Friday, September 22, 2006
When disaster strikes
And so the inconceivable happened.
Just when it was least expected.
Three solid blows that rained down in quick succession with no hint of reprieve.
Three red, hot angry pustules which erupted strategically in midline that nothing would conceal.
It is the mark of the undisciplined, solely for the purpose of revealing recent gastronomic indiscretions to the world at large. Nature bent on revenge, to evoke a sense of shame and engender some notion of remorse and contrition in the indiscriminate.
And sad to say, it has worked. My childlike trust in the wonders of Maybelline and Oxy have been shattered; previous resolve to be unbigoted, extending justice to all food alike, irregardless of colour, culture or value completely broken.
In the face of such awful consequences, I am forced to reconsider my all-embracing approach--forced, as much as it pains my tender heart, to discriminate against them-with-no-nutritional-value.
Oh wretched is the life of a man denied the pleasure of food.
Just when it was least expected.
Three solid blows that rained down in quick succession with no hint of reprieve.
Three red, hot angry pustules which erupted strategically in midline that nothing would conceal.
It is the mark of the undisciplined, solely for the purpose of revealing recent gastronomic indiscretions to the world at large. Nature bent on revenge, to evoke a sense of shame and engender some notion of remorse and contrition in the indiscriminate.
And sad to say, it has worked. My childlike trust in the wonders of Maybelline and Oxy have been shattered; previous resolve to be unbigoted, extending justice to all food alike, irregardless of colour, culture or value completely broken.
In the face of such awful consequences, I am forced to reconsider my all-embracing approach--forced, as much as it pains my tender heart, to discriminate against them-with-no-nutritional-value.
Oh wretched is the life of a man denied the pleasure of food.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Boys don't drool but girls still rule
Lunch today was spent in the company of two of my closest friends in Melbourne, J and XL. I love being in the company of good girlfriends- it allows much freedom of expression to whinge about the sorry state of our studies, or laugh at the quirks expressed by the "other gender". Though having said that, I do enjoy the company of this "other gender"- despite the fact that as you get to know them better you begin to discover that many of them are phenotypically extremely XX- they nonetheless make very endearing friends indeed.
Here's why:
1) XYs can tell you they don't want to eat the cookie coz they don't want to be fat just like you and have absolutely no remorse thereafter
2) XYs can unabashedly announce through a large mouthful of food that you should not to eat that last piece of dimsum you've been eyeing for the last 10 mins lest you put on weight
3) XYs can develop sudden and complete cortical blindness when they see you carrying a heavy bag but if you stop in your track, dump the bags on their toes and refuse to budge till they help you with it they grudgingly will
4) when XYs have insulted you and you can't find words to retort back you can always hit them-- hard and they won't hit back
5) XYs wordlessly put up with our indiosyncracies and indecisiveness with regards to eating decisions. thanks guys!
6) XYs will patiently listen to your litany of rants about relationships and the inequalities of marriage and how hard it is to be female these days and silently smile and nod. Wise boys.
So all in all, I think I shall make a concession to the wise adage "Girls rule and boys drool".
Maybe boys don't drool after all, but girls still rule. =)
Here's why:
1) XYs can tell you they don't want to eat the cookie coz they don't want to be fat just like you and have absolutely no remorse thereafter
2) XYs can unabashedly announce through a large mouthful of food that you should not to eat that last piece of dimsum you've been eyeing for the last 10 mins lest you put on weight
3) XYs can develop sudden and complete cortical blindness when they see you carrying a heavy bag but if you stop in your track, dump the bags on their toes and refuse to budge till they help you with it they grudgingly will
4) when XYs have insulted you and you can't find words to retort back you can always hit them-- hard and they won't hit back
5) XYs wordlessly put up with our indiosyncracies and indecisiveness with regards to eating decisions. thanks guys!
6) XYs will patiently listen to your litany of rants about relationships and the inequalities of marriage and how hard it is to be female these days and silently smile and nod. Wise boys.
So all in all, I think I shall make a concession to the wise adage "Girls rule and boys drool".
Maybe boys don't drool after all, but girls still rule. =)
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Rounds, brown and sun-down
Ward round this morning was very interesting indeed, so much so that not once during the round did i harbour any regrets of wrenching myself from the bedclothes at 7 on a cold Saturday morning, after, might I add, a late night in the ED and ward.
