Arteries and Veins

You know, just when I start to get disillusioned by the amount of cramming required of medical students I pause for a moment to reflect on the sheer beauty of the human body. It's absolutely incredible. It's truly stunning. It is an utter privilege to find out how it works, what goes wrong and how to fix it. Simply put - revitalising. Back to work.
My parents are busy cooking...I'm being loved. It's nice to be loved. I like being loved. Indeed, I do. I'm a little baby all over again, short of having to wear diapers and take afternoon naps - although that wouldn't be too bad, methinks...we get to do that one day when we're old and need stoma-bags after total colectomies. The naps are just pure pleasure, though.

Happiness

Have been informed that my blog is pretentious - I shall edit henceforth and make amends. Apologies to those who find/found it so. I write for myself - readership is a blessing, but a byproduct nonetheless.
My parents are visiting me.
I have bought a guitar, Lina, a lovely cream coloured beauty dressed in black.
Going to see Mr Mandelson this week with Rashod.
Finally recovered from a week-long cold. Feeling fine. Hopefully my first waterpolo experience tomorrow night shan't be too unnerving...
Have been coming up with all sorts of crazy ideas lately - 'inventions' and business plans...
Broadband is a wonderful, wonderful thing!
Pharmacology, however, is not.
Latest point to ponder - can other people detect emotion in my voice/mannerisms quite easily? I know I don't exactly have a poker face, but surely I'm a little more adept at hiding some things? Perhaps they are apparent to those who know me quite well/haven't seen me in quite a while. Oh well...
How life changes. How it changes, indeed.

Dim Alcoves, Dark Streets, Drunks and Drowning

Much has happened since last I wrote. My respect for Mr Lewis's prose grows with each passing day.
Nearly drowned on Tuesday. In the shallow end. Of a swimming pool.
Oh hilarity - on my way home last night a fantastically drunk Australian decided to hold a public conversation with 'Miguel,' the unfortunate (but very tolerant) Spanish chap sitting opposite. Utterly ridiculous, but incredibly entertaining nonetheless.
It's rather intimidating walking home late at night, swinging my umbrella and whistling in the dark.
It's an eerie feeling, but somewhat calming to sit with one's back to the floodlit hospital sign beamed through the window behind, a dim fluorescent light illuminating the carrell-desk before me and not a single soul around. Transcendental, almost. An incubator for pusillanimity, with the warm darkness from the pit below and a ring of light above in my own sheltered sanctuary, surrounded only by my own thoughts and faint imaginings. Not that they conspire to overthrow me - the opprobium of insanity is too far gone for that, now...
I tire, to change a spare would only count the pennies when the pounds can't quite feed tomorrow. Alas. Courage, for tomorrow.

Joy

I thought this was a rather inspiring book. I feel like someone has some empathy for me, no matter how impersonally it streams from the pages of a book. In fact, impersonal it is not - I am most certainly touched. Somehow.
Surprised by Joy, C.S. Lewis.
Shared experiences and thoughts? A childhood of thinking beyond lost thoughts? I don't claim to know, but I certainly feel a bond.

Tickets for British Midland Airlines flights 19-25

There are too many fat people. Australia, the UK and ('duh') the USA are facing an obesity epidemic. The fatties are taking over. Apparently the world is full of them, and we're not careful they shall slow down the planet's rotation. The earth will wobble on its axis like an overweight child jumping on a pogo-stick before unbalancing itself and spinning wildly out of control. The only question is...where are these fat people? I see some of them on the roads, pancaked by trucks which don't weight much more than them. Occasionally a jellified human mass will pass in front of me in the cinema. However, surely we ought to see more of these whale-men/women on the streets, judging by the proportion reported as 'overweight'? Surely they can't all be hiding in their hollowed out armchairs, gulping frothy beer from oversized cans in basements with temperatures optimised for adipocyte growth? Where are they? The streets should be lined with human beings wider than the back of a wide-goods vehicle, broader than the brim of a large buckets of congealed lard waiting to splash over the unwary bystanders unfortunate enough to brush past them. Where are they? Some people are unable to lose weight - leptin deficiency. They happen to number in the dozens (out of approximately 6 billion human beings). Thank goodness for the conservation of mass - I'd just started to wonder where all the burgers went.
By the way: BMI 19-25 is ideal, in case you're wondering about the title.

Night Cogs are spinning...

