happy 2008...

The year 2007 is finally drawing to a close. And what a year it has been...

It is interesting, everytime I look back on the year I seem to look back with rose-tinted specs. The year was challenging, yes, but it was also stimulating, wasn't it? And surely it wasn't that bad. Challenges came, challenges went. It's been a good year.

Of course, then someone reminded me of the rough times I went through. My friend reminded me of times I joked about quitting Med, my tired looks and distracted ways. And that brought back memories... the late nights, caffeine highs, spending hours in the library, my silent wars against immunology/biochemistry/microbiology/ECG ... and last but certainly not least, those crazy Clinical Coaches... Oh, yes. Some things are best put behind us.

2008 would be much the same, although people tell me it's harder in 2nd year. I am old and cynical enough to know not to bother about making New Year resolutions, but if I have plans it would be to read through the bible in Chinese by mid-year (I have only read it in English thus far) and to complete my Women of the Bible devotional. Praise God... I have been, at times, been a rather lazy, cynical, and stubborn Christian this year, but my Heavenly Father still carried me through. Surely He is with me always.

Happy New Year, everyone! Have a blessed 2008.

A disturbing daydream...

This week I have been studying Sarah, wife of Abraham. She yearned for a child all her life; laughed when God promised her that she will give birth to a child (at the age of 90), then gave birth to Isaac. I really am enjoying this devotional (Women of the Bible - which goes through a woman per week). These women - Eve and Sarah - are both women that I had never given much consideration to; but provoked by the devotional, I realised that the short paragraphs in the bible that tells their story also subtly reveal some very complex, multifaceted and intriguing characters. But anyway, that's not what I want to talk about right now.

The devotional this week pointed to Sarah's want to have children, God's promise, Sarah's doubt, and the subsequent fulfilment of that promise. It asked the question: what's your dream? What dreams and desires have God placed in you, and do you doubt? Are you willing to wait patiently?

So dutifully I meditated upon this and discovered that I had no clear discernable dream. Do I dream of a perfect lover? (I'm ashamed to admit this is the first that came to my mind.) The answer was - well, perhaps, but that's not the most important thing. Career? Do I want to be a world-famous specialist? Do I want enough properties dotted around the globe to constitute a small town? What do I really want? Currently I wanted to be able to unreservedly serve my God without anything holding me back - namely, parents who frown and shake their heads and discuss me behind my back as if I am problem child. But that's not much of an ambition. And ever the cynic, I conceded that I could never serve God enough, and besides, there will always be something. Bigger obstacles, not smaller. I did not pursue the subject further, only made the conclusion that I was decidedly deprived of a dream.

A few days ago I met a sonographer who spends 3 weeks every year (sometimes twice a year) in Africa, in a Christian missionary hospital, training the local staff there in ultrasound. I was thinking today, while driving home from work, how wonderful that is, to spend a little of every year working to give a community some autonomy. That is when The Idea struck. I thought: I could erect my own hospital.

Once the initial Idea formed others flowed with it. It need not necesarily be in Africa, it can be anywhere, like Asia, the Americas... anywhere. It would be a Christian hospital, of course. I could buy my own buildings, recieve equipment donations, it need not be hard. Train the locals. It would be a Christian hospital of course. With some counselling services. It would be a lasting legacy. I could even name it after myself. No, no, no, no, no! At this thought I repulsed. All glory to my God! It shall NOT be named after me, nor shall it have my name attached to any part of it. Only God!

So there I was, rounding the little corners in my suburb, arguing with myself.

It's so ambitious. It's so big. It's almost ridiculous. But it can be done... I'm only at the beginning of my medical career, anything is possible. Probably hard to do single-handedly, though... you need a few more doctors to make one hospital; and you'd need a few doctors ALL the time, not when it's just erected. And not just doctors - nurses, radiographers, allied health, pharmacy... Staffing would be a night mare. Will I ever have enough money to fund it? But my God, I can really feel like I made a contribution. I can tell people that I built a hospital, in Africa. It's something that would last after I'm gone, something of value left behind for the world. Something I can present to Jesus. But is that why I'm thinking about it? For the approval of humans? For the laughable illusion of my ideas and works continuing after I'm gone? To feel as if I have given a worthy gift to God? But can I ever give enough? Obviously not; it would be frivolous to try. Furthermore: would this be my gift to God, or God's gift to me? More precisely - is this a self-absorbed day-dream, or a vision placed there by God?

And thus my thoughts ran, round and round in circles, in a sort of taunting self-torment, until finally I reached home and put the idea on stand-by (that is, until I turned on my computer and started blogging). And I still don't know. I don't know whether I will, whether I really want to, whether I'm up for the challenge, and what my aims really are. But to God I admit defeat: there is no way I could possibly know. Even if I were sure, there is nothing I could do right now, except perhaps study harder. God is wise: if all His plans for my future were revealed to me right now I might well faint from fright, or run away like Jonah.

I'm glad I blogged, the knot in my mind is untied. Thus I turn to my Tormentor and say: Har-har, you don't confuse me. I have handed over to the One who is above all powers.

