore. Now it was really up to Thane, if and when he decides to forgive and forget, and start to nurse again.

I was crestfallen at her declaration. I was all ready to nurse him well into his toddler years. I didnt want the hassle of bottles and spoonfeeding. If only he would return to nursing, i wouldnt even mind getting up 5 times a night to nurse him again. Why did i complain so much when he was nursing through the night? What i wouldnt give to go back to those days. But it wasnt about what i wanted anymore, was it?

At night, after all the bedtime rituals, the four of us trooped into our room. As i turned on the cd player, songs of worship started to fill the room. Hubby remarked that he suddenly felt like listening to this particular cd. Surprisingly Thane fell asleep in his arms with much less fuss compared to the previous few nights.

As the four of us lay on our bed listening to the cd, the song "There is none like You" begain to play. Hubby started singing and when he came to the line "suffering children are safe in Your arms", i felt peace for the first time in days. God was comforting me and i told myself to hold that line close to my heart.

Thane woke up again in the middle of the night and we went through the motion of feeding and comforting again, all the while with the cd playing in the background.

He woke up only once this time.

Strike Day 2

11pm: True enough, when it came to bedtime and Thane needed to nurse to sleep again, he started his hysterical screaming. Tried to get him to latch again but he wailed even louder. After rocking, bouncing, cradling, singing, walking around he finally slept, shuddering every few minutes, the after effects of his frenzied crying session.


2am: He wakes up crying again. I warm up a small container of expressed breast milk and painstakingly feed it to him by spoon, all the while carrying him with the other hand. He laps a few spoonfuls up eagerly only to start crying and struggling again. I doggedly continue to feed him every single drop, despite his apparent misery every few minutes.


315am: He falls asleep after crying his heart out again. My dad actually suggests that i bring him to the pd tomorrow to ask if it is time to wean. I almost explode with fury and exasperation.


5am: Same thing happens. Cry, warm milk, feed with one hand with him protesting between spoonfuls. I keep sms-ing hubby for encouragement. He replies and tries to keep my spirits up, despite it being 5am too over in Shanghai.
Hubby says he has a phobia of travelling now, cos everytime he travels, something will go wrong at home. Its always the kids who suffer!! Once when he travelled, Terelle landed in hospital and now this?! How i wish it were me who was aflicted with all these suffering...why does it have to be the kids??


6am: Thane falls asleep and i gratefully sink into bed.


830am: I wake up and groggily stagger out of bed only to realise my parents have taken Thane out for breakfast. Thankful, i go back to sleep with Terelle who miraculously, has slept through the entire din the night before.


10am: Thane returns asleep in my helper's arms. She puts him down in his cot and he wakes barely 15min later crying miserably again. No luck with latching again, we try to feed him some milk in a bottle. He tries to bat it away in despair, crying and gagging at the same time. Takes almost 30min to finish just 100ml of milk.
I am worried as most of the time his diapers are barely filled when they used to be so full they would leak from time to time. Is he dehydrated??


12 noon: Supposed to bring Terelle to a good friend's son's party but am so tired i cant bring myself to dress up, drag myself out and handle her outside. i knew i would be worried about Thane at home too, so decided to skip the party.


Afternoon passes by in the same manner, the only thought that kept me going was that hubby would be returning that night. I needed him to be around, to tell me that it was not my fault and that everything would be alright again. And with him around, if i needed to cry i could cry in peace. I did not need to keep up with appearances as i did with my parents around.


Headed off to the airport to fetch hubby in the evening. Thane started fussing after dinner. Tried to nurse him in the car, but to no avail. He used to love nursing in the car, the rocking motion slowly easing him to sleep. My heart twisted at the memory.


1130pm: The entire household is asleep. Thane wakes and cries inconsolably. Hubby has his first taste of the mayhem. I break down and sob my heart out as he tries to carry Thane and calm him down. Finally succeeds after about an hour.

Hubby repeatedly tells me that i couldnt have forseen that Thane would have such a reaction after the flicking incident and that i should look ahead and not dwell on the past. But i cant..i just cant...everytime i see how miserable he is, i feel like beating myself up.