All sorts of lovely people seem to visit this hallowed ground, a shrine overlooking the dark cesspit of my mind. Oh well.
I'm wondering whether the law is interesting enough to warrant a little 'ground-shifting'... it might be somewhat difficult to justify. Probably just a passing phase.
By which barometer do you measure your aspirations and afflictions? Supposedly a dash of stress is good - it reinforces coping mechanisms etc.
I'm trying to be more human. It's difficult, but the goblin nature seems to creep out rather often. The psychology lectures certainly aren't helping - my pseudo-hypochondriac self is suddenly facing assault by a myriad of possible categories of explanations for my little idiosyncrasies. Perhaps that's what they are, then - idiosyncrasies. No psychopathy, no obsessive-compulsive behaviour, no Type A personality disorder. Pure and simple idiosyncrasies that can be attributed to any normal functioning human being. Hurrah. Now I'm in denial!

Dr Frank Tuller and Sisters

I feel reasonably inspired. A career in bioweaponry suddenly seems to beckon.
The world seems to have finally slipped into that stage of dispassionate 'unconcern' if such can be said about the Asian Tsunami. Tsk.
I find it difficult to the goalposts at the moment and dark have been my dreams of late...several things seem to be impinging on my sense of sanity and I need to rest on a nice cushy bursa for a brief while. Too many issues from too many angles make my head spin. Methinks (and methinks I tend to abuse this kind, tender word) that it is time for the simpler approach - a sharp rap across the knuckles and a knuckling down between the desk and chair.
Food, in generous portions is always a nice thing to think about. A kind distraction from an inescapable fate. Eat, drink and be merry.

It's coming...

There's going to be a mega-movie...about earthquakes...tsunamis...and destruction. The panic will spread everywhere and people will wonder about earthquakes affecting major cities. Global paranoia will escalate before fizzling out when the next disaster strikes...a giant reptilian monster from the suburbs of Oslo. Tsk tsk.

Deranged maniac seeks love-hate relationship with clone

Human male, 19, seeks female of same species.
Said suitor deems himself to be facetiously courteous, but self-effacingly arrogant (in an underhand sort of way). 'Bookish quiet charm' (i.e. a half-tone between boring and talking vegetable) and yet overbearingly supercilious. Let's rock this mind-warp and drive each other off the jagged edge of sanity's grassy bluffs. Send flames to:
iisdbiwiptlmstt@yahoo.co.uk
Ah yes - I get to speak 7 times. 7. Lucky 7. Hurrah. Francis Nurse, you fool.

Ad: Deranged maniac seeks companion

19 year old human male seeks female of same species. No racial, height or age bias. Devil-worshippers and those with body odour unwelcome. A love of ice-cream, corny 'inspirational' film music and the Lord of the Rings is a bonus.
The desperate youth in question is thoughtful and 'pensively quiet' (a.k.a boring and singularly untalented). Does not fidget but is a chronic fingernail-biter. Somewhat obsessive-compulsive. Underconfident and self-righteous. Kind, thoughtful and compassionate, but a pitifully vengeful swine. Dislikes tripe and noisy small children, loves salmon and gadgets that his tight-fistedness won't permit him to buy.
Send applications and flames to iisdbiwiptlmstt@yahoo.co.uk
Come on baby, let's drive each other off the cliff of sanity!

Ars longa, vita brevis

This is my second post today (Boxing Day, 2004). See below for the first. That means I'm thinking. Hard. Help me - I'm finally losing it. Or if I'm not, I'm thinking that I'm not. I'm also wondering whether this act of thinking means that either I think too much or that I actually AM losing it.
For some reason the jet-lag hasn't quite worn off yet. I'm beginning to wonder if it's actually the fatigue from this term settling in for the holidays. I'm paying my dues, I suppose. After all, I'm still technically a teenager - several hours of sleep (ought to be) required.
Is it worth the trouble? Getting up every day to the same roll call, the same drum beat that rolls the final curtain ever closer? So many people are led to drop from their high hopes to a lower ledge, to abandon their aspirations and awake from their dreams to a bitter reality that leaves a stinging after-taste for years. If this sounds like yet another exhortation to persevere, so be it - a clarion call for those with no real grievance except that which seems to be fabricated from the fragile imaginings that brings those puerile minds ever closer to the edge of sanity.
Yet - hark to my words - yet - the decision to try is ours. We can choose to keep reaching for the unattainable, to grasp that spindle of perfection beyond all the odds, great or small. Even those with rotten attitudes need not fear - regret is a byproduct of failing to try. My own life is filled with anguish and regret over things a far greater (or lesser, even) person would easily surmount; although greatly blessed in comparison to others, I still manage to wallow in the bitterness and disappointment of many past losses; depression clouds my judgement. I have to tell myself to breathe (and laugh!). Nevertheless, I strive. I strive for that goal because I have realised that this is the one thing that can never be taken away from me - the will to try. The arrogant, self-righteous and annoying shell falls away and no disability or obstacle can ever prevent me from reaching for whichever goal I try to attain. I may know deep within me that I shall never reach my target, but the will - yes, the will to get there is enough. Whether praised or derided, maimed or in health, alone or surrounded by adoration - I shall continue to try. Fault my logic if you will, but my endeavours will last to the very end. Whether time permits a legacy matters not to me - the essence is in the will - to strive till the very end.

