BluE Scrubs

We've decided on 2 things after Nick's attempt to crack a joke. He needs to do a couple of practices or give it up altogether. Nick is one of the operating Department Assistants (ODA). They pass tools for you, hold things for you, secure things for you, find things for you or at least tell you where things are, provided it's tagged with the magic word and also with a genuine smile.

They work hard and stand around like a mobile hand extension. A good ODA will always ask before they go to the loo, and Nick is one of the best ones I have worked with so far.

I was mastering the art of waiting AGAIN and Nick joined me and Neil. I was picking Neil's brain on the subject of being a man and being lefthanded. Don't ask. He must have not liked the subject and changed the scene.

"A woman rushed into a vet office with a rabbit in her hands".
We got excited and listened on.

"I think my rabbit is dead, but I thought I'd bring it in anyway just for a second opinion".
"So the vet got up and started examining. A few minutes of poking and nudging. He looked up and shook his head. It's dead all right. I'm sorry".

"No , no the woman said",

Nick did a good high pitch damsel in distress type voice. We were bursting.

"I want a second opinion, I am not happy with your opinion".

"So the vet calmly phewitted a cat in. He gave a nod and the cat poked and pawed the rabbit".

"The rabbit was motionless and appeared dead".

"The cat shook it's head and jumped off the table and disappeared".

"The woman again shrieked in dismay".

Again Nick did the high pitch yodel.

"No! No! can't be right. I want a third opinion".

"So the vet called a .."
at this point he stopped and we were all agog.

"Wot Nick???" we said.
He was holding his head trying to remember what it was.

Bill shouted from across the corridor.
"It's the bloody labrador mate!!! Labrador!!! Hahahahahahah blimming eck!Wot are u loike!"

"Oh yea, labrador". He carried on as if he didn't hear Bill.

"So the labrador poked , pawed again and sniffed and even hit the rabbit a few times".

"Motionless, rigor mortis". Neil and me looked at each other.

"It jumped off and the vet looked at the woman".

"The woman succumbed to the pressure and said 'Ok ok I have to accept it now I suppose. The rabbit is dead'". He made the woman sounded like a drag queen.

"How much do I owe you?", asked the woman.
"£300 please", the vet confidently answered.

'Wot? How did it get that much?' the woman shrieked. Nick shrieked. It's not difficult to imagine.

At this point he looked as if he was chaffed by his joke so far. Now the punch line.

"So? Why was it so expensive?" asked Neil.

Eagerly he went 'Well £100 for the vet consultation, £100 for the CAT scan (at which point he arched his eyebrows and grinned), and £100 for..."

He lost it again!!
He lost the punch line.
He left us standing there and hurried over to Bill's theatre.
I looked at Neil and we bursted out laughing.
We saw Nick hurrying back.

"Err the other £100 was for LAB test". He did the eyebrow archery again."You know..labrador...LAB test?"

We laughed so much Neil had to go to the toilet. Nick scratched his neck and shrugged his shoulders.
Wot are you like Nick.

The whole shenanigans on B2 ward really did it. I was livid by the time I got back to theatre. Didn't feel like doing any work at all. I got all of the drugs drawn out and they were all nicely labelled. Putting a person to sleep is almost like cooking. You get all the ingredients ready and when the pot arrives..ayyacarammbbaaa .. a bit of this, a bit of that..sit and wait.

I looked at the list and it said 'starting time: 08:30'. I looked at the watch and it's blimming 09:30!! What took them so long to bring one blimming patient. Blimming porters.

I was pottering about, mastering the art of waiting, when I saw Shawn at the reception. Shawn Dharmarajah is a Malaysian who went to St.John's School in Seremban and left to do Medicine in UK many many years ago. He must be about 36 this year and already is a consultant. Then again darker skin coloured people always age better. So they say. Then ok maybe 38. Even his thinning hair hasn't done a good enough job at sabotaging his awet muda.