3am: Thane wakes and we both scramble to feed him a bowl of milk again. Same reaction, feed cry feed cry....cry until spent, fall asleep wimpering. By now my heart is in a million pieces.

Strike Day 1

1130pm: Trying to nurse Thane to sleep as usual. Brought the kids out on a cable car ride to Sentosa and then to watch the "Song of the Sea" today so am particularly bushed. Hoping that he would fall asleep quickly so that i can crash too, and not looking forward to him getting up at least 3 times to nurse during the nite again.


1138pm: Thane bites me hard and i flick his mouth, chiding him at the same time. He furrows his brow, gives me a bewildered and hurt look, arches his back away from me and starts to howl. I quickly carry him out of the room for fear of waking Terelle up. (On hindsight, shouldnt have bothered...she can sleep through an earthquake)


1230am: He is still crying and screaming. My mum tries to pacify him and it works for a few minutes. I keep trying to offer the breast and he does turn his face towards it. Then he seems to remember that he was flicked and turns away yelling with renewed fervour.


145am: He is still crying and wimpering pitifully. I sms hubby who is away and tell him how desperate i am. Hubby is awoken from his sleep and dismisses me as he thinks it is not a serious issue. But i am scared and desperate cos deep down i know that something is not right. The worm has turned and i dont think that anything i do will make it turn back.


215am: He has finally cried himself to sleep. Exhausted i climb into bed beside him and fall into a fitful sleep.


330am: He is up and wailing again! I offer the breast again and the same thing happens. He turns towards it then remembers how i hurt him and turns away crying woefully. My heart breaks...

All this while my mum is grumbling that i am making her precious grandson suffer and that it is not good for babies to cry so much and that he will get a fever and fits the next day and keeps suggesting that i give him formula as she is convinced that he is hungry.
I tell her that i think he is on a nursing strike and she scoffs at my resolve to breastfeed, claiming that my sister and i are both fine and dandy now and we were both not breastfed.
I am utterly frustrated and try to shut out all her unwanted advice.


445am: He cried until he was exhausted and has fallen asleep. I am exhausted too and miserable. Why is he rejecting me? I feel that it is my fault for flicking him.


620am: He wakes and i jump at the chance to offer him the breast. He takes it!! I am overjoyed, thinking that everything has gone back to normal. I do not dare move and we both fall asleep, me upright and him cradled in my arms.


830am: Thane wakes as per normal and my mum and helper take him outside to play with him while i get some extra shut eye.


1030am: I wake and my helper tells me she thinks he's hungry and sleepy at the same time. I fumble with my bra's nursing clasp and try to undo it quickly. Alas it is not quick enough for my impatient boy and he starts to howl in anger and twists out of my arms again. When i finally get it undone he refuses to latch again. He screams and cries for a good hour before falling into an exhausted stupor again.


The next couple of hours are a blur of intermittent crying, offering the breast, his refusal and pushing me away, more crying, then falling asleep only to wake in a short while and repeating the whole process.


By nightfall i am totally spent and utterly miserable. I havent had a bite of lunch and have no appetite for dinner. However my parents are around and i make a half hearted attempt at dragging myself downstairs for some food. I bring Thane along as i cant bear to leave him at home with my helper.


745pm: My parents and Terelle are tucking into a sumptous bak kut teh dinner while i stare at my food with Thane sitting in my lap. He is looking around impassively, totally unlike my busybody little boy just a couple of days ago. Every few minutes he will cry out and bury his face into my neck. My dad quickly finishes his dinner and carries him away to look at some children racing cars nearby, in a bid to cheer him up. I half heartedly swallow a few morsels of food.


After all the bedtime routines for both kids, my heart sinks further. I knew that it was going to be another long night.
I was right, the night was longer that it has ever been.

Maternal instinct

I am not maternal, never have been.

B.C (before children), i was never the kind to go ooh and aah over babies. Even when an impossibly cute specimen was hanging over my shoulder in the train, all i could manage was a smile or a polite pat on its hand, even while i knew that the mum was dying for me to ask some personal questions about her offspring just so that she could ply me with its latest anecdotes. No thanks, i would rather be listening to my music and escaping into my book.

