“Mummy!! The bus has arrived!!”
“Okay, okay. Wait a minute!”
Suddenly, I heard a loud thud and subsequently a high-pitch scream of pain. The moment I looked back, she’d already stood up, with fresh blood oozing out profusely from her injured knees. Enduring the crippling pain, she hastily rushed towards me, grabbed my hand and walked me to the bus on the other side of the road. I was stunned and in a complete daze.
“Are you okay?” I muttered to her apologetically.
She remained silent as she waved farewell to me and tried to put on a rather bogus smile that failed to convey the message that everything was fine.
As I watched her trudge back to the house from the window, a swell of sympathy washed over me, gripping me in a sudden agony of utter remorse and sorrow. An overpowering wave of stabbing pain jolted through my heart. Meanwhile, I could vividly feel how unconditional and immeasurable a mother’s love for her son can be. Despite the fact that it transcended my understanding as a 5-year-old boy, the particular incident was permanently etched in my mind.
It staggers me how rapidly time has flown.
I miss shopping with her during my childhood. I miss the days when she’d force me to complete my homework before allowing me to play with the kids in the neighbourhood. I miss the days when she’d stealthily wash the unbearably smelly purple pillow (which emitted a scent I found very exquisite and refreshing) that I carried with me almost all the time. I miss the days when I’d excitedly say “ Mi Mi nite nite!” to swap for a goodnight kiss on my forehead. I miss the days when she’d serve me with the most fattening and tantalizing food after coaxing me into controlling my diet and losing weight. A ridiculous irony. I miss the infuriation which painted her face when I enthusiastically described to her the content of a porn movie that I’d watched with my friends. And that was before I got to know what sex was all about.
I share many things with my mom. Except the fact that I’m hopelessly into guys.
Mummy, on this extraordinary day, I’d like to wish you a happy birthday. Thank you for giving me a fabulous childhood and adolescence. Thank you for the love and care you've shown to me in spite of my occasional disobedience and mischief. I’ve always prided myself on having a such a sophisticated mom without whom my life would be incomplete. I'm standing where I am now, chiefly because of the strength you’ve generously offered.
But sorry, for being gay. Sorry, for I’ve sinned.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
May you rest in peace, uncle.
My hypothesis was right. Dr. Edmund graduated from NUI. National University of Ireland. o.O He’s either very brilliant or very loaded. Or perhaps both. I saw his writing in the case notes. It’s astoundingly elegant and neat compared to my illegible clumsy scrawl. This is a rarity. I haven’t seen a doctor’s hand-writing as neat as his.
He was clerking a patient the other day. I stood behind him, pretending to be very attentive to their conversation. And I couldn’t resist the impulse to smell his body scent. I hope he didn’t realize it. It’s a little vague, but invigorating and orgasmic. Hehe. Does it sound nauseating to you? I always have tendency to do so as surreptitiously as possible whenever and wherever I spot a cute guy.
---
I had the opportunity to perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) on a collapsed patient in the emergency unit a few days ago. The medical assistants were apparently exhausted and my help was sought.
Dr X: Come on!! Faster! 100 compressions per minute!!
Joe: Ya. Trying.
Dr X: Eh, you’re like making a dough. Straighten your arms!
Joe: …..
Dr X: Use the strength of your entire upper torso!!
I heard some cracking sound when I was doing the compressions with all my might. Did I fracture his ribs?
Well, the poor old man didn’t make it though. Everything that could be done had been done. The tube and IV lines were removed. They switched off the electrocardiograph, stopped the ventilation and called the time. Sometimes, patients just don't respond. And they sink inexorably into death.
The family members were then informed and called in, their eyes teary and red. I guess they’d had the premonition that something tragic was imminent. Grief manifested itself on their gloomy faces. I stood aside, expressionless. My breathing gradually crept towards hyperventilation and I struggled to fight back a sudden wave of emotion the incident had brought on. It's hard to fathom the pain and emotional torment the death had inflicted on his family members. But I wish I never have to as it's obviously heart-wrenching.
Uncle, may you rest in peace.
