Thursday, June 30, 2005
Not much to say about the on call last night apart from I could do without the tear inducing almost projectile vomiting vile intermittent pulling and tugging in the epigastric centre radiating to the back. Came on while I was drawing up drugs for the appendisectomy on this 11 year old girl. She’s a redhead, slim and that’s all I could remember.
I was surprised that I could last that long. Liz, my ODA on duty cracked a joke while we were waiting for the girl to ‘wake up’, to take my mind off the pain. Even if I am half dead I can’t leave a half alive patient. That is a hard learnt fact.
It’s about one of the consultants wanting a nuzzle in between her assets. I work with many ODAs and apart from the gender variation, like jellybabies, they also come in different shapes and sizes. Liz has all the right emphasis in the right places if you know what I mean. And the emphasis, not only in the right places they are also lethal. She can suffocate somebody in her chest. Wachacha!
So she said, jokingly that one would need the right tubing for oxygen supply if one wished for a nuzzle and walked away from the aroused crowd earlier that day. Now this persistent joker anaesthetist consultant returned with the green coaxial Bain tubing. Can you believe the little pratt???
Yes Liz, I can. I am sure he would behave rather differently if I was around because I know his wife! So that made me crack up and also made my pain hullahooped I felt like barking and howling at the theatre lightings and then faint cataplexicly till morning.
After OD-ed myself with inferior analgesics I zonked out and remember something about presenting at the audit meeting naked. It was most bizarre I couldn’t even begin to describe how that felt. I can only say that I was relieved it was just a ‘nightmare’. I read in this book once that dreams are sometimes a reflection of things that you do not wish to do or remember.
And that would make sense because I have this presentation to do and the title is ‘AWARENESS IN ANAESTHESIA’. I have been reading round and collecting articles but, really isn’t that exactly what we try to achieve in anaesthesia? To avoid awareness? Maybe I should try that tomorrow. Greet well wishes to start with and confidently say something like ‘In anaesthesia, if your patient complains that he/she is aware during your anaesthesia, you are not doing your job properly, so please make sure you have up to date insurance policy with Medical Defence Union and hit the books. Thank you comrades, good day’. Do you think they’ll clap and let me have the day off?
So back to the dream malarkey, I am also aware that when somebody close to you moved on, passed away, left you or anything to that effect, all of a sudden your dreams frequent him as the leading role.
Him by the beach having a massage by another woman, him in IKEA with you, him driving and you sing Misha Omar song (because that’s the only song I know the lyrics more than a line, wait that’s a lie), him helping you pack, him on a merry-go-round swing, and him backpacking with you in Amsterdam and run naked in a field full of pink tulips? I know, freaky but it’s understandable, because it’s something your brain is still having problems refreshing. Be calm my little soul.
I just wish we have a turn off switch for all this mental and emotional torture. It kills humour.
So we got palm oil tree seeds from Ghana? Well I never..
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Good thoughts, Good day
It occurs to me that it is not up to people to make today your good day or your bad day. If you haven’t undercoated your mind with positive thinking, do not feel that it is your right to have a good day and do not blame the bus for spraying that puddle onto your new mules.
Had you live in the presence and not dwell so much in what, why, and what ifs of something that’s happened, you might sense that the bus is approaching and you’d scuttle to a safe place or hide behind a big man and there, a less bad day already if it’s not a complete good day.
Goodness is not just about having all the good, it’s also the lack of all the bad.
So a predicted good day starts with Nescafe Hazelnut. Approach with care though because the fat content is quite alarming.
My say is, anything you do, do it with moderation. Those people producing these yummy sinful food and drinks have profit to make, doctors need patients to distribute statins to (why give pravastatin when simvastatin do as good a job?), surgeons need clogged coronary arteries to plumb so, we all fit into one big life chain feeding into one big balanced equation and it’s just unfair that we stop ourselves from indulging every now and then.
So other than that, you can make it a good day by reliving one happy thought just as you wake up. If it’s not that solid a happy thought, giggle a little, smile a little. Think of how short our lives are and how mammoth you’ve made something into.
Now, my happy thoughts. Proceed only if you are sitting for FRCA
Did an interscalene block yesterday and it’s beautiful. Mmmmuah. Pout, kiss tips of 5 hugging fingers and make them peck both cheeks. Wiggle your body a little.
I say beautiful because when doing it, the stimulator got right down to 0.4 mA with strong deltoid twitches from 2.0 mA. Another reason is because total paralysis established after 10 minutes. Who’s your daddy!!!!
So how I did it?
Go to cricoid, lateral into the groove. Try going slightly lower, you don’t have to keep at C6. Aim for the opposite elbow, posterior and inferior. Get down to it, yawnawattamsayin’.
Another handy tips, pinch the whole sternocleidomastoid and try to get behind it if you can. Avoid external jugular severely, you don’t want a fitting patient at the end of the injection.
Hiccups and coughing is expected do not panic. Reassure the patient. However do not feel clever and try to block both phrenics. You may not notice anything until your ODA poke you and say, doc, I think the patient is blue. Been done before!!!