Whenever i had to entertain a kid for more than a couple of minutes, my lame antics and silly noises would always be met with impassive, stony faces that conveyed the message that i was the greatest joke on earth. And i would be seriously wishing my friend/relative i.e the grimy kids' mum would quickly return or that the ground would swallow me up to save me from further embarassment.

And crying kids? They either gave me a headache or rendered me useless, and as such i avoided them like the plague.

While i was pregnant, i never felt that i was radiating femininity. While my friends waxed lyrical about how wonderful it felt and how miraculous it was to have a little being move inside you, all i felt were the longest 18months (2 pregnancies) of my life and i disliked the ungainly bump in front of me and the constraints it put on my active lifestyle.

6 years of marriage and 2 kids later, i am still learning how to be a mother. There are days i do give myself a pat on the back and there are days i wish i could kick myself. But through it all, there is one thing that i feel i have finally done well in - and that is breastfeeding Thane.

We battled countless problems together in the early days; latching issues, mastitis (3times), bleeding nipples, engorgement and yet we managed to overcome all of them. He has been a happy nurser for the past 9 months only to stop abruptly 4 nites ago cos i flicked his cheek in response to him biting hard.
This is not the first time ive done so as he has been biting pretty often enough, but this was the first time he looked at me with such hurt and betrayal in his eyes as he stopped nursing immediately, arched his back and pushed himself vehemently away from me.

Nursing strike - 2 cold clinical words that describe a baby's abrupt refusal to nurse.

Each time Thane draws away from me screaming his lungs out, I feel bereft; as if i am mourning the leaving of a loved one, as if im mourning my hold on mothering my baby. Mothering through breastfeeding is the only thing i know i am doing completely right and that nobody could fault, and if i cant nurse i feel useless, helpless, miserable and worst of all defeated.

I never thought i would finally come face to face with my maternal instincts in this manner. Yet through this nursing strike - these 2 simple, self explaining words have since shaken my entire life and soul and has made me feel like its the end of the world.

I have been trawling the net for information on how to deal with nursing strikes and have been trying to find success stories of mothers who have coaxed their babies back to the breast after a strike.

But all I have found are very factual advices about how to cope with nursing strikes (how do u spend skin to skin time when your baby keeps pushing himself away from you and crying himself hoarse??) but very few success stories about mothers who have actually survived a nursing strike and come out triumphant on the other side.

There is especially, a lack of stories about mums who reacted strongly when her child bit her, had the child gone on strike and emerged better off for it.

And so i shall chronicle Thane's nursing strike, firstly to remember these emotional days and also to provide hope and comfort to any other mum who would be as unfortunate as me to encounter this in her breastfeeding journey.

Maternal instinct? Guess i do have a smidgeon of it after all. But i wish i didnt have to realise it through this episode...

Complain Letter

Terelle was bent over a blank sheet of paper, writing some letters and drawing some squiggles very intently. I asked her what was she doing.

"Im writing a complain letter,' came her swift reply.

Complain letter?? I dont recall ever teaching her the concept of a complaint, let alone a complain letter.

"What do you want to complain about?"

"I want to complain about the kor kor on the bus. I want to kill him for always scratching kirsten and me!!"

Should i be concerned about this display of violence? Hahahha but a complain letter? I cant get over it. My girl is a born and bred Singaporean alright.

First "fight'?

We were coaxing Terelle to drink up her chinese medicine. As usual, she was doing all she can and coming up with all sorts of delay tactics to get out of it.

It had been a long day and both of us were tired, hot and bothered, and our patience was worn thin.

Hubby finally lost his cool and shouted at her to get on with it.

She grudgingly sat on the floor and indignantly downed the medicine.

Thane chose this precise moment to let out a gurgle of laughter, which sounded like he was mocking her.

The little chilli padi turned to him and grimly declared in a menacing voice that commanded no further comments
"IT'S NOT FUNNY!"