He was clerking a patient the other day. I stood behind him, pretending to be very attentive to their conversation. And I couldn’t resist the impulse to smell his body scent. I hope he didn’t realize it. It’s a little vague, but invigorating and orgasmic. Hehe. Does it sound nauseating to you? I always have tendency to do so as surreptitiously as possible whenever and wherever I spot a cute guy.
---
I had the opportunity to perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) on a collapsed patient in the emergency unit a few days ago. The medical assistants were apparently exhausted and my help was sought.
Dr X: Come on!! Faster! 100 compressions per minute!!
Joe: Ya. Trying.
Dr X: Eh, you’re like making a dough. Straighten your arms!
Joe: …..
Dr X: Use the strength of your entire upper torso!!
I heard some cracking sound when I was doing the compressions with all my might. Did I fracture his ribs?
Well, the poor old man didn’t make it though. Everything that could be done had been done. The tube and IV lines were removed. They switched off the electrocardiograph, stopped the ventilation and called the time. Sometimes, patients just don't respond. And they sink inexorably into death.
The family members were then informed and called in, their eyes teary and red. I guess they’d had the premonition that something tragic was imminent. Grief manifested itself on their gloomy faces. I stood aside, expressionless. My breathing gradually crept towards hyperventilation and I struggled to fight back a sudden wave of emotion the incident had brought on. It's hard to fathom the pain and emotional torment the death had inflicted on his family members. But I wish I never have to as it's obviously heart-wrenching.
Uncle, may you rest in peace.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
As he saunters through the ward
Joe: You just came?
Dr. Ed: Yup. First day. First posting. Completely lost.
There came a new houseman in the male medical ward. And there’s one thing about him that arrests my attention.
He’s always smiling from ear to ear. I don’t know why. He’s just being over-friendly, I guess. He smiles to everyone – his colleagues, the physicians, the nurses, the patients and even to ME. He glows with radiance as he saunters through the crowded ward in his spotless white coat and a stethoscope around his neck. He exudes a positive vibe that attracts people around him.
I find myself sneaking surreptitious glances at him. He looks rich. Must have graduated from IMU or PMC (Penang Medical College). He’s always kept busy by doing admission clerking, blood-taking, taking orders from MOs and toeing the line. I can sense he’s a bit lost at times. And I particularly like the helpless look on his face which is similar to that of a little boy who gets lost in a huge mall. It makes me feel like protecting him, analogous to what a hen would do when a ferocious eagle dives from the sky to prey on her chicks.
---
It’s now the second week of medicine posting. I was unfortunately selected as the group leader. Very burdensome indeed. Classes never seem to go according to the timetable. The physicians are super-busy. A lot of precious time and money are wasted on calling and waiting in the clinic to negotiate with the consultants and re-schedule whatever that needs to be re-scheduled. Consequently, my phone is always low on credit.
By the way, some of the clinicians here are really awesome. They inspire us with their professionalism. They hold us spellbound with their superb examinations skills that take decades to be polished to perfection. During each ward round, there’ll be junior doctors, nurses and last but not least, nosy and thoroughly impressed medical students tagging along. Like a convoy. Looks very grand.
Many a time, I wonder when I can be that impressive.
Dr. Ed: Yup. First day. First posting. Completely lost.
There came a new houseman in the male medical ward. And there’s one thing about him that arrests my attention.
He’s always smiling from ear to ear. I don’t know why. He’s just being over-friendly, I guess. He smiles to everyone – his colleagues, the physicians, the nurses, the patients and even to ME. He glows with radiance as he saunters through the crowded ward in his spotless white coat and a stethoscope around his neck. He exudes a positive vibe that attracts people around him.
I find myself sneaking surreptitious glances at him. He looks rich. Must have graduated from IMU or PMC (Penang Medical College). He’s always kept busy by doing admission clerking, blood-taking, taking orders from MOs and toeing the line. I can sense he’s a bit lost at times. And I particularly like the helpless look on his face which is similar to that of a little boy who gets lost in a huge mall. It makes me feel like protecting him, analogous to what a hen would do when a ferocious eagle dives from the sky to prey on her chicks.
---
It’s now the second week of medicine posting. I was unfortunately selected as the group leader. Very burdensome indeed. Classes never seem to go according to the timetable. The physicians are super-busy. A lot of precious time and money are wasted on calling and waiting in the clinic to negotiate with the consultants and re-schedule whatever that needs to be re-scheduled. Consequently, my phone is always low on credit.
