Why does sad, bad news arrive on a day when there’s not a cloud in the sky and the sun’s in my eye?
Why did they hold it back when the results were available last week and we could have been told, when the weather was more weepy and would have matched our mood?
Why leave us on tenderhooks for days and nights, hours and minutes, so that we ate without tasting, slept without truly resting, only to wake and know it’s not a dream but a nightmare that’s not going to go away?
How could you have good days and a good week end knowing what you know and yet felt no urgency to spill the beans till the day, hour and minute of the appointment?
Still, I suppose if you had spoken sooner, before the officially appointed time and it happened to be the day that Singapore’s skies wept, we would have felt affronted and said: “Why tell us so soon? Why not let us enjoy the week end? Why choose such a lousy day when the weather is so grim?”
Guess a doctor never wins.