I knew him as a Registrar in Hull Royal Infirmary, so we were on a first name basis really. He greets me daily with 'Selamat pagi Adek maniisss' and if he's very very jolly on a particular day he'll even shout 'Nasi lemak satuuuu' across the corridor. I'm sure the scrub nurses and the ODAs must have thought we were having an affair. Euughhh. It could only be that to them. Too much give aways.
It's really difficult to look at him as a Consultant now. He does quite alot to make himself believe that he is a consultant now. He dons the suit daily but you can tell he's not worn them for ages. He looks like a prep school boy at times. Sorry Shawn.
Now why am I suddenly rambling about Shawn?
He walked past the corridor while I was leaning against the wall with my head heavily magnetised to the floor. A posture of a somebody who might just say yes to do waitressing instead of this job.

'Adek maniissss, apa muka macam bonttooottt???'

I looked up and I showed my teeth. Was not sure if that was even a smile. I supported that with two thumbs up. He looked jolly and happy with my response. Just anything to avoid having to talk about an incident which is very much upsetting but not really worth talking about. He disappeared into the male changing room.

Now my thinking is, if the two Malaysian docs I've met here so far have not put me off to start planning going home to practise then I have to ask myself, when am I going home and is it worthwhile? If 2 can put a smile on my face at work, then if you work daily with 100% malaysians then wouldn't that be 50 times heavenish? The maths seem to work but will it really?

"Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog".

Yeah..Naj meet Haloscan..Haloscan be nice to Naj. She does get her blonde moments quite a lot.

What will happen if I bomb Ward B2? Obviously there will ne no more too-much-make-up-on-tight-uniformed-nurses to make my blood pressure go upstairs. I went there to see this nice old beadie for her operation this afternoon,who kept going 'sorry love you have to speak up, I'm not 21'. Awww I wanted to bungkus her and take her home.

Next I asked these 'lovely' nurses for the notes. None of them gave a toss about getting the lady prepared for the afternoon. None of them care. 'Oh sorry I just came on duty', or 'uh sorry I don't work on this ward' or 'uh..I'm on my break', yet they were sat around with cups of tea.

Next I asked if they could put up an IV drip. I was told it's going to be another half an hour. Reason? 'We are understaffed'. Understaffed my foot. Although it was going to make me late to see the next lady, I went on and do it myself. That should give them the message loud and clear.

Conclusion? Yes bomb Ward B2.

It's Monday and it's my day off. Normal people get 2 days off after 5 days of work, I get one blimming day after 2 weeks of mindnumbing torture? What was that all about? I saw some more along the line of what was that all about in ASDA just now.

1. 2 boys were standing about, blowing their cheeks against tightly sealed mouth, and from what I gathered, they were holding their breath.. in the washing liquid isle. One suddenly collapsed to the floor and the other one laughed out loud almost hysterically. My reflex must have made me hurried over to the quickly growing crowd. The one who was laughing stopped laughing. The one on the floor now opened his eyes and started laughing. Now what was that all about? He later had a whack in the backside and a wagging finger from what I assume was the Mum.

2. I got a ticket for not paying the car park in ASDA? Since when you have to pay to go there and shop? I later found out that you can claim the refund but??!!!!!!! What was that all about??

3. I was coming out of the T junction and there was this old beadie who had the right of way cruising along at a tangent to me. She indicated so I waited.What did she do? She just carried on cruising straight past, with the indicator lights blinking away ?????!!!What was that all about?? Maybe you get given a different highway codes after 65??

4. I had to pick up a parcel from royal mail HQ. So off I went. "£11.92 please".What? Since when the receiver has to pay for the postage?? What was that all about?

Buka is at 17:52 and I am going to invent bubur jagung. Yes nobody has ever created this one before. I love corn and I like anything remotely resembling baby food( Bubur/soup/oat/). I am a genious.

How does one blog about a good sleep? I've not not had one for ages. I know it's a bloody good one when:

1. You wake up without the help of your alarm.
2. You know exactly where you are, (in your own bed, not in the on call room's, not anybody elses).
3. Your skin feels so perky, peachy,blushed and dewy.
4. The tight band around your head is gone.
5. Your whole body feels supple and rejuvenated.
6. You feel like hitting the shower straight away.
7. Your hair gain lustre (hmmmm).
8. You've forgotten what you were shouting on the phone about.
9. You've forgiven the nurse who ordered you to write up paracetamol, without the magic word
10. You actually feel like it's not a bad idea after all to turn up at work.

Maybe working night duties permanently is the way forward.

