The Edinburgh Military Tattoo

Yum. Men in Uniform.

But before we reach there, we had to battle this:crazy amount of people. The Q wound ALL the way down half Royal Mile and that is literally 1/2 a mile.

Now, men in uniform. What is it?

Featuring military bands from across the world - UK, Nepal, New Zealand, Taiwan, Trinidad & Tobago, America and Russia, the 2007 Edinburgh Military Tattoo was well worth my 9 quid and 4 hours of waiting from 6 am to 10 am under the blazing hot sun (when purchasing tickets).

Ok, in ALL honesty, the 2 best performances were: 1. The Taipei First Girls' Senior High School Honour Guard and Drums Corps that performed an astonishing routine, flipping their rifles here, there, up in the air, everywhere with exact precision. Not to mention they look super hot in their short white skirts and knee high white boots. My friend was salivating next to me. I mean why not? 3000 chinese girls in a asian-girls-deprived city bearing that amount of leg? I would.

Found a whole 7 minute video of it on youtube! If u'd like to see some rife spinning action, go to 3.30 mins and 5.40 mins and enjoy the view. There is a bit of fireworks at the end too!

2. The Band of the Moscow Military Conservatoire. Whoopie! This band, this band... THIS BAND! Awesome dance moves and their music - played to celebrated Russian composer- Tchaikovsky and a whole lot more of others - which I don't know the name of, I only know Tchaikovsky alright, (but according to the booklet, there were Rachmaninoff, Borodin and Rimsky-Korsakov). Coupled with some really kinky dance moves, they had the crowd going wild. I mean, it is not everyday that you see straight and upright military men booty to music in their uniforms. But wahay! these Russians shows the mass how it is done. Tabik betul.




There was also a gazillion girls dancing the traditional highland dance to mark the Queen's Diamond Jubilee Anniversary which is of course, nothing to do at all with us people. But sure, we had to celebrate it and so we had:

em'.

The others are probably not worth mentioning into detail, except that the Americans wore the uniform that they went to war with for independance:

so typical wan...

and apparently military men in Trinidad&Tobago use metal waste cans that are polished til they sparkle and shine as drums:

Wait! How can I forget about my city itself?? Although they were boring. It never fails to amaze people what the national costume of the Scots are: Skirts! With nothing underneath mind you. In contrast with the Taipei girls, NO leg was shown, (heck of course, who would be turned on with hairy legs?) instead we are left with the thoughts of what lingers beneath the skirts of 4000 male performers. And that is really up to imagination. Or some people say, science.

Bit blur, but the best I could do. See those lovely checkered skirts?

On the other hand, what I found not so amusing was:
This strategically placed mic that was right bang smack in the middle of my viewing frame.. and the amount of reporters that were allowed onto the marching grounds. They blocked my view! They run up and down, in between the performers, just EVERYWHERE to take photos and what not and are jeez, plain irritating.

GO AWAY U TOOTS!

and then of course, there is the weather that was freezing cold. Yes, I know its summer. But summer in Edinburgh has PMS. It can rain and piss one day and have the perfect sun the next. Or it can have a bright warm morning and the skies start pouring in the afternoon. Thank God that it wasn't raining, in fact you couldn't ask for a better night out. But sitting on top of a hill for about 3 hours not moving definitely score zero points in the warm-o-meter. So I shiver and shiver and shiver and shiver and...

What better backdrop to have than Edinburgh's Castle itself?

The grand finale with all the performers

Hmm.. men in uniform are really hot. I'm in love...

The Correct Position for Opening Your Bowels

I was at my friend's flat today and was in the toilet answering nature's call when this poster jumped out at me from the back of the door.

A bit of background information, my friend has currently just graduated from medical school and is about to launch herself into the 13 hour shifts per day work of a 'doctor'. NHS employed. She had just moved into her new flat, also NHS supplied as a Foundation Year 1 doctor here in Edinburgh.

Being the nice understanding senior that we naturally have in this university, I was invited over to her place to have lunch. "Have lunch" meaning she provides the venue, while I get my own chow. We are a very sweet natured symbiotic species.

But anyway, her toilet.

I am surprised. Surprised at the fact that the NHS (National Health System - of UK) takes care of their new doctors so well, up to the point of sticking a poster in the bathroom regarding how to open your bowels.

Step 1 :Your knee has gotta be higher than your hips.
Step 2: Lean forwards and put your elbows on your knees
Step 3: Bulge out your abdomen and straighten your spine
Step 4: I am now a certified doctor of the United States.

Fabulous. It's incredible how our health system takes care of us. Up to the point of ensuring we have no residual faeces stored in our body. I actually look forward to graduating now.

Perhaps if the NHS could include a poster on the correct way to pee? Or the correct way to fart?

Donate Blood

I can't donate blood in the UK.

Cos Malaysia is listed as a malaria endemic (or epidemic? whtever) country.

There goes my ambition to save the world.

Slitting Ur Wrists...

