The DoughnutMan

Vincent-the-DoughtnutMan, was diagnosed with a hole in his heart since he was born. Doctors predicted him to have a shorter life span, but he fought through it and has been living with the disease for his 21 years of life.

If you have ever communicated with him, you should realise how easy-going he is, as well as entertaining. In his blog, he was making fun of his own disease by quoting, "Maybe there's a hole in my brain too". I am starting to admire his humour. What more when I received a mail from his sis, Mich-the-Belle about an article written by him, before he was chosen to leave the world for good.

I love the article very much. It's a real experience he had during the fight between life and death caused by the extra hole he was having. It shows how life can sometimes be so fragile, that we have to learn to appreciate things and stop whinning about what extras other people acquired, and start thinking how suffising our life is, when you know how lacking some people are.

The inspiring article that I am mentioning is this...

This is a true story, my true story Playing the drums is second nature to me. I could play any beat. I knew God had given me this talent. I used it to serve the church's Music Ministry. I have played for almost 4 years. I like to see myself as a 'professional' drummer. Some even called me a 'Spiritual Drummer' to many. But that was just a title and it didn't really matter to me. But, I was proud, proud that I was a better drummer than anyone else I knew - except my father. On the 5th of August (2001), I was scheduled to play for worship. As usual, I would use my OWN drumsticks; entirely black, with a few stripes of white. I wasn't really excited about playing the drums though, because I got used to it. My sister, who has often been described as a Lara Croft look-alike, (wouldn't you guys like to meet her *grin*) was the Worship Leader. I liked the songs she chose - they were perfect for a drummer to show off his fancy skills. Still, I didn't really show off until the last song : Better Is One Day. At first, getting into the beat of that song was tough... things just didn't seem to fit. Then, as the song progressed... everything just fell into place. My arms moved in perfect timing with the music. That was the last song, and the band left the stage. I walked all the way to the back, where the kitchen-cum-bathroom was. I took a glass of water and gulped it down. Then, I went to sit with my youth. Usually, we take up an entire row, and I usually sit at the end of the row that's adjoining the aisle. But that day, I sat on the other end of the row - where I could lean against the wall. Beside me sat Ai Lee, the girl I like. We weren't listening to the Pastor John Ng's preaching. So, feeling guilty, I stopped talking and pretended to pay attention.I sat there quietly, doing nothing, when suddenly I coughed. It was not a normal-everyday-run-of-the-mill cough. It sounded...and felt weird. I couldn't stop coughing. I sat there doubled up, gasping for breath. When I realised this cough just wasn't going to let up, I ran into the bathroom and locked the door. I knew what was coming. I've experienced this before - when I cough like this, it only means one thing - I'll start throwing up blood. But this time, I couldn't stop vomiting I never knew I couldn't stop vomiting blood. The toilet bowl was flooded with the mixture of water and blood - my blood. I started to panic. There was blood everywhere - on the floor....on the toilet...on me.. It stood out, stark red against the white of my pants. I didn't know what to do. All I could think of was flushing the toilet and acting as if nothing had happened. To my horror, the flush was not working! Then, someone knocked at my door, and asked me if I was okay. I replied with an 'I'm okay'. But I didn't really know if I was alright or not. Then, my mom came and banged on the door desperately. I knew I couldn't hide this from her. I opened the door. She saw everything and was horrified at the scene. I don't blame her... My mom rushed me to the hospital immediately. She must have driven at 70 mph. I was terrified but I tried to comfort them - my cousin and a church member who was a nurse - by talking nonsense with them. I acted as if I wasn't scared but deep down inside I was shivering. When we reached the hospital, I sat down at a corner with my cousin. I was busy sending messages via SMS to my sister, church friends and to my mom. She was at the administration counter. I sat there with my cousin, and again, I crapped and joked just to make the things seem less hellish. Unfortunately, I couldn't sit there for long. I was forced to race to the nearest toilet and hurled everything out, well not entirely everything - but the way it felt...it might as well have been. I couldn't walk, stand or even talk anymore. I was tired....so tired. They had to wheel me around in a wheelchair. I was brought to ER. It was nothing like the one you see on TV....Malaysian doctors are SLOW! When I entered the room, the only thing that did was put me to bed. If not for the church member who was a nurse, I would have been left there suffering for goodness knows how long. I kept coughing up blood. I was losing blood fast. There were a needle sticking into my right hand. And there were machines surrounding me. I could hear beeping sounds - very annoying. I was at the state of stabilising. It didn't long. I vomited worse than before. I was gasping for air. Sweat was pouring off me. I felt incredibly cold. There was a time, one brief moment, when I stopped breathing. In that moment, I caught a glimpse of death. My face was covered with blood - my eyes had rolled back, I couldn't see anything. I had to fight for every breath I took. I knew, somehow, that was in the hospital. I could heard someone shouting... crying... murmuring. Then everything went completely black... When I woke up, I was at the Cardiac Care Unit. They told me I had nearly died. God had saved my life. No one else could. Pastor John said he saw Angels surrounding the whole area - protecting me. That was the most horrible day of my life... Vincent.

Mich has also posted this article in her other blog here. Please don't sue me for plagiarism. I have asked permission from her and she has approved this and promised not to charge any copyright fees. But we are still negotiating if she needs to pay some advertising fees to me, though.

Anyways, it has been officially one week since Vincent left us. Though I am not anywhere near to his family members, it seems like they have been pretty much handling this well. It is tough I understand, and it is a pain when you are having 4 cars for 3 people, in which you have decided not to sell any of them (as told by Mich) .

But this is life, we have to learn to live with it.

posted by Survon @ 8:51 PM,