Yep, that's right. I turned 21 today.
Sigh.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Photos
http://www.flickr.com/photos/20012710@N05/ is the website where I've uploaded some photos of Kingaroy and surrounding areas. May upload more later, so keep eye out.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Facing a patient with terminal illness
The emotion felt by a terminally ill patient, the grief and despair, is a totally unique emotion. It is so raw, so vulnerable, so personal.
As a medical student, facing such emotions, I felt almost like an intruder. The patient is expressing his depair to his doctor, and I'm standing, stony-faced, behind the doctor, holding my breath. Of course, I'm here at the hospital to observe and learn. But in such an instance, I felt intrusive. It is as if I'm a journalist, a TV camera, zooming in and examining with excruciating clarity each sob, each tear, each word. My presence as an empirical, scientific observer, somehow offends the personal, emotional and delicate scene before me. I felt as if I was a ton of bricks, dumped upon a field of delicate daisies.
As intrusive as I felt, I could not physically move myself. I remained, statue-like, obtrusive and self-conscious. I had no encouraging words to offer. Cursed with a totally honest nature, I could not conjure up soothing words or comforting sounds to fit with a situation where I myself was not comfortable. I listened to the doctor make her encouraging remarks, my fellow med students coo softly and offer tissues, but I could do little else but stand there like an idiot. Hit with the scene before me, I could not remain emotionally untouched - I was grieved for the patient, for his pain, his despair, but also my own inadequecy in finding the right words. My fellow students and the doctors seemed to be able to remain untouched; they could offer their words or actions of comfort, and move on. I, on the other hand, was immobalised during the whole ordeal, and can not get the image of the weeping old man out of my head.
I think, it is fair to say, that this experience has upset me. Just a little.
As a medical student, facing such emotions, I felt almost like an intruder. The patient is expressing his depair to his doctor, and I'm standing, stony-faced, behind the doctor, holding my breath. Of course, I'm here at the hospital to observe and learn. But in such an instance, I felt intrusive. It is as if I'm a journalist, a TV camera, zooming in and examining with excruciating clarity each sob, each tear, each word. My presence as an empirical, scientific observer, somehow offends the personal, emotional and delicate scene before me. I felt as if I was a ton of bricks, dumped upon a field of delicate daisies.
As intrusive as I felt, I could not physically move myself. I remained, statue-like, obtrusive and self-conscious. I had no encouraging words to offer. Cursed with a totally honest nature, I could not conjure up soothing words or comforting sounds to fit with a situation where I myself was not comfortable. I listened to the doctor make her encouraging remarks, my fellow med students coo softly and offer tissues, but I could do little else but stand there like an idiot. Hit with the scene before me, I could not remain emotionally untouched - I was grieved for the patient, for his pain, his despair, but also my own inadequecy in finding the right words. My fellow students and the doctors seemed to be able to remain untouched; they could offer their words or actions of comfort, and move on. I, on the other hand, was immobalised during the whole ordeal, and can not get the image of the weeping old man out of my head.
I think, it is fair to say, that this experience has upset me. Just a little.
Monday, November 05, 2007
At Kingaroy: Day 1
Today was my much anticipated (and somewhat dreaded) first day at Kingaroy Hospital.
I arrived at Kingaroy at 4pm yesterday, having already had a highly eventful morning (the details of the morning really deserve a separate blog entry by itself). My head was already throbbing when I started the car at 1pm at home, so I can't say I enjoyed the drive much. It was peppered by either following behind trucks or caravans that went 20kph below the speed limit, or tail-gating 4WD's that felt the need to intimidate a little asian with a little car. Sometimes both. But one thing I did notice, despite my sub-optimal state, and that was the simple beauty of the Queensland countryside. From my car window I saw a scene that looked like a child's drawing - small, mound-like green hills, rolling plains, tiny ponds (always with a small tree next to them)... and even, at one stage, a field checkered by different crops. It was an unassuming, subtle beauty, compared to the night lights of the cities or the sunny sands of Gold Coast. It is easily missed. But beauty can always be found, if you look for it. And when it comes to the Queensland countryside, you only need to look out your car window. (Sounds like an advertisement!)
The accomodation is everything I'd expected. Very small, very simple, very basic. Actually, Kingaroy is turning out to be not half the character-building exercise I'd anticipated. I thought that I would be in a room, with nothing but my books, my bible, and my laptop. Disconnected from all distractions, I would either read, or study God's word, or study med. Much to my surprise, there is free internet. So it's me, my books, my bible, my laptop - and the rest of the world at the click of a mouse (well touch-pad actually). I'd anticipated that I'd have to cook every meal for myself, as well as clean up after myself etc. Much to my surprise, meals are provided. I'm told that the provided meals are very small, simple, and basic (like the accomodation), but none the less, I think my mum would be disappointed to find that I probably havn't learnt much life skills at the end of this period.
The hospital itself - the staff are all very friendly, and keen to help. I'm actually very tired from having been standing all day. As a radiographer I used to be accustomed to it, but a year of sedentary studying has done away with that.
I gave my first injection today. It was only intra-muscular. But still, I've never stuck needles in people before.
The nurse said: "Have you ever given intra-muscular injections before?"
Me: "No..."
Nurse: "Alright then. You hold the needle like so. Then you clean the area. Then you jab it into the thigh like it's a dart."
Me (afraid to look at my patient's expression): "Uh, how far?"
Nurse: "All the way through."
I stared at the needle - it was about 2 or 3 cm long. I gritted my teeth, and jabbed... It wasn't too painful an experience, for me anyway.
Later on, the same nurse said to me: "I need to give one on the arm. You want to do it?"
Me: "Um, ok"
The patient (the same one as before) turns and says to his wife: "It's only her second injection."
I gritted my teeth, and jabbed again, trying to ignore the deltoid muscle twitching under my needle.
I'm not sure if I'll get to deliver babies this time round. But hopefully I'll get to suture. THAT would be coooool.
Well, that's all that I have to report. I have to prepare my own dinner today as I didn't know I could order meals from the hospital canteen. Will update later.
I arrived at Kingaroy at 4pm yesterday, having already had a highly eventful morning (the details of the morning really deserve a separate blog entry by itself). My head was already throbbing when I started the car at 1pm at home, so I can't say I enjoyed the drive much. It was peppered by either following behind trucks or caravans that went 20kph below the speed limit, or tail-gating 4WD's that felt the need to intimidate a little asian with a little car. Sometimes both. But one thing I did notice, despite my sub-optimal state, and that was the simple beauty of the Queensland countryside. From my car window I saw a scene that looked like a child's drawing - small, mound-like green hills, rolling plains, tiny ponds (always with a small tree next to them)... and even, at one stage, a field checkered by different crops. It was an unassuming, subtle beauty, compared to the night lights of the cities or the sunny sands of Gold Coast. It is easily missed. But beauty can always be found, if you look for it. And when it comes to the Queensland countryside, you only need to look out your car window. (Sounds like an advertisement!)
The accomodation is everything I'd expected. Very small, very simple, very basic. Actually, Kingaroy is turning out to be not half the character-building exercise I'd anticipated. I thought that I would be in a room, with nothing but my books, my bible, and my laptop. Disconnected from all distractions, I would either read, or study God's word, or study med. Much to my surprise, there is free internet. So it's me, my books, my bible, my laptop - and the rest of the world at the click of a mouse (well touch-pad actually). I'd anticipated that I'd have to cook every meal for myself, as well as clean up after myself etc. Much to my surprise, meals are provided. I'm told that the provided meals are very small, simple, and basic (like the accomodation), but none the less, I think my mum would be disappointed to find that I probably havn't learnt much life skills at the end of this period.
