The Force Is Still Not With Me

I completed my 8km today in an abysmal timing, about 2 minutes off my personal best.

Which got me thinking during my slow cool-down walk back home what I have become ever since I started this new phase of my life. It's been 3 months (thereabouts) since I left NS to start my MOPEX, and it's been a mixed bag of ups and downs. Firstly was the topsy-turvy schedule that make training routines difficult to plan. In addition I no longer have protected weekends and public holidays to dedicate to training, so I had to scrimp time before (or after) work to do some form of workout. Add to the fact an ED posting isn't exactly a walk in the park, I often head home exhausted (and frequently dozing away on the MRT) and trying to repay my sleep debt.

The next big thing which happened was MCEM A, an exam that literally sucked my life away. You train to feel guilty that you are not studying, and you study to feel bad that you are not training. I never knew dilemmas could be so painful. Either way, I knew $1.1k was too much money to wash down the drain, so I studied so I could pass, and left workout to a later time. I passed MCEM A, but I lost 3kg.

I felt the brunt of this 3kg loss ever since I attempted to get back to my training routine. I don't carry the same weights I used to carry, I don't erg the same timing I used to erg, and I don't run the same speed I used to run. I was, all in all, lousier.

And feeling lousy can affect you in more ways than one. I realised recently that I was grumpier at work, and would be more critical if things didn't go my way. I would get discretely angry at patients who insists on AOR, or outwardly enraged at NSFs who tell me they have PR bleed (on top of their 1/52 old URTI + GE + knee pain + shoulder stiffness) but refuse a PR.

I urgently need an inspiration. Invicitus almost did the trick. But the actors did the Haka so meekly I almost laughed. I need something to pull me out of my couch so I would hit the gym rather than watch History Channel. Something that will scream at me to push myself harder rather than give in to the lazy-bugger excuse that "I am too tired after work".

If only Yoda was around.

Yet at the same time, I count my blessings. I thank my seniors for their guidance, and always looking out for procedures to take me through, and interesting cases for me to see. I truly appreciate it. Sadly I think I lack the mental tenacity to perform well at so many commitments on my plate. I sometimes wish I could be like John who just ride so carefreely after work with his prized bikes, and thoroughly enjoying himself in the process. But I can't. Dragon boat is a team sport and the team is, as cliched as this sounds, as strong as her weakest member. I have to keep up with standards, and I cannot let my team down.

So I sit down in front of my laptop after my run, to pen all these thoughts that ran (no pun intended) through my head just a few minutes ago, in hopes that I can find my inspiration soon.

Perhaps I need to read The Monk who Sold His Ferrari again. For the third time.

Is This It?

My first post in 2010 will be succinct.

Firstly, there was a 3-month posting drought because I was busy imbibing medical texts for my MCEM. It was neither a sweet dream nor a beautiful nightmare. It was sheer torture. Fortunately, I passed.

Secondly, I think I am burning out, smouldering away in a slow, painful manner. Perhaps I am not disciplined enough to handle so many commitments at one go. Hopefully I can strike a balance soon, whilst remaining on target to achieve the objectives I have set for the new year. The sad thing is, however, my vision seemed somewhat antithetical to what my department has in mind for me, yet I do not have MJ's courage to simply stand up and proclaim “This is it”.

Core value of the month: Fighting Spirit.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

Finding The Cure

Yes, my traineeship has officially started, and I have roamed the grounds with a stethoscope for 3 days now. Fortunately the seniors were helpful and understanding, as they guide and orientate me back to clinical work. 2 years really do make a significant difference, so I urge those who are still in NS to keep up with their medical skills and knowledge.

I made a couple of mistakes on my first day of work, and that totally ruined my mood as I headed home (which also explains my Facebook status). Nonetheless I have picked myself up, and I am moving along, trying to learn as much as I can from the seniors. A special moment came on day 2 of work, when I helped to stitch up the lacerated lip of an elderly lady. She didn't speak much during the consult. Despite the multiple wounds she sustained during the fall, she was quietly resilient. All she did was flinch a little as I inspected the wounds. In the OT, I did what I was trained to do, and completed the T&S. She was very cooperative, and hardly moved as I put in the 10 stitches. After I removed the sterile drapes around her, and told her the stitching was done in Hokkien, she broke her silence, and said a simple “Thank you”, in Cantonese. I didn't know how to reply in her dialect, and I all could do was pat her hands, and said “It's ok” in Hokkien. She probably didn't see my smile, concealed by the surgical mask, but at the point in time, I was reminded of something I told the panel during my admissions interview: "Being a doctor, is about helping people."