Tell your consultant to watch from afar because anybody will function better without the consultant breathing down the neck.
I do not have a ‘one I made earlier’ to display but it’s been a pleasure stabbing a neck like that and being thanked for it in return.
Please do not try this at home. If you get a headache after reading this, take 1g paracetamol, only if your body weight is 50kg and above.
Other psychosomatic symptoms are very unlikely.
Bit like wearing a big rock on your finger. Nice. It being a gift from your fiance. Double nice. But he got it by cutting off from a dead woman’s finger. Not nice.
Reasons would hopefully be apparent soon of why this intention of mine is currently best not be entertained just yet. I have to watch which way the wind blows, which way the trees sway, which direction the tumbleweed , erm..tumbles. As I said, I am in denial.
I was on call again and today, and was I lucky to get demonstrated how ‘scrotal hammock’ gets strapped on. So this 40 year old guy had a cyst removed from his ball 2 days ago and unlucky for him, it collected haematoma (blood) so that had to be rescued sooner rather than later.
Gina was telling me she once recklessly asked one of the dirty minded butchers ‘Would you like a scrotal support Mr. (insert surgeon’s name)’ at the end of the same procedure as this one.
‘Oh no thank you kind nurse, mine is quite snug’ he replied. We work long hours and the ventilation in the theatre must have been a bit inadequate, that’s all I can say.
Just before the chap drifted to sleep he muttered something about how us foreigners speak better English than the English themselves. Do you get that a lot too? Somehow I am sensitive about that. I wouldn’t take it to the extent of treating it as a racist remark but it definitely crossed my mind. Lucky for him I didn’t wake him up straight away to ask what he really meant by that.
The patient later woke up in tears with his scrotal harness securely fastened, crying his eyes out very much emotional about still being alive, clutching my hands with his nails digging into my palm.
I have received compliments before but not as profuse and so emotionally driven like that with pain inflicted at the same time. I momentarily felt like I have saved his entire house content from burglary by stretching out my foot so the burglar fell and hit his head over a pot with cactus in it which toppled hitting his eyes so he ran around in total blackout. And the bobbies came and handcuffed him away.
I stubbed his fingers with a pen when nobody was looking. You see it’s part of assessing patient’s pain sensation restoration. So he said ouch and let go of my hand. He won’t remember.
But I liked what he said and felt like it's just what I needed for a bleak day like this.
Thank you kind sir.
Apparently women who’ve had their uteruses out also tend to wake up weeping and emotional. It has got to be something to do with private parts being manipulated. Hmmmm. A peculiar paracrine effect maybe?
So there were men in whites, playing cricket in the lawn by my apartment. I passed the porter cabin and saw one in trance looking straight down at the space between his feet for good 2 minutes. I did not stare. It was more like lalallala look and quickly look away, what is he doing? , and then kept walking then look again. I later realized he was easing himself.
What would happen if I sneak behind him and say, do you come here often?
Working night shift tomorrow. Delirious already.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
More random thoughts
Today is good in a way because I didn’t get woken up at all last night after the cardiac arrest. So the goodness is here to last till am on call again tomorrow. A total bliss albeit the ephemeral status.
The goodness I felt was so fat and rich at 10 am. I finally got woken up properly by the blaring sound of the lawnmower, which was when the goodness feeling vamoosed so fast leaving me feeling cranky instead.
They really should invent a muteable lawnmower. I mean most of the time you mow the lawn around houses because that’s where you don’t want snakes to hibernate and houses are where people live in, so people sleep when they live in the house half of the time. So inevitably people always mow the lawn when other people are asleep. It’s not making sense at all now but that’s how the goodness was spoilt.
I felt a certain withdrawal from not talking to somebody. I am going to have to get used to it. It crossed my mind that I am probably better off not having a mobile phone at all now. Nobody calls.
When I feel like I want to feel cared for I can talk to my plants. And when my car broke down on M1 at god knows when, I’ll just hitchhike and make friends. That way I don’t have to rely on making friends through the internet or over the weekends at places for pretentious people because I am sad.
So I lied. Rachael did call and she was on about her new haircut which I personally feel that it was me who started the chain reaction of having a hair cut. Off shoulder, feather edges. Oh yes, she likes my hair alright ( which is now a history after the first wash) and she’s not going to let me be the only one with a new haircut.
And so I went into friendster dot com after many moons leaving it to the mercy of tarantulas, black widows and normal ugly spiders. I feel socially locked you see. This is what I found on my ‘network’.
Popular searches in my network
1. zarina zainudin
2. clubbing clothes
3. tidak bercoli
4. bermalam dengan sepupu
5. diramas lembut olehnya
6. aku menanggalkan seluarku
7. tengok kak stim
8. unusual romantic gifts
9. all about kissing
10. isteri stim
Oh yes, how many times people think about sex in a minute again?
While I am at it, where do these 200 daily bluescrubs readers come from? Planet 007? I am going to have to do like a little survey just to nurse my paranoia. I am growing one you see. It comes in a recently sent little package of accusations, slagging, bickering, bitching, spitting and all other worldly acts of immaturity to the lowest degree.
