Told You It's A Dog's Life

These days, I'm walking around my workplace with a perpetual p***ed look on my face.

It's not my good face, nor my real face. It's just a face that has contorted into being as an unfortunate (by)product of my circumstances.

You see, I've had a lousy week. I've had to deal with mounting non-clinical tasks when the ward deserves more of my time. I've had to put up with incompetent house officers and rude patients. But what really takes the cake is my neighbour's inconsideration - I returned home today to see his car partially blocking my gate but leaving his own unobstructed, allowing me little space to drive into my porch.

Of course, I deal with my problems in ways I feel are non-offensive. I turn on the car stereo really loud, I ventilate to my husband and colleagues, I seek comfort food, I walk around with a p***ed look on my face but making it clear that it is NOT you I am p***ed off with, and I go shopping (I bought 3 pairs of shoes this week). You see, everybody has bad days. Deal with them! Don't take them out on another person, especially if she's your daughter's doctor. In my duty as a doctor, I am bound by ethics and code of conduct. But in no instance assume that because as you raise your voice I try harder to be diplomatic you are in a position to bully me. It is my job to try to understand the reasons behind your hostility, and to provide you with the correct information to clear any misconception, but I will not tolerate any rudeness from my patients. I stand unwavered in my principle - that I am a human being first, and a doctor second. (I later learnt that he has 3 daughters who have thalassemia; maybe he has more bad days than anyone else, but there's still no excuse for abusive behaviour.)

I'm glad the weekend is here.

I'll get my real face back, the one I think my patients like. I promise.

A Convenient Political Documentary?

"The scientists are virtually screaming from the rooftops now. The debate is over! There's no longer any debate in the scientific community about this. But the political systems around the world have held this at arm's length because it's an inconvenient truth, because once they accept it the moral imperative to do something is inescapable" - Mr Al Gore, in An Inconvenient Truth.




I have a deep seated mistrust for politicians, and this documentary for all we know may simply be a political platform for Mr Gore to launch his comeback (then I've been had!). Frankly, I never knew about his passionate crusade against global warming and related environmental issues - which apparently was the case, as the film showed - until now. To me at least, his claim to fame was the infamous "potatoe" faux pas and his near-victory 2 presidential elections ago. But go see it anyway; it's well-made, he's witty, the theme song by Melissa Etheridge rocks and the facts are presented in a global-warming-for-dummies style even the most scientifically-challenged can comprehend. After all, at the end of the day, whether this issue is politised or otherwise, it remains a real one.

Well, there's no other place like home.

Pirates!

Over a cholesterol-laden lunch today, we (fellow blogger Jimbo and other colleagues) talked about the piracy of intellectual property. All of us are guilty of this unlawful activity at one time or another. When I worked in Kuching, my "loot" was impressive - French and Spanish films otherwise not showing in a cinema near you, Japanese animation, preciousss box sets of LOTR and Futurama and tonnes and tonnes of audio CDs. Look, I'm not proud of this. When the authorities started to clamp down on piracy, I stopped going to my favourite haunt for weeks. I would picture myself being caught on film fleeing the scene when officers raid the premises, which would then be shown on national TV. My patients would see me and exclaim, "Itu doktor!" Scary thought, powerful enough to suppress my need for more cheap discs.



I sort of stopped buying when I came back to this part of Malaysia. Somehow it just didn't feel right anymore. If you buy pirated VCD/DVDs, you're dealing with criminals and funding their activities - haven't you seen the TV ads? The guys in the ads were so disgustingly sleazy and loathsome, I totally buy it.

I promise, Borat and The Holiday would be my last discs...well, all right, maybe the complete season one of Heroes, Transformers and Shrek 3 too!

House Trouble

We're in trouble with the law.


This concerns a recent house purchase in the town I work in. We thought it a good buy - more built-up space for a fraction of the price you'd have to fork out for a similar property in say, Klang Valley, it's reasonably near my workplace, and it's very near Jaya Jusco (grocery shopping made very easy). The finishing was no where near top quality, but heck, it's cheap. The ceiling and bathrooms leaked, but well, the developer sent some guys over, though not promptly, to fix things. We got a government housing loan, making full use of the low interest rate. We expressed concern that government applications usually take time, that there might be a delay in servicing the loans. We were assured by the developer that they would not charge interest for that kind of delay, since it's "usually the case with government loans; we don't take action one". We were fooled.

First, a letter from the developer demanding a penalty for the late payment by the housing board. Huh? A check with the housing board and land office revealed that the first payment had indeed been on time, the second and subsequent ones delayed because the developer had a revamp in the board of directors and the company had a change in name. Our sales and purchase agreement had clearly stated that in the event of any procedural delay on the part of the developer, the house buyer should not be held liable. Negotiations with the developer did not work out, and lo and behold, we have now been summoned to court!

Legal matters, we're laymen. We saw an attorney who is a friend of a friend; he offered us sound advice and thought we have a case. The second lawyer we saw was the chap who handled our S&P agreement, whom we expect to be of greater assistance but instead had more sympathy for the developer. It turned out that he's the legal representative for the developer! Talk about conflict of interest. As he blah-blah-ed about the inefficiency of government agencies and the plight of the developer - painted as the victim here - I couldn't help with but mentally picture him as a bad, bad wolf...in a sheep's clothing.

As a matter of principle, we would not settle out of court. Why pay for something that's no fault of ours? On the other hand, this could drag on. We could ill-afford time off work to attend court or legal fees that could end up a bigger sum than our penalty.

Moral of the story :

1. Buy property from REPUTABLE developers who'd rather safe-guard their reputation than pursue a measly couple of grands from their buyers. Companies not originally in the property business but later "diversified", give them a wide berth.
   
