i’ve been struggling to keep afloat these days. i realised that even i sit here, i feel dyspnoeic. sometimes i catch myself gulping for air, just playing catch with Vanora. being the dynamic, passionate doctor-to-be i am, a million differential diagnoses form a list. cardiac causes? respiratory causes? do i actually have anemia?
Lying cold, in that dreadful dark cell, she clutched desparately to the hand of her little rag doll, Ms Annie. all but her body remained strong, for the severe malnutrition and constant beating had left her weary body but a collection of pulp and broken bones. should she survive this, would all that was promised be finally fulfilled in the end, she wondered.
Almost too weak to whisper, she prayed to the Divine. If you will help me, don’t take me from here. just help me understand, so that i can hold on longer. Footsteps heard in the background didn’t startle her, and most certainly did not alert her to call for help. did she not want out? out of this prison, this torture chamber? why can’t she call out? The footsteps faded, and the darkness befriended her. should she get used to this?
A glimmer of hope lingered as the air smelt different. Jasmine, the familiar smell of an old friend. surely, he would be here to help. as the smell grew stronger, her heart pounded faster. the old hinged door creaked, and she could almost smell her freedom…
"What on earth are you doing to yourself? don’t you know after all you’ve been through, that you should fight for your will to survive? if you get out, we can help you. we can meet every week and shower you with tips and advice. i’m sure you can learn from our wisdom from the Great Big Book of Everything!" no sooner had the words gotten out, she heard the door slam shut, taking away the little ray of light from the room. and out of her heart.
No more words, she thought, blinking the angry tears away. no more cheer-me-up-from-afar. all i need is someone to get me out. so she lay there, stripped bare of dignity and emotions. lay there, cold as a tomb, ready for her grave.
All along, the cell gate was never shut. God left it open. all she needed was someone to walk her out of it. because she could not do it alone.
Uncategorized | Comments (2)Histrionic… tsk tsk…
hahaha… whoever thought it was true… histrionic i’ve come to accept but narcissistic? screwed! i dun think it’s true though…
| Disorder | Rating |
| Paranoid: | Low |
| Schizoid: | Low |
| Schizotypal: | Low |
| Antisocial: | Low |
| Borderline: | Low |
| Histrionic: | High |
| Narcissistic: | Moderate |
| Avoidant: | Low |
| Dependent: | Low |
| Obsessive-Compulsive: | Low |
a different kind of love.
it seems like the animal instincts that we humans possess has not quite been suppressed. spring comes and everyone seems to float on clouds, smelling of floral fragrances (and musky ones too!). love is in the air, and is intoxicating everyone who inhales even a whiff of this captivating Spring Aroma.
and as usual, yours truly would take a step back and analyze. examine with scrutiny the mechanics, setbacks and wonders of such an occurence. what is happening??? every year i see this, and every year the voices inside resound with bewilderment. this time, i’m gonna blog it out. perhaps then i’ll reason something to the satisfaction of my mind.
truly pheromones? i don’t think so. However, it does seem that way for the fact, it happens only during seasons, and always in groups of them, much like the females in heat during Spring.
People rapidly getting "twitter-pated", and almost immediately relationships forged. The couple floats through space and time, and eventually become inseparable. Unlike animals, we have the intellect to sustain relationships, and also move to a new one should the current be deemed inappropriate. Therefore, the quality of relationships should not be compared to that of animals, even if some species have only one mate for their whole lives. The level we belong to is 4 dimensional, inclusive of emotions, spirituality and intellect.
What shall we say then? That because we are at a higher level, that automatically our choices and the relationships we have are the right ones?
There are three types of relationships, depending on the way of relation to one another. Of course, this piece of wisdom is not authentically mine. It is something i learnt during Counselling. The first type is the Codependent type. It’s probably how most relationships start off nowadays. Being in love is synonomous with "can’t live without you" and "you are the air i breathe". The distance from carpark to building is just closer if we held hands. Life only seems complete with a "good morning call" and a "sweet dreams call". But many are unaware of its bad side, which is the inability to stand on your own feet. Making decisions become a chore, since you only live for the other, and he/she lives for you. Whatever your partner wants, you go all out to satisfy, without thinking about yourself. After all, you think, what is life without him/her?
The other extreme of course, is equally as devastating. the Independent lot. It hardly makes a difference being together or not. No decision is made with discussion and compromise, and there is hardly public hints of affection. They probably claim that they’ve been in the relationship for so long, but it hardly can be called that.
What we strive and hope for instead, is an Interdependent relationship. Where bondaries are kept and respected, and people are comfortable with the couple as much as the couple are with each other. They are free to do whatever, but always take into consideration their partner. Ideal, yet almost unattainable. Let’s face it, we all have baggage with us. Broken dreams, past relationships, relating with the other gender… Until and unless, we deal with them and let them go, we have high chances of being in the extreme. Like i always say, it’s all about the balance. A thin thread holding everything in place.