The more I have, the more I want
The more I want, the less I have
The less I have, the less I want
The less I want, the more I have

I have been feeling rather kamikaze of late. The energy is just suboptimum, just enough to get me out of bed. The living room is building clutter and I hate going into the bedroom. The small chest next to the mirror is crowded with pots of stuff, and oil and potions etc.

The doors to the wardrobe are just about closable, yet I have a great big duffy bag full of clotheswith nowhere to put. Where do they come from? I have to say being a petite size 8 since I learnt how to use Always, Kotex and Sanita (when the dough was not quite surplus) does have something to do with it.

In Japan they do what's called oosooji-meaning 'the big clean'. I wonder if this is a day off for them. Apparently this is a mass declutter party done at the end of the year to make sure companies are clutter free of unwanted documents and paperwork and reports which are no longer in used. They scrub the desk, cabinets, rearrange the shelves and throw lots and lots of things. This allegedly will improve the performance of the companies. What if some plonker made a mistake of mis-throwing some important things instead? This person would now be called oosoojied? 'Oh sorry sir, you are no longer with us because your file has been oosijooed'.Kah kahkah( laughing in japanese)
I think I could do with getting rid of some of the things I have. I say this, but only last week I bought some scented candles and a nice rose-inside-the-glass-lid wooden box which I am still finding the use for. Not to mention more and more books. You can't throw away books though. Can you? Some of the clothes I have are still tagged with price on it, not been worn for almost 2 years and some I have seen coming in an out of fashion. This I need help with. So, in desperation I bought yet another book on how to declutter. I am doing this at the moment and we'll see how it goes. This is what's been suggested:

1.When to Declutter: Decide how often you are going to declutter a zone. Do a little every day - use a timer. But be warned - this can become compulsive! Once you get started you will want to clean like a banshee! Don't burn yourself out! Only do small amount at a time. The house did not get dirty overnight and it will not get clean overnight. When you set the timer you can only do two sessions at a time. This goal may seem unattainable right now, but you can do it in little pieces. In a couple of months, the whole house will be decluttered.
2.Decluttering Equipment: You will need garbage bags, boxes, magic markers, and a dust rag. Label the boxes "Give Away", "Throw Away", and "Put Away". Line the "Throw Away" box with a plastic garbage bag.
3.Set your timer: for 1 hour (or 30, 15, or 10 minutes - it does't matter how long). Just do the job as fast as you can and do not pull out more stuff than you can put away in that length of time. This means just one drawer, one closet (or even one shelf in one closet), one magazine rack, or digging under just the furniture in the zone. Not all of them at once!
4.Start at the entrance to the room: Then, work your way around the room clockwise. Do not skip a spot. Whatever happens to be next, just do it.
5.Declutter Away! With boxes at your feet and dust rag in your waistband, start off by cleaning out and getting rid of the things that do not belong in this room. Put garbage in the "Throw Away" box, donations in the "Give Away" box, and stuff that goes somewhere else in the "Put Away" box. Don't worry that you do not have a place for everything right now. By the time you finish you will.
6.What to declutter? Things to ask yourself as you get rid of your clutter:
Do I love this item?
Have I used it in the past year?
Is it really garbage?
Do I have another one that is better?
Should I really keep two?
Does it have sentimental value that causes me to love it?
Or does it give me guilt and make me sad when I see the item? Cleanse this room of everything that does not make you SMILE.
7.Sing this song: "Please release me, let me go" as sung from the stuff's point of view. It needs to be loved by someone and if you don't love it - GET RID OF IT!
8.Get rid of the garbage! When the "Throw Away" box gets full, pull out the garbage bag, close it, and put it in the trash can, the pickup truck, or wherever you keep your garbage. Put a new garbage bag in the "Throw Away" box and keep on Flying until the timer goes off.
9.Donations: When the "Give Away" box gets full, seal it off, and put it in your car. The next time you are out, you can donate to the area thrift shop. Do not save your clutter for a yard or garage sale, you will be blessed by giving it away. The value can be deducted on your income tax. Remember you are trying to get rid of clutter - not relocate it somewhere else in your home. Now, grab another box, label it "Give Away", and get back to work.
10."Put Away" Stuff: When the "Put Away" box gets full, take the box in your arms and run around the house (good thing you have shoes on - right?) and put the items in the room where they belong. If they have a place, put them there, if not put them in the room where they logically belong. By the time you have finished you will have a place for everything and everything will be in it's place.
9.Timer Goes Off: When the timer goes off, you have to put away all the boxes, but first you have to empty them all. Go as fast as you can.