Hubby and I could hardly keep a straight face after that. We both had to run out of the room lest we burst out laughing in front of her and lose our authority.

Uncanny coincidence

She was born on 050405
He was born on 071207
Similar date pattern

She has 7 letters in her name.
He has 5.

She turned 2 on 050407
He was made on 050407 *snigger*

She turned 3 on 050408
He started sleeping through the night on 050408

In the afternoon, both have to sleep at the same time and they will invariably wake up at the same time too!

We have an strange affinity with these 2 numbers in our daily life too. Rented wagons at the zoo, locker numbers, car park lots, receipt slips at special occasions; all bear the numbers '57'.
Sheer coincidence, you might scoff, but it has happened too many times for us to dismiss.

And the numbers 5 and 7 have an added significance, cos in the days when handphones were non existent and pagers were the hippest form of communication, i used the no 57 as my initials cos when viewed upside down, they form the letters LS.

Im so glad that sister and brother are close (so far), without me having to really try very hard. Whenever he cries, sometimes only his sister is able to make him smile with her silly antics. And whenever she cries, he invariably gets very upset too, as if he is sharing her distress.

Because of this uncanny coincidence, we have a sticker of the number 57 on our car, making us hard to miss on the roads.
So if u do see us, give us a toot and a wave! ;)

What did she say?!

Scenario 1

Family eating at dinner table. Hubby talking to his mum and she replies with her mouth half full. Little smart aleck quips with a serious, admonishing look on her face,
"Mama dont talk with ur mouth full! Its very rude!!"

Everyone almost falls off their chairs in laughter.
Looks like my incessant nagging at her not to talk with her mouth full is working!

Scenario 2

We all head to the stables at Pasir Ris Park, hoping to let Terelle have a ride on the ponys. My dad complains non stop about the mosquitoes, the dark clouds and impending rain, the "ulu-ness" of the place and kept on dissuading us to let her have her fun with the ponys. This prompted me to tell him not to be a wet blanket.

Terelle, in all seriousness, asked as she cautiously tugged at and fingered his shirt," Why gong gong? Are you very wet??"

*Rolls eyes in disbelief*

Hope

Ive finally realised the reason for my daughter's terrible moods - she's not feeling well.

Terelle has been on long term medication for her lung problems and allergies ever since January and recently her paediatrician decided to stop the meds. Consequently all the allergies started flaring up again - itchy, watery eyes, a sneeze a minute, leaky nose, breathlessness and a hacking cough with any slight exertion; and it drives her up the wall. And because of that, she takes her frustrations out on me, and who can blame her?

Coincidently a good friend brought her daughter to see a sinseh recently for her flu and it cleared up very quickly. She was very impressed and suggested i try tcm. I am not particularly a great fan of tcm, having heard horror stories of fly by night sinsehs who sneak weatern drugs into their "potions" and who use herbs from unknown sources. Moreover, i was brought up taking western medicine and coupled with my training as a biochemist armed with a plethora of proven scientific knowledge, i was skeptical and wary.

However, i have also heard that reputable sinsehs are able to treat the root cause of your problem and that treatment with tcm, although lengthy, aims for holistic wellbeing; versus western medicine which is quick acting but treats only symptoms. What the heck, i was desperate to try anything that can improve my poor girl's quality of life and also regain my sanity, so we quickly made an appointment to see this guy.


I wasnt too impressed when we reached the medical hall. It was old with flaky yellowed walls, non air conditioned and smelled very strongly of "koyok" (medicated plasters) A sour faced "nurse" told us in curt tones, without even looking at us, to wait until our number was called before going into the consultation room. After a 30min wait, we were finally face to face with the famed doctor.

He was a serious middle aged man who promptly ordered hubby out of the room so he could concentrate on sensing terelle's aura (or whatever he needed to do). Perhaps she was awed by him too, as she was uncharacteristically quiet and compliant. I started blubbering in my rusty mandarin but he totally ignored my ramblings. He took one look at her and grimly declared that she had weak lungs in surprisingly fluent English. ( Now why did i assume that just because he was a sinseh who practiced traditional chinese medicine that i HAD to speak in mandarin and make a fool of myself??)

