Medicine vs indulgence

I miss the sound of flowing water, and the occasional splashing of birds cleaning themselves on the fountain, the feel of the morning breeze on my face, through my hair, the smell of toasts and my bunny sniffing and nibbling on my toes.

I miss unproductive mornings, spending four hours, 8am to 12pm, sitting in the garden, reading books that weren't educational, or informative. 

Books that didn't have pictures of organs and vessels branching out with lables, or big words like 'paroxysmal nocturnal dyspnoea', and unpronounciable French terms like 'torsades de pointes'. 

Books that contains emotions and insights that make me like the world a little better.

What's the date today?

13 months. That was fast.

You must be still fast asleep, as I type this lying on my bed, unable to go back to sleep after getting up to pee. 

If I were to sum up the impact of this relationship on me, I'd say that it helped me grow more than anything else. It's like... Getting a pet, or having a kid... It's responsibility and dedication and lots of tolerance but you know that you don't ever want to give up. You willingly give, because what you get in return, is each other's happiness - no better treasure than that.

We are way past the so-called 'honeymoon period', where we'd say and do anything that makes each other feel like a Disney fairytale character. I don't smile with my heart secretly melting inside when you try a cheesy punch line on me anymore. Instead, I roll my eyes and (usually) say 'that's so not smooth' and have you tickling me afterwards to make me appogize and give you credits for your efforts. It feels real now. (Not that it wasn't real before. You know what I mean.)

'We' helped me grow in the most painless ways. It's enjoyable actually. I think you'd agree too. And it seems like the growing is neverending. We learn something through/about each other every single day, we learn how to live with it and accept it. It makes me wonder if I can ever understand you thoroughly. But then we don't even really understand ourselves inside out.

I don't wanna be one of those people who celebrate every monthsary like they can't believe that they managed to make it that far. I just want every 14th to be a reminder of how much this mean to me, and to refresh my promises to be a better person.

Thank you for the free lessons and joy. Here's to more 'driving all the way to IKEA for meatballs and 80 cent ice creams'.

The other side of the curtain

I wasn't prepared to witness my first death. Not in the first year of med school. Not a sudden death of a 53-year-old. Not in a community clinic. Not as a distant observer who had no rights to even stand at the other side of the half-drawn curtain.

I expected an emergency case to be... Well... More like an emergency. Doctor throwing orders, nurses and assistants dashing across the room, wheeling machines and fetching instruments. It wasn't like that. 

Her oxygen mask was handheld by an assistant, who later taped it to her with strips of micropore. There was no defibrillator, no '1, 2, 3, clear'. The ECG machine wasn't bleeping. It was a flat line. 

There were two handful of people taking turns to pump her chest, 3 tubes of adrenaline injected into her bloodstream, a tube stuck down her throat to try to assist her breathing, her daughter, still clueless of her absent pulse standing outside clutching on her phone, and a flat ECG. That poor girl, uninformed that she lost her mother to 3 days of fever, a breathless morning and an unknown cause of death. 

"Dia pengsan," (she passed out) her daughter told me calmly, as they resuscitated her in the car. She was just standing there and looking, strong as a tower, thinking that her mother would just return from unconsciousness in no time, I suppose. It was her fist time collapsing, despite a long history of inherited hypertension and acquired diabetes. 

I did not stay on to watch the doctor break the news to her daughter, but seeing her sobbing silently, fingers trembling, sitting alone at the far corner of the room. It was enough to feel a twist in my heart. The twist became a knot when the rest of the family arrived. Although filled with grief, they had to arrange the logistics with the police. The body wasn't released. An autopsy had to be done. As if losing her wasn't enough, she had to be tore apart.

'Attach the leads, press print'

- How to Take an ECG
Then why can't the machine analyse the printouts for me too?

"By week five, we'll end (up) with heart failure,"

what we were told on the first day of the semester.

Well, the last lectures are about HF.

Four weeks into CVS and no signs of angina or palpitations.
Kids, exercise. It helps.



I have no idea how I'm suppose to understand (and remember) everything that can go wrong with a human heart in 5 weeks. That blob of muscle is way too complex. And I'm suppose to figure out a diagnosis by looking at 9 crooked lines and listening to 4 points of the chest? Gosh I don't even know what a normal heart beat should sound like anymore.

At least those lectures for the past weeks managed to motivate me to actually exercise more regularly and try to avoid char kuay teow...

Second quarter

It's April. Meaning a quarter of the year has gone by. 

I miss December(s).

I miss going to places I've never been.

I miss excitement and anticipation. 

I miss feeling my heart race, fumbling with my camera, kneeling on the ground to get a good angle.

I miss the cold and bald trees. 

I miss waking up in unfamiliar rooms, breakfast that I'll probably never have again.