I’m Not Scared of Growing Old

Wrinkles,

toothless smiles,

white hair,

or walking with a cane—

none of these frighten me.

What scares me

is reaching an age

when I can no longer care for myself—

when I need others

to feed me,

to bathe me,

to help me move,

and to do the things

I once did on my own.

I know I have fewer friends now.

But solitude is not loneliness.

As I grow older,

I value peace more than

unnecessary arguments,

and quiet moments more than

the need to prove I am right.

When I reach the end of my journey,

I ask for only three things:

Dignity.

Independence.

Strength.

To remain self-sufficient,

to live with dignity,

and to care for myself

until the very end.

Inshallah..God Willing

My Diabetes Journey: Trying Without Medication

 

Hi, I feel it’s time to give an update on my diabetes journey for my concerned friends and followers

About a month ago, I shared that I had been clinically diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes. At that time, I persuaded my doctor to give me three months to try managing my blood sugar through diet and lifestyle changes—without starting medication immediately.

Unfortunately, the results have been disappointing.

During this “grace period,” I committed myself to a strict routine: only two meals a day, skipping breakfast entirely, with about sixteen hours of fasting between dinner and lunch.

For lunch, I usually had low-carb bread with fried egg, canned tuna, tomatoes, smashed avocado, and spinach. Sometimes, I’d switch to porridge or steel-cut oats cooked with pork belly, liver, century egg, and cuttlefish, like a hearty chok moy.

Dinner was a small portion of rice with chicken or pork, fried egg, fish, and vegetables—always accompanied by a large salad. After dinner, I’d have a glass of apple cider vinegar with lime juice.

Overall, I ate a low-carb diet, rich in protein, healthy fats, and plenty of fibre. My weight dropped from 77 kg to 74 kg, but my HbA1c stubbornly remained at 8.5%.

At my age—nearing 80—Type 2 diabetes is sadly common. My pancreas is weaker now, unable to produce enough insulin to clear excess sugar. Perhaps my liver is also overproducing glucose. Whatever the cause, I know diabetes can be managed if tackled early.

Ignoring it, however, can be deadly. Diabetes can damage the kidneys (leading to dialysis), cause amputations, blindness, strokes, and many other complications.

I’ve seen the worst happen. Two close friends died because they refused proper diabetic management. One, an ex-taxi driver, rejected medical advice and relied only on Chinese herbs. He eventually had a legs amputated and passed away in hospital at 60. The other, my former supervisor in Saudi Arabia, ignored his condition until he needed kidney dialysis. He returned to Singapore in a wheelchair and died at 70 after prolonged suffering.

I’m scared—and I’ve decided not to gamble with my health any longer.

A simple pill like metformin can go a long way in controlling blood sugar. At my next polyclinic visit, I will ask my doctor to prescribe it.

 

Diabetic at Old Age

 For a long time, I willfully refused to accept that I had diabetes. I brushed aside the warnings and chose to believe I was still in control albeit at age close to 80

.. But after my recent tests—an HbA1c reading of 8.0 at the polyclinic yesterday, and a home test today showing 8.3—the reality is now undeniable: I am diabetic.

The doctor recommended starting on metformin, a common and effective medication that helps the pancreas produce insulin more efficiently and lowers blood sugar levels. However, I requested a three-month grace period to try managing my condition through diet and lifestyle changes first. I want to take some ownership of this battle and see if natural adjustments can make a difference before turning to medication.

To be fair, metformin is generally well-tolerated and has few serious side effects. In fact, it's sometimes even prescribed off-label to aid in weight loss or improve metabolic health. So, I’m not opposed to taking it if necessary. But for now, I’d like to explore if I can turn things around on my own.

The next three months will be critical. I’ll need to be disciplined with my diet, cut down on sugars and processed carbs, stay active, and monitor my levels regularly. This is a wake-up call—and perhaps, a second chance.

Let’s see how it goes.

My Reflection of Growing Old at 80.

 

As I grow older,
my eyesight dims, my hearing fades.
I sleep less than before, eat less,
and walk with gentler, slower steps.
But something amazing begins to happen.

I start to accept myself—
to love who I am, without regret,
without the self-torture of the past.
I seek my own joy now.

I grow selective with my circle of friends,
easily sensing the false,
and drawing the genuine ones near.

I no longer crave advice I didn’t ask for,
nor feel the need to please everyone.
I waste no breath arguing
with those who reject reason
or refuse to listen.

With each passing year, I see more clearly:
I have only one life—
precious, even as it fades.

I savor the quiet moments,
find joy in simple things.
I welcome my wrinkles,
embrace my thinning hair. 

And I no longer let others define my worth.

For aging is not only about fading—
it is about finally shining,
in a light that is wholly mine.