Ward rounds can oftentime be deadly boring, with us med students trailing after consultants with not the slightest inkling which patients you're seeing and why they're in hospital and what is being done for them. So it ends up degenerating into a mind-numbing physical routine: enter room, smile beguilingly at patient, draw curtain, blank out for the 2 full minutes the consultant talks to patient, realise with a start he's finished talking, return to earth, move on to next room and repeat the entire cycle. sometimes to ease the boredom, you distract yourself with funny recollections of medical faux pas committed by your group mates or mentally grouse about the imminent state of blobiness you're heading towards. During such rounds, I often think of us as seaweed drifting along with the current or if you prefer a medical perspective, like interleukins, given no name or clearly defined purpose, only a number. Medical students have only one duty on the wards, u see: To be the ultimate fly plastered to the wall. And obviously not even for decorative purposes. Unobtrusive is the goal to be attained. The better you blend in, the better things run. Sad, I know, but true.
Having said that, you do sometimes by some stroke of luck chance upon a good round, like the one I had this morning, whereby the team acknowledges your presence and tries to include you and whereby the consultant and reg feed you intermittently with bits and pieces of useful information to try to nourish that sparse field of knowledge you currently possess. You know its a good round when at the end of it you feel this sense of satisfaction. You have some vague idea what the patients are suffering from and how they are to be managed and possess at least a shaky confidence that you might be able to do something constructive for similar patients. And the icing of the cake of a good ward round? Good looking members of the team, of course. Or charming patients can do the trick too. Oh, the shallowness of mankind! Disgraceful, I know, but I feel no remorse. =) What it'll be like when I'm a consultant in the future and no one comes to the ward round...
In other news worth mentioning, the weather was splendid today. Absolutely flawless and spectacular-- cool wind, cloudless skies and sunlight! Lots and lots of it. Really, it left me no other choice but to nip down to St Kilda beach for the afternoon to fully appreciate it. There honestly was no other way to do it justice, so I gathered other personnel, co-partners in crime, and we sojourned on to St Kilda for a nice long picnic. Overall level of enjoyment received mixed reports: the scenery was beautiful- I am always awed by the lovely sunsets from the beach no matter how many times I've seen it- but the sun was truly deceptive, despite it looking so bright and warm it was really quite quite cold and we very nearly left our toes behind from gangrene. Though all in all I would say it was a really enjoyable day, not much work done, as per usual, but I think my system is getting used to it, which is a definitely alarming sign.
All resolution to work hard reserved once again for tomorrow, the tomorrows that are deceptively never-ending till the brink of exams...
P.S After one respectable but unsuccessful attempt at uploading some pictures on blogger, I think I shall concede defeat and realise that in the world of technological ignoraminity, any attempt is one too many, so I shall just leave the blog entry as it is, plain but hopefully still a decent read.
Ward rounds can oftentime be deadly boring, with us med students trailing after consultants with not the slightest inkling which patients you're seeing and why they're in hospital and what is being done for them. So it ends up degenerating into a mind-numbing physical routine: enter room, smile beguilingly at patient, draw curtain, blank out for the 2 full minutes the consultant talks to patient, realise with a start he's finished talking, return to earth, move on to next room and repeat the entire cycle. sometimes to ease the boredom, you distract yourself with funny recollections of medical faux pas committed by your group mates or mentally grouse about the imminent state of blobiness you're heading towards. During such rounds, I often think of us as seaweed drifting along with the current or if you prefer a medical perspective, like interleukins, given no name or clearly defined purpose, only a number. Medical students have only one duty on the wards, u see: To be the ultimate fly plastered to the wall. And obviously not even for decorative purposes. Unobtrusive is the goal to be attained. The better you blend in, the better things run. Sad, I know, but true.
