S'pore woman, 60, authors best-selling children's book amid rare cancer tumour battle

Three months ago, Chua Hui Ying's life was relatively ordinary.

A counsellor by trade, she was a two-time children's book author who was working on her third. She lived with her cat, spent her free time volunteering, and was surrounded by loving friends and family.

But one day, during a routine check-up, doctors found something in her scans: a growth in her bile duct. She had cancer.

A different life

In her latest book, which was officially launched on Jul. 26, Pip the Polar Bear goes through a series of revelations.

"I can't do many things," says Pip. The hapless bear can't run, dance, or play the piano — but he finds other things to enjoy as well.

Ever since her diagnosis, "I've taken on the character of Pip", Chua says wryly.

As it stands, her tumour is inoperable, hidden deep in a tangle of important arteries. To try and shrink it, she's been undergoing chemotherapy.

But the process has been deeply uncomfortable, both physically and emotionally.

"I had to stop counselling, stop the things I love. I lost my independence," she tells me.

The chemo makes her increasingly tired. Because of her lowered immunity, she is now unable to go out in crowded spaces and spends most of her time at home.

She missed her own book launch, cancelled her travel plans, and can no longer go for her ceramics classes. She's also had to deal with her hair falling out, bit by bit.

"My life is so different now," Chua says. Over the course of our call, her voice falters, and she pauses to wipe away her tears.

Receiving kindness

But also like her book character, she has learnt to be kind to herself.

"I still have appetite to eat, I still cook, I still mop my own floor," she says. Not every cancer patient is so lucky.

This is what being kind to herself looks like: Taking that extra hour to sleep, if she's tired. Eating the bowl of mee siam she's been craving, even though she's been trying to avoid spicy food.

"I don't want to say I can't eat this [and that]. I'd be so miserable," she adds.

She's tried to keep at the things she loves. For instance, she still practises the viola, a skill which she picked up earlier this year.

There has also been kindness from the people around her.

After her diagnosis, her friends and family rallied around her, bringing her food, turning up at her book launch even though she couldn't be there. Her viola tutor offered to teach her with a face mask.

One day, her surgeon urged her to walk out to Kinokuniya, where her book is stocked, to see the fruits of her labour.

So she did.

Way forward

On Aug. 10, Chua's book reached No. 1 in the children's category of the Straits Times Bestseller list.

It's an achievement. But more than that, it has a message: Pip embodies patience, slow growth, and not giving up.

For Chua, the goal is to get better. And regardless of how hazy the future seems, she's determined to do her best.

"I don't know what the outcome is going to be, to be honest. I could die in a few months' time, or I could recover. I don't know," she says.

"But you only fail if you quit."

She has two more sessions of chemotherapy to go, the final one in mid-September. After that, she'll be assessed by her oncologist on whether the tumour has shrunk enough for surgery.

If it has, it'll be removed via an operation. If it hasn't, she will be moved into palliative care.

"I'm fighting my own mind...emotionally, there's been a lot of tears," she says. "Not knowing is also scary. But a lot of people have been praying for me."

Next book

Every book she's written comes with a message.

Her first book was inspired by her mother, who passed away in 2012. She loved nature, and Chua wrote the book to memorialise that love.

Her second was about her cat, Pumpkin. "She's quite feisty, and she does her own thing, but at the end of the day I still love her," Chua explains.

Now, Chua is considering writing a book about her cancer journey. Cancer is a lonely journey, as Chua tells it; even surrounded by loved ones, there is a special kind of pain. A misery that goes deeper than what is physical.

"If I do write this book, it's to make someone else less lonely," she says.

Over the past three months, she's gone through all the stages of grief: disbelief, anger, bargaining. But now she's found a kind of peace.

"Cancer screams pain, suffering, and mortality," she tells me. Her peace has been hard-earned.

"But like Pip, you just have to focus on your blessings."

Top image from Chua Hui Ying