An unexpected message came through one day from someone I have not seen since Covid. It was cousin J, a distant one considering our parents are cousins and our families had never hung out together before. Yet J and I had a rather special bond. We only knew of each other's existence when we were 17. It happened at an event and my dad recognized her. By coincidence, we enrolled into the same school and studied similar subjects. Our classrooms were side by side, so from that moment on, we interacted often. J was a jovial girl, fiercely independent and resilient, partly because her mother passed away at a young age. She would defend those close to her, step forward to lend a hand and yet maintained a low profile all the while. We confided our first loves, exchanged lecture notes and backed each other. After graduation, we kept in touch. She went to university while I had to serve national service. Later on, fate brought us back again in school as our faculties were adjacent, although this time she's the senior who helped me to settle in. Over two years, we held conversations at the school canteen or sometimes along the corridors on the way to class.
In our working lives, she chose the pharmaceutical industry while I went a different pathway. That didn't diminish our relationship as there's a feeling of kinship that cannot be broken. Over a decade, we caught up sporadically but the conversations were always unrestricted, maybe because of our easygoing characters. Then, I switched jobs and contact frequency increased slightly. Our workplace were ten minutes ride away which created lunch opportunities, much like the university days. This went on until Covid and before you know, we lost touch.
So when I received that message from J, it was over an issue that we discussed long ago and she just wanted to update me. I was curious to find out what she had been up to over the last few years. The first thing mentioned was she had retired and doing the things she love, especially travelling. She used to travel to a Scandinavian country every Christmas because her aunt worked in the national airline and got discounted tickets. I jokingly asked for her advice and her next reply was, "...but I don't know for how long." Something's amiss and I pointedly told her to spill the beans. Without hesitation, it was the big C and a really terrible one. Cancer of the thymus gland. A quick scroll of my biology knowledge came to nothing. J is classified as one of the tiny percentage and she proudly proclaimed to be in the top 10 patients of Singapore with this rare type, having "achieved" terminal stage. I met her a few days later, with a cap concealing hair loss but otherwise looking well, the usual cheerfulness and enjoying her food. It’s been months that she's on an experimental drug and chemotherapy. She’s become a treasured living specimen for research. Yet, we both know her compromised immune system cannot repel the persistent mutated growths in the organs. Costs had escalated since insurance did not cover her unapproved medication. She will have to stop eventually as savings are limited. Therefore, her funeral plans have been prepared, her will written and more travel trips are in the pipeline. As the only child, she worries for her dad who's immobile. In that moment, a quiet tear was shed for my brave cousin. Hope she gets her wish to outlive him.
Tip: Boksoondoga Sparkling Red, strawberry cream, fizzy burst of milky rice