I am not about to sermonise about ethics and the idealism of being a healthcare professional here. All I want to say is, many times, we lose track of what our profession is ultimately about. It is a tough job, and contrary to popular belief, doesn't pay as well as you may think. Most, if not all, of us can share stories of horrible calls where cases never stop coming in, cannulas never stop dropping out, and nurses don't seem to be as helpful as they should be. Understandably we begin griping about the system, and some of us eventually question why we signed up for this in the first place, then move on to supposed "greener" pastures. I have done my fair share of griping and complaints. I have had my fair share of doubts as I wonder if this was the wrong job for me. Yet, once in a while, moments like a simple word of thanks wake you up amidst the distraction of self-doubt. It reminds you that, you are there simply to help; either to cure, or just to alleviate pain. No, I am not expecting “Thank you” cards from every patient I see. Whether the patient lets you know or not, as long as you know you have helped him in one way or another, because of what you are trained for, you will be happy.

I realise what I have written may seem highfalutin, but this is as best as I can express what I felt that day, which I thought would be useful to share with my friends. I am not a noble man. I know that when the crunch comes, I will still complain about unreasonable people (either patients or colleagues), then wonder, amongst other things, why can't I just be a simple Starbucks barista and have time for my dragon boat. Nonetheless, I hope I will be able to revisit this post whenever I feel bogged down by work, and make myself happier after that.

And I hope it'll work for you too. Either that, find your own happy moment, and record it down.

All the best, everyone.

And The Plot Thickens...

Ris Low continues to hog the headlines, and as I read more about her, I become increasingly disappointed, and somewhat betrayed, to learn that my empathy has been misplaced all along. Perhaps she wanted the crown - and the recognition - so badly that she remains deluded and incapable of grasping the gravity of the situation. Not only is she guilty of credit card fraud (and imperfect English), she now faces charges from the Miss World Singapore organisers because she has conveniently omitted the fact that she was previously convicted, and this would have disqualified her right from the word Go!, though in a strange twist of fate, she actually went on to clinch the title, complete with the ignominy of leopard preens and matching jeens.

Considering all the above, I now join the growing group of dissidents who feel she should give up her crown. It is quite unfortunate that she has to bear such public scrutiny at this young age, but then again, to take part in such pageants only mean that she craves such attention, though things did not quite turn out the way she probably would have envisaged. Let's just hope she picks up the pieces from here and go on to lead a meaningful, and honest, life.

The other story that dominated headlines, besides Hamilton's flawless victory on the Singapore F1 tracks, was how Taufik messed up our national anthem. I didn't exactly catch this part of the broadcast, so I am not certain how obvious the error was. Honestly though, how many of us non-Malay speaking people truly understood what our anthem meant? I believe Taufik made an honest mistake, and he has apologised sincerely for it; something which Ris Low should learn, instead of questioning why news of her fraud came out in the first place.

Exciting weekend otherwise, watching F1 and Beyonce in the comfort of my home. Though, for the same reasons, I have not learnt anything more for my exams except that Wellen syndrome is highly specific for critical stenosis of the proximal LAD. Huh?

Yes. I am actually stressed over my exams now...

Fallen From Grace

And here we go again. Miss Ris Low, who was in the center of controversy for her less-than-perfect enunciation, returns to the limelight (in yet another ignominous manner) when reports revealed that she was convicted of credit card fraud in May 09 and was sentenced to 24 months of supervised probation. In the middle of all this, she was crowned Miss World Singapore, and is scheduled to visit South Africa for the international pageant. You would have wondered why she was allowed to participate (let alone win) the competition in the first place, and as it turns out, the organisers knew nothing of it until she was due to sign the contract.

Whilst it is heartening to hear that she is repentant and would "definitely would not want to make the same mistake" if she could "turn back time", the dilemma now, is whether she should give up her crown (either voluntarily or by order of the organisers).

Winners of beauty pageants are embodiments of virtues; they are figures whom girls will admire and look up to. Arguably, we do not expect perfect "Stepford ladies" to take the victory walk all the time. A little trip down the runway, a tear-jerking story of how imperfect her life was and how she overcame adversities, make for a human being that we all can relate to on a personal level, and it is exactly these shortcomings that will make a beauty queen (or any public figure) endearing.

For Miss Low, the story is not so straightforward. She first came under public scrutiny (and was accused of setting a bad example on spoken English) for her fashion statements on "leopard prings with khaki gins". Then she demonstrated criminal tendencies with her fraud charges. I applaud her for remaining steadfast amidst all these setbacks and embarassment. She had made mistakes in the past, she was suitably punished, and now she is simply pursuing a dream. Yet, she must not forget that she is now a Miss World Singapore. I do not think organisers of the international pageant will take it kindly to know that one of the participants is a convict, because it is, after all, a pageant, a celebration of the strength and beauty of the female spirit.

I am not saying that offenders will never have a chance to raise their heads again. However, for Miss Low, she has a tough case at hand, because of the title she now holds. It is entirely understandable why netizens are hurling abuses at her, because she is now a public figure who is about to represent the nation, so she has social responsibilities to fulfil. She needs to protray herself as someone who has fallen because of an wilful act, but is now picking herself up to walk towards her goals, head held high.