It sounds do-able, but I have tried this before and I ended up on the floor with piles and piles of things like get well cards, birthday cards, bank statements, newspaper cuttings, patients lists, tutorial notes blablablbla and ...I spent ages trying to sort them all out. I would read them all out, thought about it and couldn't make up my mind and it ended up in the pile I labelled 'MISC'-miscellinous. So I was back to square one. Effectively , the whole weekend I allocated myself was spent rearranging my clutter.

I shall not despair and I am so determined to 'conquer my clutter'. I am so motivated now, but it's 01:30 in the morning and I am stuck in ICU doing my second night on call. I bet come morning I'll bee line for the bed and I will let the clutter gather more clutter. No! No! Say it together:
"Clutter takes up space, clutter impedes movement and progress, clutter makes us postponed making decisions,clutter robs my energy, clutter robs my concentration".
I shall rise to the challenge and declutter "physically, emotionally and chronologically". I must go and find some boxes. Put away box, throw away box and...give away box*Grins*
More tips are here:

http://www.network54.com
http://healthandwellnessclub.com

Since this is the most secured, most frequently visited place and very easily accesible to Naj, she will list down the recipe for keeping the body and soul intact. Forget good exercise, quitting smoking, healthy eating , five portions of fruit pallaver and all yoga yoda shennanigans. This is hard core.

First, prepare the body, give oxygen and stick a tube down the throat. If it's difficult to do so with just the mask over the face. If needs be, or if you just feel like adding zing into it, stick a tube into the willy as well.
Next , make sure there are great big tubes insitu to pour fluid into.
Now the spices:
1. 1% Propofol 20 ml running at 3-15ml/hr
2. Alfentanil 10mg in 50ml 5% dextrose (yes Naj..not normal saline) running at 2-10 ml/hr
3. Phenylephrine 10mg in 20 ml syringe (add to taste..squirt as and when u like it..only 0.5 ml every squirt..not more!)
4. Ephedrine 30mg in 10 ml (again secukup rasa)

Leave the body to cook on the machine.

May we all live long, but never long enough and sick enough to have all these done to our bodies. Ameeen.

tet tet teeeeeeeeet tet teeeeeeeett tet teeeeeeet (some polyphonic tune)

Naj: hurmmm uh?
Rubbing eyes, clicked the sidelamp on, screwing eyes looking at the clock, one eye opened one eye closed.

SH: Naj? naj? So have you had your hair cut?
Naj: Oh heyyyy you, what?
now looking at the alarm clock properly.

Naj: Sh*t!!!!!!! How? err..when did I go to bed?I wasn't going to...
Feeling the hair right down to the split ends..

Naj: Oh noooo... one hour sleep become?*silent* ...
Counting fingers..

Naj: 9 hours?????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SH: Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

Not sure what happened, what I said after that ..but SH hung up and I woke up an hour later.
1. I didn't have a hair cut
2.Was I that tired?

What did I say about 3 am? Huh? What did I say? So yes the night was long and bumpy. I mean it literally.

Kevin bleeped me at 02:45 to say that a 19 year old was coming to Accident and Emergency with a nasty head injury. No questioned asked, I detached myself from reality and zombied over to A&E.

I have never really worked with Kevin. He is about 6 month more senior and about to marry an ICU nurse ( If I was told correctly that is). She shops at Monsoon. I know that much. After last night I have to say that we've positively bonded and I have to rethink about some of the things that I have said quietly to myself about him. Especially about the way he'd look at me and Deepa when we first started at Hull.We thought 'Twat!'. He's not the only one though. There was another one. But I'll leave her alone for now.

Kevin was already there when the boy arrived. Apparently his mates had kindly picked him up after what looked like a whack in the head, and put him through a plasma TV. Maybe the ad which was on didn't quite agree with the curry and lager they had and they've decided putting this poor fella through the screen would be a laugh. We were getting conflicting stories from everybody. The bobby who was there had a different story to the girlfriend who was crying hysterically. PhhooaHHHH...stinking and gobby!She's had a bit to drink I thought.