Does not kill u apparently.

Why is it that all movies show the girl who slits her wrist and lie bleeding in the bath tub, only to be found by her knight in shining armour who whips her up and flies to the hospital on his broomstick, where all the Healers do their Magic and seal her wounds(sorry, Harry Potter fever), gives her a blood transfusion and ta-da she wakes up, weeps like a i-tried-to-kill-myself-but-obviously-failed-i'm-a-stupid-twit, and so mentioned bloke declares his undying stupidity, oops love and swears never to leave her side until the sun sets in the east and zebras sprout spots?

Damn, I was taken in too. All this tooting Hollywood and HK movies made to cheat and bluff young, innocent, carefree kids like myself. And make other not-so-smart-kids unlike myself think that they can commit suicide by slitting their wrists. And then these toots get sent to the Psychiatry ward where the doctors have to endure the sheer stupidity of their actions- 'I kill myself cos the guy I like does not like me.... life is not worth living.. boo hoo hoo hoo...'

Bah.

Think you so smart can cut your wrist and bleed to death isit?? Think you so strong can cut thru to your arteries and veins isit. Think then you will bleed bleed all 5 litres of blood out and die isit??

Truth is.. you can la.

But want to die. So easy meh.

Ok, so u can reach ur arteries and slit them I suppose. But then you have to cut through quite a lot of tendons, ligaments and muscles to get there. And you also severe your median nerve. That's the nerve that provides the messages to move your hand from your brain.

And when you get sent to A&E in a bleeding mess, get your wounds stitched up, and get your 5 litres of blood back to your body - You should be left with a rather useless hand that should not function. Cos you severed the nerves and muscles and whatever that is in the wrist.

And live a life with a rubbish hand. Cos you think you so smart to go cut ur wrist.

If you want to die, tell your flatmates that you are going to bed, lock your door and just overdose on sleeping pills and go to sleep. But more importantly, act normally please. No point losing your edge as your flatmates will call your knight in shining armour to barge in and save you.

Slitting your wrist is just a call for attention. Might has well hang a card over your body and say that 'I WANT ATTENTION!!'

And then again, maybe slitting your wrists is a better way. You get ur attention and on top of that, a free rubbish hand.

Harry Potter Mania

Release: 12 am, 21st Oct 2007.

People braving the cold (well not TOO cold, but cold nonetheless) from 8 pm to Q for the book outside Waterstone's.
In London, people started Q-ing 3 days before.

Extreme? Hell yeah.

PRE ORDER IT LA!

JEEZ!!!

Go to sleep on Saturday night, wake up the next day and ta-da ur book is there. Then u are refreshed to read it thru the whole next 3 days (or few hours for the maniacs).

What's the point of lining up?? U get it, go home and are too tired to read it hence u go to bed and wake up tomorrow morning.

Unless of course u are so SO SOOOOOO enthusiastic and want to dress up like the ghoulies and wizards to impress every passer by.. Like a pair of Beauxbaton girls I saw. Very pretty. But you've got Halloween for dressing up. Keep ur costume for then!! U might get the best dressed prize even.

I got my book this morning at 10 am. On top of that, a good night's sleep. And for the same price like everyone else : 8.99 pounds.

The campers outside Waterstone's on Princes St.

Alright, time to start reading.

Organ Donation

I went for a very illuminating tutorial today regarding organ donation.

For someone who hardly reads the newspapers (occasionally I still do - that is the free metro paper from the bus) and never ever watches tv news over here in the UK (in Malaysia I get daily Star Newspapers ok, so I am not all that Uninformed), I guess my knowledge on organ donation is pretty limited.

So when the tutor asked us to comment on the above mentioned topic, I naturally did what I did best - sit there and look pretty. Pretty dumb. Works all the time.

But of course, being in medical school there ARE smart and very knowledgeable people who would answer questions. Not everyone plans to faff their way thru medical school like me. So, rest assured, there are some good, sorry, smart, doctors out there yet. (I aim to be a Good Doctor, alright)

Apparently, Spain has the highest amount of organ donors, coming to 34 donors per 1 million of the population. That's 3 times of UK's which only comes at 13 donors per 1 mil. Yeah, I know boring, boring stats and all that, but then when your loved one or you urself is in dire need for an organ, these stats become important. Immediately. Same goes for government funding where it takes 20,000 pounds to haemodialyse a patient per year when it only costs 10,000 pounds for a transplant per patient per year. That's loads of money AND the patient gets a new lease in life!! Don't know much about haemodialysis? Basically when your kidney fails, and u'll need to attend the hospital 3 times a week for the rest of your life for 4 hours of fluid exchange. In other words, no life.

But the million dollar question is why does Spain have such a huge number of donors?

