What Makes A Champion?

Those who have the chance should try to watch "Nagano '98 Olympics: Bud Greenspan's Stories of Honor and Glory". I caught it recently on ESPN, and it was inspiring to see the kind of spirit and mettle that makes a champion athlete. I am probably over-quoting this already, but John Keating from Dead Poets' Society said "Sports is a chance for others to push us to excel", and this was exemplified by the stories that were shared during the documentary. My favourite has got to be Bjorn Daehlie's triumphant run in the 50km cross-country skiiing event (which came after his medal finishings in the 10km, 15km, and 4x10km relay events within the same week). His sheer mental tenacity, and his humility after all this achievement, are qualities that all of us can learn a thing or two about.

I guess all of us need some form of inspiration to push us forward during difficult times. For those who need the extra spark during ignition, Bud Greenspan should have the answer for you.

Muddy Monster

The Urbanathlon turned out to be more boring that I thought. As Brynner summed it up, it was just a race with "things in your way". And I personally felt the mud pit was unnecessary, especially since the organisers made us queue hours just to get washed up and hosed down after the event. Tsk tsk.

Headed back to training, ran another 4.3km, which made me hobble around for the rest of the day. My mud-soaked shoes served her tour of duty well, and I got myself a new pair of GT 2140 the next day! Too bad it didn't come in the "rad and loud" version I preferred. Regardless, it is time to break into these new shoes in preparation for the Singapore Bi.

Amazingly we were ranked 11th in the team catetory despite my horrible timing; which made us wonder if we should try this again next year, although we felt unanimously we probably wouldn't come back if the organisers remain bent on making us muddy but not giving us facilities to clean up. And there was no finisher tee! Grr...

Fortunately I was on leave on Monday so I had the chance to slack and watch the Grammys, which was as boring as ever. Taylor Swift seems to be getting more awards that she deserves, considering how out-of-tune she was during the live performance. And I can't get enough of Beyonce! Album of the Year should have gone to Sasha Fierce!

Oh dear. Just received an sms that there's going to be another test during this posting. Time to hit the books again! In the meantime, I gotta get myself a new DVD player cos there are 2 seasons of Simpsons still waiting for me in the drawer!

By the way, sports make you crave for the weirdest things. I need my Strawberry sundae fix from Macs, NOW!

Boom Boom Pow

i am not proud of my temper. there are times when i would erupt like a Vesuvius. other times i just rumble in consternation. i just don't like it when things don't go your way due to reasons not within your control. like you losing your entire patient clinical entry just because the computer lost its server connection. or the G3 just refuse to read in a patient who's ABG was as difficult as milking a prune. or the printer jams just when you want to rush and clear the fast track queue. all in all, equipment failure peeves me to no end. it wastes time, effort, and makes me poke the poor man for his second ABG.

which reminds me of Ironic from Alanis. it's like 10,000 spoons, when all you need is a knife. or like 20 boxes of unpowdered gloves, when all you need are powdered ones for a pair a hyperhidrotic hands.

anyway i erupted. i was so pissed the machine said i did not fill the cartridge "to the mark" that i literally poured my second syringe of arterial blood into the channel and made it overflow copiously onto the table. you could imagine me going "wa haha" with a devious grin and two fists in the air as i celebrate my triumph over... erm... a piece of plastic. the ABG was finally read.

cheap thrills aside, i am in dire need of anger management. someone to make me go "om" and delve into the deepest crevices of my inner self, so that i can uproot the origins of my short fuse.

ok i'm too tired to carry on. writing this on shift for the first time. please bear with my grammar.

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.