2. Always get a second opinion. Not everybody is forthcoming with the right information, intentionally or otherwise. You know, doctors can get sued for economy with truth.
3. It's always good to have a lawyer in the family.

What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?

Growing up, I have had a few vocational aspirations. I remember wanting to a corporate high-flyer (in my 4-year-old brain, powersuit = success), then a fashion designer (in my 8-year-old brain, portfolio bags = artist chic), then a writer/author/journalist (in my 13-year-old brain, proficiency in written English = good stories), then a graphic designer (in my 14-year-old brain, good marks in Arts = creativity) and most recently, a doctor (in my 17-year-old brain, hard, punishing life = living life to the fullest). It stopped there because by then I had made decisions that did not allow me any more luxury of flexibility. I had committed.

I am now at a point in my life where I need to make another big professional decision. What shall I be? Should I turn my back now on hospital-based medicine, and opt for a subspecialty that could afford me the luxury of a 9-to-5 5-day week so that I could indulge in other non-medical related interests? Or should I heed the occasional whisper of my inner voice that reminds me that acute medicine is really why I set out to become a doctor in the first place? Seriously, I don't know. Yes, I must envy the girl who supposedly obtained THE MOST As in the recent SPM exams, obviously because she got MORE As than me and made the news, but mostly because at that tender age, she already has a firm idea of what she wants to be. Not just a doctor...but a cardiologist! Wow, so specific. If you recall, my list of ambitions is a mess of non-specifics. Corporate high-flyer - banking? Investment? Retail? Fashion designer - Pour elle? Pour homme? Haute couture? Ready-to-wear? Writer - magazine? Fiction? Journalist - print? Broadcast? Graphic designer - design what, girl? And of course, most recently, doctor -what doctor? Cardiologist? Endocrinologist? Palliative care physician?

Seriously, I don't know. Maybe that's why I did not "score" that many an As - my goals were not specific enough!

Never Too Old

Confession : There's a child lurking inside my 31-year-old body (no, I'm not pregnant). Which explains why most of my favourite movies happen to be animation features, or why I'm totally smitten with this ages-18-months-to-5-years piece of toy.



Remember Furby, one of the earlier interactive toys to hit the market? I own one. Since med school. Mine's a mixture of glorious white and brown fur, with eyelids that bat and ears that wiggle. He sings, coos, plays hide and seek, acts bored and best of all, says "Furby loves you!" It was like a pet I never had. Well, Furby's in storage now but I have room for Elmo! So red. So funny!

I so need an Elmo right now (I'm on call tomorrow).

On-call "Locum" - Any Takers?

Anyone wants to take over my call duty? With 3 of my colleagues recently taken off the medical officer pool to begin specialist duties, there're at least 32 extra calls to be had by the rest of us. Of course, I'm not terribly excited about this. At my age, my body (and soul!) doesn't take to exhaustion so kindly anymore. I suffer from pre-call depression, finding myself unable to have any fun the night before my on-call day lest I be punished for my good times with endless admissions and a night long of cardiac arrests and multiple other emergencies. I suffer from on-call lethargy, finding great difficulty even climbing out of bed to begin what could be the longest day (and night) of my life, as well as on-call anorexia, partly somatic, but mostly understandable given the inferior standards of the on-call meals provided. I also suffer on-call acute irrationalism, but this mainly concerns my superstitious behaviour (and not clinical judgement) - I abstain from wearing any bright, cheery colours; my on-call attire has remained consistent in my years of service. Only the gloomiest and most dull colours for me, thank you. I have even made my on-call house-officers change their shirts - what audacity, turning up in my wards in red and its family of hues! Finally, I suffer from post-call migraine, dehydration and bad-hair/skin. I also don't smile at patients that much and most certainly would not be in the mood to make small talk with them (I usually do).

So, anyone interested to take over some of my calls? It's after all RM 150 per on-call and an extra RM 20 on weekends (sarcasm very much intended).

Bananas Go Hungry!

I'm feeling the full brunt of illiteracy in this little town I work and (temporarily) live in. I can't order food, because I can't read the menu! You might think that these things happen when I walk into posh, snobbish French establishments. But really, sometimes all I want is a bowl of prawn mee or chee cheong fun! Most food courts in Seremban carry signs only in Chinese, so most of the time it's intelligent guesswork and relying on visual cues. We're not stupid - if a stall has chickens on display then it's obvious what it is, but when things aren't so straight forward we boldly ask.

Me : What do you have?

Stall owner : These (pointing at the menu card)

Me : Hmm...(staring hard at the characters, trying to make some meaning out of it...fan (rice)...thung (soup)...)

At this juncture my husband valiantly stepped in with his usual "trick".

Hubby : So what would you recommend?

Stall owner : This is good, this also good (running his finger down the list)

We ended up ordering from a hawker next door who's obviously selling char kuey tiow!

Today we had dinner at a new eatery in town. To our horror the menu was entirely in Chinese (with the exception of the beverage section where Guinness, Anchor and Carlsberg were printed as they were - how do you say them in Chinese anyway?). And there was not a single pictorial clue!

Waiter : So what would you like to have?

Hubby : So what would you recommend?

We went with all of the waiter's suggestions!

I am not proud of myself. I'm sorry I didn't want to attend Mandarin classes in school. I remember my Mandarin teacher had to bribe me and some friends of mine with stamps to get us to attend his classes. We made off with some neat stamps from his collection, but I still can't read well enough to order from a menu in Chinese.

What bananas we are. We are so not proud of ourselves.