Regrets...

 

At 45, far from home and my young kids’ laughter,

I toiled in Saudi for fifty thousand in a year,

Only to lose it all on CLOB shares—

Every single dollar, gone.

Do I regret? Yes, I do.

At 55, I flew to Cambodia, a bad dream in my mind—

To raise a cow instead of buying milk close by.

Such was my folly, head full of cow dung dreams.

Do I regret? Yes, I do.

At 60, behind the wheel of a cab,

I ferried strangers, day and night,

For a decent meal, while .some friends scorn in secret delights.

Do I regret? Yes, I do.

At 70, during the COVID storm,

I left the cab and retired alone—

Living on CPF savings, barely enough.

Do I regret? Yes, I do.

Regrets, I've had too many to count,

Choices made wrong, paths not taken.

Now, as eighty draws near, the end is in sight.

I’ll carry these regrets to wherever I go.

But like Frank Sinatra’s “My Way”,

I shall cast them out, along the by-ways.

To live each day afresh, 

And cherish each step I take, each breath I’ve.

To my friends, both rich and poor,

Living and gone, I say with a sigh:

I wish you peace, on earth and beyond—

Here, or perhaps in heaven’s embrace.

A Single Lady's Fear.

 I heard that before entering into a relationship,

a single lady trembles with fear.

She looks back at the care-free time she had,

leaving a messy bed undone, 

dirty clothes strewn all over her room,

and no one cares.

But now, in front of her,

she sees a new life so different.

That to enter,

it seems leaving the carefree single life behind.

Hesitant, she struggles with thoughts of going back,

somehow her heart says “no way”.

She has to take the risk

of entering into a new life of possibilities,

like a river entering an ocean and embracing it.

Because only then will the fear disappear

and a vast ocean of joy and happiness beacons,

with a family of her own.

Glaucoma - a silent eye defect.

 About ten years ago, I noticed my vision was blurry. Initially, I thought it was due to my existing short-sightedness. I tried increasing the power of my spectacle lenses, but my vision didn’t improve. It turned out that my right eye was affected by glaucoma — a progressive, incurable condition caused by high eye pressure that gradually damages the optic nerves.

A belated check-up at the Singapore Eye Hospital confirmed that I had glaucoma in my right eye. Unfortunately, by then, it was too late. Glaucoma cannot be reversed and, over time, leads to complete blindness. Thankfully, my left eye remained unaffected and continues to have perfect vision. To protect it, I now have to apply three different types of eye drops regularly to prevent high pressure from building up.

Living with half-blindness has been challenging and life-changing.

Is it troublesome? Absolutely.

I struggle with simple tasks. I often miss the cup when pouring water, and lighting candles or joss sticks has become an exercise in frustration as I frequently miss the target.

These are minor frustration I can live with.

My main worries are missing a step or kicking a curb resulting in a nasty fall that could potentially be the end of the road for me. God forbid.

This morning, while waiting for the bus, I placed two bags of groceries on the ground beside my seat. When the bus arrived, I only picked up the yellow plastic bag and unknowingly left behind a transparent bag containing $10 worth of prawns. Losing it was a painful reminder of how glaucoma—and perhaps my carelessness—has affected my daily life.

To those fortunate enough to have perfect vision, my heartfelt advice is this:

Never take your eyesight for granted. Go for regular eye check-ups at an eye specialist clinic or hospital (not just an optical shop) to ensure your eyes are healthy. Early detection can make all the difference.

What does it feel like to be old?

 

Yesterday, a young boy from my block surprised me with a question: “Uncle, what does it feel like to be old?”

I was taken aback since I don’t consider myself old, even though I’m nearing 80. I’m strong and healthy. I gave him a cheeky smile, which left him looking surprised and a bit embarrassed.

Placing my arms around his shoulder, we walked toward the bus stop as I slowly explained that it was an interesting question and gave my feeling on his question.

After we parted and upon reflection, I realized that getting old is a rare gift.

Often, when I look in the mirror, I’m surprised at the person staring back at me. Two bulging eye bags, a wrinkled forehead, flabby chin, and a few black spots here and there, I think I look younger than my age. I stopped worrying about those things a long time ago. I wouldn’t trade anything I have for fewer wrinkles, less grey hair, or a flat stomach.

I don’t berate myself for brushing my full dentures instead of natural teeth, nor for not making the bed. I don’t feel guilty for occasionally indulging in fatty stewed pork legs or fresh cockles in sambal belacan. I enjoy my social beer sessions with a few close friends and vaping.

