Mum just came home from the hopsital. D's surgery lasted 9 hours in total, 4 hours more than the expected duration. Mum was unconvinved by the doctor. She says that how can a young smooth-faced doctor be so sure that D, at least 10 years older than him would die if he didn't have a surgery?

But whatever. Everything's okay, for now she says. She had to go back again this afternoon because there was a buildup of fluid in his lungs and he threw a fit when we woke up, demanding to be let go and attempted to yank the tubes out. The orderlies ended up typing ropes around his wrists to the bedstand to calm him down.

Its hard to imagine someone like Uncle D, whom is one of the most down to earth and funniest guys - and one of the good ones - end up in a sad and lonely place as the ICU. When Mum called to tell me about the emergency surgery, all I could think was how he listened to me yabber away about the problems I was facing just only a week ago. How he says he would always be there to listen to whatever problems I had and help me get through it by dispensing whatever advice he thinks would be helpful. The free salmon and prawns he gives to our family. The warmth and laughter he induces in my mother that certainly would not have been possible if my dad were to do it. Basically, if my dad weren't here, Uncle D would be the substitute dad that I never had.

It times like these, and with the fucking UE-PE saga that makes me so angry. Angry that things aren't in my control and angrier at the fact that I cannot do anything to mediate it. I can't repair the torn aorta near his heart, nor can I make people drop a PE instead of wasting away my unrestricted electives.

And the roommate issue. I'm not complaining about my roomie. She's rather considerate. And quiet. Plus, she comes back later than I do and she's not in most of the time, so I get the room to myself longer. I think its the fact that I'm sharing a room with someone who isn't a friend of mine, and how friends are rooming with their friends and establishing closer bonds than ever and this makes me feel somewhat left out and alienated. Honestly, Blogger, I'm not making friends right now in school. At least, for now. I think.

I'm not as close to the people whom I thought I was close to because we hardly see each other now, and I just binged today. On carbs. Maybe the stress of the unexpected events in my life is too much for me to handle and it defiant retaliation, it demands the consumption of serotonin-releasing sustenance.

I can't help but feel jealous people whom I know that are headed overseas to study, like Australia, Britain and the States. I know it sounds terribly selfish, but this bit of me inside my heart feel that I'm more deserving to go overseas than they are. That's how I feel for now. I'm not sure. My heart's a tangled mess right now.

Uncle D's in the hopsital, Grandma has just been diagnosed with Alzeheimer's and this might be her last visit to Singapore, I gave up my heart's desire to dance in Fredy's recital item, and I'm feeling alienated in school. I feel like I'm not as expressive and gregarious as I was in poly. I've lost the juice. The elixir to my life. And I've suddenly lost the interest to dance. I miss it, but I can't bring myself to do it. And I binged.

I wonder of depression runs unexpressed in the Juan and/or Clout family. It would explain so many things.

I wonder if Oprah can run a special on depressed tertiary students.

I'm going to watch Ellen Degeneres. And re-read The Fall of Baghdad.