Lee Sok Lian , HAPPINESS COACH ON SUN ISLAND SHANGHAI,
Lee Sok Lian holds a BA (Hons) in English literature from the National University of Singapore, and though she worked as a copywriter for four years in her late twenties, she has been an English teacher—her first love and true calling—for most of her life.
Less than ten years ago, she was introduced to meditation and began taking courses in healing, Reiki, Quantum Touch, yoga, laughter yoga, hypnotherapy, intuitive counseling, relaxation techniques, and other meditation subjects, including a two-month stint at the Hypnotherapy Academy of America, where she learned from Tim Simmerman. That’s when her life took a surprising turn: instead of returning to Singapore, she was asked to transfer to Sun Island Shanghai to use her newfound healing skills in addition to her teaching skills.
Now, she is the resident meditation and laughter yoga teacher of Sun Island. She is also the editor of the English segment of The Mahota Quarterly and teaches conversational English as well as personal mastery classes.
Lee’s first book “If You Think The Water Is Cold”, available at Amazon.com, is based on the true story of a cancer survivor Tan Siew Khim, a Singaporean who, after facing her initial fears and conquering her reaction to “leave this world quietly,” decided that she wasn’t ready to quit this just yet. Siew Khim embraced the different forms of medicine and treatments available. When she was invited to Sun Island Shanghai to convalesce, Siew Khim discovered the power of wellness activities such as mindfulness meditation and laughter yoga. This is where she met—and inspired—her biographer, Lee Sok Lian.
IF YOU THINK THE WATER IS COLD
A Cancer Survivor's Story
KIRKUS REVIEW
In this memoir, a Singaporean woman addresses her cancer diagnosis with family support, Western and traditional Chinese medicine, and other means.
In January 2010, Tan Siew Khim, in her late 40s, discovered a lump in her right breast while taking a shower. Though single, Siew Khim was part of a large, close-knit ethnically Chinese family, which rallied to support her once she got up the courage to tell them. Her sisters first took her to a traditional Chinese medicine clinic, then older family members arranged for her treatment at a Singaporean government hospital, where she eventually received chemotherapy, surgery and radiotherapy. At a family-owned golf/holiday resort, Siew Khim learned the ancient Chinese techniques of physical exercise, breathing and meditation, as well as “yoga, laughter yoga, walking meditation, driving a buggy, photography, dancing, cycling, golf, English, and public speaking.” Two years after the initial diagnosis, she describes her recovery as “a personal choice to get well.” In her debut work, Lee’s thesis is that recovery is a choice: “Any cancer patient can—if he or she chooses to do so—learn to slow and even reverse cancer’s progression in the body.” While some readers may find their experiences or hopes resonate with Siew Khim’s, many more will find the arguments presented here both pernicious and insulting because they continually express the idea that cancer is the patient’s fault: “Instead of letting cancer triumph over her, she reclaimed her life”; “The perfect patient, and one possessed of an inordinately strong will, Siew Khim follows prescribed dietary guidelines”; by “changing her internal dialogue…[t]he cells in her body have started believing it too.” A list of references is supplied, but the ideas are presented uncritically; for example, poor diet and bad mental attitude don’t explain why world-class athletes (who must cultivate both diet and attitude) or infants contract cancer. Nor does Lee take into account the roles Siew Khim’s chemotherapy, surgery and radiation must have played.
While Siew Khim’s recovery is to be applauded, this book is poorly supported and full of magical thinking.
In January 2010, Tan Siew Khim, in her late 40s, discovered a lump in her right breast while taking a shower. Though single, Siew Khim was part of a large, close-knit ethnically Chinese family, which rallied to support her once she got up the courage to tell them. Her sisters first took her to a traditional Chinese medicine clinic, then older family members arranged for her treatment at a Singaporean government hospital, where she eventually received chemotherapy, surgery and radiotherapy. At a family-owned golf/holiday resort, Siew Khim learned the ancient Chinese techniques of physical exercise, breathing and meditation, as well as “yoga, laughter yoga, walking meditation, driving a buggy, photography, dancing, cycling, golf, English, and public speaking.” Two years after the initial diagnosis, she describes her recovery as “a personal choice to get well.” In her debut work, Lee’s thesis is that recovery is a choice: “Any cancer patient can—if he or she chooses to do so—learn to slow and even reverse cancer’s progression in the body.” While some readers may find their experiences or hopes resonate with Siew Khim’s, many more will find the arguments presented here both pernicious and insulting because they continually express the idea that cancer is the patient’s fault: “Instead of letting cancer triumph over her, she reclaimed her life”; “The perfect patient, and one possessed of an inordinately strong will, Siew Khim follows prescribed dietary guidelines”; by “changing her internal dialogue…[t]he cells in her body have started believing it too.” A list of references is supplied, but the ideas are presented uncritically; for example, poor diet and bad mental attitude don’t explain why world-class athletes (who must cultivate both diet and attitude) or infants contract cancer. Nor does Lee take into account the roles Siew Khim’s chemotherapy, surgery and radiation must have played.
While Siew Khim’s recovery is to be applauded, this book is poorly supported and full of magical thinking.
My name is Tan Siew Khim. I am from Singapore. I am a cancer patient.
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