An evening with Marcus

I went out with a guy today. For the first time. The good thing is, I sorta have a good impression of him. It's kinda sweet encountering guys who can impress you, isn't it? =D

I cooked

I participated in the cooking for the guys today. For the first time in my life, I cooked. And what I cooked was edible, surprisingly. But of course, this was preceded by 4 weeks of observing how others cooked.

Today is a day I want to remember. Which is why I blogged. Ahh. What a lame entry.

By the way, the student nurses left today. They've completed their training here.

My straight group mates have flirted excessively with the cute female student nurses for the past few weeks. Samson even succeeded in pursuing one of them.

I hope no one thinks I'm odd. Or heterophobic. I don't remember introducing myself to any of the chicks, except Richel, the twinky male nursing student whom I'd been stalking.

Yet, he's gone. Before I had the courage to ask him for his number. Aiks.

Poker face

I realize I've become very pretentious of late.

Don't get me wrong. I don't tell lies. In fact, I think I'm a lousy liar.

I have the tendency to repress my my real feelings and emotions in front of people whom I've known only superficially.

I can look very calm when I'm blazing with wrath deep inside.

When faced with an unjust treatment, I don't always get pissed off and voice out my discontent, unless the situation really calls for retaliation.

Sometimes, I do things which which I don't really like, if I know not doing it will provoke others.

When you're being randomly put into a group of people with whom you'll be spending the rest of the year doing the same postings together, it's only wise to be on good terms with everyone. And this entails a lot of tolerance and understanding.

Is being pretentious part of growing up? Or is there a nicer word to replace it?

I think it's prerequisite to survival.

Darn. I wish I were a child.

Adorable medical assistant

Despite having been away from civilization for only a month or so, I've begun to feel detached from the world I used to live in.

I feel sorta lonely at times, really. Yet, fortunately, my studies and the amount of case reports I have to submit by the end of the posting do keep me almost constantly busy and from spiraling downwards into melancholy.

For some reason, I'm at loggerheads with my group leader. I've never liked him since 1st year. And the fact he scolded CH and I for something trivial we did which, in his opinion, was wrong, just made matters worse.

It's not easy to make real friends who're genuinely nice to you in med school. Friends who'd cook porridge for you when you're sick. Studying and excelling in examinations are everyone's priorities. They're not to blame because everyone, including me, fears the consequences of failing a paper. There's a lot of competition and kiasu-ism is rampant.

Sometimes, I'm just tired. Sometimes, I wish I could have someone to fall back on. Someone to love. And a pair of strong arms to wrap around me. However, I know I can only dream for now.

By the way, there's a fucking adorable medical assistant in the A&E department that I thought was obviously gay.

Him: Dr. E and F (a couple) are going to HK for vacation. Air tickets are cheap.

Me: Oh ya? So nice.

Him: When's your holiday? I was hoping that I could go with you. You can speak Mandarin and this will definitely make things easier.

Me: ....

Him: Eh, what's your number ah?

Opps. Do I look that gay? =) Ahaks. Nah. Of course not. I think it's just that his gaydar is too sophisticated.

I did give him my number, though we barely even know each other. Not because I'm slutty k? It'd be too impolite of me had I refused, don't you think so?

We'll see. Heh.

I cried

N.B.: Thalassaemia major is a genetic blood disorder that's very common in Sabah. The haemoglobin levels become very low due to increased red blood cell destruction, necessitating repeated blood transfusions for life prolongation. It's incurable and non-communicable. Thalassaemics don't live long. In the end, their hearts invariably fail.

He collapsed.

The doctor and nurses pumped in all sorts of drugs into his veins and did a cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) to save him. His ECG reading was bizarre. Ventricular fibrillation ? An endotracheal intubation was done as he was unable to breathe spontaneously.

It's an emergency.

I could hear the hysterical cries of his mother as SL and I took turns to do the chest compressions.