That is because in Spain, the people that pursue prospective organ donors are the doctors themselves. In the UK, specialist donor nurses do it. They are informed of a prospective donor and they follow it from there, approaching the family and getting all the relevant bits of information. But in Spain, the almighty doctor does it. And like it or not, doctors are much, much, much more influential over people compared to nurses. They do the ward rounds everyday, monitor the patient's progress and know when it is when the patient is going to die, hence being able to get all the information and consent from the patient before doomsday and their family members. They are also on deck when someone comes into A&E brain dead and can start reperfusion almost immediately to maintain tissue and organ viability before it becomes oxygen depleted, hence making it suitable once again, for donation. If you wait for the nurses to come, bla bla... the organ/tissue dies.

Just for information sake, heart and lungs are only viable up to 4 hours without oxygen. Kidneys can last 20 hours and livers, 12 hours. To gain optimum organ function once transplanted, organs have got to have a continuous blood supply before they are removed from the donor. So a window of 5 mins without oxygen can already damage tissues, rendering the organ less viable. That's why you need decision makers (aka doctors) in the acute setting to decide to reperfuse. Fast.

Phew.

And apparently in America, doctors are given extra cash when they bring in new donors. Like how GPs are paid more in the UK per patient of theirs that successfully quits smoking.

I wonder what Malaysia's donor register is like.

Donate your organs, you could save lives.

Patients..

I was in a nephrology aka kidney clinic today.

A thin woman came in.

She is suffering from back pain, which is not kidney pain.

Doctor tells her that she has to go back to her GP to be referred to a orthopaedic clinic.

Patient asks for stronger painkillers.

Doctor tells her that this clinic does not prescribe painkillers, she needs to get it from her GP.

Patient sweeps up her bag in Doctor's mid sentence and storms out.

WTF.

I Finally Ran Today!

and discovered that my stamina is like shit.

Malaysian Escapade

Well, as misleading as the title might sound... I've just returned to Edinburgh from a lovely month in Malaysia that was literally filled with activities back to back.

Other than the uncountable yum cha sessions with all my friends (I've been to Murni at least 2o times I think) there are a few things that were exceptional. Among them were:

1. Hong Kong

Well, not exceptional to my friends back home I guess, considering I go off to HK every summer but it was a trip nonetheless. I met up with ALL the HK delegates from my SA camp, the first time ever in 4 years. Wahay! It was also a mega meet up for them as all of us are now in different courses, doing different things - and Panda is the first to graduate! (on top of that getting his dream job as a manager trainee in Cathay Pacific - that means he gets 2 free tickets every year to go wherever he wants). I've got a new best friend.2. Bali

Another trip in my short 4 weeks, this time to the ever famous Bali, Indonesia. Stayed in Nusa Dua, this lovely 5 star hotel with superb architecture. Sad to say, I believe Sabah's Sutera Harbour Hotel has better rooms and a definitely better breakfast spread. The beach in Bali where I stayed is, again, sad to say, covered with seaweed and rather geli to walk on. Redang's beach beats it hands down. I enjoyed the temples and the scenery though which is really more worth it to go and see than lounging on the beach.

Part of the hotel - on the outside.

The beach at Nusa Dua

Wax drawings on our clothes!

*Arghh... the rest of the pics are in my bros camera which I conveniently forgot to copy*

3. Chemang Waterfall
What can I say about this few crazy friends of mine? We dedicated a whole day of driving 2 hours to Bentong in Pahang in search for tranquility and the cool waters of Chemang Waterfall. We found it - and almost immediately plunged into the icy cold waters. The undercurrent was strong though, and I realised that I am not such a good swimmer after all, as I needed to be constantly pulled to calmer waters despite trying my best to swim against the current. (I was told that I was not moving..=(( ) If only I had more summer hols, I believe my bunch of friends would have taken me white water rafting - something I've been wanting to do for a long, long time.

Upon arrival - Chemang waterfall!!

With Lex Kor in the middle of it all

With Liwan atop a rock in the waters...

The crazy bunch...

4. Mary and Barbara's Visit
Mary, our BBC friend flew all 12 hours to Singapore to visit Barbara. They then took a bus up to KL to visit us, and it was fun while it lasted. Hmm, if you ever had a friend come all the way from some foreign place and had to bring them sightseeing, do let me know how it went. It really isn't that easy. But, luckily the girls weren't fussy and was perfectly contented to spend a whole afternoon doing a manicure, which considerably made their tour guide feel a whole lot more relieved.

Shisha-ing at Lecka Lecka outside Star Hill. They have fantastic Shisha! I did not even cough Once.

Korean BBQ at Hartamas. Slurps. Why aren't there any Korean restaurants in Edinburgh??

5. BBQ dinner for Nigel's Farewell
Well, it was Nigel's last weekend in Malaysia before he jet set-ted off to NZ to finish his course. Like how it's all done, he had this huge BBQ (with fantastic marinated lamb) for all his close friends. Luckily for me, his friends were my friends and it was coincidently held on the night before I flew back to Edinburgh. So as a whole, it was a farewell for me too as I got to see all my friends in one setting that night.

