I think by the end of my Psychiatric posting, I really need to explain myself in certain aspects. 

Humans are made selfish. That is what I think. For we need that 'value' to survive. Being selfish isn't synthetic, but it's a good thing that there are times when we can make a choice. To not be selfish. I tried to keep up to what I believe. I choose not to be selfish but that surely does come along with a price tag.  The professionalism that I am required to be stapled on gets compromised. And the best evidence was Nisham. 

I got really attached to him, not because of sympathy. Not because of his fatigue, soft cries. Not because of his long lashes that were often moist and shiny. I did not want to be a selfish medical student who needed to submit a medical case report. I wanted every knowledge that I got from a patient to be equally beneficial to them. That sole compulsion, made me save my phone number on Nisham's mother's mobile. I wanted to help them as much as they helped to pass my community posting. I hated the idea of getting his mother's consent just to make sure I could go to my electives. I hated the fact that all my fellow friends made it really academic. Hey look, I took pictures with the poor man who is suffering from chronic kidney disease, so that I could pass my community posting. Hey look again, I am in the picture with my patient's house as a background,so I really deserve an A for my community posting. I hated all those, and the result was my close attachment to Nisham's family. 

But, not everyone has a screwed brain like mine. Easy example, my boyfriend. I was an easy target for hypothetical phrases like emotional-over involvement, counter-transference and whatnot. But, I could not fight his sharp words, cunning eyes and defining smirks, because, clearly we stand on different grounds regarding doctor-patient alliance. He is a professional who strictly follow the rules of Oxford, while I think it's ok to touch a mentally- ill. It's alright to be hugged by a patient. He is a man who marks his boundaries with a marker pen, and it made feel really inferior about my qualities. I wonder, do other doctors think like me? Am I the only one who breaks the rule of professionalism?

I don't know. 

When Nisham died a couple of days ago, it was surprisingly a relief. I had it coming, but I didn't expect myself to react in the way I did. I was much calmer than how I thought myself would be. I don't know whether doctors attend the funerals of their patients, but I felt like I was obliged to go. Nisham looked different. His mother cried when she opened up the coffin's lid to let me view him. I felt tears welling up, but I looked at my boyfriend, and he didn't show a single sign of despair. I quickly commanded myself to calm down. For I need to act professional like my boyfriend, like a doctor. 

Then, it struck me. What the hell is professionalism compared to love, to compassion? I hugged Nisham's mother before I left the service. Not just because she needed one. Because I needed that. From someone who will not judge me. Because I loved Nisham too.

This is really serious. Though RapidKL has launched its new transportation system, it's a sweaty truth, that we Malaysians depend a lot, a lot on the Keretapi Tanah Melayu. It's been ages since we don't call ourselves citizens of Tanah Melayu anymore, but I don't understand why we have not gained independence in the railway system yet. Yeah, I am still waiting for that eight or twelve coaches rail for about 2 years now. It is still in the making, I believe. Take your time, we don't mind having free sauna, everyday. I am a frequent 'Komuter' you see, and I have been taking the rail since it was first introduced, when I was still in early primary school up to, the last was yesterday. Yeah, and I have seen the progress of the system. From glittering  floors to unnecessary, not to mention 'unfunny' joke boards above the head. While we, inside the train are literally living up to the simpulan bahasa bermandi peluh, do you expect us to laugh our stinky sweats off ? De-stress huh? What a way. Don't get me started on the frequent air-con breakdowns? I don't understand the physics of train, but I do understand that I have never experienced such things on other railway systems in this prosperous Malaysia. I am sorry, for sounding really harsh, but the condition inside the train is always, equally harsh. Harsher, maybe. I do understand that it takes time, it's not easy to administer these things, but we Malaysian deserve not a-five-stars-service, but at least, a basic,reliable PUBLIC transport of average comfort. 

Oh, there is another burning issue I would like to project. You see, I have missed many trains, like three to four, on a single journey, many times, thanks to the congestion. I have been there, ok, and I totally know how it feels. It's tiring, really and very distressing. But, that's alright you know, because there is another train coming up SOON. But, imagine those who are stuck inside, packed with least ventilation, trying to squeeze out of the can, to get out on time at the respective station, before the door siren starts. There was once, an elderly couple was trapped inside, not being able to get out of the train at their station. Poor couple, they were confused, didn't know what to do, and were with walking sticks. That's alright too, they can always trample down to get down at the next station, cross to the other side of the track, wait for another train that would surely arrive SOON, while fighting for their hypoglycemia and heart problems. No problem, as long as you, yes, YOU,  can get into the train, without letting the passengers to disembark, which means to get out of the train!! 