The humility of the nativity

Imagine the little town of Bethlehem... Caesar had issued a decree that a census be taken of the entire Roman world, and so everyone from the line of David was flocked to the town of David (ie, the little town of Bethlehem) to register. King David lived some twenty generations ago, so you can imagine, there are a lot of people. A lot, in a small town. In the crowd that night was a young man, trudging wearily. The bible doesn't tell us but I imagine him to be in his early twenties. He had travelled a long way (most likely on foot... the distance between Nazareth and Bethlehem is roughly 110km, roughly the distance between Brisbane and Noosa Heads), the journey had been slowed somewhat by the girl with him. I imagine the girl to be a mere teenager (they married very young in those days), and she is heavily pregnant. The paintings have her depicted as very beautiful, with flawless smooth skin and a serene look on her face. But we know that God does not look on the exterior, as humans do. I imagine her to be very plain, and indeed one may never notice her in a crowd like this, excepting of course the enormous swollen belly.

To make matters worse, the girl starts contracting. It is Time... the contractions are getting stronger and stronger, and more frequent. Her eyes widen with fear, panic, and pain, and she alerts the young man. He forgets his weary feet, grabs her by the hand, and pushes through the crowd desperately, knocking from inn to inn. Won't anyone let them in? But no, they are all filled, and there are people everywhere. But is there really no room for a teenager about to give birth? Finally, they settle in a manger, Mary gives birth, and they are visited by the Magi and some shepherds. (Of course, this last bit is my imagination. Luke doesn't tell us whether she started her labour while on the road, or when she was already settled in the manger. Indeed, I don't even know whether she experienced pain. But considering that the adult Jesus laughed and wept and got tired like the rest of us, I would imagine his birth to be the same too.)

And thus, the almighty Creator entered into the created world. At this point, surely the non-Christians reading would scoff: does this not prove that he wasn't the King of Kings? Would the King of Kings come in such a way, borne by a scared, scandalised little teenager, impoverished and fleeing from the puppet ruler Herod? Is this the reception befitting a King?

The Nativity story is indeed a humble one. Why did Jesus come into the world in such humble circumstances? And yet, his entire life was a life of humility. He fled from crowds. He told those he healed not to tell others. He washed the feet of his apostles, including Judas, who was to betray him that very evening. The creator of food experienced hunger; the creator of the wind and the rain got rained upon. And finally, the creator of humans got crucified by humans, using the wood and nails that He created. Why? Well, we know why he came (John 3:16 - so that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life), but why the humble circumstances? Why be the underdog?

When I started writing this it was never my plan to expound my own theological theories (God knows I have none). But I could probably hazard a guess. Jesus said: "My kingdom is not of this world", and indeed it was never His plan to become King of the Jews (or any such equivalent) during his time on earth, nor to convert the world by physical power but by sacrifice and love. Had he been born into a rich and powerful household, history might have turned out very differently.

If we take the story of Christmas to be the first great statement in the life of Jesus, the statement would be something like this: "I'm humble, I'm approachable, and I understand your feelings of poverty, hopelessness, fear, and oppression."

What a wonderful statement from the One who is exhalted above all things... the Exhalted who resides in heaven, understanding first-hand the likes of you and me.

And what better time to reflect upon this, than at Christmas...

Crime and Punishment

Just finished Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. You've got to read it. It's brilliant.

What is it about these Russian authors who manage to write a thriller, a tragedy, a romance, a philosophical/social/theological commentry, all in one novel?

End of elective...

Today was my last day of elective at Kingaroy General Hospital. It certainly has been an interesting time. Many times I have fought the urge to blog... but I didn't because, after all, Kingaroy is a small-ish town and I don't want to run the risk of revealing the identities of my patients by blogging about my experiences with them.

At the beginning of the year, when we were all wide-eyed 1st day medical students (oh how long ago it seems!), we were given a lecture named "Celebrating Life and Confronting Death". I think it is fair (and safe) to say that during my time at KGH I have celebrated life and confronted death, observed physical diseases, mental illnesses, and social ills (sometimes all in one patient)... and witnessed the best and worst of humans when faced with a challenge. The faith, resilience and courage of some patients (and their families) put me to shame... and yet some others really discouraged me as well. I guess you could say I walk away inspired and warned at the same time.

The doctors and staff at KGH are amazing... here, I found doctors who actually appealed to my idealistic naive side (rather than the caustic cynic). Witnessing them work so hard and yet still get bad press in the local papers is disheartening... but I guess that's the way it is, we live in a fallen world.

The town is a cute little town too... with two little look-outs to which I can ascend to watch the sunset. I'm in love with the dusk. The only complaint I have is that the water here makes my eczema flair up...

So anyway, tomorrow morning I will pack and clean out my room and start on my drive back to Brisbane... then holidays. It is going to feel so strange, to be on holidays. I don't want to work but I may have to, just to keep myself sane.

that time of the year again...

Yep, that's right. I turned 21 today.

Sigh.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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...