Friday, December 25, 2009


It's a white december.

The tress are barren with little icicles hanging from their dying branches, the fallen leaves crusted into an eternal form on the cold, hard ground.

Through the looking glass of my bedroom window, I see the world outside coated in a layer of possibilities. A mysterious wonderland. Breaming with magic, of flying little fairies with honey colored hair.

I love how white it is.

I love the way my breath becomes visible against the cold night air. I love that every word i speak can be seen and not just heard, that everything seems to slow down in tune to the leisurely beat of the season.

There are times when I dream of little fluffy flecks of magic descending from the heavens above. I imagine them dancing as they fall softly on my warm hands. But snow is a rare luxury that has yet to grace us in in this small corner of the world.

So, i wait. And i hope.
Maybe this year, my little snow girl can make a comeback?

But chilly days of winter came and went. Yet still no snow in sight.

This morning, I woke up to the sound of something familiar yet very much dreaded. Instead of soft fluffy snow flecks, harsh raindrops were hitting against my window, melting whatever hopes I had of winter away.

Within minutes, my frosty wonderland has dissolved into nothing but the unforgiving chilly coldness of winter's breath and the glistening puddles of the morning shower.

It pains me. No snow. No magical land of dreams.

Just another cold, wet December.

Monday, December 21, 2009


We were sitting in the doctor's lounge sipping our hot drinks quietly, lost in our own thoughts.

I remember thinking that if I didn't speak up first, he'd probably be more than contented just sitting there in silence until we were due back for the wards. In the year we've been attached together, I have come to learn that he is a man of very few words. I usually just let the silence eat us up. That day though, i felt like talking.

"So Brian, do you read sci-fi novels?"

He seemed a bit startled by my sudden attempt at conversation. And as far as conversation starters go, i'd have to say mine was a bit on the lousy end. But i was in the midst of reading Ender's Exile at the time (which btw is a brilliant read!) and thus that lousy question was all i could come up with at the top of my head.

"Err.. Yeah, i guess. When i have the time." he answered slowly and a bit too cautiously. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh nothing really. I'm just asking because i read this really good sci-fi novel," I could feel myself starting to blush as he looked at me straight in the eyes with his own piercing brown ones, concentrating on what i was saying.

"It's an old book. Written way back in 1986. The book is as old as my grandpa." I laughed nervously at my own joke. He didn't.

"But it's really really good anyway." I continued more seriously, ditching lame humor for the time being.

"I just thought maybe you'd like to check it out. If you want, that is. Not that I'm saying you have to or anything. Even if you're not into sci-fi, you'd probably like it, i think. Maybe." My attempt at conversation turned out to be more a case of one-way verbal diarrhoea.

He smiled then, and took out his mobile. "What's the name of the novel?"

"Ender's Game," i answered automatically as he keyed it into his phone.

"I'll look it up at the library sometime." He was just being nice and polite. I could sense it.

"Okay." I said, as we fell back into that familiar ball of silence.

And that was that.

One month on, I had forgotten we ever had that little embarrassing conversation. I hadn't seen him for weeks, being attached to different GPs. But I knew I'd see him again the day of exams.

And I did.

He came and sat next to me, which was really flattering considering that he could have chosen to sit anywhere in that large exam hall.

He smiled at me. I smiled at him.

And because we were meant to keep quiet before the exam started, he leaned in and whispered. "Hey Izzy, I read that novel you recommended. You're right. It's really good."

And for the rest of day, all i could think of was how attractive Brian is. Well, to be honest, I've always had a schoolgirl crush on him. And the fact that he actually took the trouble of finding that old piece of novel (which i really really like) and reading it in the middle of exam season made me like him even more.

I've had people who shut me off completely even before i could start telling them about this wonderful work of masterpiece. "I don't read fiction" they'd say to me, acting all huff and puff as if people who do are a rung lower than them on the intelligence scale.

And I have some friends who pretend like they were interested but then when I offered to lend my copy, they'd decline in a heartbeat.

Brian, he's different. He may be quiet and shy. But by just that simple gesture of taking me seriously and reading that novel i recommended, he actually made my day that day.

Oh Brian~ =)

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Because I'm a girl

The notorious pain-in-the-u-know-where has returned.

For a good two months I have been spared the company of this insufferable enemy, but today it has come to haunt me again - with a somewhat renewed vengeance!! I probably should have known it was coming when i started to feel that familiar achy feeling in my legs and that too-tender-to-touch sensation on that anatomy i will not name. But I had let my guard down these last couple of moons - complacent and blissfully unaware of the big surprise i had waiting for me today.

We were out in town, enjoying the rare sunny December day when it hit me. My first instinct was to double over, crouch down in a heap, do something. But the streets were packed with people doing their last minute Christmas shopping and the idea of making a scene in such a big crowd didn't really sit well with me.

I needed a plan B - pain relief!

In the olden days when the pain was a more regular visitor, I used to carry around a little emergency kit for just this kind of situation. In it i had the usual knick-knacks of painkillers, heat packs, fiery jacks and other nitbits. Today, i had none of those in my bag. And being the cheapskate that i am, I was reluctant to buy any since i had all of them at home.

As i was contemplating what to do, the sharp pain of my old enemy made the decision for me. So I went to the nearest pharmacy, grabbed a box of Panadol (Actifast, cos it supposedly acts faster), paid up (a big rip off for just 10 tablets) and gulped 2 down (those things are huge compared to the normal panadol) in a matter of nanoseconds.

