BY KHOO HOW SAN

I NOW suffer from literalitis. Maybe you do too. If so, like me, a recent newspaper report about a 'passing- out parade' must have puzzled you. I wasn't always like that, for during my school and national service days, I had been through several passing- out parades and never once buckled under.

I know of someone else who, when he was a young officer in a foreign navy, had a sudden seizure of literalitis.

It all started when, in the process of drafting a dress code for formal functions, a project officer had written 'trousers, optional' when he had meant 'trousers, gold lace optional'.

The brave young officer turned up at the next formal dinner graced by the top brass - in his uniform top only (and underwear of course). He avoided being court-martialled only because he had a copy of the dress code manual with him.

Is there something about the military or are my two examples mere coincidence?

Anyway, my first inkling of my literalitis was when I was rushed to a hospital's emergency department in the wee hours three days after Christmas last year.

I had bled profusely three times, and in rapid succession, from the rectum.

Subsequent events were to justify my labelling 2008 (at least the year end) as my year of anus horribilis.

But I digress. What disturbed me to no end was a big you-can't-miss-it-sign in the emergency doctor's room with this legend: 'Wash hands thoroughly in-between patients.' Considering that the young doctor had just done a digital rectal examination of me, I looked in fear to see if there was any other patient within sight. Fortunately, there was no one and my imagined 'what can happen next' did not happen.

I was later found to have a condition known as diverticular bleeding.

But I also knew I now had this 'other', probably incurable, condition.

So much so that, when I returned to work, certain words etched on the hands-free paper towel dispenser in the men's loo (I can't vouch for the women's toilet, obviously) now took on a new meaning.

The words? 'Motion activated'.

Moving on, and given my condition, I now have a small list of occupations that I have issues with. What's a plastic surgeon? Why not go to the real, flesh-and-blood variety for that body part enhancement? Why a child psychologist? Are we running out of adults who can do the job?

I also have a literalitis-related issue with some street and expressway signs too. The too obvious one is 'Road Works Here'. Heck, we pay taxes, so it had better work. But, really, if I had a magic wand and waved it, I would rearrange the words to read as 'Roadworks here'.

Crystal clear now, isn't it?

A more subtle traffic sign is 'Raised zebra crossing'. I have no problem with that if there is no illustration tacked above these words in the warning sign. Ergo, a zebra (they are oh so common in urban jungle Singapore) had fallen asleep, it has awakened and is now crossing the road. So, dear motorist, please do be careful and try not to hit it? But right above such words is the silhouette of a man crossing the road! What is one to make of this?

Entering an expressway tunnel, I often see this: 'Do not leave veh in tunnel.' Oh, definitely. But what is a veh?

And recently, some eye surgeons have been advertising their Lasik surgery services. At least one declares, 'One eye xxxx dollars. Two eyes xxxx dollars.' I think I have just one eye that needs Lasik surgery, not both. Now all I have to do is to find someone who has the same condition, and we can pair up. Anyone out there who sees eye to eye with me on this?

The writer is The Sunday Times' copy editor.

This article was first published in The Straits Times.