As you would have now surmised, I adopt a rather soft stance towards Miss Low. I give her the benefit of the doubt; that she is probably a nice girl by nature. And she has to work a lot harder to meet the responsibilities that she now shoulders: she will be an ambassador for Singapore, so she must speak better English (no more "boomz" or "studying steel", and if I want to split hairs, you don't quite "major" in a diploma), and she has to show that she has indeed mended her ways since her criminal past. Let's not condemn her just because she made a mistake. Instead, let's now put her to the task, and challenge her to rise above our expectations.

I await with bated breath, what her next move in the public eye will be.

*Afternote (added 26 Sep 09): Of course, rules are rules. The fact that Miss Low lied to the organisers that she has never been convicted before, is a punishable act. If she gets stripped of her title, it will only be fair. If the organisers are lenient, and let her keep the title, it would be unfair to the runner-up. I last heard that they are "going legal", so I guess Miss Low will be embroiled in more lawsuits soon.

Food, Sports and Booze...

In case you guys were wondering, this blog is not dead. The long weekend was an exhilarating but tiring one. Went clubbing on Sunday, took the whole of Monday to get over my, erm, hangover, and went out to gym today. Simple things for a simple man. Ok perhaps clubbing isn't so simple, considering I remembered imbibing red wine and champagne like what you do to Gatarode after a race, and then getting really tipsy, followed by a random round of people hugging. But I must say the music, the crowd, and my friends were absolutely fantastic, making it a thoroughly enjoyable experience, albeit in an inebriated way. Nope. The insectosaurus is hardly a party animal, but when the atmosphere is right, you gotta let your hair down.

There were quite a few pieces of sensational news over the weekend which I had wanted to write about, but in between being sword bearer for my friend, dragon boat training and clubbing, I lost the time and energy for it.

First, there was Malaysia's desperate attempts to stake claim at chicken rice and chilli crab - amongst other things - which spurned a whole series of articles about how the nationalities of food can never be accurately determined. This reminded me of a scene from the play MenApause, which claims, on the contrary, that all foods come from India, like how a pizza is actually a hard-crusted masala thosai. Malaysia is so rich in her heritage, cultural diversity and natural landscapes (even Survivor did their pilot series there), she has much to sell rather to harp that "the nasi lemak belongs to me" in their publicity pamphlets.

Next we have the confirmation that Renault has indeed crashed into the wall deliberately to give Alonso an unfair advantage (and eventually the win) for the 2008 F1 leg in Singapore. It goes to show how far people will go, even at the risk of their lives, to get an edge. John Keating from Dead Poets Society said, "Sports is a chance for others to push us to excel." We have seen how Usain Bolt burnt the tracks with his record breaking sprint, and the list of accomplished sportsmen and sportswomen goes on, with familar names like Michael Phelps, Carl Lewis, Lance Armstrong, Roger Federer, and perhaps less familiar ones like Sergey Bubka (as our Coach always love to quote). These figures have inspired generations of athletes to challenge their limits on the playing field, and showed the world, in the words of Michael Jordan, that "limits, like fears, are just illusions".

Yet at the same time we have doping incidents, dramatic "divers" on the pitch, and the lesser known Bloodgate, where rugby player Tom Williams used a red dye capsule to feign a blood injury (not unlike Lady Gaga during her Paparazzi number in VMA 09) and in turn allow the team to receive an unjust player substitution. Bloodgate is further complicated by the fact that Tom Williams was actually pressurised by the team's top brass to use the capsule, and he was asked to undergo a real cut on the lip by a scapel-wielding doctor to make the whole incident authentic.

All involved have been persecuted, including the doctor who agreed to corroborate with the team. Yet, what cannot be undone, is how all these incidents have tainted the reputation of sports, which originally was an event designed to celebrate the feats of the strongest and the fastest. The Olympic Games used to be attended by athletes in the buff, who challenged one another with nothing but their raw strength, grit and determination. Nowadays, performance enhancing suits in the pool separate record holders from mere participants, and as records continue to crash, you wonder if it is meaningful anymore because the athlete with the right sponsors, and not the athlete who trained the hardest, will go home with the gold, the fame, and the glory, at the end of the day. I am not against technology, but the playing field should be level, especially for major international races. FINA has made the first move by making new swimsuit specifications, and I await the new season to see what all effects this will have.

We all still need our heroes; our Muhammad Ali, our David Beckham, or Tao Li, to inspire ourselves onwards. We don't need orchestrated crashes, various forms of steroids, or even blood capsules, in our games. We want real sweat, and real blood, to make us believe that achieving the unimaginable, like Team Hoyt, is possible.

Feel like clubbing again... dang... alcohol is addictive.

*In case you are wondering, I am not against technology, nor am I hoping that Maria Sharapova will start playing tennis in the buff (ok maybe a little for this one). But, it depends on the sport. If it's F1, I am all for higher budgets and faster cars, because the race is about the engines, the carbon fibre, and the driver that learns to wield the vrooming monster. But if it's swimming and you get faster simply by putting on a polyurethane suit, it defeats the entire purpose of racing in the pool.