At my age, I’m not too concerned about unhealthy foods and habits. It’s too late to worry, nor can I reverse them. Don’t worry. Be happy

I’ve earned the right to be a little carefree, messy, extravagant, and to spend hours tending to my corridor garden and staring at my plants and flowers. It saddens me greatly to see dear friends leave this world before they’ve enjoyed the freedom that comes with growing old.

Who cares if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 am in the morning and then sleep until who knows what time?

I sing to the rhythm of the '50s and '60s with YouTube or indulge in nostalgia by staring for hours at my old photo albums, especially reminiscing about my puppy love and imagining what family life would have been like with her. I congratulate myself for the happy family I have now.

I walk slowly through the nature park in a singlet that stretches over my plump body, despite the pitying looks from the fast joggers. They’ll get old too, if they’re lucky.

I am grateful to have lived long enough for my hair to turn a bit grey with a blading top, my right eye blinded with glaucoma, and my knee joints to be in intermittent pain.

I no longer crave for fame or wealth but is satisfied to have my regular porridge with century eggs and salted vegetable for lunch and $4.00 economic rice for dinner. More importantly, I have no major sickness but if it comes, so be it.

Now, to answer the question honestly on how I feel to be old: I can say:

I like being old because old age makes me think and worry less. I know I’m not going to live forever, but while I’m here, I’m going to live by my own rules, those of my heart.

I’m not going to regret what wasn’t, nor worry about what will be. The time that remains, I will simply love life as I have until today, leaving the rest to God.

I wish you a long and healthy life. Cheers!!

 

Brisk Walking in Zheng Hua Nature Park- Bukit Panjang

 

Since retiring five years ago at 72,, I've found myself spending most of my free time sleeping or in front of my PC monitor.

I hardly do any form of exercise except occasional short cycling trips around my neighbourhood to take my meals.

Sadly, this sedentary lifestyle has taken its toll on my leg muscles, leaving them weakened and diminished to little more than skin over bone.

During a recent group tour to Shanghai/Tokyo, I found myself struggling to keep up with the group, often relying on a walking stick to navigate outings and sometimes having to opt out altogether due to my walking limitations with weak muscles.

The scary realization that if I don't take action to strengthen my leg muscles, I may soon find myself confined to a wheelchair.

Therefore, I've made the decision to kickstart a routine of brisk walking around the nature park in my estate starting from May 1st.

I'm hopeful that this newfound determination will provide the motivation I need to sustain my exercise regimen in the long term.

Here is a short video of the pleasant walking/running trail in our Zenghua Nature Park where I exercise my 5,000 steps brisk-walking. Cheers!!!

A thought at Christmas 2023

 

I was born into a Taoist Chinese family where reverence for "Tau Peh Kong" (大伯公), an ancient Chinese deity, was the norm. Christianity was strictly forbidden in our household, creating an aura of intrigue around this faith, but I was absolutely uninterested.

As a child, Christmas seemed distant, a celebration confined to affluent, English-educated families. I often found myself envious of their festive joys. with plenty of presents.

One vivid memory stands out: at 12 years old, I accompanied a Methodist friend to his Christmas celebration at St. James Methodist Church in Bukit Panjang. The allure of gifts and merriment captured my imagination. However, upon returning home with my treasures, my joy turned to terror as my mother discovered my "transgression" and unleashed a punishing wrath, forcing me to relinquish my presents.

In that moment, at an impressionable age, I was tempted to screately embraces Christianity, an act met with severe consequences, like disowned by my parents

Over time, as I matured and observed through reading the world's unfolding events, I began questioning the Christian teachings I had occasionally received.

My skepticism grew towards religion, a construct crafted by fallible human hands, appearing increasingly nonsensical to me. Take, for instance, the Christian belief in God's mercy through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ for mankind's salvation. The promise of answered prayers for the faithful is a cornerstone of this faith.

However, when I turn my gaze to the suffering of innocent children in places like Gaza, the discrepancies become starkly apparent. The anguish, fear, and loss experienced by these children, living in perpetual turmoil, haunted by the brutality of conflict, stands in direct contradiction to the narrative of a benevolent and responsive deity.

The plight of the Palestinian children, casualties of longstanding conflict, challenges the very notion of a compassionate God. The prolonged suffering, with no respite in sight, begs the question: where is this God in their most dire moments?

Some may offer explanations, citing the mysterious ways of God or His timing beyond human comprehension. But for me, the ongoing anguish for generations underlines the apparent absence of any divine intervention.

The festivity of Christmas loses its significance when juxtaposed with the brutal reality faced by innocent children, their lives snatched away while an unseen God remains silent.

How many more innocent lives must be sacrificed before a purportedly loving God is compelled to act?

God, where are you?

Amidst the holiday cheer, it's crucial to reflect on the anguish endured by the people of Gaza. Their suffering demands acknowledgment and action beyond festivity and merrymaking.