Monday, April 20, 2026

Different Kinds of Women


I guess women stalkers are a thing to read about. Something mundane that turns into creepy urban horror. This is 'Hooked' by Asako Yuzuki (originally published in 2015). The translation is done by Polly Barton and published in February 2026.  

In this book, the author keeps her themes of cooking, familiar foods and thirty-year-old women as stalkers and potential murderers. Eriko Shimura, a high-flying executive at a big seafood company became addicted to reading a married housewife's blog. Shōko Maruo writes under the pseudonym 'Hallie B' in 'The Diary of Hallie B, the World’s Worst Wife'.

Eriko engineered what appeared to be a chance meeting between herself and Shōko at Gisele cafe. The friendship began easily, but it became too much for Shōko and she backed away. Eriko, very much obsessed with Shōko or the idea of her life, then began a campaign of stalking and blackmailing the housewife, and telling her what to do with her blog. (Reviews herehere, here and here.)

Oddly, both women seemed to not have many friends, if at all. Although Shōko has her husband Kensuke whom she appeared to share a companionable relationship with. They're both emotionally lacking in many ways, as are all women. Shōko herself, isn’t perfect, and had been caught on a date at an aquarium, kissing a younger man. Her marriage with Kensuke broke down.

Shoko also had to deal with lousy male figures in her life. She had her ailing and impoverished father who had been a wastrel since his youth, never been dependable in his marriage, and in his old age, was debilitated after a stroke. Then there was a younger brother who no longer wanted anything to do with the care of their father and the crumbling old house. It seemed that at the end, she made peace with how her life turned out, and resolved to turn it around.

It was then Shōko understood: deep down, her father was broken beyond repair. Whatever Shōko said, it wouldn't reach him. She understood for the first time, and with her whole self, that there were people in this world that you simply couldn't get through to.

She'd been so resistant to confronting him all these years. Just as she had been incapable of accepting Eriko for who she actually was. She couldn't stop believing somewhere that a miracle would occur, they would be bonded together, and the affection she'd felt for her on the first day would return. Now she felt the hope definitively vanish. What of it, though? It was in losing this hazy image of a future convenient to her that Shōko had finally seen what it was that that she had to do.

Nobody needs toxic women friendships in our lives. There are so many metaphors and allegories in the story. I burst out laughing at the idea of the Nile perch being predatory because it has been forced into it, like women who have been forced into roles they don't welcome. 

Eriko, our flawed stalker, also spiraled into an abyss of self-loathing and broke down in mental distress. She tried to sleep with her boss, and slept with a colleague Sugishita who has always made advances towards her. And made an enemy out of Sugishita's fiancee Maori. Eriko eventually had to take break from work, and also hash it out with her parents and their expectations of her versus what she wants to do.

She seemed to have one friend left at the end though — Keiko — a high school frenemy of sorts. There’s a lot of psychological trauma going on with Eriko. Self-inflicted, external environment caused or family pressure? Readers can reach their own conclusions.

She had come to understand that something in her meant that she ended up hurting the people she cared about when she was with them. She wasn't sure what she would do, but she knew that her time had come to fly the nest. She should doubtless have done it already. Still, she couldn't change the past. The only things Eriko could exercise freedom over were those beginning tomorrow. 

Saturday, April 18, 2026

Rebuilding Choya's Gut Flora


I had hoped against hope (based on patterns and scientific data) that when Choya completed her seven-day course of antibiotics, she would be well. She wasn't. Three days after completion, the diarrhea returned. I recognized the patterns. I knew it. We have clostridial diarrhea happening. Dammit. 

When her diarrhea stopped after the first tablet went in on 4 April, I knew it was a matter of time before the clostridium in her gut got controlled for a bit; exactly for how long, we wouldn't know. I didn't have high hopes. It was the week after the antibiotics that I was worried about. Acute colitis can be sorted in a week. However, SIBO/SID doesn't just go away magically overnight. She has chronic IBD and stress colitis, so the moment a flare happens in the form of SIBO/SID, it's bad. It goes on for a month. 