The hospital itself - the staff are all very friendly, and keen to help. I'm actually very tired from having been standing all day. As a radiographer I used to be accustomed to it, but a year of sedentary studying has done away with that.
I gave my first injection today. It was only intra-muscular. But still, I've never stuck needles in people before.
The nurse said: "Have you ever given intra-muscular injections before?"
Me: "No..."
Nurse: "Alright then. You hold the needle like so. Then you clean the area. Then you jab it into the thigh like it's a dart."
Me (afraid to look at my patient's expression): "Uh, how far?"
Nurse: "All the way through."
I stared at the needle - it was about 2 or 3 cm long. I gritted my teeth, and jabbed... It wasn't too painful an experience, for me anyway.
Later on, the same nurse said to me: "I need to give one on the arm. You want to do it?"
Me: "Um, ok"
The patient (the same one as before) turns and says to his wife: "It's only her second injection."
I gritted my teeth, and jabbed again, trying to ignore the deltoid muscle twitching under my needle.
I'm not sure if I'll get to deliver babies this time round. But hopefully I'll get to suture. THAT would be coooool.
Well, that's all that I have to report. I have to prepare my own dinner today as I didn't know I could order meals from the hospital canteen. Will update later.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Farewell is such sweet sorrow...
I'm going to Kingaroy next week for my end-of-year elective. To those of you who don't know, Kingaroy is a small-ish town about 3 hours drive from Brisbane. I'll be living at the Nurse's Quarters next to the hospital, and the elective lasts for 4 weeks.
I'm not sure if I am going to be coming back to Brisbane for the weekends. Most probably, but it would depend on what I feel like. If I don't come back, I'll probably die from boredom. If I do come back, it's 6 hours of driving each weekend...
I doubt anyone cares, but this probably means that I won't be updating the "Quote of the week" and "Verse of the Week" columns for a few weeks. Or indeed this blog at all.
Hopefully when I come back I would have some photos to upload, hopefully of Kingaroy and the surrounding areas (if I bother to venture around). I'll be passing Wivenhoe dam on the way so if I'm not in too much of a rush I'll stop and take photos there. But chances are I'll miss the turn-off...
The difference between going away and staying in Brisbane is that, in Brisbane, if I have a terrible time or a terrible supervisor, I can come home, away from the hospital, and leave it behind. Over there, I'm living in the Nurse's Quarters, right next to the hospital. And I'm by myself. I pray, for my sanity's sake, that my supervisor is a nice person. He sounds alright, although when I called him yesterday, much to my amusement, he appeared to have forgotten that I was going to come.
Oh well. Back to packing. I'm packing a small library of books.
I'm not sure if I am going to be coming back to Brisbane for the weekends. Most probably, but it would depend on what I feel like. If I don't come back, I'll probably die from boredom. If I do come back, it's 6 hours of driving each weekend...
I doubt anyone cares, but this probably means that I won't be updating the "Quote of the week" and "Verse of the Week" columns for a few weeks. Or indeed this blog at all.
Hopefully when I come back I would have some photos to upload, hopefully of Kingaroy and the surrounding areas (if I bother to venture around). I'll be passing Wivenhoe dam on the way so if I'm not in too much of a rush I'll stop and take photos there. But chances are I'll miss the turn-off...
The difference between going away and staying in Brisbane is that, in Brisbane, if I have a terrible time or a terrible supervisor, I can come home, away from the hospital, and leave it behind. Over there, I'm living in the Nurse's Quarters, right next to the hospital. And I'm by myself. I pray, for my sanity's sake, that my supervisor is a nice person. He sounds alright, although when I called him yesterday, much to my amusement, he appeared to have forgotten that I was going to come.
Oh well. Back to packing. I'm packing a small library of books.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Exam Finished
Yep, she's finally through. Feels sooo good.
Yesterday, I made sure that I left the room early to avoid the rush (and avoid talking to people afterwards about the exam). I got on the next bus into the city and called my friend out for lunch / debrief. I hadn't actually planned on shopping the entire afternoon, but both of us were having fun, and I didn't want to be left alone with my thoughts. So I shopped from about 12:30 til 5, when the shops closed. At the end we were so exhausted I was talking gibberish (which I had been doing for the past few days anyway) and was actually feeling physically faint.
Back home, a quick dinner with my family, and off to bible study. Sounds kinda... sedate... for a post-exam celebration doesn't it? Haha... But I wouldn't have it any other way. Well I couldn't have anyway, I nearly fell asleep several times toward the beginning as it were. At bible study I played on the host's wii and regurgitated my vague memories of learning to play the guitar (I can still play a few chords! I can't believe it).
But all good things come to an end, and though I may run around and occupy myself with idle things, I must face myself sooner or later. My room is still a mess; my study notes nauseate me but I must tidy them. As soon as I stop moving my mind goes back to the exam.
Never before in my life had mental effort translated to such physical pain. By the end of the three-hour exam yesterday, my back was in pain from arching across my wobbly table, my shoulders, neck, and right arm were screaming after having been unconsciously tensed for 3 hours. I was starting to feel very hungry, and my eyes were starting to see double as I churned out that ridiculous ethics essay. My head was the most difficult to ignore, I felt like my head was in a vice. (Of course, then I went to the city and shopped for 5 hours, after which my thighs and calves and feet were also starting a rally.)
As I think back to the exam I don't even know how much sense my essay made, or how funny my responses to those depression/suicide questions must seem to the exam marker. Blissfully, that's all the detail I remember from the exam. God is indeed kind to me.
I'm slightly surprised. I have confronted my memories of the exam and found that I actually have no recollection of what was on the exam or what I wrote. Oh, good. Now I can move on.
My notes still nauseate me. But they must go into into retirement.
Yesterday, I made sure that I left the room early to avoid the rush (and avoid talking to people afterwards about the exam). I got on the next bus into the city and called my friend out for lunch / debrief. I hadn't actually planned on shopping the entire afternoon, but both of us were having fun, and I didn't want to be left alone with my thoughts. So I shopped from about 12:30 til 5, when the shops closed. At the end we were so exhausted I was talking gibberish (which I had been doing for the past few days anyway) and was actually feeling physically faint.
Back home, a quick dinner with my family, and off to bible study. Sounds kinda... sedate... for a post-exam celebration doesn't it? Haha... But I wouldn't have it any other way. Well I couldn't have anyway, I nearly fell asleep several times toward the beginning as it were. At bible study I played on the host's wii and regurgitated my vague memories of learning to play the guitar (I can still play a few chords! I can't believe it).
But all good things come to an end, and though I may run around and occupy myself with idle things, I must face myself sooner or later. My room is still a mess; my study notes nauseate me but I must tidy them. As soon as I stop moving my mind goes back to the exam.
Never before in my life had mental effort translated to such physical pain. By the end of the three-hour exam yesterday, my back was in pain from arching across my wobbly table, my shoulders, neck, and right arm were screaming after having been unconsciously tensed for 3 hours. I was starting to feel very hungry, and my eyes were starting to see double as I churned out that ridiculous ethics essay. My head was the most difficult to ignore, I felt like my head was in a vice. (Of course, then I went to the city and shopped for 5 hours, after which my thighs and calves and feet were also starting a rally.)
As I think back to the exam I don't even know how much sense my essay made, or how funny my responses to those depression/suicide questions must seem to the exam marker. Blissfully, that's all the detail I remember from the exam. God is indeed kind to me.