But they say, when somebody slap you on the right cheek, give the left as well. Oh and I say maybe remind them you taste better medium raw when they have to eat your flesh hereafter.
If none of this make any sense. Please pass go please collect £200, And my new laptop has no £ sign.
Sigh. I am not a writer. I know though that you have to be very passionate about writing to deliver a good piece, but sometimes the reflection of your state of mind through your writing when you don’t even care if it means anything carries more meaning.
Bit like an oil painter who’s run out of blue and because his girlfriend left him for a handsome merchant, he just painted the canvas with what he had with anger without blue. Because he couldn’t be arsed to buy blue.
Smile you’re on call again tomorrow.
Shall I book an ECT?
It should really end round about up there but I want to put this up to torture myself. Conveniently, it suddenly shuffled into the playlist this afternoon.
Anybody who has been dumped and still reads malay can join a tear jerking session anytime with me. Name the time we’ll do it. Hold hands now.
Beratnya rasa hati nak melangkah pergi
Tetapi apakan daya aku terpaksa
Buat kali terakhir
Tentang diriku ini
Terserah padamu tuhan
Tak perlu kau bertanya kemanaku pergi
Pandailah aku menjaga diriku ini
Sekali ku melangkah
Hanya tuhan yang tahu duka lara diriku ini tak terkata
Kumasih lagi teringat
Bicara mu yang terakhir
Selamat tinggal sayang ku
Selamat tinggal kasihku
Aku terpaksa pergi dahulu
Kiranya tempias mambasahi jendelamu
Itulah airmata yang jatuh dipipiku
Kiranya sang bayu menyentuhi paras wajahmu
Yang menyebut namamu
Setelah kian lama tak jumpa
Monday, June 27, 2005
Another bites the dust- with compassion
I’d do anything just so I don’t feel all slumped, heavy and under the heavy clouds, but I won’t do that. Yes that. I could easily do it with me having good track records and an innocent face. Nobody would notice.
But of course I won’t do it. How would I do it if I would and dare do it? Easy, say patient needs 5 mg I’d just draw up the full ampoule and leave the other 5 and slip it in my pocket. But nooooooh of course I wouldn’t do it I wouldn’t even dare thinking such thing.
Azima, if you are reading this, it’s not my attempt at getting arrested so I don’t have to go to work nor have I lost my marbles.
So tonight another bites the dust. As I left C2 from the cardiac arrest, couple of nurses with the tea trolley asking me if she survived.
Me with hands and legs still trembling from sheer adrenaline running up 6 flights of stairs, then fumbling through the intubating kit, then fighting the gushes of gastric content aspiration coming up with each cardiac compression while trying to shove the tube in her throat with blade bulb carbon dated 100 years ago… only manage to do that sign I’ve been doing far too many this week.
It’s the slit throat sign. I don’t know if it’s compassionate enough for the deceased but I was too puffed out to think let alone talk. Just wanted to get to a quiet place and breath.
Sometimes even anaesthetists forget that we all need to breath at least 12 times a minute. *Breath*
Earlier, a guy came in having managed to stub his gastrocnemius (that is calf muscles - I feel like torturing those who speed read) , against some sharp spiky metal spade which had caused deep and gory cut across. So he needed a debridement which is basically a wash out and suturing.
I managed to hunt him down on B6 after being told that he was going to be in A&E still. I think they all have this impression that us anaesthetists have patient radars. Mr. Blob for theatre?wait..don’t tell me, tet tet tet he’s on B6? Right? Golly aren’t this radar marvellous!
Ok ok we would eventually find out but you know, it’s nice to be told saving us walking around like a medical locum from Edinburgh down in A&E.
What I was going to say was, as much as I try to make patients feel comfortable and safe about their anaesthetics, I also forget sometimes that, some of these patients are having it for the first time and need more reassurance than others.
Just because I do this everyday, it doesn’t mean my patient gets it everyday. Simple but easily forgotten. After asking all the relevant questions, I smiled and asked, if there was any questions he would like to ask me.
He leaned forward and whispered, what if I don’t wake up doc?
Cue for sound effect cemas. Jeng jeng JEEEENGGG!! And a bit of echo.
I folded the paperwork as though it was part of the procedure to answer such question.
I had so many things to say and they were all vital, but I wanted them to come out good.
Ehem..Well, with your age and health state I couldn’t foresee any problems that would be of immediate concern. We’ve moved on so much now in anaesthetics and the machines are also advanced with all sorts of modern monitoring. Plus your procedure is short so the risk is pretty balanced. If it is of any consolation, we do this everyday ok sir?
I swear to God I sounded like bagus-bagus, pooof* a mental picture of me floating with thick glasses, prim blouse with pleated skirts and silk ribbon on my ponytail, but in my head very much a contrary ---
Lariiii cepat before dia tanya soalan lagi susah. Run! Save yourself!!
He looked a bit more stained with colour compared to a while ago when I explained what exactly was going to happen.
Was I too serious? Too emotional? Maybe didn’t smile enough.