Not the whole group - but all me lovelies..

The original group taken 3 years ago

6. Mambo Jumbo!
Wednesday night, Mambo Jumbo at Zouk!! I was badgering my friends to go and go we did! It was great! I can safely say I knew almost 100% of the songs played and met loads of new people. Men in KL are really quite gentlemanly. They take care of all transportation to and fro (and I mean on all occasions, not only clubbing) and ensures that the girls are safely sent back. I even met an old OBS friend, Jon, whom I have not seen for almost 5 years!! It was definitely a night to remember.

7. Seremban
Seremban equals IMU. A drive to the capital of Negeri Sembilan to see my A Level classmates. Four of us in a car from KL. Another from Malacca. We were lacking the familiar faces of Vicky, Aaron, Hui Lee and Rei Ka but 8 of us met up for a seafood dinner. It was an amazing night, and my friends have not changed one bit, all the same beautiful people from 3 years before. Wei Chong still as funny and nonsensical, Hau Chun still as smart(the guy got Gold Medalist in IMU OK - I mean he did get 100% for Bio in A Levels, what do u expect??), Phong Teck, the driver who still dreads driving in jams but feels its a man job to drive (yes it is!), William with his SLR, representing the calm and quiet of the group, and the girls all as lovely as before.

There were tonnes more special things that happened - like how I made a group of my friends wait for me til 12 am (as I was having this silly dinner whose serving time was 20 mins in between dishes) and Koh Beng who had to work the next day stayed on til 2 am to chat with me.
And then there was Shin Yow who drove all the way back from Putrajaya at night to come yum cha (eventhough the thing was called off in the end - my bad, my bad).

All the planning my friends did for me and all the effort everyone put in to just meet up.

I can't say how much I love them.. I really do.

Die Hard 4.0

It's 2 am in the morning and I've just returned from watching Die Hard 4. My head is throbbing as I am suffering from severe lack of sleep but having to wait for hot water to shower, I shall rant and rave about Die Hard 4.


Bruce Willis just does not grow old. Scratch that.
Cosmetics nowadays have reached a whole new era of erasing years off your face and reinstating your once youthful look. Brucie is the perfect example. Demi Moore, eat your hat! He looks great! Way better than silly childish Ashton Kutcher.

But yeah, Die Hard 4.0. Action-packed, fast paced, adrenaline pumping scenes of metal tearing against metal (or human flesh), kungfu fighting... ah, watch it yourself.
I have to say I was or am amazed. Sheer amazement.

Bruce is indestructible. He defies all medical aspects of the human anatomy and proves that we are able to jump off a 200mph car and stand up after, sustain 5 shots into the arm and make it look it was a mere nick in the arm. He also reinvents the laws of physics by showing that you can drive a car up a ram and smash into a helicopter that's like er.. 10 m above the ground? The sky's the limit.

State of the art computer graphics are used (impressive!) and I never knew that the human fingers can move so swiftly across a keyboard. I bet they aren't even hitting the keys they are supposed to hit. Try to bluff the viewers. Lucky I'm smart. On top of that, when u get rammed into by a car traveling at 200 mph (again) u expect yourself to have at least ONE torn ligament or chipped off bone somewhere. But no, no, superwoman Maggie Q can climb up a car and cords and kicks Brucie's nuts. U go girl.

I especially like the way Jason Long's knee is shot, for I can emphatise with him. Being emphatic is way important in medical school. You have to feel sorry and go weepy like for patients, when what you really are thinking is 'Come on, get it!?!?! I haven't got all day!' and at the same time ensuring you are not giving all the details. You must maintain a dark empty question mark over them so they don't go cuckoo and think that their disease (eventho minor stuff like adhesions) will mutate into a monster and eat them up when they're asleep.
But back to Jason and my empathy. So bad guy puts a bullet thru his knee. OUCH, $%&DAMMIT! I tear a blardy ligament and go for a minor op but still am not healed 100% til NOW. You put a bullet thru the poor guy's knee, probably taking off bits of bone and flesh, disrupting his entire blood supply while shooting off his meniscus and ligaments.... he'll need a total knee replacement, dude. And at such a tender age too. Not to mention, his metal knee will need to be replaced once every 10 years, and all the physiotherapy he'll have to go thru...awww... I feel for him.

Lucky it's just a movie.

But the guy who brings the game home is baddie Timothy Olyphant. So yau yeng. So cool. So calm and collected. Especially the way he tells the fighter jet pilot he is authorized to shoot John McClane. And of course John McClane jumps off a truck onto a jet plane and onto a huge slide while the jet explodes behind him as he slides to safety...

Why am I not in movies? I want to do death defying scenes too and prove medical school is just so wrong about the limit of our lives, sorry, bones.

Since I came back...

Alright, so they had the jeep going bonkers in Glasgow and the 2 men setting themselves on fire the night I flew back to Edinburgh.