I'm slightly surprised. I have confronted my memories of the exam and found that I actually have no recollection of what was on the exam or what I wrote. Oh, good. Now I can move on.
My notes still nauseate me. But they must go into into retirement.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
On the home stretch
Do I dare say it? I almost don't want to say it in case I jinx myself.
But I think I am going to be ok.
This week is the last week of class (most classes of which I'm not attending). Next week is cram-week. Then exams on the Sunday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. 21st, 23rd, and 24th October.
If I can compare myself to one of those elite athletes, in the weeks preceeding the Olympics they may say that they are doing OK, that they need more training but they are on track. I feel a bit like that. I got a to-do list the length of my arm, and I'm seeing things that remind me of med everywhere I look. But I'm happy with my progress. One step at a time, I will get there.
Just got to hang in there, keep up the pace, for two more weeks. Two more weeks. Two more weeks. Then I can do what I like, drive myself to the beach and sleep on the sand all day. Well, I probably won't do that but it's a nice thought. Go on a shopping spree. Buy something colourful and extravagant and useless. Exercise more. On second thoughts, no. I won't bother with the exercise, I will just sleep all day.
But I think I am going to be ok.
This week is the last week of class (most classes of which I'm not attending). Next week is cram-week. Then exams on the Sunday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. 21st, 23rd, and 24th October.
If I can compare myself to one of those elite athletes, in the weeks preceeding the Olympics they may say that they are doing OK, that they need more training but they are on track. I feel a bit like that. I got a to-do list the length of my arm, and I'm seeing things that remind me of med everywhere I look. But I'm happy with my progress. One step at a time, I will get there.
Just got to hang in there, keep up the pace, for two more weeks. Two more weeks. Two more weeks. Then I can do what I like, drive myself to the beach and sleep on the sand all day. Well, I probably won't do that but it's a nice thought. Go on a shopping spree. Buy something colourful and extravagant and useless. Exercise more. On second thoughts, no. I won't bother with the exercise, I will just sleep all day.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Getting through the year...
It is now 4 weeks til the end-of-year exams. I have 4 weeks now to revise 30 weeks of content, memorise the drugs, micro-organisms, stuff like that.
I havn't really started yet. In fact, I am putting it off, by blogging. As you can undoubtedly see. I'm being scared by the people around me: they are all better organised than me, smarter than me, and have started revision already. I was putting it off, thinking I could get away with it...
I just want this year to end, so I can go on holidays and sleep all day. My enthusiasm and motivation (which I had at the beginning of this year) has decreased exponentially - the only thing that is keeping me going (ie, staying in med, studying) is my inertia. We all know that in physics, motion caused by inertia eventually ceases due to friction. How the heck am I going to get through the rest of my degree?
I must here devote a little paragraph in gratitude to my bible study group. Those kids are wonderfully unsympathetic - and they make a joke about everything. I made a comment about dissection lab and they didn't stop joking about it for 3 weeks. They force you to laugh at yourself, at those around you, and at your situation. Although my bible study leader keeps telling me that there is no point in trying so hard to get into medicine and then let it get you depressed. I think my problem is that I'm not depressed enough - if I'm depressed at least it will make me motivated to get my act together.
Ohhhh wells. Back to it.
I havn't really started yet. In fact, I am putting it off, by blogging. As you can undoubtedly see. I'm being scared by the people around me: they are all better organised than me, smarter than me, and have started revision already. I was putting it off, thinking I could get away with it...
I just want this year to end, so I can go on holidays and sleep all day. My enthusiasm and motivation (which I had at the beginning of this year) has decreased exponentially - the only thing that is keeping me going (ie, staying in med, studying) is my inertia. We all know that in physics, motion caused by inertia eventually ceases due to friction. How the heck am I going to get through the rest of my degree?
I must here devote a little paragraph in gratitude to my bible study group. Those kids are wonderfully unsympathetic - and they make a joke about everything. I made a comment about dissection lab and they didn't stop joking about it for 3 weeks. They force you to laugh at yourself, at those around you, and at your situation. Although my bible study leader keeps telling me that there is no point in trying so hard to get into medicine and then let it get you depressed. I think my problem is that I'm not depressed enough - if I'm depressed at least it will make me motivated to get my act together.
Ohhhh wells. Back to it.
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Heard Dr Charlie Teo speak last night
Last night the famous Dr Charlie Teo came to UQ to deliver the annual (and 50th) E. S. Meyer's lecture... and of course I couldn't pass by such an opportunity. To those who don't know, Dr Charlie Teo is a very famous neurosurgeon who, to put it concisely, developed a new method of doing neurosurgery that is shunned by the general neurosurgery profession. In order to raise awareness of this new method, he has appeared on TV on numerous occasions. As far as I understand (since I don't actually watch TV I am only speculating about this), in his TV appearances he gave the impression of putting down other Australian neurosurgeons, which of course made him no friends. In response, the Neurosurgical Society of Australia made an advertisement in The Australian that described him as a "self-promoter". A very ugly saga, as you can imagine.
The lecture he delivered was entitled What doesn't kill you... makes you stronger. He took this opportunity to expound upon the importance of thinking outside the square. He gave numerous instances of times where his method had succeeded where traditional methods have failed. At this, I must admit to feeling some cynicism: so that is what they mean when they say he is a self-promoter, I thought. But then I realised, he wasn't promoting himself (although it seemed there was a small element of pride present, I thought), but he was promoting a method that he obviously felt would be of great benefit to patients. If nothing else, it is obvious that he is very passionate about his work - and surely, if he feels that this method is going to save lives, then it is natural that he should feel the need to go to radical measures to gather support for it. Dr Barry Marshall drank bacteria, Dr Charlie Teo goes on TV and speaks about it at every opportunity.
Being only in first year, (and having not even done the neuro block yet), I can throw no light upon the controversy. However, I'd love to hear the other side of the story. What are the differences between the endoscopic surgery (promoted by Dr Teo) and the current use of microsurgery and keyhole surgery? If it is so good, why are neurosurgeons slow on the uptake of this method? (Surely it's got to be more than just simply pride or laziness?) If there ever were going to be a public debate, I would love to be there.
I have mixed feelings about his approach, however. I haven't seen the television appearances myself, but I do know that his statements would sound as if he were criticising the competence of Australian neurosurgeons. What does this do to the profession? How exactly does this help the patient, who doesn't know what to believe and who to turn to? In a profession where trust is absolutely crucial, what does this do to the trust between patient and doctor? In medicine, the idea of self-regulation is important, where the profession "police" themselves. This question was posed to Dr Teo at the end of the lecture, and he answered remarkably well - when the profession's ability to self-regulate fails, that is when the public has to step in.
But my question remains - if he had done things differently, if his comments were not so easily misinterpreted, would there have been a better result? After all, understandably, people do not respond well to a private doctor going on TV to say "Well, I think I'm the best".
My reservations aside, there is one thing that is remarkable about this man, and that is his zeal toward his work and to his patients. And if his surgical methods are as good as his indicates (and I think they are), then they will undoubtedly eventually become the norm - and I feel excited and honoured to be a witness to this progress.
Well anyway, that concludes my spiel. As exciting as this is, I don't think I could be a neurosurgeon. Playing around with people's brains... gives me the shudders.
