BluE Scrubs

Just got off the phone to my colleague Deepa who did the same exam as me. Poor thing was late by 30 mins on the day and so was Gosh. I can imagine those two anaesthetists standing there panic strickened, cold and very very angry at the train station in York waiting for the replacement train. Thankfully they managed to ‘have a go’ at all 450 questions.

I am sure it’s not the right word of choice but I am slightly glad that they both felt the same about the exam. Bloody hard is what they’ve translated it to be. Nasty is what I’d rather call it myself.
Imagine the next day bulletin back at work

Bloody hard exam 3 anaesthetists grieving.

Exam nasty, 2 anaesthetists stranded in York

3 anaesthetists had 3 hour torture in exam hall.


I had at least 5 big questions that I felt was a bit iffy. That 5, had 5 stems which equates to 25 iffy questions in total, so translated to 25 dubious answers. One wrong answer is minus one mark. One right answer is one mark. So in doubt do not answer they say, so no answer no mark…..soo…even before minus fiesta I am already short by 25. Lost? I am



My excuses. Firstly nobody knows everything, I think this is of paramount importance.

One question asked on nalbuphine which nobody uses anymore, so of course reading about it once or twice without holding the ampoule in your hand and injecting it yourself will not make it stick in your head. Will it?

Another question was on infra red and gas absorption. Aiyoooo…when lah am I ever going to check these things before putting people to sleep. If the machine packs up, there is this species called engineers yah?

Another one was on helium. yah ok maybe this one I should know more about but the colour of the cylinder???? Is it brown or pink??? *&$£”$£^%T*&&&$%$£ Conclusion from this is I should read Pinnock from cover to cover and after I’ve done that maybe pressure cook it and then boil it and drink the stew.

Considering this, we’ve already prepared some standard answers or excuses rather for the consultants at work tomorrow. I am pretty sure they just love seeing our tortured frazzled mangled face again, back to work from the battle field.

Really now, I know there are those out there, anal type that goes ‘oooooo it’s so bloody difficult’ but when the results come out, they score like mad pigs. I can be anal sometimes but not in the mood to look like mad pigs and the exam was bloody hard.



Just before entering the hall, I met a few docs I’ve known before from previous courses. Most are doing it the second time and third time. I wasn’t sure whether to feel consoled or terrified by the thought that passing it first time around is tending towards negligible. One actually gave up after 2 goes and got married and have 2 girls. Another went to Australia to do ER type job after 3 goes. They had some grey hair I noticed…really hope they got through.

I was so nervous standing around yapping for almost 45 minutes I had to do obligatory visit to the ladies 6 times!!!!!! It was lovely though, the floor was marble and the ceiling was high with those halogen type lights that depress into the ceiling. The mirrors were big and tall and the taps had sensors. So was the toilet flush. Hehehehehhe. Never taken an exam in a hotel before, so that was a good distraction. Tad bit jakun. I wonder how much they have to pay The National Hotel for the rent of that banquet room.

On the way there, did not have to do any clever rat in the maze stunt , which was gentle on by easily bruised self of late. I hopped onto Picadilly line to Russell Square and hopped off.

In the tube, I didn’t plan to read as usual. I was playing with my camera which I brought just so I have evidence of everything and anything. I have my reasons. Fear not if ‘demented’ popped in anybody’s mind.




2 things I always noticed about people in the tube. Wrinkles and skin colour. These things fascinate me. I love to watch people spring back from their momentary facial expressions and to anticipate any special creases on their faces. Sometimes those lines speak tonnes more than the words they utter. How easy to see on trained eyes.

The other thing is the skin colour. If the guy had brown hue, I usually wonder about what his parents are like. What would be the colour of their skin, hair, nose, eyebrows. Did he take on one original colour over the other, or if it’s ‘kopi susu’ whether it’s a cross between black and white.

However this strange habit of people spotting must be undertaken rather subtly. You have to be looking effortless, a bit like you’re not looking but you are looking really while you’re doing something else like sweeping the hair off your face, tucking the socks up even though they don’t need tucking. You know whatamsayin’…be British.



After the exam, I felt so drained and famished. It was as if I’ve done a 1500 m and actually finished it.

My head felt swollen from constant poking scratching and hair pulling.

My eyes were a bit dazed. Couldn’t believe that it’s over. 3 hours and it felt like 15 minutes.

A lot of mutterings began to flood what was earlier the most quiet space in London, escalating to that noise you’d find in a fish market. I rushed out to find some solitude.



It was 5 pm and it’d be a bit ‘sardine’ in the tube back at that hour I thought. So I nursed my growling gastric with some tuna and corn wrap in Tavistock Square garden. Right in the middle, a brass sculpture sat humble and solemn. Some pigeons perched on his shoulders eating off white bits. Brilliant beige coloured monocotyledon flower plants carpeted all around. Such a sooth.

Around the square red double decker buses slugging it’s momentum amongst the fast cars. Cyclists zig zagging with scrunched faces, possibly faces of the most determined and most impatience ones. I know it takes a lot to cycle 5 miles everyday, been there.

There was a marked contrast between the inside and the outside of Tavistock garden which I found synergistically convenient to observe.

Everything has it’s equal and opposite action and reaction. If you honk, you get honked back viciously, so nobody honks. You give up your seat on no.81, you get a smile back from a nice old lady.

A rushing stream of people around a tranquil garden was probably an idea the mayor had to achieve what surprisingly not everybody wants in life. A balanced physique, a mental in equilibrium and a soul so rich it seeks moderation.

So tired.. na na naaa na nennaaa na na naaa na nennaaaaa says Gwen on being rich.


Tavistock Square