He started to examine her and after a minute of silence (by then i was too cowed by his intimidating presence to utter a squeak), he looked up and with a voice that dripped contempt, asked me a barrage of questions.

"Do you give her yakult and juice?"

"Yes"

"Biscuits, chocolates, fruits?"

(more meekly) "Yes"

"She eats very slowly, has no appetite, sleeps poorly and tosses and turns?"

"Yes"

"She had an episode of lung infection in recent months?"

"Yes in January"

"Then she had high fever with fits too?"

"Yes during a 2nd infection in February"
(He can tell so much by just reading her pulse??)

"She is in very bad health, you shouldnt have waited so long to see me"

"....." (My heart sinks to the bottom of my shoes)

"Her upbringing is so bad, all those yakult, fruits, western stuff...they claim is good but it does more harm to our system. We are asians so we have a completely different constitution, we cannot eat the same way as the ang mohs."

(Bad upbringing?? what bad upbringing??) I felt abit indignant at that point.

"Your daughter has a very strong personality, she has very obvious leadership qualities. I can tell from her face. And being unwell hinders her learning potential. She gets very frustrated and irritable often right?"
(What is he now, a fortune teller too??)

"Yes"

He shakes his head and makes some notes. At this point i stupidly venture to ask a question, cos he made it sound as though she was beyond hope.
" So can she be cured?"

He looked at me over his glasses, arched an eyebrow and said curtly
"I know what im doing"

*But..but...i didnt mean to say you dont know what ure doing...i just need some assurance...* *sniff sniff*

ok no more talking from me, i decided to speak only when spoken to.

"ok she cannot eat nuts, all fruits from A to Z, fruit juices, yakult, green tea, chicken, eggs, all fried things, oily stuff, oven baked like cakes, cereals, biscuits..."
(i start to space out...so many things? What can she eat?)

"Ah i know u wont be able to remember all these. You yourself suffer from insomnia and hence cannot focus well, have a bad back here" (points to the exact spot where my back is aching) "pain here" (points to a stiff spot on my neck that i cant seem to shake off) "have constipation and heartburn"

Ahhhhh...he can see all that from my face too?? But he's spot on in his diagnosis

"Just give her small portions of soft foods now; oats, porridge. Boil it with meat but dont let her eat the meat. Fish ok"

"Can she eat sushi? Its her favourite"

"No, the rice is too hard for her to digest"

Terelle had been quiet and paying attention to our conversation so far. I noticed her face registering increasing alarm after hearing the entire list of forbidden food. To hear that she couldnt have her beloved sushi; it was the straw that broke her back. She couldnt help but blurt out pleadingly

"Noodles can? Doctor please say can?"

That elicited a smile from the doctor who told her with a laugh that noodles are fine.

"See your girl is so smart, we must make her feel better then she can really shine"
I heave an inaudible sigh of relief...he's human after all.

And i chose this moment to ask another dumb question.
"So do i have to be treated too?"

Another arch of his eyebrow. "Ill treat your girl first, part of your inability to sleep is because of her. Because u worry too much about her"
Whoa spot on again. I felt like a recalcitrant schoolgirl in front of a strict principal.

And so, that kinda concluded our virgin sinseh visit. Terelle was given a vile smelling concoction together with some powder to drink and ordered to come back in 5 days.

Miraculously, she took the medicine with minimal fuss and true enough, showed visible signs of improvement after 5 days.

We are now both seeing this sinseh for long term maintenance and well being and i feel much more lighthearted seeing terelle in better spirits and most importantly better health. She only has occasional sneezes when she wakes in the morning and can run like the wind without succumbing to a hacking cough.

And surprisingly, good ol serious doc has started to lighten up. He now laughs and jokes with us, probably cos we have been listening to his advice and have shown considerable improvement. Even sour faced puss at the recept now smiles and makes small talk with us. Or maybe our scintillating personalities are now shining through cos we are both feeling better? Haha...lame...

But there you have it, i now have hope, in the form of a no nonsense chinese sinseh.