He suffered from beta-thalassaemia major and had developed severe decompensated heart failure and acute pulmonary oedema. A few thalassaemic patients, whom he'd got acquainted to while being hospitalized, looked from afar, stunned and helpless. I guess the situation must have freaked them out, knowing that that's how their lives were going to end.

The doctor managed to stabilize him. But, I knew deep in my heart that his prognosis was bad. The nurses left him to fill up some forms. I guess there're some routine blood investigations to be done. I volunteered to do the bag ventilation for him as there's no mechanical ventilator in the ward.

Everyone left. I suspected the doctor had relinquished all hope in reviving him. I did the bagging patiently for the next 45 minutes. Who knows there might be a miracle? This sounds ridiculous, but it's an idealism all medical students are supposed to have.

I took a hard look at his almost lifeless body. His nasal bridge was depressed. His cheekbones and forehead were prominent and his liver was huge, all of which were due to extra-medullary haemopoiesis characteristic of the disease. Iron deposition secondary to repeated blood transfusions had put on a slate-grey coat upon his skin. He opened his eyes wide to stare at me thrice. A reflex that ached my heart.

Uncontrollably, tears welled up in my eyes. I didn't see that coming, seriously. I hastily dabbed my tears and pretended to wipe away the perspiration on my forehead when a staff nurse suddenly barged in.

He died in the A&E department half an hour later.

Miracles rarely happen.

Twinky male nurse

I did a suture on a patient this morning. He had a cut on his right ankle. I never enjoy doing it on a conscious patient, or worse still, a child. I'm still not very adept at suturing and my lack of confidence is apparent whenever I seek the nurses' help.

The patient was watching me closely I made every stitch with worries and extreme care. I was under a lot of tension and afraid that something would go wrong and he'd shout at me. Yet, with the assistance of a cute male student nurse who patiently guided me almost throughout the procedure, I guess I did quite a good job. At least, the patient didn't display any sign of impatience or dissatisfaction.

By the way, the male student nurse is such a twink. Ritchel caught my attention the first day I started my posting here. Fair complexion. Short. Slim. Looks like a Chinese. And clad in white from head to toes and always puts on a angelic smile. Yummy!

How high is the possibility of a male nurse being gay? JY told me it's 99 %. I so am going to seize every chance to establish an eye contact with him tomorrow, just for the sake of confirming he's gay. Hopefully, it'll last more than 5 seconds. Hehe.

I don't think it makes me a slut doing this, right? So, wish me luck.

Broken into

I seldom blog these days. Bet you've noticed. Most of the time, I'm just too lazy. And when I do post an entry, it's usually because I'm not really happy and blogosphere is where I can take my frustration out.

I've been PMS-ing for the past few days.

My room was broken into during my year break. My kettle, pencil case containing lots of stationery, pen torch, measuring tape, washing detergent, body shampoo and multi-socket electrical extension leads had been stolen. I was even more annoyed when informed that the suspected culprit was actually a senior of mine. A med student. Atrocious! I shudder to think of what sort of doctor he's gonna be. He'd have definitely been expelled had my roommates (who suffered a great loss too) and I had the time to collect the evidence and report to the authorities concerned.

And when I heard that he'd been retained a year as a consequence of flunking several subjects in year 4, I was exuberant. So, we're basically in the same year now. Shame on him! I so wish that he'll be retained another year and be my junior.

Apart from that, no one's calling me Puppy anymore. I feel kinda sad and apologetic whenever I think of this. I guess it's my fault. Let's just hope that I learned something and won't repeat my mistakes when a potential boyfriend shows up again in future. There's no use crying over spilled milk.

By the way, I'm currently in 4th year. District Hospital Posting. 7 consecutive weeks in a very ulu and provincial town. Wait, I'm not even sure if it's a town. Arghh! I miss the foam party in Marketplace as well as the semi-nude guys dancing crazily and flaunting their muscles in the pool of bubbles.