Ahhh I was still feeling down and I am still to conscious of what I say how I say things and I seem to be writing hell of a lot in here as well. Oh because I don’t talk to anybody these days.
It’s a cheap attempt at cheering up oneself but if you are feeling as rockbottom as I am and you are a Cancerian, leave you with these. Lights off yo.
“Don't worry -- someone loves you just the way you are. Yes, that even includes you and all your supposed flaws. Not only is no one perfect -- but if they were, they'd be boring and insufferable and zero fun. So cut yourself some slack, take a break, pat yourself on the back or, heck, do all three -- whatever it takes so you go easier on yourself and see just how great
you are. After all, someone pretty important to you already thinks that”.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Dealing with people
Sometimes people lie. Big lies, small lies. White lies people call it when it shouldn’t hurt anybody. A lie that to some, is like means to an end. You don’t want to tell the truth but you don’t want to lie. You are not lying but you are not telling everything.
Reason is because you want to protect those you love, you don’t want them to get hurt. You don’t want your girlfriend for example run into the wilderness like a blindfolded baboon at the first honest story about the company’s dinner that you’ve attended knowing well that she will overreact and you want to protect her from being eaten by the hungry tiger (this is if you are living in the same postcode as the reserve forest).
People also get paid for the price of lying. Some may not speak to the counterpart for weeks, get stuff thrown at and clothes burnt. I don’t know, people can do all sorts of things, but if the love between two people is strong enough and the intention is understood well, they would kiss and make up. Eventually.
Those that don’t, especially the ones that couldn’t forgive but blow things out of proportion and wouldn’t calm down, I have a small inclination to think that they don’t want to stay in the relationship much longer than me sitting opposite a woman with a shower-cap and burgundy lipstick in a red double-decker singing Madonna- Like a Virgin.
Their statement of I love you must be treated as dubious as possible. These people are just waiting for cracks to appear to make it a reason to leave. They normally want the last word and will leave most bitter ones at it too, so it cuts really deep and you bleeding for weeks beyond resuscitation.
I spoke to relationship master, Cik T this morning and actually, that is what she said. Amongst other things she also said that be careful of those who cry wolf all the time. Chances are they are not very secure with themselves, how can they be secure enough to make you feel secure?
I knew all this, but when it comes to your own heart, like Darth Trust said, it’s difficult to follow your logic when it comes to matters of the heart. But maybe O Darth Trust, this bloody headwinded-selfish-arrogant-superblob needs to learn it the hard way.
Little people know what really turns me on. Able to open a suitcases combination lock without knowing the code is sexy. Able to open the door without a key is sexy. Fast mildly reckless driving is sexy (with a purpose)-this I see as vital when I need to get to Gleneagles as fast as possible when my waterbroke while doing my Bali style garden being too bored not doing anaesthetics while waiting for the due day. Golly I think I need to find me a Mr.Bond or Botak Chin.
Ok, not crying anymore, I have faced the brutal facts that nobody loves me because they now know my true character, which is I am not compassionate towards male species. To be honest, do we see people being compassionate to each other unless there is something cooking? I am talking about men-women kind of interaction.
Just like what Miss Hepburn said when Mr. Hughes commented about his relationship with some bungalow girl- We are just friends.
Hah! Just friends Howard? Men can’t be friends with women! They must possess them all or leave them all. It’s primitive urge from caveman days. It’s all in Darwin. Hunt the flesh, kill the flesh, eat the flesh. That’s the male sex all over. - The Aviator
Quite sexy Miss Hepburn when she said it with mouth half opened all the time like she has a sticky painful ulcer in her inner lips.
Back to being selfish me, I am going through an emotional roller coster at the moment and I am fast making hate fans than I could chomp on the cabbage strips at Idlan’s birthday bash.
What made me smile today though (you have to have this when you feel down, replay it in your mind because the sun ain’t yours to keep to brighten up your day all the time) was when I told Cik T what happened during my on call last night. She laughed with a silent gap in the middle. I was worried that she choked or something.
Anyway, it’s funny last night I said. A woman in her forties was brought in having stabbed herself just below the ribcage. I saw her in the resuscitation room in A&E and she was well behaved with no apparent mischief brewing but she still had to go to theatre for that wound to be explored.
Something told me she’s lost a few screws when it was terribly difficult to carry out a normal conversation with her.
My name is Dr. Ahmad and I a..(being interrupted rudely)
Ahhh…(she cut in)..You don’t look like you’re an Ahmad, is your husband a Paki?
I was speechless for a fifth of a second.
Nevermind my name, I put people to sleep in the operating theatre..so I..(again interrupted rudely)
She cut again ..ahhhh..so you are an anaesthetist?
Clever woman nonetheless, half of Malaysia probably wouldn't know what anaesthetists do. I don’t think.
We proceeded and I got all my checklist questions through but bit like a bumpy ride to Mexico. Hot and bumpy. Next time please stab here ok, to achieve best result. No that was only in my head.
In the anaesthetic room, the surgical SHO needed bloods for group and save so he stabbed the lady’s vein with passion but failed.