The lecture he delivered was entitled What doesn't kill you... makes you stronger. He took this opportunity to expound upon the importance of thinking outside the square. He gave numerous instances of times where his method had succeeded where traditional methods have failed. At this, I must admit to feeling some cynicism: so that is what they mean when they say he is a self-promoter, I thought. But then I realised, he wasn't promoting himself (although it seemed there was a small element of pride present, I thought), but he was promoting a method that he obviously felt would be of great benefit to patients. If nothing else, it is obvious that he is very passionate about his work - and surely, if he feels that this method is going to save lives, then it is natural that he should feel the need to go to radical measures to gather support for it. Dr Barry Marshall drank bacteria, Dr Charlie Teo goes on TV and speaks about it at every opportunity.
Being only in first year, (and having not even done the neuro block yet), I can throw no light upon the controversy. However, I'd love to hear the other side of the story. What are the differences between the endoscopic surgery (promoted by Dr Teo) and the current use of microsurgery and keyhole surgery? If it is so good, why are neurosurgeons slow on the uptake of this method? (Surely it's got to be more than just simply pride or laziness?) If there ever were going to be a public debate, I would love to be there.
I have mixed feelings about his approach, however. I haven't seen the television appearances myself, but I do know that his statements would sound as if he were criticising the competence of Australian neurosurgeons. What does this do to the profession? How exactly does this help the patient, who doesn't know what to believe and who to turn to? In a profession where trust is absolutely crucial, what does this do to the trust between patient and doctor? In medicine, the idea of self-regulation is important, where the profession "police" themselves. This question was posed to Dr Teo at the end of the lecture, and he answered remarkably well - when the profession's ability to self-regulate fails, that is when the public has to step in.
But my question remains - if he had done things differently, if his comments were not so easily misinterpreted, would there have been a better result? After all, understandably, people do not respond well to a private doctor going on TV to say "Well, I think I'm the best".
My reservations aside, there is one thing that is remarkable about this man, and that is his zeal toward his work and to his patients. And if his surgical methods are as good as his indicates (and I think they are), then they will undoubtedly eventually become the norm - and I feel excited and honoured to be a witness to this progress.
Well anyway, that concludes my spiel. As exciting as this is, I don't think I could be a neurosurgeon. Playing around with people's brains... gives me the shudders.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Good luck to interviewees
My clinical coach is an interviewer for the medical school entry interviews for UQ this year; and so some of our session times has had to be changed to accomodate this. Yes, you guessed it, it's reminiscing time. I was so nervous, I said some stupid stuff, and I giggled a lot. Sigh
If anyone is reading this, who is going for a medical school interview this year, http://supersida.blogspot.com/2006/12/uq-med-interview-experience-2006.html is the link to the post I'd made about the questions I got asked.
A word of warning, though. My friend and I were discussing this, and we both thought that it would be so much fun to just go and sit in the waiting room, and watch the nervous expressions on people's faces... and knowing what they will face if they do get in. It's like seeing people who are anxious to be given the opportunity to torture themselves. (Of course, we wouldn't really do it. Even if we were that sadistic, I doubt they'd let us).
But of course, I am just bitter and tired and starving for a holiday. I'm sure that if you are trying to get into medicine, nothing that I say will stop you. Certainly it wouldn't have stopped me.
Well, good luck to everyone else that is trying to get in this year. And if you don't get it, don't worry. It means that you have another year to live your lovely pre-medicine life. And if you do get in... well... you'll see.
If anyone is reading this, who is going for a medical school interview this year, http://supersida.blogspot.com/2006/12/uq-med-interview-experience-2006.html is the link to the post I'd made about the questions I got asked.
A word of warning, though. My friend and I were discussing this, and we both thought that it would be so much fun to just go and sit in the waiting room, and watch the nervous expressions on people's faces... and knowing what they will face if they do get in. It's like seeing people who are anxious to be given the opportunity to torture themselves. (Of course, we wouldn't really do it. Even if we were that sadistic, I doubt they'd let us).
But of course, I am just bitter and tired and starving for a holiday. I'm sure that if you are trying to get into medicine, nothing that I say will stop you. Certainly it wouldn't have stopped me.
Well, good luck to everyone else that is trying to get in this year. And if you don't get it, don't worry. It means that you have another year to live your lovely pre-medicine life. And if you do get in... well... you'll see.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
SuperSida celebrates 1000 visitors
Yes, that's right. 1000 unique visitors, as opposed to 1000 visits by the same people. Well, probably not THAT much of a big deal, but I checked in to see the whole number, 1000. My own little slice of the internet. Cool.
Lets see where Supersida has taken us since its creation. Hmmm...
Well, the most exciting would have been how this blog got me in contact (well, not really contact... I have his office manager's contact) with Medicine Royalty (Australia's own crazy Professor Barry Marshall, whoes story would make a great David-vs-Goliath style movie... to read about it click here)... actually, now that I think about it, how much do we bet, that when Professor Marshall retires, someone is going to make a movie?
What else? I shared some tips about the gamsat, some experiences from the Med interview... and... that's about it.
It seems like I have my own little corner of the Internet, only to use it to complain about how I bought the wrong tea, a cake that went all wrong, and things like that.
Which is why I only have had 1000 visitors.
But ahhhhh well. At least it kept me entertained. And I got a sheet of commemorative
stamps for my effort.
Lets see where Supersida has taken us since its creation. Hmmm...
Well, the most exciting would have been how this blog got me in contact (well, not really contact... I have his office manager's contact) with Medicine Royalty (Australia's own crazy Professor Barry Marshall, whoes story would make a great David-vs-Goliath style movie... to read about it click here)... actually, now that I think about it, how much do we bet, that when Professor Marshall retires, someone is going to make a movie?
What else? I shared some tips about the gamsat, some experiences from the Med interview... and... that's about it.
It seems like I have my own little corner of the Internet, only to use it to complain about how I bought the wrong tea, a cake that went all wrong, and things like that.
Which is why I only have had 1000 visitors.
But ahhhhh well. At least it kept me entertained. And I got a sheet of commemorative
stamps for my effort.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
The whinge of a hypochondriac
I have had this neck pain for ages, I can't remember how long. I've always attributed it to sleeping in a funny position, or studying for too long. The pain has always been on the same spot: on the back of my neck, on the right upper border of the trapezius muscle.
Yesterday, at about 10am, all of a sudden, I experienced a sharp stabbing pain in that exact location, whereupon I could not move my head nor my arm without excruciating pain. Sitting in a rather prominent position in the library, I managed to gather my things, log off on the computer, and leave the building before emitting a loud moan. As the day wore on, I was able to move my arm but my range of movement of my neck was poor.
I bet you're all thinking: she pulled something. That is what I thought too, except there was no trauma. In the afternoon, when I went to pick up my brother from his after school care facility, I encountered an old friend who was in final year physiotherapy, and who happened to be working there. She got me to sit on the children's couch , where she "looked at" my neck. The "consultation" ran thus:
She moves my head. I scream. The children gawk, then giggle nervously. "Wow, you've lost range of movement," She says. Tell me something I don't bloody know, I thought darkly.
She pokes my neck. I scream. The children are silent, all are concentrating on me now. Their eyes are like 20c coins. "That spot." I say. "Yeah, that's your triggering point... see?" she pokes that spot again. I scream again. I bloody well know that's my triggering point, you didn't need to show me, you twit, I think to myself. But of course, I appreciated her doing this and so I kept my mouth shut.
One little girl comes up to me. "Who are you?" she says. "She is my old friend, and she is training to be a doctor." my friend states. The little girl backs away.
When she was finally done, she said: "I havn't done a proper examination on you. But I think it's either disc, or spasm, or both. But that's only my opinion. Don't take my word for it."
Crap! I thought (completely forgetting about my friend's many disclaimers). Disc as in disc protrusion? How do they treat that anyway? I don't think they can! Arrgh crap!