After all, Life is not all black and white. It’s just different shades of gray…
Uncategorized | Comment (0)proving yourself.
as some of you know, i’ve developed a few new syndromes based on certain personalities in my university. i’m trying to get it put into the DSM-V criteria under personality disorders… there’s the RK-like Syndrome and the Y****k-like Syndrome, and to my observation, many doctors especially seem to fall under these categories. one such is the GP i was attached to for my one week posting.
the youngest of five siblings, he always needed to prove himself. making sure he excelled in every area. got himself into a university in Ireland, worked his butt to graduate and then started work. he served the government 6 years, and felt misused.
he hated the red tape, the politics and just about everything in medicine apart from the actual healing of the sick. after all, the doctor’s job is about the sick, so why are there so many other complications involved?
this is one doctor who has been bitten again and again by the harsh realities of what a doctor faces in this country. i am not one to delve into political issues, but i do fear that i’ll become like him. a victim of bitterness, suffering from the injustice of the system.
he stopped working in the government, angry and upset. had he known this was all he was in for, he would have taken a 180 from this path and done something else. instead, he ventured into the hotel industry, secretly hoping he could reactivate his other childhood ambition of culinary arts. out of the pan into the fire. disappointed again by the corruption and politics, he had to run. again.
finally with his brother, they both set up a cosy clinic, in hopes that if the establishment was their own, that they would be rid of all sticky red tape that so easily entangles. when one wave dies down, the other leaps. he faced opposition from his own relatives and friends. they claimed that if he did not conformed to the ways of other clinics around, he would surely be forced to close down. thankfully his hard head did serve him purpose. he stuck on, and now most of his clients come just for reassurance and just to chat. they’re so comfortable with him, had they any queries about other treatment they received they march straight to him. and however he complains and rants, i’m sure deep down, he enjoys it.
i guess that is what i learnt at my GP Posting. not the management of asthma or how to dress a wound. but how to confront the stormy waters ahead. people always say that live as a civil servant, what more a doctor, would be smooth sailing. i always had my doubts, but was never one to truly explore and be abel to debate that fact. now at least i’ve seen people brave it, and i know i can too.
he had to prove himself so many times for so many reasons, by doing so many things. i pray that he’ll find peace in himself to be secure enough not to care.
the other thing i learnt is that, the above lecturers whose names i created Syndrome from, probably had battles just like he did. so i should see them in a different light. sure they made us feel like worms, and we endure torture by listening to hours of droning about the good old days. but maybe, just maybe, the damage done to them, made them who they are today. so we should be compassionate and understanding. after all, we are all human! 
Living amongst the dead.
as i watched her, i felt it sinful to secretly analyse her. after all, she should never have been judged that way. although many would say she could have prevented this (doctors always blab about lifestyle changes, but in reality you can never prevent it 100%, there are many other factors that we don’t know about yet), could you seriously blame her? she had been diagnosed of rectal cancer, and after surgery and chemotherapy, she now had jaundice and ascites, which probably means she has secondary cancer to the liver.
suddenly i saw her as my mother, at 66 years of age. i did a double take, and blink a bit. a wave of nausea crept over me, and cold sweat poured from every pore on my forehead. i caught a glimpse of what it would be like in her daughter’s shoes.
a slow progression of symptoms, vague abdominal discomfort, tiredness, and occasional bleeding when motions are passed, some weight loss… "You’re probably old, Ma, don’t worry about it. it’ll be ok."
getting some medication from the GP seemed like such a simple affair. except for the waiting bit. it takes so long before you finally get the fifteen minutes of attention. but all the time waiting could never prepare you for those dreaded words.
Cancer. it doesn’t matter what the 5 year survival is, neither does it matter if the prognosis is good. such a word somehow dims the future and all possiblities of a normal life. a taboo word, the purest of forms.
after the horrendous surgery and nauseating chemo, relief seemed short-lived. the sleepless nights and midnight ice-cream binging come back with a revenge. Mom keeps itching, and she looks as if she had just taken a kunyit bath. something is not right.
as the all-too-real vision slowly fades and reality steps back in, i find myself unable to hold the tears back in. could i live through such an experience? i don’t want to find out. if it were me in that wheelchair, pulling a trigger through the base of my skull would always play in my mind. had it been my own mother, i thought in despair, would i think the same? i guess that is a harder question to deal with. it’s not the issue of looking after her and giving her the best quality of life i can. i saw the suffering in that elderly lady’s eyes. she wants to live, just not like this. how can i watch my mother suffer every day and night like this?
on the other hand, i saw someone who had hope beyond hope. she is all too aware that her patients would never get better, and that they may as well be left for the dead, yet somehow she believes every moment counts. and it’s amazing.
i always had this goal that my patients should always walk out the ward door alive and well. naturally the palliative unit sort of brought me down in the dumps, because even the patients know, their time is nearly done. but i admire the courage and dedication of Dr. Rajes who is not afraid of death, and has shown her patients that there is nothing to be scared of too.
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