I guess the force of my passion for stabbing veins are stronger, but to do it with slickness, I use a different technique.. a little piece of equipment was needed. Without going into the technicality, let’s just say I was standing there with the woman and my ODA, waiting for the little-equipment-which-will-make-non-anaesthetists-go-wah-you-so-terrer-one to be fetched by the scrub nurse.
I made a conversation with the slightly whimpering woman.
So, why did you stab yourself?
She let out a sigh and said Cos I ave’got moustache. See.
And that is why you wanted to kill yourself? And she didn’t have any.
Of course I then said I can’t see any, besides, every woman got some.
I mean Michelle got some yes, I looked up at my ODA. She was shocked, but quickly said yeahhh I have got some but later glared and bit her lips at me.
I mean mine are worse. I said trying to save the day.
She then said…see you said yours is worse meaning I’ve got loads. And she sobbed and wailed.
Had better shut it next time when you see Citalopram in the drug bag. I was only making a conversation.
Nothing I do is right these days. So many hearts to look after, nevermind mine.
So tired, on bloody call again tonight, and for the rest of next 5 weeks.
Saturday, June 25, 2005
Just before Kevin injected the etomidate, the middle aged guy, half naked on the operating table, was staring up, glaring as if he is quickly drowning. The tubes were wrapping his top half like spaghetti bolognaise. Not much we can do about that. His breathing, rapid and shallow. He muttered something under the green mask I held tightly around his face.
I looked up to Kevin and he gave that ‘ok if I whack this in?’ and I nodded. The chap panicked, wriggled and I said, ‘it’s ok sir we’ll look after you’.
The five seconds that our eyes interlocked as he waited the etomidate to hit his brain and me waiting for the suxomethonium to paralyse him, felt like forever. His pupils were big discs of dirty blue and green. Scared and helpless looking. Not one I plan to see regularly in this job but it must have been a small print in the contract. That very moment my whole consciousness rebooted to 100% after being yanked out of bed at 3 am.
“Nope, whole of small bowel is gone and not much large bowel it salvageable. I am closing”. Mr. Posh was abrupt after moments later, but that’s probably the best thing to do. It’s not possible to live with your stomach connected to the rectum is it. What is the point of eating? Where is the joy of living?
Never mind the struggle putting the tube as this guy was soo dry his mouth wasn’t allowing anything to glide through. On top of that his teeth were effortlessly disorganized making the laryngoscope blade an awkward instrument to be of any help. ET tube, temperature probe, no way.
Never mind the struggle with CVP, arterial line, and peripheral lines.This chap had what we call peripheral vascular disease (PVD) which if combined with poor diet and smoking will make you end up with all sorts of nasty blockage resulting problems.
Pains in the stomach? Could be ishaemic bowel
Faint and giddy? Could be transient ischaemic attack, or mini stroke
Chest pains? Could be acute coronary syndrome
Cold and numb legs and hands? Peripheral insufficiency
If you have these symptoms and you are smoking? Be very very afraid. You can die a gruesome death. It is not the job of the doctor to sort you out, you have to look after yourself. Idiots spring to mind when people try to argue this. It’s really hard to care for people who are inertly stupid and proud. How about not be one of them for a change?
Mr. Posh the surgeon closed the midline incision while the SHO found a stool to sit as he didn’t look so well with that pale complexion. Probably the result of being dragged too quickly out of bed to then stand staring at loops and loops of dead gut. It wasn’t a nice sight. I agree.
I did look after him as promised but maybe people should look after themselves way before anybody tell them so, before it’s too late. It’s probably not obvious to those non- medic, but without sounding too pedantic to the fellow medics, yes this chap is going to die in the next hour or so. His body will have so much acid it will be too toxic for any organ to function. His brain will be pickled, his kidneys will cease filtering. His death is certain and soon.
My compassion is for those who are still alive and healthy but investing heavily in premature death bonds and equity. Love those that love and dependable on you if you have no regards for your own health.
Friday, June 24, 2005
Chatted to Oli on yahoo messenger earlier. He was asking if he could add this particular ‘abe’ (big bro) he was talking to before, when he was using my username at home. The ‘abe’ was a good friend.
I was speechless. This particular abe is no longer somebody who would want to be associated with me. This particular ‘abe’ slagged me in his blog. This particular ‘abe’ has dug 2 graves following a misunderstanding. Why insisted on the house key if there will be a pick up? Hmmmm.
This particular abe is a friend who has berbudi to the point of no return.
This particular abe has always offered a helping hand, always there for me.
This particular abe promised he would never let anything anybody hurt me.
This particular abe justified that all his good gestures were owed to me making him who he is today. He expects nothing of me.
All the nice things you want in a guy. I even told Cik T about how good he is. The stuff he did for me , the things he gave me. Things he bought whenever he went somewhere, whenever he thought of me.