By the way, some of the clinicians here are really awesome. They inspire us with their professionalism. They hold us spellbound with their superb examinations skills that take decades to be polished to perfection. During each ward round, there’ll be junior doctors, nurses and last but not least, nosy and thoroughly impressed medical students tagging along. Like a convoy. Looks very grand.
Many a time, I wonder when I can be that impressive.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
An encounter with a tofu-eater
N.B. : Eating someone's tofu is an idiomatic expression derived from Cantonese which can be broadly defined as any act of molestation.
Isn’t it romantic and sweet when a guy tries to win a girl’s heart or the other way round as depicted by the movies? I want to experience that too. I want to indulge in all the joy and excitement. I’ve always had this antiquated thought that the aforementioned courting process has to take place before a relationship can officially start.
Hence, it’s very disappointing whenever a guy says he loves me and wants to get intimate with me when in fact we barely even know each other. It’s absurd and risible, isn’t it?
Well, something undesirable happened to me yesterday.
JW made numerous attempts to hold my hand in the cinema. But of course, he was never successful, thanks to my vigilance. Then, he gallantly placed his hand on my thigh and slowly moved towards my groin in a highly provocative manner. He persisted in doing so despite my apparent annoyance and discomfort. I don’t know what got into his mind. The same thing recurred while I was driving him back. I wasn’t sexually aroused. Maybe he isn’t my type.
He’s a friend’s friend. I decided to hang out with him today as I hadn’t met him for ages. Our relationship is completely platonic. And I really couldn’t believe that he ate my tofu just like that. It’s very despicable and detestable of him. I never knew he’s that sort of person.
I found that totally unacceptable. Perhaps, it’s due to my parental upbringing. I was brought up in a rather religious family setting with the fetters of conservative Asian values. I can be very flirtatious and dirty verbally. However, I don’t get engaged in unnecessary physical contacts with people.
Promiscuity and lax sexual behaviour are among the many social stigmata attached to the gay species. I don’t understand why gays tend to speed things up. I’ve now gradually awakened to the realization that the kind of love I’m looking for doesn’t really exist anymore.
Perhaps, I’m too naïve and old-fashioned.
Nevertheless, I wonder if I’d give in if it wasn’t JW who ate my tofu, but my idol, **e*, or some hot macho hunk. *giggles*
Anyway, I don't feel like meeting JW again. Ever.
Isn’t it romantic and sweet when a guy tries to win a girl’s heart or the other way round as depicted by the movies? I want to experience that too. I want to indulge in all the joy and excitement. I’ve always had this antiquated thought that the aforementioned courting process has to take place before a relationship can officially start.
Hence, it’s very disappointing whenever a guy says he loves me and wants to get intimate with me when in fact we barely even know each other. It’s absurd and risible, isn’t it?
Well, something undesirable happened to me yesterday.
JW made numerous attempts to hold my hand in the cinema. But of course, he was never successful, thanks to my vigilance. Then, he gallantly placed his hand on my thigh and slowly moved towards my groin in a highly provocative manner. He persisted in doing so despite my apparent annoyance and discomfort. I don’t know what got into his mind. The same thing recurred while I was driving him back. I wasn’t sexually aroused. Maybe he isn’t my type.
He’s a friend’s friend. I decided to hang out with him today as I hadn’t met him for ages. Our relationship is completely platonic. And I really couldn’t believe that he ate my tofu just like that. It’s very despicable and detestable of him. I never knew he’s that sort of person.
I found that totally unacceptable. Perhaps, it’s due to my parental upbringing. I was brought up in a rather religious family setting with the fetters of conservative Asian values. I can be very flirtatious and dirty verbally. However, I don’t get engaged in unnecessary physical contacts with people.
Promiscuity and lax sexual behaviour are among the many social stigmata attached to the gay species. I don’t understand why gays tend to speed things up. I’ve now gradually awakened to the realization that the kind of love I’m looking for doesn’t really exist anymore.
Perhaps, I’m too naïve and old-fashioned.
