Happy 2007!

Resolutions are made to be broken, yet we make them anyway, year after year. I don't remember now what I intended to set right or make better in 2006, but it was a year of milestones for me. Here's what I mean :

• I ditched black tea for coffee, then upped my caffeine quotient from 1 to 2 cups a day
  
• I purchased a new car, then rediscovered my ability to drive one (yes, in that order)
  
• I moved into new house - our first property
• I passed a crucial clinical examination, but not before failing 3 mocks earlier
• I got myself a DSLR - gift from hubby
  

So was it a good year? Not the best year of my life, but good enough. In 2007, I hope for a more laidback lifestyle, more holidays, more photo outings, less caffeine, and perhaps, a baby!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

How Malaysian Are You?

Is there a way to measure how Malaysian one is? It is a matter I never gave much thought to until recently. For me, I am about as Malaysian as any Timah, Danapackiam and Hock Seng. Or heck, as any Gurdev Singh, Timothy anak Boniface or Ignatius Anthony. Yes, I am Chinese, but being Chinese AND Malaysian isn't mutually exclusive. I am Chinese because it is in my genetic makeup. It means that I have a predisposition to certain medical conditions associated with this race. It means that I have less melanin in my skin, that I burn more easily in the sun compared to my other fellow Malaysians. It means that someday I will probably visit the country my ancestors came from, and try to feel a spiritual connection with that place. It means that I will celebrate an age-old tradition associated with ang-pows and firecrackers and all things red and that my mother will chide me if I wash my hair on the first day of that said celebration. It means that I am expected to know how to speak in a tongue that is the tongue spoken by my mother and father and their mothers and fathers. And well, I think it also means that I am more likely to have slanty eyes and stick-straight hair (you pretty Chinese lasses and lads out there may beg to differ). And so, being Chinese, does that make me any less Malaysian? I was born and bred here. I never knew any another country other than this to which I belong to. I learnt to write in Bahasa Melayu and English way before I could write in Chinese. I went to a national school, where I fought with, befriended and played football with Kai Sian, Nurizam, Vengadesh and Yan Ni - and they were just as they were, friends with tan variation because their genetic makeup dictated it (unless you were Michael Jackson). I cheered for our team in the SEA/Asia/Olympic Games, whichever country they were up against. I pay my taxes; I serve my people - my patients have consisted of Malays, Chinese, Indians, Punjabis, Ibans, Bidayuhs, Melanaus and various other "minority" races, and in this context race only mattered in predicting what kind of illnesses they were more likely to get. I speak fluent Malay, English and a handful of Chinese dialects, and a smattering of Indian and Iban which is extremely helpful in my work. No big deal, I agree. Most of you are like me - there isn't really any need to declare how Malaysian you are, because we already are! So don't confuse me by telling me that I am a "minority" race, that I was blessed to be granted the right to live in this land that was not the birthplace of my ancestors. Like I said, I know of no other country to which I belong. Recognize that we all have differences, just as there is heterogeneity within a family or a racially homogenous group, but please, don't make such a big deal out of it. I am as Chinese as I am Malaysian. That's how Malaysian I am.

*some names have not been changed

I PASSED!

Professional milestone : I passed my PACES! Yes, it's no big deal - thousands of people pass each year. What's another physician? Well, I did work hard (no movie for a month!) and therefore I think it's blog-worthy! I realise that this is only an entry rather than an exit exam. I also realise that this is the beginning of more challenges to come; passing is by no means a right to exemption from hard work or continued learning. But allow me to be shallow just this once - passing is great for numerous reasons having nothing to do with career advancement. Passing, for me, means

• I can go to the cinema every week and not feel guilty (I'm a movie buff)
• I can spend the money I have set aside for a second go at the exam should I not make it the first time eg. vacation, DSLR and lenses, more shoes, more bags
• I can pack up Baliga's 200 Short Cases for good
• I can spend my weekends away from home
• I can go to the library after rounds to look up journals of interest rather than hunt for short cases and beg for people to take me for these cases
• I can start my own blog
• I can start a family!

Of course, I will strive to be as good a physician as I can be. To my consultants, specialists, medical officers and colleagues past and present, thank you for your hand in moulding me into the doctor that I am today. Once, I aspired to be you. Today I am a step closer to that goal.

I've Been Hugged!

