Monday, August 25, 2014

Letter 707: Sick Day

Stayed under the covers till noon. Lounged around in an oversized sweater and fleece-lined pyjama pants. It’s supposed to be spring in this hemisphere, but the house is freezing, and the gentle drizzle laces the blades of grass with the kind of moisture you wish you had on your dry, cracked lips. Watched YouTube while having toast with peanut butter. Accidentally knocked my mug to the floor and it smashed into a hundred pieces of unrecognisable art form. Cursed at my carelessness. Swept up the broken pieces of ceramic while trying to deter my dog from lapping up the spilled cocoa. Went back to YouTube and trolled Tumblr for half a day. Popped a couple of panadol and made some green tea. Got mad at a friend on Whatsapp. Made up with said friend over the phone. Sometimes, technology doesn’t quite convey the emotions and meanings behind our words. Cried at a post on friendship written by the amazing and inspiring Caroline. Got my Marc by Marc Jacobs watch in the mail, but was too lethargic to be excited over my recent purchase from Shopbop. Made chicken soup for dinner, the kind your mom used to make when you were sick. Felt better after drinking soup and having yesterday’s leftover noodles for dinner. Made more green tea, the kind that reminds you of home, of sipping on dainty teacups while talking about everything and nothing on the porch. And then crawled back into bed, while the rain continues to fall.

Originally published here on Oct 23, 2013. Publishing it again because I'm hacking my lungs in half and blowing my brains out through my nose so much such that I had to start myself on antibiotics because this stupid URTI doesn't seem to get any better over the last 10 days. What is it with public health that I seem to get sick every year??

Thursday, August 21, 2014

Letter 706: Quiz

In which of the following specialty training do you get to eat a cheese sandwich at 3 in the morning with your consultant, while waiting for the retrieval team to pick up your very sick patient so that your patient could be air-lifted to a tertiary centre?

a. Rural General Practice
b. GP Anaesthetics
c. Anaesthetics
d. All of the above

In which of the following specialty training do you get to take a selfie with your consultant while wearing sparkly wide-rimmed party glasses procured from the departmental teddy bear belonging to the Radiology Department while hanging out in the Radiology Department while your consultant does a "Yeah baby!" pose while waiting for your patient to get an X-ray?

a. Radiology
b. Psychiatry
c. Paediatrics
d. Anaesthetics

In which of the following specialty training do you get to have the day off after an overnight's oncall?

a. General Medicine
b. Rural General Practice
c. Anaesthetics
d. Surgery

In which of the following specialty training do you get to call your consultant "Dude" instead of "Dr. So-and-so"? 

a. Anaesthetics
b. General Practice Not Otherwise Specified
c. Paediatrics
d. Neurosurgery

In which of the following specialty training do you get to say to your male nurse assistant, "I want to play with your tubes", and get away with it? 

a. Urology
b. Obstetrics and Gynecology
c. Anaesthetics
d. Gastroenterology

Please submit all your answers to Answers will be provided once the administrator finishes her weekend 72 hour oncall shift. She will be marking all the answers on her day off post-call.

Friday, August 01, 2014

Letter 705: Yonder

It's August. August holds lots of promises. At least, for me. It may have something to do with August being my birth month, but August was always special to me. Many a strange-yet-exciting things have happened in August, and I cannot even begin to put it all into words, but believe me, August is a magical month.

Today, on the first day of this fascinating month, the only words uttered would be goodbye. It will be a farewell of sorts, a peculiarly bittersweet ending to an era of being a primary care physician where patients invest enormous faith in your capabilities to look after them, to ensure they don't fall sick and fall apart, and if they do, to have the ability to piece them back together. Come first Monday of August, I will be working in a different capacity, in a role that is comfortably familiar yet feels excitingly new to me. I shouldn't be nervous, yet at times I feel like I have cold feet, although I am frankly quite elated about this new role. I know, I am a mixed bag of confused feelings, but isn't that normal when one goes through a major change in life? 

As cliche as it sounds, time flies. 6 years in med school and now, 6th year as a doctor. Where did all that time go? Did I miss something along the way? Even that song Alejandro is now four years old, but it's still fresh in my head like yesterday. Yesterday I was there, but today I'm here, and tomorrow I'll be over yonder. Where's yonder? Yonder is between here and there.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Letter 704: Ten More Days

There is never a good time to leave. Each step forward means one more piece of you left behind: in the sun-lit kitchenette where making that perfunctory morning coffee also means making decent conversation with your workmates; in the workstation where doctors and nurses share a floating benchtop dedicated to piles of thick folders, scattered stationery that often got lost under stacks of paperwork, and wonderfully aromatic takeaway Indian food on nights when everyone was craving for butter chicken and naan; in the stalwart sterility of theatre where sometimes, if you are good, the surgeon will let you stream your playlist on his bluetooth speaker over his own playlist.

Maybe there is a way of leaving that wouldn't break your heart. And if there is, will you let me in on this?

Foggy mornings on the way to work.

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Letter 703: Damage Control

The hunger pangs are making their presence known, wave after wave, like tides crashing ashore. It’s 12am. I’m cold, wet, tired, and just realising I'm starting to get hungry. Barely 2 hours before, we were driving along a well-trodden highway, with a sense of familiarity that has always guided us safely through these roads in the dark of the night. We haven't been talking, because we were in a heated discussion 24 hours prior, which resulted in each of us slunking to opposite ends of the room to lick our wounds. So in the car, we were swathed in a thick blanket of silence, until we heard a loud bang immediately after we saw a suicidal kangaroo leaping out from the bushes. It was too late for the brakes to kick in, and we had no choice but to pull over and assess the damage. 

2 hours later, after huddling in the cold rain waiting for the tow truck, we're home, driving out to the nearest McDonald's for food in his car. The shock that rippled through our bodies when we discovered the horrifying blow sustained by my car 2 hours ago had, in a strange way, pulled us back together again. But we were still restrained with our conversation. Yet, he needed no verbal communication from me to know that a cheeseburger and some chicken McNuggets were what I needed.

12.30am, we're home for the second time after our Macca's run. He sets the brown paper bag on the coffee table while I make us hot, steaming mugs of cocoa. He rummages through the bag and presses a warm burger to my palm. Then, with exquisite precision, he carefully peels off the cover of the plastic container of barbeque sauce, dips a golden nugget into it, and offers it to me. We turn on the TV and eat in ravenous silence, not really paying attention to the Tour de France streaming live, and not really paying attention to each other either. When we lick the last bits of salt off our fingers and drown our last drops of cocoa, we lean back against the couch and I rest my head against his shoulder while he puts his arm around mine.

So, we're good, after all.