Nevertheless, I wonder if I’d give in if it wasn’t JW who ate my tofu, but my idol, **e*, or some hot macho hunk. *giggles*
Anyway, I don't feel like meeting JW again. Ever.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Clinique
After all the exhausting and tedious mugging as well as 纸上谈兵in the pre-clinical years, it’s really an exhilarating experience to see in patients what the monotonous textbooks taught me.
I still remember how saturated my heart was with joy and a deep sense of achievement the first time I saw a clubbed finger and pitting edema, palpated an irregularly irregular radial pulse and an enlarged liver, elicited a fluid thrill and auscultated a cardiac murmur. It’s a pleasure to be able to feel the lumps and bumps which I could only visualize or imagine. And to realize what has been learnt is finally being put to use.
Sometimes, you know the theory well enough to impress the physician. But when it comes to doing it, things are messed up. The wheezes, crackles, crepitations and murmurs all sound nothing more than a cacophony of noises to me, when I’m actually putting the diaphragm or bell of my stethoscope on the patient’s chest.
---
I bought the first bottle of cologne in my life before departing the Penang airport. Clinique Happy for Men. It emits a fruity fragrance and is one of the very few perfumes that doesn’t give me a lingering and throbbing headache. I didn’t notice eau de toilette could be so symbolic of homosexuality prior to discovering that all my gay friends actually own at least a bottle of cologne each. Therefore, I purchased one. It did make me feel gay-er a bit.
Olfaction, or smell, as far as I’m concerned, is a magical and interesting thing. It can enhance your liking for someone you adore or accentuate your contempt for someone you dislike. It can make you horny or turn you off. It affects your impression of a person.
Well, it burnt a hole in my wallet. It’d better be a love potion or something equivalent to it. Hopefully, it’ll be a bonus that compensates for the rather unappealing criteria of mine that my potential predator or boyfriend will take into consideration. (Opps….sounds a bit bottom.)
By the way, where am I supposed to apply the cologne? On the chest (William’s suggestion)? Where else? (Honestly, I’m a first-timer.)
I still remember how saturated my heart was with joy and a deep sense of achievement the first time I saw a clubbed finger and pitting edema, palpated an irregularly irregular radial pulse and an enlarged liver, elicited a fluid thrill and auscultated a cardiac murmur. It’s a pleasure to be able to feel the lumps and bumps which I could only visualize or imagine. And to realize what has been learnt is finally being put to use.
Sometimes, you know the theory well enough to impress the physician. But when it comes to doing it, things are messed up. The wheezes, crackles, crepitations and murmurs all sound nothing more than a cacophony of noises to me, when I’m actually putting the diaphragm or bell of my stethoscope on the patient’s chest.
---
I bought the first bottle of cologne in my life before departing the Penang airport. Clinique Happy for Men. It emits a fruity fragrance and is one of the very few perfumes that doesn’t give me a lingering and throbbing headache. I didn’t notice eau de toilette could be so symbolic of homosexuality prior to discovering that all my gay friends actually own at least a bottle of cologne each. Therefore, I purchased one. It did make me feel gay-er a bit.
Olfaction, or smell, as far as I’m concerned, is a magical and interesting thing. It can enhance your liking for someone you adore or accentuate your contempt for someone you dislike. It can make you horny or turn you off. It affects your impression of a person.
Well, it burnt a hole in my wallet. It’d better be a love potion or something equivalent to it. Hopefully, it’ll be a bonus that compensates for the rather unappealing criteria of mine that my potential predator or boyfriend will take into consideration. (Opps….sounds a bit bottom.)
By the way, where am I supposed to apply the cologne? On the chest (William’s suggestion)? Where else? (Honestly, I’m a first-timer.)
Monday, September 8, 2008
A week in hometown
I’ll be walking into the realms of clinical medicine today. It’s the first day of my 8-week medicine posting. As far as I know, medicine is a vast field which encompasses everything under the sun that’s usually non-surgical. But still there’s a lot, seriously. It’s going to be really challenging and taxing, I guess.