The boy had laboured breathing, not responding much to us calling, so half dead basically ( in Glascow Coma Scale language this is 4 over 15. 3 is dead 15 is you and me). He needed to go on the machine and so we had to stick a tube down his throat. So with that he will look properly comatose.

We were waiting for almost 20 minutes for the ODA (the assistant) to come over from where she was sleeping, and during that time, about 3 bleeped went out to wake her up. Stuff it we thought and Kevin agreed to play ODA. I took one look with the laryngoscope into the mouth, and it's blood everywhere. This guy could not have simply been whacked. He's been battered.

The tube went in and the machine took over. I'm pretty sure it looked all smooth and slick on the outside, but I was running a 100 metre inside! On one hand, I have done it now. It's an experience, but on the other? It could only get worse from here. Kevin was all the way in the background, not taking over the whole situation but he's watching and observing. I was very surprised that him watching over was more catalytic than an impending doom, eagle eyes scrutinizing.

After a few jabs in the wrist later, Kevin asked me to try and see if I could put the arterial line in the left wrist. He's had a few goes and not doing so well. I spent about 5 minutes trying to feel the pulse, and everybody was relying on me to get it in. Go away, go away stop looking at me. I was so flustered and I hated being watched. The pressure was so much I felt like vomitting. A quick jab and to my surprise it went in. Ace! Fair enough, not bad afterall then.

We took him to the CT scanner where it's all dingy and muggy. I can understand now, why all these radiologist seemed like they 've never had enough to eat and just waiting there ready to bite our head off every time we request a scan, any scan for that matter. Why do the job in the first place if you are going to be arssy 24/7? Well it was by then 4 am in the morning and I thought he should have just changed his name to Dr Grumpy. What was his name by the way?

The boy had a basal skull fracture. The brain was contused and the prognosis is not good. We had to blue-light him to Hull for neurosurgeon boys to have look at him. It only occured to me then that it will take a good couple of hours more to get ready, to arrange an ambulance, to arrange the crew for the escort and who is going with this boy? It was me. We knew what this means. It means that I will get back here so late that I will miss my hair appointment again, and I'll be so miserable I won't be able to come in to work. Day off! So.. Not..

We rang Hull and guess what they wanted us to do? Suture the blimming wound???? Why can't they just take the patient as it is? He's not oozing from the wound anyway. But it was the consultant neuro who wanted that done, so , just get on and do it. This is when Kevin just said he'll take the head and I'll do the stitching. I thought that's very positive and supportive of him. The head is the heaviest part and does make your hands shake like mad after 5 minutes holding it up. For him to have agreed to do that was very kind indeed.

So we turned him to the side and 3 nurses and Kevin kept him at that position while I did my speedy gonzales stitches. 5 at the top and 2 at the bottom, a quick dab with some chlorhexidine and it was done. Under normal circumstances, this would have been done meticulously and under very very sterile procedure. Nobody gave a toss and I just went with the flow. I hope he'll get that redone when they open him up, but for now, it 'll do. As long as it's not gaping open.

We were strapping him onto the scooper to feed him through the back of the ambulance, when his blood pressure dropped. This is not good I thought. Kevin looked at me and we both asked for the phenylephrine almost simultaneously. The cannula he put in earlier, was not in the right place so I stuck another one in. No second thought. No permission needed no explanation, no nothing.

It's always good when your patient is out. That was part of the reason for doing this job. Not much talking. However, nobody warned me about turning into a parrot. You have to tell exactly the same thing about half a dozen times to half a dozen different people. Not to mention the certain same people, who are thicker than my filofax. Yes I use filofax and I am not techy.I hate PDAs. They kept going missing and they are not cheap so stuff them.

I sat across the boy who was strapped securely at the back of the ambulance. I was so so nervous. This is the first time ever I've sat in there looking after a head injured patient, with such a labile blood pressure. Should I be doing this? I asked myself that question over and over again. What if the pressure kept dropping? What if I then couldn't keep it up? What if the double door flung open and the patient got ejected out? What if we got ourselves in a bad crash? I kept the seat belt on at all times.