The pain didn't get any better last night, despite my use of pain killers and heat-packs. I couldn't even sleep properly; dreaming about the pain and waking up to the pain. Sometime during the night (I think, around 3am), I woke up, and palpated my neck, at the "triggering point" and (drowsily) thought: shit, is that a lump? What is this lumpy thing? My gosh, what if I have a tumour of some sort, growing at my brachial plexus? It would have to be surgically removed. Bye-bye use of the right arm. I won't be able to be a doctor anymore. I won't be able to do ANYthing anymore. No no, hold on, I can be a phone-counsellor. Actually I can be a non-phone-counsellor too. I will go to one of those Christian colleges... I wonder which one? (Yes I know it's stupid, but it was 3am and I was in pain.)
Fast forward to this morning, when I finally saw a GP. She listened to me describe it, poked my neck, and said: "You've pulled something." She gave me a NSAID (a "doctor's sample", right off her desk), and basically that was that. No scans. No extensive range-of-movement tests. No questions about how much I study or what I do in my part time. And that was that. I left, feeling some ambivalence over the "physicians sample" drugs, my own hypochondriac tendencies, and why I am such a wimp. My mum bought me pizza to go with my meds and told me soothingly that everyone percieves pain differently (which I know) and I am just sensitive to pain. At least it was nice to be babied.
And now my life must return to normal, albeit with a pain in the neck. So no more procrastinating for me: Iron absorption and metabolism is waiting for me.
Yesterday, at about 10am, all of a sudden, I experienced a sharp stabbing pain in that exact location, whereupon I could not move my head nor my arm without excruciating pain. Sitting in a rather prominent position in the library, I managed to gather my things, log off on the computer, and leave the building before emitting a loud moan. As the day wore on, I was able to move my arm but my range of movement of my neck was poor.
I bet you're all thinking: she pulled something. That is what I thought too, except there was no trauma. In the afternoon, when I went to pick up my brother from his after school care facility, I encountered an old friend who was in final year physiotherapy, and who happened to be working there. She got me to sit on the children's couch , where she "looked at" my neck. The "consultation" ran thus:
She moves my head. I scream. The children gawk, then giggle nervously. "Wow, you've lost range of movement," She says. Tell me something I don't bloody know, I thought darkly.
She pokes my neck. I scream. The children are silent, all are concentrating on me now. Their eyes are like 20c coins. "That spot." I say. "Yeah, that's your triggering point... see?" she pokes that spot again. I scream again. I bloody well know that's my triggering point, you didn't need to show me, you twit, I think to myself. But of course, I appreciated her doing this and so I kept my mouth shut.
One little girl comes up to me. "Who are you?" she says. "She is my old friend, and she is training to be a doctor." my friend states. The little girl backs away.
When she was finally done, she said: "I havn't done a proper examination on you. But I think it's either disc, or spasm, or both. But that's only my opinion. Don't take my word for it."
Crap! I thought (completely forgetting about my friend's many disclaimers). Disc as in disc protrusion? How do they treat that anyway? I don't think they can! Arrgh crap!
The pain didn't get any better last night, despite my use of pain killers and heat-packs. I couldn't even sleep properly; dreaming about the pain and waking up to the pain. Sometime during the night (I think, around 3am), I woke up, and palpated my neck, at the "triggering point" and (drowsily) thought: shit, is that a lump? What is this lumpy thing? My gosh, what if I have a tumour of some sort, growing at my brachial plexus? It would have to be surgically removed. Bye-bye use of the right arm. I won't be able to be a doctor anymore. I won't be able to do ANYthing anymore. No no, hold on, I can be a phone-counsellor. Actually I can be a non-phone-counsellor too. I will go to one of those Christian colleges... I wonder which one? (Yes I know it's stupid, but it was 3am and I was in pain.)
Fast forward to this morning, when I finally saw a GP. She listened to me describe it, poked my neck, and said: "You've pulled something." She gave me a NSAID (a "doctor's sample", right off her desk), and basically that was that. No scans. No extensive range-of-movement tests. No questions about how much I study or what I do in my part time. And that was that. I left, feeling some ambivalence over the "physicians sample" drugs, my own hypochondriac tendencies, and why I am such a wimp. My mum bought me pizza to go with my meds and told me soothingly that everyone percieves pain differently (which I know) and I am just sensitive to pain. At least it was nice to be babied.
And now my life must return to normal, albeit with a pain in the neck. So no more procrastinating for me: Iron absorption and metabolism is waiting for me.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Snippits from a 14 year old
I found my diary that I kept when I was 14. I read it, and did NOT stop cringing. Was I EVER like that? I must have - not only did I write it, I vaguely remember writing it too. I've always thought that I didn't go through the teenage angst period, but reading my old diary it seems like I am any one of those crazy pimply teens. Here are some HILARIOUS snippets - I honestly don't remember being this way.
First page of diary:
"I got a new diary. Mum and Dad's buying things we need before the GST starts on the 1st July." - 29 June 2000. (Ha! I bet THAT can go on a lifecourse grid!)
"Mr Jensen says I might get a maths award at the end of the year. That would be cool, I can use it in job applications and such." - 29 June 2000. (At the age of 13 and a half)
"They won't let me go with Kate and Amy. They said they'll let me go if I was a boy. They say I'm only 13. That's bloody bull crap." - 20 July 2000 (HAHA, I certainly don't remember this!)
"You know, I'm not doing all this work for nothing. I'm sacrificing hours and hours for study to get a good career and earn a good living and have lots of friends. If you're not everything I ever wanted to be, then GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER" - August 2000, a letter that I wrote to my future self. (Oh, Miss 13 year old Sida - YOU think YOU're doing so much work? Boy, are you in for a shock)
"Maybe I should take up anorexia... My legs are like tree trunks and my arms are like telegraph poles. I wish I'd be around 40kgs. I wish I was taller. I'm mega depressed.... I will write again later, if I havn't jumped under a bus by then." - 17th January 2001 (That's funny, cos I have never seen a telegraph pole in my life. My legs are STILL like tree trunks. But when did I ever care so much?)
Every page is filled with this sort of stuff. It's crazy. I think I will stop embarrassing myself now... but I hope this provided you with as much amusement as it did me.
First page of diary:
"I got a new diary. Mum and Dad's buying things we need before the GST starts on the 1st July." - 29 June 2000. (Ha! I bet THAT can go on a lifecourse grid!)
"Mr Jensen says I might get a maths award at the end of the year. That would be cool, I can use it in job applications and such." - 29 June 2000. (At the age of 13 and a half)
"They won't let me go with Kate and Amy. They said they'll let me go if I was a boy. They say I'm only 13. That's bloody bull crap." - 20 July 2000 (HAHA, I certainly don't remember this!)
"You know, I'm not doing all this work for nothing. I'm sacrificing hours and hours for study to get a good career and earn a good living and have lots of friends. If you're not everything I ever wanted to be, then GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER" - August 2000, a letter that I wrote to my future self. (Oh, Miss 13 year old Sida - YOU think YOU're doing so much work? Boy, are you in for a shock)
"Maybe I should take up anorexia... My legs are like tree trunks and my arms are like telegraph poles. I wish I'd be around 40kgs. I wish I was taller. I'm mega depressed.... I will write again later, if I havn't jumped under a bus by then." - 17th January 2001 (That's funny, cos I have never seen a telegraph pole in my life. My legs are STILL like tree trunks. But when did I ever care so much?)