Having said that, you do sometimes by some stroke of luck chance upon a good round, like the one I had this morning, whereby the team acknowledges your presence and tries to include you and whereby the consultant and reg feed you intermittently with bits and pieces of useful information to try to nourish that sparse field of knowledge you currently possess. You know its a good round when at the end of it you feel this sense of satisfaction. You have some vague idea what the patients are suffering from and how they are to be managed and possess at least a shaky confidence that you might be able to do something constructive for similar patients. And the icing of the cake of a good ward round? Good looking members of the team, of course. Or charming patients can do the trick too. Oh, the shallowness of mankind! Disgraceful, I know, but I feel no remorse. =) What it'll be like when I'm a consultant in the future and no one comes to the ward round...
In other news worth mentioning, the weather was splendid today. Absolutely flawless and spectacular-- cool wind, cloudless skies and sunlight! Lots and lots of it. Really, it left me no other choice but to nip down to St Kilda beach for the afternoon to fully appreciate it. There honestly was no other way to do it justice, so I gathered other personnel, co-partners in crime, and we sojourned on to St Kilda for a nice long picnic. Overall level of enjoyment received mixed reports: the scenery was beautiful- I am always awed by the lovely sunsets from the beach no matter how many times I've seen it- but the sun was truly deceptive, despite it looking so bright and warm it was really quite quite cold and we very nearly left our toes behind from gangrene. Though all in all I would say it was a really enjoyable day, not much work done, as per usual, but I think my system is getting used to it, which is a definitely alarming sign.
All resolution to work hard reserved once again for tomorrow, the tomorrows that are deceptively never-ending till the brink of exams...
P.S After one respectable but unsuccessful attempt at uploading some pictures on blogger, I think I shall concede defeat and realise that in the world of technological ignoraminity, any attempt is one too many, so I shall just leave the blog entry as it is, plain but hopefully still a decent read.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
I love what I'm studying.
Though sometimes when people ask whether I have any regrets with regards to my career choice I hesitate before replying "no". The brief hiatus is then interpreted as uncertainty or a reluctance to admit that I do.
the truth of the matter is this: I've never regretted for a split millisecond choosing medicine as a career path. I love the work, the human relationships, the deep sense of fulfillment it gives.
I come home at the end of everyday with my had filled with insight about people-- both big and little, poor and rich. I see something novel everyday, witness another disease manifestation or another shade of personality. I am blessed to be privy to such private, intimate moments-- a mother crying over a sick child, a doctor giving some semblance of hope to a terminally ill patient. In choosing medicine as my lifework, I have no regrets. What occasional "regret" i do feel derives its roots from uncertainty, though not the uncertainty that medicine is right for me, but rather that I am right for medicine. Medicine demands a lot from a person, just the right balance of knowledge vs wisdom, rapport vs professionalism, emotion vs logic. And the balance is a fine one, one that is treaded differently in different patients and different circumstances. When I see it practised with such skill and ease, I often wonder if that will be me one day and whether with my current state of fumbling I'll ever morph into someone that competent.
That is really what I mean when I pause and then say "no" to the question of regrets. Lots of uncertainties and unknowns, but the thing that does shine through with clarity is that I wouldn't rather do anything else in the world but this.
Though sometimes when people ask whether I have any regrets with regards to my career choice I hesitate before replying "no". The brief hiatus is then interpreted as uncertainty or a reluctance to admit that I do.
the truth of the matter is this: I've never regretted for a split millisecond choosing medicine as a career path. I love the work, the human relationships, the deep sense of fulfillment it gives.
I come home at the end of everyday with my had filled with insight about people-- both big and little, poor and rich. I see something novel everyday, witness another disease manifestation or another shade of personality. I am blessed to be privy to such private, intimate moments-- a mother crying over a sick child, a doctor giving some semblance of hope to a terminally ill patient. In choosing medicine as my lifework, I have no regrets. What occasional "regret" i do feel derives its roots from uncertainty, though not the uncertainty that medicine is right for me, but rather that I am right for medicine. Medicine demands a lot from a person, just the right balance of knowledge vs wisdom, rapport vs professionalism, emotion vs logic. And the balance is a fine one, one that is treaded differently in different patients and different circumstances. When I see it practised with such skill and ease, I often wonder if that will be me one day and whether with my current state of fumbling I'll ever morph into someone that competent.
That is really what I mean when I pause and then say "no" to the question of regrets. Lots of uncertainties and unknowns, but the thing that does shine through with clarity is that I wouldn't rather do anything else in the world but this.