Kevin must have picked up that I wasn't entirely happy but confident enough to do it. Just before the double door slammed shut, he whizzed in and got my phone number, and went through a checklist of things. I nodded a few times and answered with a couple of Yes's. I felt like a schoolgirl going on a fieldtrip.

The 60 minutes in there was an absolute killer. I was vigil enough to be able to keep squirting the phenylephrine to keep the blood pressure above 100 , but at times my conscious centre failed me and I just couldn't keep up with the conversations going on in there. The bobby sat behind me, and as I was writing in the chart, I half shouted for the time we actually set off. '6:03' the bobby said. I was glad somebody was awake.

Kevin rang on my mobile but I couldn't answer him as we were tangled up with all the wires , tubes and connection around the boy in the lift up to the Neuro ICU. I didn't have a spare hand. We got him onto the bed and...where was the receiving doctor? None to be seen.

A pale, pasty, curly-ginger haired male doctor approached me sometime later, as I was setting the ventilator. He didn't say a word. I looked at his badge. He looked at me from the corner of his eyes and shifted left and right. Oiii..stand still la orang nak tengok nama you, bukan nak check your chest ada bulu ke tak' I thought to myself. I then greeted him, trying to break the ice. He looked like he just got out of bed. Did not even smile. I asked if he knew about what's been happening to the boy we brought him. I'm sure he wasn't going to say anything. He shook his head, so I parroted the story to him..Blablablablabla.

It would have been so much easier isn't it. I could have just dumped the boy there and chiow with the rest of the crew. But no..we do things right.
After I'd finished handing over the patient, the registrar turned up and what did I have to do? Rewind and replay the story again.


After bidding farewell, we disappeared round the corner. The registrar came running and enquired about the transient drop in blood pressure just before we set off. He slagged me off! He said maybe I should have given more fluid rather than phenylephrine!!! Cheeky bugger. You have no idea what kind of night I had.

The 2 nurses went beserk in the ambulance.'We've kept him alive, we've done this and that and this cheeky bugger came to tell you off?, Why did you let him Naj?" Sharon was fuming.
"They just have to say something clever innit?" said the other nurse with too much make-up on. I just didn't have the energy to even smile. I drifted to sleep while the two of them bitching about what happened and Bob the ambulance driver was kind enough to tune into Galaxy 105 for me.ZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

It's friday night, and a triple whammy weekend. I am to do night duties for 3 nights in a row with the following Monday off(hurrah hurrah). This is also the first night of me doing second on call exclusively all by myself.
Meaning:
1. If a poor soul suddenly decided that he is going to have a cardiac arrest and we manage to bring him back to life ( as we quite competently do so, if we get there on time), he would have to come here to ICU.
2. I would have to set up all the adrenaline pumps and phenylephrine and what nots.
3. I have to set the ventilator.
4. I will have no sleep.
5.I will be groggy in the morning.
5. I will miss my 09:45 appointment with Toni n Guy (oh I still have my student ID badge expiring 2007..and they give 10% discount! weyheyyy!)
6. I will have trouble getting another appointment.
7.My hair will keep growing and and I will have so much split ends that they have to yell to each other to gossip.
Oh back to my job:
8.If a screaming abusive pregnant woman needing an epidural, I would have to go there an do it all by myself. No more holding hands by the bosses. *Isk*
9.If I miss then the boss has to come out of bed and come in at 3 am.
10. The boss will not be impressed and won't sign me off on my compentency form
11. I will walk around with a big L on my forehead (loser),


I am sitting here pissing myself. My bleep went off a while ago and my heart did that little somersault as usual, and my intestine shuddered. Horror!

Phewh it was Dave and he's offering to come in half an hour early tomorow so that I can go off an hour early. Meaning I will not miss my hair appointment, meaning I will feel better coming on duty again tomorrow night. Does that mean I will do well at the epidurals?

Have we established here that this poor little thing is terrified at doing this job as second on call? Yes. I bet if we get a serum cortisol sample of me now it'll be sky high.

That's probably why I get so so much breakouts nowadays, that the relapsing remitting phases just fail to demarcate themselves and now it's almost like a permanent thing. Gone those peachy baby's bottom cheeks.. hello spotty spock! Doesn't help being called a 16 year old by one of the patients last week.
Conclusion? Please dear God let tonight have mercy on me.