Every page is filled with this sort of stuff. It's crazy. I think I will stop embarrassing myself now... but I hope this provided you with as much amusement as it did me.
Friday, July 20, 2007
More updates
Havn't posted for a while. Now that I have handed in that horrific assignment (I don't think I blogged about that... and I don't think I want to), life has settled back to its previous norm (well, as normal as it ever gets for me anyway). I never realised that the reproductive system was so boring. All those hormones just to produce a baby. After the jokes were made about the tough little "swimmers" making the "torturous journey" up the "hostile terrain" to the egg, it was really rather dull. This week was genetics - accompanied by the usual jokes about the redundancy of the Y chromosome. (The joke is making me weary, so if you don't know, don't ask.)
Last week (or was it the week before? So hazy these days), my bible study leader said that as an "extra challenge", he is thinking that I would make a great leader (in our church community, presumably) and he is praying that "one day we can entrust people under your care." I know what you are thinking. How is him praying for me to become a leader present a challenge to ME? I don't know - this guy speaks in code sometimes, and it is a code I havn't cracked yet...
You can imagine, this came as a big shock for me - those who know me would undoubtedly say that I have as much leadership qualities as an ant. Without its little feeler thingies. Aren't leaders usually knowledgeable/wiser/more experienced/better organised/more fearless? I possess none of these characteristics. However, when I made this clear, he indicated (with some biblical backup) that none of these were crucial characteristics of a leader in Christ. As a final appeal, I said: "but you know me!" to which he replied: "Yes, and that is why I think you would make an awesome leader". So, what does a leader in Christ need? What ever it is, he seems to think I've got, and I didn't want to ask in case it seemed like I was seeking a compliment.
Last week (or was it the week before? So hazy these days), my bible study leader said that as an "extra challenge", he is thinking that I would make a great leader (in our church community, presumably) and he is praying that "one day we can entrust people under your care." I know what you are thinking. How is him praying for me to become a leader present a challenge to ME? I don't know - this guy speaks in code sometimes, and it is a code I havn't cracked yet...
You can imagine, this came as a big shock for me - those who know me would undoubtedly say that I have as much leadership qualities as an ant. Without its little feeler thingies. Aren't leaders usually knowledgeable/wiser/more experienced/better organised/more fearless? I possess none of these characteristics. However, when I made this clear, he indicated (with some biblical backup) that none of these were crucial characteristics of a leader in Christ. As a final appeal, I said: "but you know me!" to which he replied: "Yes, and that is why I think you would make an awesome leader". So, what does a leader in Christ need? What ever it is, he seems to think I've got, and I didn't want to ask in case it seemed like I was seeking a compliment.
So this triggered me to go search for clues in the bible, and I found that the leaders of God's people varied greatly in abilities - the only thing they seemed to have in common was their faith and obedience. Could it be that this was the only thing that was required? No other prerequisites? It seemed to make sense - since the Lord Almighty is the King of Kings and Lord of Lords and would obviously provide the best on-the-job training possible - such that anything that I was not equipped with, He will give it to me, so that I can do His work. This sounded good but it had two flaws - one is that I came up with this myself so its probably wrong, and the other is that if it were that easy surely we'd have more leaders than followers?
Asking my bible study leader was now out of the question - he told me "No pressure - we will see what happens next - don't worry too much about it". (Now is it just me or is that a typical guy thing to say?) So I sought out another friend from a different church, who basically told me that I was on the right track and the reason why there were more followers than leaders is because not everyone responds to God's call. Interesting. He said: "God doesn't call the qualified - He qualifies those He calls." (Actually I'm not sure if that is what he said - it sounded a lot more eloquent than what I quoted but the meaning is there.) If He called me to take on a certain role, then He will equip me with what I need to perform that role. So I guess after this I was a bit comforted and assured. And I realised that Christian leaders are really Christian servants (actually I've always known this but now I appreciate what that actually means) - and although I have doubts about my abilities as a leader, I am willing to be a servant.
So anyway, that concludes my little spiel. My bible study leader told me not to worry about it. I wonder if he knows how hard that is. He is starting up a weekly group next month... I don't know what is going to happen, but there is nothing I can do but pray and wait. Relax, Sida. It can't be that bad, right?
Monday, July 02, 2007
My very first exam in my medical career...
I passed. But only just passed.
Very relieved... but I passed with such a small margin that I am highly ashamed.
Oh well. I'm just hoping that the School doesn't single me out as one of those who "needs a bit of help". That would be a bit embarrassing.
Sigh... back to work...
Very relieved... but I passed with such a small margin that I am highly ashamed.
Oh well. I'm just hoping that the School doesn't single me out as one of those who "needs a bit of help". That would be a bit embarrassing.
Sigh... back to work...
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
what I did this morning
I have done most of the things I had intended to do today, and the things that I have not done (sigh) I have decided to be worthy of procrastination. So here I am, blogging.
This morning, I went to pick up one of our pastors from the airport, at the request his family, who were unfortunately unable to greet him themselves. The entire thing was rather uneventful - we came, we picked up, we left. (By we, I meant me, and the pastor's 16-year-old son, who accompanied me.)
The reason I am blogging about it (apart from the fact that I am bored), is that speaking to this man reminded me of what C. S. Lewis called 'people who have their eyes set firmly upon heaven.' Indeed this man has his eyes and heart set firmly up there. I don't know him well, he only comes to Australia once in a while to preach to our church... he usually lives in Taiwan where he is the pastor of another church.
Upon leaving the airport, I said: "And there's the traffic again..." to which this pastor quickly said: "If there is lots of traffic, it means the economy is booming, and the government will soon build new roads. It's a blessed thing, if you look at it that way. Imagine if the streets were empty - we'd never get new roads..." I was very surprised by this postulation - this level of optimism can only be from the truly blessed (after all, we get traffic jams everyday without road upgrades in sight). I declined to suggest that if the streets were empty we'd never need new roads, and kept driving.
We were coming down Hale street, approaching Coronation Drive, when he suddenly asked me: "Sida, what is your role in spreading the Gospel to China?" ... There was a silence as I tried to think of what to say very quickly. At the same time, I knew the 16 year old beside me was suddenly rather embarrassed and was also thinking of what to say. Finally, we both spoke.
"Dad, she is only young..." said the 16 year old, 4 years younger than me.
"Um. I am not sure..." said I. "I don't think I am considering returning to China anytime soon. If at all."
"Ahaha," he laughed nervously, aware that he'd put me on the spot. There was a silence. "The Gospel need to be preached in China," he said, finally.
"Of course" said I.
Upon more questioning, it was revealed that he is heavily involved with evangelical efforts in China, their organisation has trained recently some 200 Chinese men and women who were able to spread the Word in China. These operations had to be done in secret, for fear of persecution (reminds me a little of movies..). In fact, a finishing-school had recently been built that churns out preachers... a sort of seminary, which of course is not called a seminary, not officially anyhow. He told me that he envisions China to one day have so many Christians that it would be able send missionaries elsewhere. "The British and the Americans have had their turn - this is now the century of the Chinese."
This sort of vision... well, it has all the characteristics of the vision that starts off great things. It is vast, grandiose, ambitious, and sufficiently unlikely for it to be scoffed at. This is the sort of visions that says to all other visions: "pfffft, you? you're not a vision, I'm a vision! You're a daydream!"
The topic was not pursued further, but I felt very guilty for not having shared in that vision. I guess my future plans involve working in medical aid with a missionary movement in third-world countries, but it did not occur to me to mention this - and I am glad. My plans, even now, sound flimsy and superficial.