Oh baiknyaaaaaaa dia. (He's very kind)
Kak Mie, orang, kalau nak sesuatu dia mula mula akan berbudi. Melimpah banyak berbudinya sampai budi tu tak berbalas. (But, be careful of people with overflowing good gestures to the point of absurdity)
Tapi Mak, kadang-kadang dia tinggalkan je stuff outside my door. Tak ambik nanti rude pulak. Kecik hati dia.
(But he sometimes just left the stuff outside my door, it's rude to just leave it out there)
Kalau dia betul nak bagi, nak tolong, baguslah.
Jangan sampai termakan budi. Tu jah.
( In that case just be careful you don't owe him your life in return)
She smiled and continued rinsing the rice. I felt a sharp flicked of lights
whizzing past my head. Who am I kidding, who is he kidding.
Provisional answers to Oli:
a) He has turned to the dark side, won’t be interested in younglings like you.
b) He’s busy and won’t have time for you
c) It’s time for me not to be friends with him anymore.
d) He’s found out my true character, and he’s asked me to go away, with please.
The big question is, why not him?....to be continued..
Thursday, June 23, 2005
It’s nice that on the first day back at work everybody said they missed me and I got a new nickname- Twinkle. Najm= Star. They must have spent quite sometimes coming up with that.
I like this new haircut I wish it stays nice forever even to the humidity of 50%.
Stila lipgloss is bloody expensive and doesn’t do it’s job. The mascara is ok.
I am attracted to bad guys, those that push and kick and boss me around. Maybe I am sick.
I like gemstones. Pink sapphire soothes sore eyes.
I desperately need my handphone charger.
I don’t really need this new laptop and ipod. I wanted them.
I like mocha frapuccino.
They actually feel sorry that I have to do on call everyday for the next 3 weeks for being away on holiday. Pleasure is always followed by pain.
I am indenial about the aortic stenosis and 60% stenosis in left circumflex. I hate the statement, the risk of sudden death is ** %. Arghhh.
I have always been a skirt girl when I was small. But never recite doa selamat in one until last week.
I play with my hair if I drink a glass of milk or if a drink is delicious. (Guava/Carrot)
I watched tiger show in Pattaya with a hand over my mouth, and I make funny noise that made the sweaty lady looked at me funny everytime.
Big Brother should be banned. WTF kind of show. Eastenders is ok.
People who can never talk straight are not easy to be honest to.
I love Bali, I will go again.
I have told a complete stranger who is a certified Manic depressive my secrets fear and passion. His father died when he was 2 and his mother committed suicide. His lover is called Wendy.
Stewards say hi just before I go into the lavatory.
I hate earphones unless it’s big and doesn’t occupy my external meatus.
I don’t remember so well anymore after the accident 7 years ago.
My heart aches. My face is blotchy. I cried 10 hrs out of 13 on the flight back.
I hope Oli gets Grand Auto Theft StAndreas in it’s good form.
There were 3 summer ball invitations in the pigeon hole.
My birthday is soon.
Never love anybody too much, you might later hate them so much, you'll surprise yourself.
People show love by giving. At least giving in.
When people say prove that you are worthy of my love, he/she doesn’t love you.
Female doctors are twice more likely to commit suicide compared non doctors as medicine attracts perfectionists.
So many things kept barging into current existence demanding explanations and perfections. Allegedly, I let them down. I am not compassionate. I hurt people, I don't care enough. I am not a good friend.
How can you be friends when there is something more always expected out of you?
I am not perfect. I suck at saying no, at dealing with the opposite sex. I should feel bad about myself, and I do.
One thing standing proud by me still is my family. For a moment, as I was waking up a patient just now, I thought hard about how happy they were when I was around and how happy I was when I was back home.
But, something that happened recently made me feel even worse about how I've taken some people for granted.
I have been spending more and more time deep in my convoluted thoughts. My ODA asked a question as I pulled out the LMA from the 92 year old lady's gaping mouth.
My reply: No, it’s wrist. She then with puzzled face said, that’s what I asked Naj, next patient is for MUA wrist isn't it?
No it’s wrist, is a bit of a demented reply. I had no control over my mind anymore.
They broke into laughing fits, I laughed but deep inside I felt like a cut is bleeding sorrow, tamponading by my determination to be ok, to look ok and to sound ok. Somebody’s got to do this job and I better have my mind where it should be.
At KLIA airport last week, I felt the whole configuration of people, things, seats, toilets, cafes, McDonalds, check in counters, the 35 km luggage conveyer belt, were set up so the story of my life continues. My frustration was amplified to the size of Petronas twin Tower. I kept looking at my mobile phone. No calls.
I waited till an hour before departure. Nothing. Nobody was there to send me off. The one person wasn’t there.
‘Salah ke I tak hantar you kat airport, semua benda I nak kena buat untuk you ke?’
‘How much time you want me to spend with you? Tak cukup cukup lagi ke?’
…sorry I asked…
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Buta mata tak nampak jalan didunia
Kerana tidak nampak cahaya
Tidak tahu, kemana arah dituju..
I realize we all don’t necessarily share the same circle of people who read our blogs. Some may have come across this moving piece. I stumbled upon it today and my heart bled at the thought of it all. Share I must I heard Yoda Master whispered from the galaxy far far away.