Bah Humbug

I returned the belt. It wouldn't have fit me anyway.
I'm not sure what the cow statuette is for - the inscription mentions ruling the world, but the future is as dim and hazy as the past.
I suppose the shirt matches the shorts - let's hope.

"Another day is going by, I'm thinking about you all the time, but you're out there and I'm here waiting. But now you're gone and I can't think straight. This could be the one last chance to make you understand - I'd do anything just to hold you in my arms...somehow I can't put you in the past. Would you remember me...I know I won't forget you. After all these years, I'll be here; I'll be waiting. I just can't let you leave me once again. Somehow I just can't put you in the past. I'd do anything." Poignant at this time of year. Apt. Fitting.

Pause for a second to remember those in poverty and misery. Typhoons, earthquakes, wars, tidal waves, famines, civil wars, political unrest. Pause for a second to think about happier times. Life goes on. Indeed, life goes on.

I see sunlight

Touchdown at 1940 hrs. An eight-legged Sri Lankan greeted me later that evening. Little seems to have changed - veiled by the heat and humidity, the sunlight finally begins to stream through the clouds, beckoning me for a swim. I think I shall oblige. It's certainly quite a change to see sunlight after weeks of endless grey. Hang on - the great ball of fire's gone. Somebody's thrown a massive cloud blanket that stretches over those turreted apartment blocks. Argh. You can't win it all...
My consultant was ill, my flatmate was ill, my mother is just recovering - practically everyone around me is ill. I boldly predict that I shall not succumb to this current bout of seasonal flu, as this holiday shall demand slightly more of me than last summer's couch-potato requirements...remaining permanently on guard...those 'health sentinels' patrolling constantly. We simply can't afford to lose it now. Consolidate and build. Build and defend. Defend and attack.
It's time to get busy, people.

Plummer-Vinson (Paterson-Brown-Kelly)

I have reached the conclusion that I am evil. I pursue an ends-justifying-means path to a goal that can never be reached, for to reach it would render the goal an empty promise. I look over my shoulder and would take a swing at those who would come near me. I think I know how to empathise, but I merely squirt a dribble of pity. I live in a crucible, a burning shield that suffocates. Depressing, ain't it?

Why do people think that laymen can regulate the General Medical Council? What gave plumbers and financiers the right to tell coloproctologists that they should be chaperoned when performing digital rectal examinations? In a small departure from protocol:

I AM NOT A FASCIST. I AM A PRAGMATIST. I DON'T CARE WHETHER YOU THINK I'M MAD.

SCREW THE BRIGADE OF POLITICALLY CORRECT NAZIS! YOU STUPID INSOLENT TURDS KNOW NOTHING ABOUT PREVENTING YOUR OWN TERMINAL ILLNESSES AND YET YOU WANT A TRIBE OF SAVAGE PARLIAMENTARIANS TO STRANGLE THE MEDICAL PROFESSION WITH LOINCLOTH-TORNIQUETS. A PLAGUE ON YOU! TO THOSE ANTI-ANIMAL RESEARCH PROTESTERS AND ANTI-MEDICAL PEOPLE - DO YOU KNOW WHY, DESPITE YOUR SCAREMONGERING AND TERRORIST ACTS OF ANARCHY, YOU WILL CONTINUE TO BE TREATED WITH THE CARE AND COMPASSION THAT BEFITS A HUMAN BEING WHEN YOUR COLON HAS RUPTURED? BECAUSE THOSE DOCTORS AND SCIENTISTS YOU SET OUT TO DEMONISE HAVE MORE DECENT SHREDS OF HUMANITY THAN YOU COULD EVER HOPE TO REALISE. THEY CARE ABOUT PEOPLE. THEY CARE ABOUT RESEARCH. RESEARCH FINDS THINGS OUT TO SATISFY CURIOUS MINDS, BUT THOSE MINDS WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN CURIOUS IF THEY HAD NEVER FELT AT LEAST A TWINGE OF COMPASSION FOR THOSE DYING FROM INCURABLE DISEASE.