Why do I not like the idea of working and spreading the Gospel in China? Why do I prefer the idea of Cambodia or India or Africa? I guess, for one thing, it's the prospect of exoticness - after all, I've been to China, I know what China is like. The other thing I think is the language barrier. I left China when I was 9, so I have the communication skills (in Chinese) of a 9-year-old. Well, perhaps a little better than that... but not much better. I have enough problems explaining my faith in English, the thought of using Chinese gives me headaches. In Cambodia, if you can't speak the local language, it is an inconvenience. In China, if you can speak the local language and yet the locals have no idea what you are on about - then you are an imbecile.
On the other hand, I can speak Chinese, and I can read about 80% of the written word (with my finger under the line and with a great deal of concentration). Perhaps that is where I ought to go. In the end, God will show me where I fit in His plan.
I just hope it doesn't involve China.
This morning, I went to pick up one of our pastors from the airport, at the request his family, who were unfortunately unable to greet him themselves. The entire thing was rather uneventful - we came, we picked up, we left. (By we, I meant me, and the pastor's 16-year-old son, who accompanied me.)
The reason I am blogging about it (apart from the fact that I am bored), is that speaking to this man reminded me of what C. S. Lewis called 'people who have their eyes set firmly upon heaven.' Indeed this man has his eyes and heart set firmly up there. I don't know him well, he only comes to Australia once in a while to preach to our church... he usually lives in Taiwan where he is the pastor of another church.
Upon leaving the airport, I said: "And there's the traffic again..." to which this pastor quickly said: "If there is lots of traffic, it means the economy is booming, and the government will soon build new roads. It's a blessed thing, if you look at it that way. Imagine if the streets were empty - we'd never get new roads..." I was very surprised by this postulation - this level of optimism can only be from the truly blessed (after all, we get traffic jams everyday without road upgrades in sight). I declined to suggest that if the streets were empty we'd never need new roads, and kept driving.
We were coming down Hale street, approaching Coronation Drive, when he suddenly asked me: "Sida, what is your role in spreading the Gospel to China?" ... There was a silence as I tried to think of what to say very quickly. At the same time, I knew the 16 year old beside me was suddenly rather embarrassed and was also thinking of what to say. Finally, we both spoke.
"Dad, she is only young..." said the 16 year old, 4 years younger than me.
"Um. I am not sure..." said I. "I don't think I am considering returning to China anytime soon. If at all."
"Ahaha," he laughed nervously, aware that he'd put me on the spot. There was a silence. "The Gospel need to be preached in China," he said, finally.
"Of course" said I.
Upon more questioning, it was revealed that he is heavily involved with evangelical efforts in China, their organisation has trained recently some 200 Chinese men and women who were able to spread the Word in China. These operations had to be done in secret, for fear of persecution (reminds me a little of movies..). In fact, a finishing-school had recently been built that churns out preachers... a sort of seminary, which of course is not called a seminary, not officially anyhow. He told me that he envisions China to one day have so many Christians that it would be able send missionaries elsewhere. "The British and the Americans have had their turn - this is now the century of the Chinese."
This sort of vision... well, it has all the characteristics of the vision that starts off great things. It is vast, grandiose, ambitious, and sufficiently unlikely for it to be scoffed at. This is the sort of visions that says to all other visions: "pfffft, you? you're not a vision, I'm a vision! You're a daydream!"
The topic was not pursued further, but I felt very guilty for not having shared in that vision. I guess my future plans involve working in medical aid with a missionary movement in third-world countries, but it did not occur to me to mention this - and I am glad. My plans, even now, sound flimsy and superficial.
Why do I not like the idea of working and spreading the Gospel in China? Why do I prefer the idea of Cambodia or India or Africa? I guess, for one thing, it's the prospect of exoticness - after all, I've been to China, I know what China is like. The other thing I think is the language barrier. I left China when I was 9, so I have the communication skills (in Chinese) of a 9-year-old. Well, perhaps a little better than that... but not much better. I have enough problems explaining my faith in English, the thought of using Chinese gives me headaches. In Cambodia, if you can't speak the local language, it is an inconvenience. In China, if you can speak the local language and yet the locals have no idea what you are on about - then you are an imbecile.
On the other hand, I can speak Chinese, and I can read about 80% of the written word (with my finger under the line and with a great deal of concentration). Perhaps that is where I ought to go. In the end, God will show me where I fit in His plan.
I just hope it doesn't involve China.
A funny excerpt:
"Most medical students faced with giving their interpretation of a chest X-ray either opt for a 'spot diagnosis' (usually wrong) or raise their eyes to heaven, hoping for divine inspiration. However, a systematic approach is generally more useful!"
- From Clinical Examination: a systematic guide to physical diagnosis by Nicholas J Talley and Simon O'Connor.
Funnily enough, as a radiographer, I know something of the systematic approach. If put on the spot by a clinical tutor, I may well hope for divine inspiration. Despite the two, I will probably still come up with a 'spot diagnosis' that is incorrect.
In the words of a friend: "we live and learn."
- From Clinical Examination: a systematic guide to physical diagnosis by Nicholas J Talley and Simon O'Connor.
Funnily enough, as a radiographer, I know something of the systematic approach. If put on the spot by a clinical tutor, I may well hope for divine inspiration. Despite the two, I will probably still come up with a 'spot diagnosis' that is incorrect.
In the words of a friend: "we live and learn."
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
On maturity
Recently, a good friend asked me, across MSN: "Sida, when will we ever mature?" This question was asked during the time that I was cramming for my exam and I knew she was busy doing some gigantic assignment. My thoughts ran thus:
- Soo sleeppyyy... whyyyy is she asking this me now? at this time? How on earth did she come up with this?
- Hey! What did she mean, when will "WE" mature!
- Lord, help me to answer my friend's question with Your wisdom, help me to address my friend's concerns
- Hey! Why did you only remember the Lord at thought number 3? Are you loosing it?!
By thought four, I had sufficiently awoken myself to attempt a serious conversation with my friend. We considered what "maturity" meant to us, and discovered that our thoughts ran more or less along similar lines. Neither of us were capable of a succinct definition but we could both point out to characteristics of maturity in others, that we knew we lacked. She pointed out to her friends, who were capable of great self-discipline despite working long hours, and who seemed to be capable of working with an attitude of good cheer. I thought of some of my fellow Christians, who seemed to be able to take all difficulty in a matter-of-fact, uncomplaining sort of way, always trusting God. You never hear them complaining about anything. Our discussion ended with a consensus that we both had no idea. I think I said something about not knowing when I will mature but trusting God to use me all the same (this sounded very good, but says nothing about my own impatience with myself). Being a non-Christian and also being distracted with a gigantic assignment, she replied with something along the lines of: "mmmmmm".
Now that I have had time to think, if we were to look for the characteristics of a mature person, one need not look further than the good Lord Himself. One thing that struck me the most is Matthew 14:12-14, which describes Jesus's actions after hearing the death of John the Baptist. "When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place. Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick." The actual number of the crowd was five thousand, besides women and children (Matthew 14:21).
I can imagine how I would feel, in that situation: my friend has been killed brutally, I wanted to retire to somewhere quiet to pray and mourn... and there's the crowd again, five thousand this time... same as usual - with all sorts of infirmities, pushing forward, each wanting attention, each wanting to just grab at my robe. I can not say what I would have done, but I can imagine myself complaining, even if just privately to my friends. This is the maturity that I lack: the matter-of-fact way that I see my friends go through their daily lives, balancing work with ministry with family, and yet never complaining and always trusting in the Lord.