Good thing out of it is - it's in Glasgow and not Edinburgh. Glasgow's airport closed down for about 24 hours and all flights there were cancelled. Terrorism level was raised to red alert. I arrived in Edinburgh and was met with a whole refugee camp. Yup, a refugee camp. People dragging their luggage as they walked down the road to the airport, police refusing to let anyone into the building, and FBI like gun bearers who demanded to check all passports and baggage of every single person and car that was entering the airport compound. Taxi and bus stands were all diverted away from the main foyer of the airport and we were handed pieces of paper telling us to turn left to the next Olympic size swimming pool and continue walking towards the road of eternity to hail a cab home. Or we could always take Bus 11 like so many of them were doing.

So my friends and I walked about with our 30 kg bags looking for the taxi stand /bus stand, any transport that we could take. And no one knows where what is. Frustration sinks in. But I guess luck was still on our side as a taxi materialized out of the blue stopped for us, practically shoved and bundled 4 girls baggage and all into the cab and drove off double quick. (I suppose it was illegal for him to pick us up from where he did as we could ALL be potential bombers but hey! who doesn't want to earn that bombs, er I mean cash?)

Reaching home to a room in total disarray and spent the next 2 days unpacking and rearranging and cleaning... phew!

And then heard that 2 of my friends missed their connection flight from London to Edinburgh as the immigration Q was mental. And a friend lost her luggage too. Argh, the mess.

The newspapers reported the next day that the Glasgow bombers were Asian and possible doctors. Riiight. Probably the best course to be in now I suppose. Following on, few of my seniors who had just graduated were refused working visas to start work as a Foundation Year doctor here.

And then a friend's flat got broken into. Poor guy lost his passport, his IC, his driving license and cash. A lot of cash. I just hope he gets his passport back and is not mistaken as Rambo the 19th come to life as the devil and suspected of terrorism in Edinburgh. Please. Poor kid has another 2 years of medical school to go and then he will come out and save all the lifes that are affected by the bombs and anthrax and planes and what not.

But highlight of the day is - I watched a video of a woman giving birth. Ergh, Ew, why wasn't I born a man??

Germany: A photo journal

Travel date : June 2 years ago (2005)
Travel sequence : Can't remember due to short term memory loss

Ooops, sorry, that was my room (I'm NOT messy, I was moving out!)
Well, the journey started here.

BERLIN
Berliner Dome, a white and gold church.
What did I say about churches and European countries

Ah, the Berlin.. er... gate? But it's important, I promise!!!

Short hair.. due to some anal hairdresser in Ming's Salon in Megah that cut my hair too short, forcing me to go to Essex in SS2 again to restyle it into a bob cut. That was in Dec. 6 months down the road and my hair barely sweeps my shoulder. I should sue for manslaughter.
But, anyway, the tower behind..

And the tower on the inside: you know what they say about Malaysians being patriotic and all that crap. So be it.

The Marvelous Berlin Wall (or so people believe)

I promise you, the wall outside the Potterow tunnel near my Uni is part of the Berlin wall. And so are some walls in certain parts of KL. Heck, even your house can be made into the Berlin wall. All you need is some spray paint. On top of that, you can sell bits of the wall for as souvenirs and roll in a neat amount of money. Just for spray painted rubble.

Olympic Stadium
Woohoo!

Dachau
Dachau Concentration Camp... where the Nazis tortured the Jews

What it is like behind bars,

and how you'll lie as your body is placed on the stretchers to be cremated.

On a lighter note, all together now... AWWwwwwwwwwww

Rothenburg
A small village that is oh-so-perfect. Like the village in Hot Fuzz (coming soon to Malaysia). So sweet, so perfect..

Famous German Christmas Decorations.. Nutcrackers and what not.

Munich
Neuschwanstein Castle
The castle Disney based their cartoons on. And it is Such a fairytale. I wish I was born a princess and lived in this castle. Not only is in on the hills,
It has it's own watch castle that is just at the foot of the hill (actually for the parents of the King or something like that) alright, alright, my history sux k...still, Neuschwanstein Castle is absolutely...
It's a dream.
100% guranteed taken from my now stolen Konica Minolta camera. Anyone who goes to Germany/Munich, PLEASE PLEASE visit this place.

The castle authorities should start paying me tourism fees

All in all, we went to Hamburg(boring), Berlin, Nuremburg, Rothenburg, Munich(double boring) and finally to Frankfurt. Along the way we meet a few strange characters:

Mr. Man
Mr Lion
Mr. Bear

all found in Germany. Since it is very unfair to my fellow Edinburghans, I will introduce ...

Mr. Cow

*picture comes when i return to edinburgh with my trusty laptop*

Germany:

Worth visiting? Oh yeah, just for Neuschwanstein.

Universiti Hospital

So I accompanied my grandmom to UH yesterday for her heart clinic. My grandmother suffers from a heart condition called 'Unstable Angina' that is insufficient blood supply to her heart, causing central chest pain and is associated with an increased risk of heart attacks. She recently had a pacemaker inserted to correct another heart condition she has - atrial fibrillation.