After a conversation with one of my friends, he told me despite taking 2 jobs, he brings back barely above 1K per month, he is happy as he is.
I wonder how he can be as happy as he is considering he has to skimp his life with the low pay to support a pair of old parents, in-laws, a wife, 2 daughters and the many bills of a household.
He explained that it was through one incident that he saw in India... that happened a few years ago when he was really feeling low and touring India after a major setback.
He said that right in front of his very eyes he saw an Indian mother chop off her child's right hand with a chopper. The helplessness in the mother's eyes, the scream of pain from the innocent 4-year-old child haunted him until today.You may ask why did the mother do so; had the child been naughty, had the child's hand been infected?? No, it was done for two simple words - TO BEG!
The desperate mother deliberately caused the child to be handicapped so that the child could go out to the streets to beg.Taken aback by the scene, he dropped a piece of bread he was eating half-way. And almost instantly, a flock of 5 or 6 children swamped towards this small piece of bread which was covered with sand, robbing bits from one another. The natural reaction of hunger.
Stricken by the happenings, he instructed his guide to drive him to the nearest bakery. He arrived at two bakeries and bought every single loaf of bread he found in the bakeries. The owner was dumbfounded but willingly sold everything. He spent less than $100 to obtain about 400 loaves of bread (this is less than $0.25 per loaf) and spent another $100 to get daily necessities.
Off he went in the truck full of bread into the streets. As he distributed the bread and necessities to the children (mostly handicapped) and a few adults, he received cheers and bows from these unfortunate. For the first time in his life he wondered how people can give up their dignity for a loaf of bread which cost less than $0.25.
He began to tell himself how fortunate he is. How fortunate he is to be able to have a complete body, have a job, have a family, have the chance to complain what food is nice and what isn't nice, have the chance to be clothed, have the many things that these people in front of him are deprived of...
Now I begin to think and feel it, too! Was my life really that bad?Perhaps... no, I should not feel bad at all... What about you? Maybe the next time you think you are, think about the child who lost one hand to beg on the streets.
"Contentment is not the fulfillment of what you want, it is the realization of how much you already have."
When the door of happiness closes, another opens, but often times we look so long at the closed door that we don't see the one which has been opened for us.
It's true that we don't know what we've got until we lose it, but it's also true that we don't know what we've been missing until it arrives.
The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past, you can't go on well in life until you let go of your past failures and heartache.
For no apparent reason my thoughts regressed to the time I had my last meal at Tok Ayah’s, only 2 weekends ago.
Satay, solat hajat, plain tea, no milk no lemon. We talked till late. How I wish I could download all that he has within his cranium. Then I probably wouldn't fret so much when I feel it's all going pear shape.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Yang ada blog tu kan?
The kakak (older sister) with a tudung ( veil) was leaving as the day relinquishing its generous light supply. A lot of people have left. I, very much enjoying the company still, staying bit longer. She approached me who at the time, happily dangling, kicking my legs against the sofa. Come to think of it now..ish kurang nya sopan.
Kakak balik dulu yaaa, while sandwiching my hands. We salam-ed. I smiled broadly.
I smelt Kelantan accent. I hit the note high and confidently splurged a hefty dose of the real Mcoy. She was impressed. That’s how you make an impression. Use what you have, or enquire about what they have and are proud of, if you don’t have what they have.
So sapa nama dari mana? ( What’s your name, and where are you from) She slowly pulled her hand away and brought them to her chest, smiling.
Najmie. I said.
Najmie ya. Ok ya kakak balik dulu ya. ( Acknowledging me, while excusing herself)
She stopped and turned. Eh Najmie ya. Yang ada blog tu kan? (The one with a blog?)
Yang ada blog tu kan? Yang ada blog tu kan ? Yang ada blog tu kan? It echoed on.
The laughter from the monkeys muffled as I felt my whole face turning red, my head shrunk to a habitus with 0% water content and my body squeezing through a Pringle container.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
That time when you fold up my sleeves because the NIKE jumper was too big,
That time when you put the pink scarf over my head,
That time when you cut up the steak into small pieces for me,
That time when you took off my shoes and washed my feet because I was too exhausted, sleepy and couldn’t even get up,
Many times when you put the food you knew I liked on my plate,
My heart fluttered a little, I sighed a little
It’s doing it again now because it misses you so.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
One Worth Loving
God knows what but very similar to La Defense in Paris.
I have not a wooden dolphin to remember you by,
Only silhoutte of the past to ease the goodbye.
I'd be fine, I have to be.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Chatting, empty, full.
Just got back from Chatters' Subang Jaya. Not a lot of people. The waitress chose what we should eat. I am pretty sure on a normal night she won't have that much time to entertain our deliberate lack of decision.
So I had laksa Johor and me girlfriend had some flooded crispy noodles. Forgot what it's called.
At times me girlfriend doesn't make sense. Sometimes I don't think I make much sense.
We had a fight in Pattaya few weeks ago because we got too close like sisters but somehow we couldn't stand each other. I guess we understand each other better now. Especially when she came out with certain things that make more sense than usual like what she said just now.
