Marsha Maung:: Freelance graphic designer and writer

I was reading the papers today (which is rare because I think newspaper is a bearer of bad news) and read something that struck me as ironic. Remember the song ‘ironic’ by Alanais Morisette some eons ago? That song about how you find a fly in your Chardonay, rain on your wedding day, a man who was afraid to die die in his first plane ride…etc?

Well, today, a cancer patient died on his way to the hospital. It’s probably like God telling him, “Hey, here’s a gift from me to you. Die quickly instead of slowly”.

Cancer, as we know, is a very slow and cruel killer. If one was to die, one would rather it be quick and relatively painless. Well, for it to be completely painless would have to mean that you die when you’re already dead. Make sense? No? Too bad. But the thing is that if human beings had a choice between dying of cancer or dying in a car accident, I suppose many would rather die in a car accident. Choi Kor Lei Tai Kat Lai See (Cantonese Touch Wood)…I know.

But suppose this man had a chance to live? I wonder what the report would say after the checkup? Would the doctor say, “Mr. so-and-so, sorry but we made a really stupid mistake. There’s nothing wrong with you. The report we gave you belongs to someone else”.

But I guess we’ll never know now since he’s dead before he made it for the checkup. Ironic, eh?

His name was Fleming, and he was a poor Scottish farmer. One day, while trying to make a living for his family, he heard a cry for help coming from a nearby bog. He dropped his tools and ran to the bog.

There, mired to his waist in black muck, was a terrified boy, screaming and struggling to free himself. Farmer Fleming saved the lad from what could have been a slow and terrifying death.

The next day, a fancy carriage pulled up to the Scotsman's sparse surroundings. An elegantly dressed nobleman stepped out and introduced himself as the father of the boy Farmer Fleming had saved.

"I want to repay you," said the nobleman. "You saved my son's life."

"No, I can't accept payment for what I did," the Scottish farmer replied waving off the offer. At that moment, the farmer's own son came to the door of the family hovel.

"Is that your son?" the nobleman asked.

"Yes," the farmer replied proudly.

"I'll make you a deal. Let me provide him with the level of education my own son will enjoy. If the lad is anything like his father, he'll no doubt grow to be a man we both will be proud of." And that he did.
Farmer Fleming's son attended the very best schools and in time, graduated from St. Mary's Hospital Medical School in London, and went on to become known throughout the world as the noted Sir Alexander Fleming, the discoverer of Penicillin.

Years afterward, the same nobleman's son who was saved from the bog was stricken with pneumonia.

What saved his life this time? Penicillin.

The name of the nobleman? Lord Randolph Churchill. His son's name?

Sir Winston Churchill. 
  
What goes around comes around.
Work like you don't need the money.
Love like you've never been hurt.
Dance like nobody's watching.
Sing like nobody's listening.