I was just told by my aunt to accompany her for her check up and being the filial granddaughter I rose to the challenge of waking up at 6.30 am to be there at 7. For the clinic in UH runs by a number system, that is the earlier you get the number, the faster you see the doctor. I was not told of anything but just handed a plastic bag with bits of paper in it by my aunt to bring along.

Upon arrival, I looked about, searching for a signboard to direct me to the cardiology clinic. As expected - nothing to point me the correct way. So hand in hand with my grandma, we walked towards the general direction of where she thought it was at and arrived at a place called 'Makmal Kardiology Diagnostik ECG' aka ECG Diagnostic Cardiology Lab. This is the clinic??? Why? How? It's an ECG lab! But, yeah, I suppose the government thought that it was too expensive to erect a signboard saying 'Cardio Clinic' or expects the general population to understand that a lab is a clinic.

Once inside, I went up to the enquiry desk to hand in the appointment card (that I found after tipping out all the contents in the plastic bag while the woman at the counter tells me to stand aside as she is very busy).

'Ini pacemaker clinic la - kat sana!'
'Eh, not a cardio doctor's appointment?'
'Bukan! Packemaker aje!'

Er, ok.. so i go over to 'kat sana' and hand in the appointment card. I hung around the counter as people bombarded questions at the lone woman at the counter(I'm inclined to say nurse but she was not in a uniform and had this pissy look about her face) with questions etc... and she turns to me irritated:
'Duduk, boleh duduk kah?'

Bitchy toot.

At this time, my grandma says she wants to talk to the doctor and started asking me about her blood test. Me being already pretty confused about her inconclusive packemaker or cardio doctor's appointment began to feel a slight twinge of irritation as she insists that she has to take a blood test to check herINR.(a measure of how safe a drug is in the body when taken for long term) Now, what's the association of INRs with pacemakers? (wasn't aware there was one, but then again, I am still unqualified). Jeez. And what clinic is she supposed to be at? My aunt double confirms that she has to see the doctor but the enquiry woman says packemaker clinic.
So, I head back to the enquiry counter and the woman says as I approach: 'What happen to you?!'
'Er, she needs a cardio doctor's appointment together with her pacemaker check'
'This pacemaker check will have a doctor there!'
'Ok, does she need a blood test?'
'No! No nit!'

So I return to my seat only to be questioned about this 'blood test' again by my poor grandma who is getting pretty agitated that she is not getting one. So I head over to the bitch at the packemaker clinic counter and her answer is:

'Tak tau la. Not sure.' Shrugs and turns away.

What kind of idiot sits at a clinic counter and gives an answer like that?

I return to my seat and decide - that the people here are really useless. Might as well find things out myself. So I go through all the bits of paper in the plastic bag and read all about my grandma's history and heart problem. So, she is on warfarin for her atrial fib and hence needs her INR checked but her INR was checked like last week! I call my aunt for the umpteenth time but she is also woolly about this whole INR blood and cardio/pacemaker clinic business.

#^&*.

Whatever. In the end, we did get to see our doctor though it was hardly a clinic; I had to stand the whole time as the doctor talked to me while I translate with my broken mandarin to my grandma. Just across the room, another woman has her pacemaker checked at the same time by the technician.

What happened to patient confidentiality? Privacy?

At 11.30 am I was itching to get out of the hospital (but before that I had to obviuosly lose my way while trying to get to the pharmacy) and heaved a sigh of relieve as I saw my brother's car approaching.

What with brainless gits who sit at the clinic counters, rude nurses, a lame number system - can't they have a nice little log book with patients booked in at different times - I think the whole system is going to the dogs. Thank God the doctors are nice and professional enough, though the consultation room environment is hardly what I call suitable for a country that plans to hit the developed status in 13 years.

And wait, UH is supposed to be semi private. I can't imagine what KL's General Hospital will be like.

Urgh.

Guest Writer : Nigel

Hello. Rachel decided to pop into my blog and leave a mark. So I decided to do the same and return the favour.

So yes, here I am.

Rachel has just ended her entry after I gave her substantial time to blog so it's my turn now while she keeps me entertained with her stories; if she has any.

My blog here to view her entry.

If you have read her entry, which I have not at this point of time, I assumed she has probably mentioned that the both of us are at Starbucks geeking out with wireless Internet. I wanted to retest my laptop wireless capabilities and see whether it is functioning well anyway. Apparently it is and the connection here is fast. :) Damansara Utama Starbucks is nice. I like.

Starbucks is a geek place. Everyone here practically comes online at Starbucks and I was quite amazed to see the number of Crumpler bags going through the door. I thought Crumplers were a rare-breed. I was wrong. It looks like it is entering the Malaysian lifestyles like the new EastPak or Outdoor or Jansport, whatever. Good thing is, no one has my model but someone has a bag the exact same colours as mine.