Phew. Forgive the rant.

Noel, Noel

I woke up this morning chanting 'mesosalpinx, mesosalpinx, mesosalpinx.' I know what the blasted thing is, but why did it secrete itself into that period of REM sleep this morning? Why? Anyway...
Oh, that lovely warm fuzzy Christmas feeling, nitrogen bubbles in my blood and a clot in my brain giving me that lovely nauseous feeling of wanting to embrace all of humanity and cry aloud my joy at the wonder and splendour of the season. Yeah.
Attended a carol service at All Soul's church yesterday evening - absolutely gorgeous mince pies. As a connoisseur I have to give my stamp of approval to the nice shallow-dish ones. Simply delectable.
One down, three to go...CU, St Augustine's and St Mary's. Oh, how I love Christmas, oh how I love sugary mince pies - not to mention the mulled wine.
That was certainly a lot of oh-ing...I seem to have temporarily lost my bearings - specifically the heavy one that keeps me weighed down and tethered to this good earth - the one that reminds me I'm nothing more than a frail human being. In a surreptitious fit of temporary happiness my mind managed to escape its prison and burst forth with unrestrained candour. Actually, life isn't that great. Always remember - it could be better. You don't have everything, you'll never get everything, but you can damn well try.
For example: Who do we look up to? What do we want to be? By whose standards do we define ourselves?
1) The professor of surgery (he's taller than most people anyway)
2) The professor of surgery (duh)
3) The professor of surgery (cut me some slack, okay?)
Enough of that. Life could be worse. Always remember to wear a lead shield when you enter the interventional radiology room - and don't forget the thyroid shield, for which a waist brace is a poor replacement (in addition to a sure way to make nurses laugh).

Hidradenitis Suppurativa

Lovely. Pus squirted everywhere, splattering the bleached white coat of my firm-mate. Firms have been interesting so far. Yes, indeed, interesting. My (previously limited) powers of observation have slowly been tweaked and I've realised there are several people I don't really like. Still, too many things to tell in this little blog.
I met an a couple of old friends this afternoon for lunch. Good to catch up for a while.
Besides my schedule of 4 carol services accompanied by liberal helpings of mince pies and mulled wine, I'm looking forward to returning to Singapore in just under a fortnight. I do miss my family. Can't wait to make them watch the Lord of the Rings (again) with me...this time the extended edition DVD series of 12 hours, 22 minutes (triple DVD extravaganza)...possibly.
We really are linked by some inextricably complicated kind of tangled web. So many of these patients I've met share their stories; even observing apparently mundane human interactions gives an insight into the depth of meaning of this spinning wheel of life...I'm going all giddy now, spouting hallucinogenic metaphors like a fruitloop drowning in a tub of UHT milk. Honestly, now.

Drip

Life giving fluid
Slowly seeping into veins
Sustaining a life

Lost

Help. Help. Help.
Help. Help. Help.
Help. Help. Help.

Hear hear, my lords.

Tomorrow is yet another day, a tale untold that shall unfold beyond our strangest imaginings.

A.T. Esq

I'm beginning to see why suffering exists. One reason - it validates the existence of happiness (and other nice, good, fluffy cuddly things). It makes them seem so much better. Being dragged through a muddy embankment and emerging on a green jewel-encrusted vale is far more satisfying than a brisk walk in the park. That said, I shall probably regret every ounce of this tomorrow morning. Roll on life!

Fallible

Papal infallibility. To all those Catholics out there, I'm sorry - it's just not possible. To err is human, to forgive - divine.
A wise soul once told me that winners never quit and quitters never win. Ms Seery, your mantra is more apt and fitting than you could ever know. My sincere thanks. With the good comes the bad, I suppose. A new day will dawn from the ashen horizon of the old.
Today's little discourse will grumble on about stereotypes. Hear the crank speak!
In our postmodern, politically correct, androgynously castrated world we pride ourselves on a tolerance that has failed to curb the hatred exploding from beneath. I do not advocate discrimination in any way, shape or form. I merely suggest that at the end of the day, it is our prejudices that save us. Almost (but hardly) analagous to the limbic system - it's an old but intrinsic thing, which preserves us. Even if it were the product of conditioning, surely there is a reason for such behaviour to be perpetuated so strongly in society. Ultimately, those stereotypes are difficult to comprehend and although they cleave the planes of human diversity, the resulting shapes form a startling mosaic that somehow prevents us going totally mad. This doesn't make sense. None of it does. I'm sleepy.