A good day ends like this.

Boss: Thank you for your help today Naj
Naj: Oh it's okay Dr.Samaan, no problem at all.
What time is breaking fast again?
Boss: Have a good rest , you deserve it.
Naj: I will *grin*
Walking away, bag slinged on the shoulder, jumper round the waist.

From a distance
Boss: Oh Naj!
Stopped walking and turned round. Oh what have I done now.Squirm*
Naj: Yes Dr Samaan
Please be nice to me
Boss: That was an excellent presentation on Friday. Very well done indeed. Now ..do you have everything on a disc? Cos I was thinking we ought to keepa copy of it in the departmental computer for teaching later on, and that was a very well reviewed presentation. Excellent.Absolutely wonderful.
Pat on the back? OOOO yes he did
Naj: Thank you Dr Samaan, I'll make sure Pauline gets it and put it on the computer.

It's 17:57. Sunsetting over Grimsby less grimly today.I could imagine azan everywhere as I walked out of the door. I fished for the miniature snickers and tasted the sweetness.

Another day like that, and I am seriously going to MC myself.Too much emotions volleyed.
The day started with 7 patients on the gynaecology list. Anaesthetist: Dr Ahmad. Surgeon: Gynae Reg.Who? It didn't say the name of the Gynae Reg. So the gynae registrar didn't have a name. I thought well there's always a first to everything.

Saw all the patients and they all seemed fine. Gassable and won't die.That's the definition of fine to put it simply.Out of the seven, 4 were vacuum suctions. Hang on a minute. Vacuum suction where? the ear? the nose. Yes..down below. Why have they not changed it to 'Termination of pregnancies'?or'We like killing small little creatures' or 'We think we know better'.Du'uh.

I thought I couldn't do this.It's not right, but then there are so many things which have not been right for a while now and all I ever did was thinking about it.Not a thing done to change them.This one I can't take very long to decide.

She looked at the list, looked at the watch, list, watch, list , watch..OH! Stuff it.. I'll just do them. £60 per terminations multiply by four and that is what? £240? Well that's what I was told anyway. The reason for them paying an extra private cash? Will ask. But how do you ask things pertaining to money to anyone without that kerchhing dollar signs in the eyes? You are thinking too much. You are not really killing anything. You are just putting them to sleep and the procedure itself takes about 5 minutes. No big deal. It is a big deal. There's a creature in there and it's going to be someone. I am a killer? No, I helped to have the creatures get killed..urghh I am mourning..but for who?what? and why? Because life seemed to glide past you without letting you take a step back and glance at your list of principles? Because I conspired to denying innocent souls of chance to live? Could I have saved them? Nope!It might get delayed for now but it'll get done inevitably. I just won't be part of it.Would they be worse off not being born at all?

It was more like a production line for walker's crisps factory. One body in, off to sleep..in there, legs up and out and *sccchhluupps* out you go. Next...and next and next.The bodies are young, fresh, fertile yet empty.

I didn't sahur in the morning and by 11 am I was wilting away and for some bizarre reasons, I was giggly. What was 90mph was going at 5mph.

Bill came up with all sorts of lines to convince me that it's actually very justified to eat a lump of miniature snickers he nicked from the maternity ward.
'Oh look it's dark, it must be winter already!!' try again Bill...
'Naj you've worked so hard for 3 hours surely God will cut you some slack and look,you are tiny li'll thing anyway!'..I took a deep breath in an attempt to explain but I ended up throwing a crumpled paper towel at him and chuckled away.Just about.. Absolutely no energy.

Physical plus emotional wringing morning that is and the right stuff drip-drabbed waiting to be mopped up again.


I was left alone finding my solitude when the beeper went off and it's the maternity ward. They wanted an epidural on a lady who was screaming the place down, climbing up the wall and could and would try and bite the head-off the midwife. Sounded like it's going to be a rather turbulent afternoon. I got there with Steve in good time.

Well the midwive seemed pleased and that's a rarity.The scream was audible even from the corridor, and when we actually got into the room..it's not a pretty sight.