I'm hungry.

The cheesecakes look tempting.

I actually have nothing insightful to offer you people in this entry because I am blogging in an area where I can get no focus with my thoughts.

Opposite me there is a couple getting intimate, the sound of spoons, forks, knives and who knows what other stuff falling into the basin and easy listening music over the speakers. It is quite difficult to focus on something specific to write.

I am a certified geek. Because I said only novelists sit in Starbucks and write novels. Now I'm the one sitting down here writing an entry which is sort of a super degraded version of a novel. Great.

Rachel is also a geek. She has been tampering with my mobile phone and hers for the past ten minutes.

I better run. It's getting too silent at the table.

And now she's cam-whoring alone. HAHAHAHAHAHA. I'd better save her from narcissistic oblivion. I'm doing all of you, her friends, a big favour and saving you guys the trouble when Rachel exclaims after a picture is taken, "THIS SHOT NOT NICE, I WANT ANOTHER ANGLE! TAKE AGAIN!".

Bye bye.

Hallux Valgus

So, I'll be sitting for my OSCEs exam come this Wednesday.
OSCEs are those annoying exams (actually crucial) that tests our clinical examination skills and history taking (that is eliciting a proper history of symptoms from a patient), which are in actual fact the bread and butter of our profession. And yes, they have to make an exam out of it, which I again totally understand But It is Still after all, an Exam.

To make sure we absolutely score, and NOT fail as NO one wants to come back to resit the exams when we can all be kicking back and eating char kuey teow in Malaysia while flipping through the twenty plus Astro channels while ordering our maids for another round of grilled satay,
we practice
and practice
and practice
AND practice
on each other.

Which brings us to a few new discoveries. So I've found out that one of my flatmates cannot externally rotate his shoulders. And a friend who lives upstairs has got a fixed flexion deformity of her elbow, which is also called a 'gunshot' deformity (basically means one cannot fully rotate one's wrist when the arm is fully outstretched). A splitting of a friend's 2nd heart sound is also heard (normal sounds should be just lub-dub, and a splitting means lub-d-dub). And of course, I've got a fantastic knee to be examined due to my past surgery but that is really rather old news.

Still, I will be incomplete and totally ostracized if I do not discover something new or rather, medically wrong about myself - and thank God for all the smart alecks and brainy people that exist around me. One single look - zero in and hey! another case to add on to my already expanding portfolio of medical problems that surely points towards the one direction -> AGEING.



I've got hallux valgus. Sounds like some Harry Potter enchantment, no?

A change of direction of my big toe which should normally be straight but is slanted, leaving an empty V in between the big toes of me both feet. Slight, but there all the same. It might be congenital though, or hereditary. And how does it happen? All time popular cause is the usage of heels (that's why women get it and men hardly) but hello, I stay in cobblestone Edinburgh where even walking down the stairs of my flat is treacherous. Not to mention planting my stilletos on the uneven pavement of the city as I walk 2 miles to my destination, precariously mantaining balance while tripping over every other step and ensuring that I still look feminine?
No, I hardly wear heels here!!

But I do have about 7 pairs of high heeled shoes sitting on my shelf now.
So?
Ignorance is bliss. And so is self denial.

Dracunculiasis

Was flipping through my medical book that day looking for a description of "Typhoid Fever" and I just had to chance upon this word.

Dracunculiasis.

Captured my attention almost immediately. Sounds like "Dracula" doesn't it or "Dragon"? Uber cool.

What is it?

1. Is latin for 'little dragon'
2. More commonly known as the Guinea Worm Disease.
3. An infection by the parasite Dracunculus medinensis
4. Life cycle starts from larvae in fresh water, water fleas ingest it and they develop into its infective stage in these microscopic insects.
5. Humans drink the water, and stomach acid kills the water flea but not the larvae. The larvae goes to the intestines and gets into the body cavity.
6. A female worm copulates with a male worm and absorbs the male after he dies.
7. The female grows into 60-100 cm ( 1 bloody metre), looks like a cooked spaghetti noodle and her body cavity is filled with baby larvae.

Right up to now, the progression seems normal (except for the rather disgusting 'absorbing the male' part, hm and also the spaghetti part) . I was about to turn the page away - I mean all living things do mate sometime or other... but it was a good thing I didn't, as IT GETS BETTER.

8. So this female worm in the body now migrates to the cooler area of the body, usually the lower limbs.
9. She/It Ulcerates out of the human skin by causing a blister - which is extremely painful and has a burning sensation. About 24-72 hours later, the worm emerges OUT of the skin

!!@#$%^&*!!! Oh no, no... it doesn't come All the way out.

10. By this time, the human host is hurting and being human, soaks his/her leg in water to ease off the burning sensation and here, the female worm releases a milky white substance into the water, which contains about 100 thousand larvae.
11. By now the blister has become a unrelenting ulcer.

Eurgh!
How Incredibly, Utterly DISGUSTING.