A few days after I'd decided to reprimand for my lack of maturity, I was reading Habakkuk when I realised that it less about "never complaining" and more about "always trusting". Habakkuk 1:3 says: Why do you make me look at injustice? Why do you tolerate wrong? Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds.
In fact, I can remember several other instances of 'complaints' in the bible, from the biblical greats: - Moses, Jeremiah, David in countless psalms, Job, Elijah, Jonah... and I'm sure that those who are more theologically minded can think of others too. What is important to note, though, that in all these prophets who made 'complaints', they ended up trusting God nevertheless a few verses down the track. I guess Christian maturity is more about trust and faith than anything else.
Trust and faith - so simple. This whole blog entry comes down to simply trust and faith. But as I progress in my pilgrimage (so to speak), I encounter trials that test these simple things, such that I want to cry louder than all the prophets (and the lamenters from Lamentations) put together. I guess it's heartening to know that it is OK to do that, as long as (to quote from the bible, Lamentations 3:24) I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him."
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Post-exam blues
On Post-exam depression
The exam was bad. I don't want to talk about it... but I think I should have been more organised with my studying and perhaps approached a different way... anyway I'm not going to think too much about it until the exam results come out. It is sufficient to say that perhaps it is the worst exam I have ever sat. At least with the Gamsat, it was ok to do badly because everyone does badly.
Immediately afterwards, I went to a shopping centre to comfort myself with the latest fashion, only to discover that I am now too old for the latest fashion (either that, or I am too sane to wear it). I went to disrupt a friend at his workplace, but immediately guilt added itself to my general bad-mood, as I realised that I was disrupting someone at their work. I picked up my brother from school, and he had nothing comforting to say but "Well, we'll have to wait and see. Are you still buying me dinner?" (Although later, to his credit, he said "If you're so smart, and failed that exam, I don't know how all those doctors became doctors." Not bad coming from a nine-year-old.)
Fast forward to Saturday, I didn't have work. My mum said: "I'm taking your brother to art class, then we can go shopping."
"Don't wanna shop", said I.
"What are you going to do at home?" at the time I was still sitting in bed, albeit reading a book.
"Dunno..."
"You're not going to just sit around and mope all day, are you?" My mum was getting worried now
I kept silent at this point, putting faith into the view that if you ignore them, they will go away. It doesn't always work, but it works enough to always try it.
"You're not going to just sit around and mope until you get the results, are you?" she repeated.
"Yes"
At this point, my mum set her jaw and said: "No, you are coming shopping with me." (Actually, she doesn't have the kind of jaw that you can set. But believe me, if she had that kind of jaw, then she would have set it at the point.)
My mum believes in a sort of cleansing after a traumatic event. A literal sort of cleansing. After my exam, I gave my study room a cursory sort of clean-up, putting my exam notes in a pile under my desk. I felt nauseous at the sight of them, and I thought that I will sort them out after I get the results.
I was sleeping when I heard the banging, and I knew it came from my study room. In it was my dear mother, with a big broom, and a big pile of dirt, scrunched up paper, and, yes, my exam notes, sprawled among the other stuff. "I have swept everything that is on the floor into this pile. I even reached under the desk and shelves. I want you to take out what is important and then sweep everything else up." I guess that is one way to face your phobia of study notes... On her way down stairs, my dear mother said: "Oh, I am also going to do some washing for you. I want you to empty your closet of all the things you should have washed. And be quick about it, I don't have all day."
This, I knew, was part of my mum's way of literal cleansing, but I had nothing particular that needed washing, that wasn't already in the laundry. But I knew my mother... if I told her that she will storm into my room and no doubt the drawers will yield a dirty sock and some shirts that I should have hung up but 'forgot' to do. I knew from experience that the easiest thing was to appease my mother with a few socks and some pyjamas, regardless of whether they needed washing or not. Then she left me alone to my moping.
Actually, I realised that I spend more time talking about moping than I actually do mope. The reason is that, when I am by myself, I try anything to take my mind off things. But the result is that all my friends seem to be a bit worried about me. I'm ok, really, I just complain a lot.
Just realised that this blog entry seemed to complain more about my dearest mother than about that exam. I hope she never reads this.
The exam was bad. I don't want to talk about it... but I think I should have been more organised with my studying and perhaps approached a different way... anyway I'm not going to think too much about it until the exam results come out. It is sufficient to say that perhaps it is the worst exam I have ever sat. At least with the Gamsat, it was ok to do badly because everyone does badly.
Immediately afterwards, I went to a shopping centre to comfort myself with the latest fashion, only to discover that I am now too old for the latest fashion (either that, or I am too sane to wear it). I went to disrupt a friend at his workplace, but immediately guilt added itself to my general bad-mood, as I realised that I was disrupting someone at their work. I picked up my brother from school, and he had nothing comforting to say but "Well, we'll have to wait and see. Are you still buying me dinner?" (Although later, to his credit, he said "If you're so smart, and failed that exam, I don't know how all those doctors became doctors." Not bad coming from a nine-year-old.)
Fast forward to Saturday, I didn't have work. My mum said: "I'm taking your brother to art class, then we can go shopping."
"Don't wanna shop", said I.
"What are you going to do at home?" at the time I was still sitting in bed, albeit reading a book.
"Dunno..."
"You're not going to just sit around and mope all day, are you?" My mum was getting worried now
I kept silent at this point, putting faith into the view that if you ignore them, they will go away. It doesn't always work, but it works enough to always try it.
"You're not going to just sit around and mope until you get the results, are you?" she repeated.
"Yes"
At this point, my mum set her jaw and said: "No, you are coming shopping with me." (Actually, she doesn't have the kind of jaw that you can set. But believe me, if she had that kind of jaw, then she would have set it at the point.)
My mum believes in a sort of cleansing after a traumatic event. A literal sort of cleansing. After my exam, I gave my study room a cursory sort of clean-up, putting my exam notes in a pile under my desk. I felt nauseous at the sight of them, and I thought that I will sort them out after I get the results.
I was sleeping when I heard the banging, and I knew it came from my study room. In it was my dear mother, with a big broom, and a big pile of dirt, scrunched up paper, and, yes, my exam notes, sprawled among the other stuff. "I have swept everything that is on the floor into this pile. I even reached under the desk and shelves. I want you to take out what is important and then sweep everything else up." I guess that is one way to face your phobia of study notes... On her way down stairs, my dear mother said: "Oh, I am also going to do some washing for you. I want you to empty your closet of all the things you should have washed. And be quick about it, I don't have all day."
This, I knew, was part of my mum's way of literal cleansing, but I had nothing particular that needed washing, that wasn't already in the laundry. But I knew my mother... if I told her that she will storm into my room and no doubt the drawers will yield a dirty sock and some shirts that I should have hung up but 'forgot' to do. I knew from experience that the easiest thing was to appease my mother with a few socks and some pyjamas, regardless of whether they needed washing or not. Then she left me alone to my moping.
Actually, I realised that I spend more time talking about moping than I actually do mope. The reason is that, when I am by myself, I try anything to take my mind off things. But the result is that all my friends seem to be a bit worried about me. I'm ok, really, I just complain a lot.
Just realised that this blog entry seemed to complain more about my dearest mother than about that exam. I hope she never reads this.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Top 5 things to do immediately after exam:
Sida's top 5 things to do after I complete that damned exam coming up on Thursday:
- SLEEP!
- SLEEP more!
- keep sleeping...!
- maybe go see Shrek with my brother... then sleep some more...
- go shopping! Then sleep...
As you can probably see, I am really tired right now, and I'm just so over this exam.
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