I had a bad feeling when her poop was less than ideal on Monday 13 April. Direa didn't even help. When Choya woke me up at 5.32am on Tuesday 14 April and did a shitsplosion, that was PTSD and total deja vu sial. Groundhog Day. We're back to 1 April. SAME PATTERNS. I don't even know what to write in my notes. 'Round 2, Repeat.' At least this Tuesday morning, her stomach hasn't made gurgling sounds yet and she isn't in pain or distress. I do not want it to deteriorate to that level. This means the clostridium is really flourishing and refuses to go away. The expensive tests I ordered to be done at the clinic during Round 1 cleared her of contagious or more serious things. 

We went back to the clinic to see a doctor we trust. It was a wonderful discussion. This is an experienced doctor with a good head on his shoulders. It confirmed my thoughts and the doctor's proposed plans aligned with mine, and we had an agreement. The math is sound. Here we go, Part 2. Her first poop two days after Part 2 super-low dose of metronidazole went in on 15 April, was exactly the color and mushy texture I expected. Much much better than what Part 1 produced.

I really dislike metronidazole, but it couldn't be helped. Most clinics only stock metronidazole. I very much prefer talking to my trusted vets. Tylosin is the better choice for colitis, EPI/SIBO and IBD. But Tylosin is OOS at this clinic. I have no choice but to administer this second course of antibiotics, but at a different dosage. This will be done at a super-low dosage over 14-15 days in order to eradicate the worst bits of clostridium, and hopefully the probiotics, B12 and food will sort out the rest and balance the gut after that. Food goes back to the basics. Fresh, whole and good. No unnecessary treats because I doubt I can negotiate with Choya about cheese. 

I'm literally unfazed by most things, but I'm battling anxiety at managing her stomach. I rarely cry, but if Choya is in pain, I feel it, and I cry. I'm reading, researching, and studying. Then I put it aside to take a breather and recalibrate. No, AI doesn't help beyond highlighting research topics and broadening the scope of reading. My moods are set daily according to the quality of Choya's poop. I can deal with mushy poop done during the usual walk timings. I cannot deal with shitsplosions. The main issue is control — I don't have control. I can only try, and pray. 

There might even be a Round 3. Damn clostridium dunno-which-strain. This Round 2 antibiotics will taper off in another week. It's meant to be given for 14-16 days. Choya's doctor and I agreed to do a super-low-dosage and tapering off instead of an abrupt end, giving her stomach time to reset and build its defences. It would be an uphill climb to get her gastrointestinal tract balanced — 16 to 20 weeks. We'll get there. 

Thursday, April 16, 2026

A Much-Needed Glass of Wine & Pasta


I have somehow lost 3kg. I think it's just a total lack of alcohol and carbs. I've been flooded meeting work deadlines and musing over Choya's gut flora and microbiome. I tend to prioritize Choya in my schedule, and not even bother with much food, placing her needs above everything else. 

If I'm worried about Choya, I have no interest in sitting down for long dinners. Food for now is just a quick grab-and-go or whatever I can whip up at home. If I'm at home, I can eyeball her. I can analyze her behavior and silent cues to see if she's comfortable. 

When she was having that terrible torrent of shitsplosions, I needed to get her stable first before I think of enjoying a drink and dinner. Not too bothered about the 'dressing up' since I never do. Heh. 

Tonight was a late dinner at 9.15pm. Both the husband and I had calls to field and work to do. Then we popped out to an easy one at good old D.O.P. It's one of the rare restaurants that still allows last orders at 10.15pm. So we were totally in time for food and a drink. 

Needless to say, the Smol Girl came along and chilled out. She knew we came out later than usual, and sat at a different table. She was quite pleased. That angle worked for her too. She watched the world go by.

We didn't bother with appetizers. Went straight to mains, and a bottle of wine. Heh. I took antihistamines, so no issues having a spaghetti al cartoccio done in a white wine base. The husband is fixated on this low-carb/high protein diet for a few months. He decided to skip the beef and have a grilled seabass. He requested for it to have it done with all grilled vegetables instead of fries or potato wedges. 

It was a most satisfying dinner. That glass of wine was something I really needed. I was mindful of how much I drank because I needed to be sober. I was thankful to have a quiet night and needn't wake at 5am in a few hours to rush the dog out to poop.