July 17,2005.
Time Flies
Bold brushstrokes of crimson and yellow splash the skies. While a lighter shade of blue slowly invades the horizon. Such beauty and majesty that only a master artist could create. You are the master painter God. Whose tireless and ever changing creativity never stops to amaze me. Yet few of us have the time to watch a beautiful sunrise. You have been busy all night, while I was sleeping; you were preparing the little buds to open. You meticulously drop a freshly sculptured dew just to give an accent on a shy, blushing rose.
I grab my canvas and my brushes, only to find that you have replaced the lighter hues with cobalt blues. Once again, you remind me that beauty is fleeting, just like life. So I just watch and store them as much as I can in my memory bank.
I’m looking forward to another series of tests, ultrasound, x-rays, blood test and scans. I know there will be needle pains and hard to find veins, since most of them have collapsed and seared by the potent chemicals that entered my body. But as you have made each one of us so wonderfully and fearfully in our mother’s womb, I know you will give my doctors and nurses just another vein.
This journey is not possible without you, Lord; every time I look at myself fear grips my whole being. I don’t know what lies ahead. I am not sure on what my doctors’ find will after the series of test. Shall I go into radiation daily for successive 28 days just like the other patients? Are they going to find the same node they found in my liver during the last ultrasound? How many times are they going to insert the needle in my veins until they find the right one that works this time? Shall I experience more pain? What happens after all this treatment? Are these going to end? How long shall I live? I really don’t mind without my hair. I find it a privilege to choose whether to wear a straight light brown or pink, or auburn hair. I know you will replace them back. My eyelids and eyebrows are gone now, but it’s nice to be painting them.
You alone have the answers. But knowing that you have sustained me along the way, give me the courage to go on. Cancer cannot take away courage, nor love, nor hope, nor can it reduce eternal life.
This storm maybe the strongest that I have ever experienced, but I don’t like to look at the wind, just like Peter, because I feel like sinking. So I don’t want to take my eyes off you. Help me to go through the day, and be fruitful for you. Your purpose is higher than mine, and you are far more wiser than any of us.
I am excited to meet my students today, and thank you for the opportunity to teach inspite of this. Tonight, I will try to capture the sunrise. My paints are no longer carcinogenic. They are all waterbase. Nice talking to you, my God.


Bold brushstrokes of crimson and yellow splash the skies. While a lighter shade of blue slowly invades the horizon. Such beauty and majesty that only a master artist could create. You are the master painter God. Whose tireless and ever changing creativity never stops to amaze me. Yet few of us have the time to watch a beautiful sunrise. You have been busy all night, while I was sleeping; you were preparing the little buds to open. You meticulously drop a freshly sculptured dew just to give an accent on a shy, blushing rose.
I grab my canvas and my brushes, only to find that you have replaced the lighter hues with cobalt blues. Once again, you remind me that beauty is fleeting, just like life. So I just watch and store them as much as I can in my memory bank.
I’m looking forward to another series of tests, ultrasound, x-rays, blood test and scans. I know there will be needle pains and hard to find veins, since most of them have collapsed and seared by the potent chemicals that entered my body. But as you have made each one of us so wonderfully and fearfully in our mother’s womb, I know you will give my doctors and nurses just another vein.
This journey is not possible without you, Lord; every time I look at myself fear grips my whole being. I don’t know what lies ahead. I am not sure on what my doctors’ find will after the series of test. Shall I go into radiation daily for successive 28 days just like the other patients? Are they going to find the same node they found in my liver during the last ultrasound? How many times are they going to insert the needle in my veins until they find the right one that works this time? Shall I experience more pain? What happens after all this treatment? Are these going to end? How long shall I live? I really don’t mind without my hair. I find it a privilege to choose whether to wear a straight light brown or pink, or auburn hair. I know you will replace them back. My eyelids and eyebrows are gone now, but it’s nice to be painting them.
You alone have the answers. But knowing that you have sustained me along the way, give me the courage to go on. Cancer cannot take away courage, nor love, nor hope, nor can it reduce eternal life.
This storm maybe the strongest that I have ever experienced, but I don’t like to look at the wind, just like Peter, because I feel like sinking. So I don’t want to take my eyes off you. Help me to go through the day, and be fruitful for you. Your purpose is higher than mine, and you are far more wiser than any of us.
I am excited to meet my students today, and thank you for the opportunity to teach inspite of this. Tonight, I will try to capture the sunrise. My paints are no longer carcinogenic. They are all waterbase. Nice talking to you, my God.