The one McQuaid put in earlier didn't seem to work, or at least it didn't after the initial good dose of numbing juice. The sister was standing by in a rather derogatory pose. Arms akimbo, legs apart ready to throw some punches. So takut man. Look it's not my fault the thingy doesn't work!!!Heishhh these people have missed it completely. Epidural is a luxury..and labour is natural and it's suppose to be painful. Who invented epidural again? Troublemaker!!*Grumble*grumble

After much talking and persuasions later another epidural went in. So chaffed , so confident that it would work. No doubt, it'll work. I was smitten. 10 minutes later. The midwive came back out shaking her head. Steve went 'Nooooooooooo!!' What do you meant it 's not working ? We saw it going in! Argghhhhhh!!!This one is a serious case of pain escalation by proxy..she's not in pain..she's feigning it.

I was sooo mortified I just couldn't bring myself to talk to the lady again..not with the sister in there. One good thing from this is, the midwives were on my side. Another rarity. As I was writing things down Mr. Mueller the gynae boss came round.He was surprised that I was all over the place, and told me I was excellent this morning on that Gynae list. Really? Let's do an expression replay, startled eyes, mouth half opened and do a crease in between the eyebrows and now,*Blink* again *Blink*

Rushed to the theatre for the elective caesarian section. Took me 15 minutes to zap in the numbing juice into the spinal fluid and within 2 minutes the lady went 'gosh I think I've lost me legs' I went 'goooooood, that's what we want'. Very pleased we went in and she was slashed open in no time and after a few good tuggings and pushings a baby girl was out.

'What's your name doctor?' Common enough question and I said 'Dr Ahmad'.
'But that's a boy's name in tit? she frowned.
'Oh my first name ? It's Najmiah as in Nudge-me-ah'I was blushing I swear.
'Excellent! That'll do ey Dave?'looking up to her partner with hands
interlocking.
'We'll call her Mia', big big grin..My heart did a little flip and I wanted to hug both of them...joy! joy! and breaking fast was 57 minutes away.*Droool*

A certain word uttered by a certain somebody over the phone last night still stagnated in the air. I guess I have always knew , what he said was exactly the description I would used to define the pressing matter, but I guess the difference between him and I is that I have hope and he just doesn’t.

It probably doesn’t make sense anyway at the moment should the definition be something different to what he has ‘kindly’ suggested.

I am still in a bit of a daze today as I was sat watching TV , trying to comprehend why oh why I dared not say anything to what he said. It was paralyzing , pathetic, mind numbing sad yet true.

The way that he spoke to me was also much like I am talking to you, rather than we are enjoying ourselves talking to each other. You know when you are talking with such fondness to another person? Your whole body cues for ‘I am comfortable with you’. The intermittent touch, the accepting gazes, the validating smile , the agreeing laughter, the sensitive auditory.

Those are the magical clues. Then of course there is laughter. You laugh when you are comfortable with somebody, and it must never ever be made as a subject of the discussion.
On the other hand, if you start saying things like:

‘You used to laugh at my jokes’ and ‘we never used to discuss about how we talk to each other’ with half of dozen of other phrases to that effect with a few pregnant silence in between, then it is never a good sign.

I have failed to communicate, but yet I think this is possibly as good as it can get for now.I have not entertained any suicidal ruminations nor have I thought about writing a will. Is not talking a good damage control or is it just buying time for the inevitable? I am very susceptible to feeling morbid today. Ghastly and desolate.

I've got myself a new flatmate. She is Polish. And this is what happened on the 5th day she got here.

Naj: Heloooooooooooooo!!!
Closing the main door behind her

Maggie: aluuuuuuuuuu
Naj: What are you cooking?
Emerging from the corridor into the kitchen

Maggie: I yemm ehh jezz boiling ze potatoes

Naj: *Grinning* Oh Maggie, this pot only goes into that big electric cooker. It's for cooking rice.
At this point the smile fading rather abruptly with rather disbelieving eyes.
Maggie: I just laaaaavv potatoes.
Stirring the potatoes away
Naj: No No Maggie this is my pot and i only use it to cook rice and it goes in that green cooker

Maggie: oooo I see.So zis pot gos in zis one??

Naj picked the mitts and lifted up the pot to the kitchen sink

Aduuussssssss. Yvette I miss you!!