I'm happy to say, that the effects of the drugs kicked in slightly quicker than I expected, and by the time we were in for lunch at the restaurant, i felt like my normal self again. After lunch, we went window 'shopping' along the Christmas-decorated streets without the slightest peep from the pain gremlins that were just hours before giving me so much trouble. Happy days~~~

Alas, this only lasted about 6 hours.

The minute we got home i started to feel it slowly creep up again (Hello there, my old enemy!). Although i'm better prepared for such a thing at home, it still doesn't eliminate the fact that I feel miserable because of all the aches and pains. The only good thing about being at home is that I could pamper myself silly. I could lie in bed with a hot water bottle tucked away at that one place where it hurts the most, with a cup of steaming hot cocoa for added psychological relief, and a movie to take my mind off the pain.

(these don't usually work as well as i hope tho, but better than nothing)

So, who said being a girl was easy?

Wednesday, December 16, 2009


I've gotta be honest. I've been rather cavalier about my whole 2-weeks GP attachment. And I'm sure doctors at the practice have noticed my rather lukewarm and off-handed beat to everything. I can't answer most of their questions. All the homework they give me are left undone. I'm unenthusiastic and I run off home the moment they turn their backs on me.

This morning, I tried avoiding Dr Peter with vigor, careful to act busy so that he won't drag me into yet another discussion about yet another boring patient. It's not that i'm not interested. I am. No wait, scrap that. I'm not interested, at all (you may scorn if you must).

But alas, interested or otherwise, all my efforts to avoid engaging in meaningless small talk were in vain. As i sat huddled in a corner with my paediatrics textbook, trying to squeeze in every bit of info i can get into my already congested brain, along came (who else?) Dr Peter.

"S0 Izzy, did you go to the eye clinic to follow up on the patient we saw yesterday like i told you to? WHAT? you didn't? Tsk tsk tsk, you're a horrible excuse for a medical student. You'll never make a good doctor. "

Okay, so maybe he didn't actually verbalize those last bits, but i swear from the funny way his face contorted that he desperately wanted to.

I can't help it, i wanted to blurt out.

With everything coming to one big, intense finale (i.e 6hrs of exams this friday), it's rather tough being on my feet and eager and excited about small things like fever, rashes and runny noses. I mean c'mon, get yourself some panadol, drink lots of fluid, sleep for about 10 hours straight and begone already. No, you're not gonna die from a simple flu, and no that rash won't kill you either. Now let me carry on with my already busy life without another hypochondriacal complaint from another neurotic patient please.

Of course, I never got the chance to say that. Fortunately for him, I still had some remnants of sanity left in me.

So, i apologetically told him i had exams coming up, and i needed all the time i had left to study (not go to the hospital to wait on a patient as she gets her eyes checked). He just snorted and said, "Passing exams won't make you a good doctor."

And how will failing exams do that, sir? I almost sneered. Grrrr.

Oh well, that aside, I guess this is what happens when you leave everything to last minute studying. You get moody, and snappy, and horribly temperamental. Plus, you still have tons of revisions to catch up on regardless.

Bummer. =__='

Sunday, December 13, 2009


For some reason, writing doesn't feel so refreshing anymore. It doesn't give me the adrenaline rush i used to get every time I start typing on my old keyboard. I don't get that giddy feeling of satisfaction i used to get when i finish writing a piece.

I believe all the boring academic reports I've been forced to write has distorted my writing style and left me crippled as an aspiring writer. I've become very inclined to start my sentences with "according to a recent study by Izzy et al" even when there's no study by Izzy and friends at all in the cochrane database. A few hundred hours of caffeine-tinted sleepless nights can do that to you. Nightmares about crazy people in institution is no big help either.

And thus, writing has become a tiring process for the simple reason that it's no longer fun.

I used to take roughly an hour to write one decent post when I'm in a happy mood, much faster when I'm upset or angry. Nowadays i take way longer. Words just don't seem to come to me like magic anymore. Instead, they dissipate into a misty oblivion before i could conjure them up completely.

I'm giving lame excuses.

Please bear with me.

I whine when I'm tired.

p/s: Thank u Mr M for helping me with my case report (yeah i might've, kinda, probably tricked you into it, but you eagerly said yes when i asked so i'm thinking you were happy to lend a hand, right??)

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Mommy's little bully.

My mom says: "Play nice, Kngah. Jangan gaduh-gaduh dengan your friends."

"But mommy," I say, feeling like an 8 year old kid again, "I tak gaduh with anyone pon."

"Then how come sampai tak nak cakap dengan your friend sebulan?"

Darn, i forgot she reads my blog.

"You don't get it Mommy! I'm telling you it was a deal. I get to snap a picture of him crying his socks off, upload it on the internet, write a mean accompanying post, make him vent his spleen in verbal gibberish, and in return I get off his back for a month. We both agreed to it. It was a win-win situation. Takde gaduh pon. Not the slightest bit. We're just doing what normal friends do when such a tempting opportunity presents itself."

There. I hope she gets it now.

"It doesn't matter. I'm saying: Play nice. Don't be a bully." she says sternly.

=___=' SIGH~~~~~~~

"Okay mommy. I promise I'll play nice next time." I finally relented.
I had to, she's my mom.

"Good girl."

And this came just when i thought of writing another mugshot piece about a different friend who was really asking for it.
(yes Bedah, that would be you!)

Oh well, I guess it's for the best. I don't really like writing about other people anyways. Why would I, when my own life is far more interesting?
(slight delusions of grandiosity?)

p/s: i think i'm developing a mini crush on *tut**