So they say about friendship. What doesn’t kill will only make something stronger.
Having said that, in a relationship, how much argument is a healthy dose and how much is verging into some mitotic situation? My view is however much argument you go through, some subjects should never be touched. For example, things that you have done for each other. Things that at the point of execution, sincerity was never a question. You did it at your freewill. Not a bother, no fuss.
If you later moan about it, then, what is the point of doing it in the first place? It's as good as not having done it at all. Noh? Not to mention the fact that, that will add on a couple more days to get the argument to simmer.
I shouldn't have ordered the 'rojak buah'….urghhh.
Friday, June 10, 2005
It rained cats and dogs in the afternoon.
Sticky, hot, humid. Almost unbearable.
At 5, did a little trip to the grans up the road.
Of course they first complained about their aches and pains. This happens annually. Nak bermanja you see.
Later, the subject was -me.
Tok Ayah (granddad) was ever so concerned.
Lamo teh mu ngaji Miah bilo nok abih . Ayoh gak nokla mu kelik bangat bangat.
(You’ve been studying for ages, are you ever going to finish? I really want to see you back home for good very very soon).
I know well enough that the question will be repeated, I was well prepared.
Somehow, I felt like I have just lied when I said,
Kelik Ayoh..nok kelik doh.
(Finishing soon granddad, and coming home soon).
To which he reluctantly answered.
Aku gak sengho tok lamooo doh ni
(I don’t feel I have very long left before I go).
I told him, every year that I’ve been coming home, instead of seeing him getting weaker and weaker, he seemed to have acquired more and more strength and looked brighter by year.
Everybody laughed, taking the pressure off me.
But, who knows how long we have before we lose somebody we love.
Nok kelik doh, semeta jah doh lagi Ayoh....
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Came home to an empty house at 3 pm today. The whole house'd gone to the beach. The mum the dad, that boy who's already spent whole day in the sun yesterday and that girl who's sulking whole day yesterday because I thought she didn't want to go, so didn't bother waking her up.
It's hard being a big sister.
A note possible written by Nadia:
"Kak Mie everybody go beach. House key is in ***** *****"
Been out to meet a Takaful insurance agent for brunch which done little to my almost zero knowledge on insurance but did a fair bit on how I see some things today, things that matter in life after health and wealth.
True, the more people you meet the more paths they technically open for you. You pave and etch them inside your mind ready for you to use when it comes to solving problems. We can't possibly go through each and every problem in life, so when people share things like these, it’s like given gems of wisdom if you like.
Picked up the ADSL modem from tmnet as well and fingers crossed tomorrow we're going streamyx. The service at the Kota Bharu branch I have to say was excellent.
I walked in day before yesterday to apply, and already yesterday I could have picked up the modem and get the whole thing activated had it not been for the trip to the island.
This morning, they even called to remind me to pick up the modem. I don't know, it's probably as good as this elsewhere but I am well impressed.
My skin is still lobsterlike, Cik T said it'll become black tomorrow. Hahahah, I is black yo! Don't mess wit me.
Still painful. Auuuhhhh..
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
The gorgeous taste of the sun, sea and sand still lingers. I had such cravings had to resort to something I initially thought was of a lesser standard compared to Bali. Gosh Bali felt like months and months ago and it's only been 3 weeks.
So, today I took Oli to Perhentian Island. Only took us 15 minutes from home to the Kuala Besut jetty and after a boat ride of a more or less 30 mins we were gobsmackened. It was like a magical place. I tell you…the beach, was out of a postcard. The water was crystal clear, topaz blue with a hint of aquamarine and further to the horizon, green with trifle of royal blue and a lesser royal of a blue filler to compliment the brilliant zany sky.
And the big tick was, it's almost virginal. Barely touched. It felt like you own the whole stretch of the whiteness, sand, sky, sea..all mine, mine mine.
I was like a moth to the fire, once in there, I was a true beach girl. Head to toe, I pickled it all in the hypertonic sea. Didn't want to get out didn't want to do anything else.
So it' true, pleasure always followed by pain. Now my face is a lobster and it's excruciatingly painful. Even the hot air that brushes against it is unbearable. That's how bad the sunburn is.
But every single epidermis that peels and every single dermis that feels the repercussion from the solar overdose knows it's all worth the rubor and the dolor.
I should say sorry to the island. I underestimated you big time, just because I don't have to catch a flight to go there. Just because you are in this lesser developed part of this country. You beat Port Dickson anytime but oh what a shame you have to suffer the double standard confinement. Will it end? How soon though?
Oli has gone to bed and Cik T has given up telling me off about beauty sleep, premature aging and aloe vera for this and that and in this case for the sunburn. At the moment I have this gooey expressions from the aloe vera fat little arms covering my whole face and it limits the facial postures I can adopt. Current is pouting.
On a lighter note, I had too much keropok lekor and lychee I feel like a whale. But this whale will definitely return to the island with a tent and a bucket of marinated chicken. BBQ in Perhentian anyone?