I spent an entire week in Penang and my hometown. I had planned to do a lot of things, but ended up flirting online and downloading porn movies most of the time. Apart from that, equipped with a little bit of very superficial knowledge regarding obstetrics and gynaecology, I could relate more to my mom who’s on the verge of menopause as well as my expectant sister who’s at the 32nd week of gestation. I managed to impress them with my ability to locate the fetal head, buttocks and back after a simple obstetrical examination.
I met an old friend, BA. She lost about 10 kg since I last saw her. A lot prettier now. We’d been classmates for 10 consecutive years. We used to be outrageously overweight, if not obese. Living in a society that fetishizes slimness and external beauty, it distorted our self-images and punctured our self-esteem. And that’s probably why I never dated a guy. Then, we came to a point we got so fed up of being teased and the object of ridicule that we decided to lose weight. We fortified each other's determination by providing the emotional and moral support one would need in the arduous process of shedding weight. And I’m not talking about 1 or 2 pounds here. I managed to lose 17 kg last year. A metamorphosis. I’m really pleased BA is making it too.
I always wanted to be slim and petite, with a lean body and an abdominal circumference not exceeding 28 inches. Despite the fact that I've yet to reach my ideal weight and I still don’t look as dazzling as I thought I would after all, I no longer have the inferiority complex about my appearance. It’s indeed a splendid feeling when friends or relatives stare at you in enormous disbelief and astonishment, scanning you from head to toes with their jaws dropped and mouths agape.
I spent an entire week in Penang and my hometown. I had planned to do a lot of things, but ended up flirting online and downloading porn movies most of the time. Apart from that, equipped with a little bit of very superficial knowledge regarding obstetrics and gynaecology, I could relate more to my mom who’s on the verge of menopause as well as my expectant sister who’s at the 32nd week of gestation. I managed to impress them with my ability to locate the fetal head, buttocks and back after a simple obstetrical examination.
I met an old friend, BA. She lost about 10 kg since I last saw her. A lot prettier now. We’d been classmates for 10 consecutive years. We used to be outrageously overweight, if not obese. Living in a society that fetishizes slimness and external beauty, it distorted our self-images and punctured our self-esteem. And that’s probably why I never dated a guy. Then, we came to a point we got so fed up of being teased and the object of ridicule that we decided to lose weight. We fortified each other's determination by providing the emotional and moral support one would need in the arduous process of shedding weight. And I’m not talking about 1 or 2 pounds here. I managed to lose 17 kg last year. A metamorphosis. I’m really pleased BA is making it too.
I always wanted to be slim and petite, with a lean body and an abdominal circumference not exceeding 28 inches. Despite the fact that I've yet to reach my ideal weight and I still don’t look as dazzling as I thought I would after all, I no longer have the inferiority complex about my appearance. It’s indeed a splendid feeling when friends or relatives stare at you in enormous disbelief and astonishment, scanning you from head to toes with their jaws dropped and mouths agape.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Farewell to pussies
I flew back to my hometown in northern Peninsular Malaysia last Saturday after my last paper.
Nothing much has changed. The food. The people. The weather. Everyone is speaking Hokkien. I feel very much at home.
My first posting in year 3 is officially complete. Prior to the posting, the only thing I could think of was pussy, pussy and pussy. Yet, after 8 weeks of ordeal including the exam part which really had its toll on me, I felt it wasn’t that bad at all. It’s definitely something more than pussies, babies and pelvic masses.
I witnessed many things beyond the scope of the examination. The stubbornness of a mother who firmly believed her baby was still kicking after it had been confirmed dead in utero by a detailed ultrasound scan. The apprehension of a daughter who sat beside her mother with malignant ovarian tumour and basal cell carcinoma. The cheerful smile on the face of a girl with Down’s syndrome. The serenity that I felt when I saw a pair of fraternal twins sleeping calmly and peacefully in the warmer. And many other things which testified to the frailty and strength of mankind.
I’ll miss O&G, I guess.
---
Anyway, I dated someone. But it seems it’s not going to work. Before he alighted my car, he gave me a seductive look, signaling that he wanted a kiss. I was sort of pissed off. It’s the first time we met. A big minus. I declined. And still he gave me a peck on my neck despite my reluctance.
Things happen too fast. This is what I dislike about a gay relationship. A straight guy doesn’t kiss a girl on the first date, does he?
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