12. The best way to treat is to slowly roll the worm round a stick and let it take its own time to emerge fully, as the least thing you want is for it to break off and leave half of its body in your body. This emerging process can take up to days or even weeks.

P/S: If surgical facilities are available, slice the leg open and get the bugger out immediately.

Shocker. Imagine walking around and living with a horrible worm dangling from your leg.

Like a piece of spaghetti - ahem, I mean, string.

Blood Groups

Blood group O - increased risk of getting H.Pylori infection, i.e. gastric ulcers

Blood group A - increased risk of getting gastric cancer

Which blood group are u?

Time in Eternity

Time passes by. Ever so slowly. And ever so quickly.

Just sitting there, looking into his eyes. The sclera was white when he came in. But now it is slightly red-tinged.

And his dad. His dad looks like how a dad should be. Graying hair, wise eyes. Slim, soft spoken, walking without a stick - a rare sight to see indeed in places like these, places like this where the elderly is usually ravaged with so many complications.

They are planning a holiday to Spain this weekend. A true family holiday. And daddy comes in here to get expert advice.

Daddy wears a sweater. A sweater that holds a lot of secrets. Scars of the past, present, future. Scars that can be seen and that cannot be seen. Clothes hides a body's secrets well. And so can accessories of all kinds. Like him, accessorising his dad. Complimenting each other. The picture of health and happiness.

But once all clothes have come off, once all pretence put down, the dark, ugly monster rears its head. It's obvious. Even to my untrained eyes, it is quite big. But I am inexperienced. Incompetent.
But we have the Expert.

And so daddy puts on his clothes and sits back down next to him. And now the Expert talks. Does not say much. No exact words are mentioned. But the subject is approached apprehensively. Dread fills the room. Trepidation hangs in the air, choking, bitter, unpleasant. Every sound is amplified, fear and hysteria threatens.. just beyond the horizon.

Now, a slight hint of red at the corners of his eyes.

But daddy is still calm. So soft spoken, still keeping his composure. He insists that what he wants is to go on the family holiday. But they need a 'Fit For Travel' note for the insurance company. Daddy refuses any tests. As tests in this place, any test of any kind will tell us things we want to know, information that is essential in our field of study, pieces of the jigsaw to be fitted together. But once the picture is complete, it might be a picture beyond your comprehension, a sliver of the promised future that you will never see, an image of the person you once were, a snapshot of Hades. And sometimes, it is better to throw the pieces away, to keep only the beautiful parts to yourself, where you can stilll harbour hope for the unknown and undefined.

When daddy drew a ragged breath, the redness grow darker. It spreads its firey fingers into his eyes, turning white to blood red.

Still the Expert does not mention it. It is taboo in my field. Daddy asks what he should do but the expert advises daddy to do what he Wants to do. And daddy still says he wants to go on this holiday. So go. Go and do what you want.

Go Go Go.

But be advised, you might not come back.

For the cancer lesion is enormous, the left half of daddy's liver has enlarged to the size of a fist, protruding out of his stomach, obvious to the naked eye. No imaging is needed, the diagnosis is unshakable. Unmovable. Undeniable.

Go and be happy and do what you want, go.

Make an appointment in a months time to see me.

'Will I be around,' asks daddy and my Consultant says 'Just make the appointment.'

But he knows and now we know too - that in 30 days, daddy will not live to see the rising sun, not wake up to the birds' morning call and never will make it to the appointment; not next month, not anymore.

Champions League 2007: AC Milan vs Liverpool

So it's d time of the year again, where all people out there with the XY gene hog the bars and pubs or mamak stalls, where all tv screens are suddenly turn green with miniscule figurines moving about, where money flows in and out due to bets placed on the wrong (or right) team, where tears are shed and voices are yelled hoarse (more visits to the doctor -heh), where beer glasses are smashed and mamak plates are broken/dropped clanking to the floor due to Mister's hand slam show off, and also where eatery merchants and sports shops make their windfall of cash.

The time of the year where the XX earthlings donate money to all the bars/pubs/mamaks just to please that certain someone, where they sigh as they miss their favourite Wah Lai Toi show, where they suffer the endless 'GO GO GO!! AIYO, STUPID LA U!' and the drone of the commentator that could honestly draw all flies, mosquitoes and moths to tv screen.

All in the name of 'football' or 'soccer' (if you please)

Of course, we shall not forget the few people that are off the normal distribution graph, people that belong to the ends of the bell shape graph - those that do not follow the norm. The boys who don't watch football and the girsl who Do watch football.

So what am I? XX who is bang, smack in the middle. Don't watch it if I can help it, but do enjoy it when I am actually absorbed into the game.

Which leads me back to 2 years ago, 2005.

What: Champions League 2005: AC Milan vs Liverpool
Where: In our luxurious apartment in Brussels, Belgium
Who: My friends and I

Watching the final match of the League between AC Milan and Liverpool.

Talk about Deja Vu