I am a physical person. Beyond the contact required for a proper and thorough physical examination, I like to put my hand on my patient's shoulder, or hold another's hand - to reassure, to console, to convince. But a hug? A patient of mine took me completely by surprise one day. She was a frail elderly Indian lady who spoke little Malay. As I helped her sit up on her bed, she put her hands behind my head and hoisted herself up, then brought her head to mine, held it there, forehead to forehead for all of 5 seconds while making gleeful sounds! When she finally let go of my head I just stood there and gave my house officer a stunned look. Her daughter then added that it was her way of saying that she liked me! How cute. Once, when I was a house officer, I treated a lady for hypoglycemia. When she regained full consciousness she sat up in bed and hugged me, expressing her gratitude with a dramatic "thank you doctor, you saved my life!". Maybe she was still delirious from the effect of hypoglycemia. In a more sombre situation, a young man, full of grief, just lunged forward and hugged me after I broke the news that his mother would not survive despite all that we had done. Moments like these serve to remind us that above and beyond our ability to wield a scalpel or accurately diagnose and treat an illness, there is something else that is powerfully therapeutic - for patient and doctor alike. Like a hug!

The Most Difficult Thing

What is the most difficult thing you have ever done? In my world, I am not required to be a genius; yet one skill had eluded me for most of my adult life. In that aspect I should be considered a moron, for this was a task a former boss of mine used to describe as something "even attendants and cleaners in the hospital can do" but which I could not (I mean no disrespect - I appreciate what the hospital support staff do). I have been a Mensa member since my teens; I perform medical procedures; I am a Bejeweled hi-scorer but I COULD NOT DRIVE A CAR! I had in my possession a valid driving licence which was practically useless. I did not think I could reverse a car out of the driveway even if there was an emergency. So what went wrong? I passed my driving test (though it took 2 attempts), zipping through PJ at lunch hour in a Proton Iswara. After obtaining my licence my dad would take me driving around the neighbourhood, outings that sent him into panic mode and which forever cemented the belief that I could not drive a car. Truth be told, driving terrified me. I did not feel in control - I could not shift the gear while looking at the road, and if I looked at the stick shift during shift change the car veered off its path. It was just so difficult for me! Somehow, somewhere there must be neurotransmission dysfunction. Psychomotor dissociation. Uncoupling of intention and execution. After that I never wanted to try again. It did not help that I always had someone to drive me around; first my father, then my husband. Dream car? Never had one. Petrol price up again? Not affected directly. Beneath this blissful ignorance was a sense of failure. My wings were clipped; I was pathetically dependant. Today I am driving again; I have been driving for the last 5 months. Let just say circumstances dictated that I drive or crawl to work. So I got myself a new car - my first car! I will always still be a psychomotor retard, but haven't you people heard of the wonderful invention called automatic transmission? I took intensive refresher lessons (my "instructor" was none other than my husband who was as hysterical as my father; fortunately our marriage survived my driving) and on the 1st of June 2006 I made my solo trip to work...intact! Pure relief spilled from every pore in my body and I called my husband at work just to announce that I had made it (something in the spirit of look-ma-I-am-walking)! I know this is trivial to many of you but this is a BIG deal to me. It is no more the act of operating a vehicle than it is one of overcoming your doubts and fear. Today I am driving, secure in the knowledge that in an emergency I am able to send someone to the hospital. Today I am driving; who knows what I can do tomorrow? This is how powerful it is, this lesson that things are difficult only if you believe them to be. My sister also took up driving again this year, many years after obtaining her licence. She put it succinctly - emancipating. 2006 is a good year indeed for the women in my family.

The Best Place To Call Home

According to the Malaysian Urban Indicators Network, which measures the sustainability of development in towns and cities, North and South Kuching emerged as the second and third best city to live in respectively (NST, November 5, 2006). Hooray! My excitement isn't without reason, although I am not from Sarawak. I have lived 4 significant years of my life in Kuching. I loved the city and its people, and the lack of traffic congestion and garbage littering the roads. I appreciated its simplicity and unhurried pace, and the fact that I felt safe on the street. All right, I must admit that I did find the cat statues in town somewhat kitschy. Check out this picture.


My husband and I had to move back to the Klang Valley about a year ago for his postgraduate training. Someday I will return...or maybe relocate to Malacca, which by the way, came out tops in the evaluation. Chicken rice balls washed down with cendol ais? I can live with that!