Anyway, by Malaysians, I am also referring to the diverse races that have immigrated in, which includes, you know people from above, below, southeast, northwest, all of you, and of course, wonderful You and Me,  who don't know the basic social responsibility that we are expected to perform. Oh, there is another thing. I think we Malaysians just love doors. Hey, I am going into the train, and I am going to stand just in front of the door, no, I won't move. I will stand just there, so that more people can be left outside the train, not being able to board. Don't you know that, you are supposed to move in and let other people in too? I don't understand, what is the pleasure you get when you see that disappointment in the faces of those who are standing outside the train, behind the closed doors? What a selfish world.

Please, for the sake of humanity, behave. I am no angel, but I have been there, and I know how it feels. If you have suffered, tell others. Don't watch them making mistakes and gossip about it later. That is another good trait that we are so proud of.

This is something to grieve on. Pathetic commuters. Left with no options, thus steam bath we indulge in. 

Hello.

So, when someone criticized your know-it-all attitude, though you never meant to portray such behavior,  and at the same time , literally, you get this very peculiar pain at the throat, you know that you need to start thinking about your Karma. 

Let me debrief. I have been having difficulty in swallowing for about a year now. I did not give any conscious concern about it until, for the past one week, I started to have an unusual kind of sore throat. The sore is actually sort of localized at the very deep part of my tongue, in a the small space between the tongue and the right side of my throat. Being medical students, there is one thing we really love to do. To diagnose ourselves. So, don't blame me when I bring all the recent comments about me, that I look like a skinny, skeleton-like anorexic creature into this picture. Let me compile now. Difficulty in swallowing plus painful swallowing plus loss of weight. Oh shit, have I got some dreadful cancer at the back of my throat? Always diagnose the worst.

I have been trying to write this in a jolly way. But, the real thing is, I am freaking out now. I am a scientific person, but I happened to be Jungian personality of someone who blames herself for every catastrophe in this world. So, as illogical and trivial the following would sound like, I am still considering to consider it. Is God trying to tell me that I should shut up? 

Man, this is such a terrible situation. So let's say that my delusional diagnosis is correct after all. What would happen to me? How appa will be? Amma? How would Bharath react? Who is going to pay for my surgery? What happens if they need to chop my tongue? Will Yog still be with me? Midiel is going to grieve. Will I manage to graduate? Shit, if there is recurrence? What if I am already in 4th stage? Will I die?



Scary. Seriously. 


Randoms:

1. Days are not so happy anymore. It's distressing to think of it.
2. Life is with goal now. I wake up every morning looking forward to Psychiatry.
3. I saw appa laughing happily yesterday. I recall that whenever I am upset. That makes me feel better.

How funny when I recall my excitement to meet his friends years ago. When we first got together, I was so curious to know what kinda people he's friends with. But, he was and is still not an easy man to open up things. So, I began to know them slowly, while they probably did not even realize my existence in this tiny world. I got to know that Sugilan is known as Sue, and I thought that was very hilarious. And I also knew that, there was this guy at Johor matrix, whom stayed as a name-less man for a year or so. Yeah, Yog was that cautious. It was probably a good thing that he was being so thick and impenetrable about them, because the more I knew about them, the more hatred came in.

We imagine things, don't we? I imagined his friends to be cool, macho, handsome and importantly, sweet and romantic. So, they probably, mind me, PROBABLY, are cool, macho and handsome, but I will never know their sweetness and romance department's performance. Basically, what do I mean by cool, macho and handsome? Cool means someone who watches football and talks politics. Macho means, holding a slim bottle of Heineken and laughing into the night. Handsome means, a metrosexual who smells like an Armani and dressed up in smart-casuals. When I first got to know them, I seriously did not believe my luck. They were really cool, macho and handsome, quite low on the latter though.

Be careful what you wish for. Throughout the course of my courtship and their friendship, all those criteria I imagined did not do me any good. As a matter of fact, those criteria caused me more misery than anything. Their coolness brought Y away from me, because I don't think I will be commenting aggressively on Wenger or Shahrizat's cows. Their macho-ness took many nights ' sleep off me, for I would be worrying about how they would be driving while their drunk, or how it's gonna make him ugly with those beer-belly like Haree's. I was really pissed at times, a lot of times. At that moment, I was reversing all my imaginations. Why didn't his friends were nerds who don't go out on Saturday nights? Why they were not pious men who just go to temples to pray, and come back straight home after that? Why they were not some psychotic men who just can't stay apart from their girlfriends?

So, these thoughts, the thoughts of them taking Y away from me made me angry. They took my time! I was furious, and slowly it became hatred. Then, their girlfriends came into the window and made me hate men. But, I realized at many times, I wasn't even in the seat to be angry. I do not have any right to be furious with them. Their friendship is older than my courtship. So, logically, they can and should have him more than me. That is really gay, by the way. So, that's how I stopped being angry at them, but my resentment continued. Probably for the sake and pride of XX.

For a couple of weeks, I have thought about this matter over and over. And I did one thing that I have tried to do all this while. I did it sincerely, this time, without thinking of my benefit. I put myself in their shoes. Gosh, how sucking would it be, while you are in the middle of being cool, you have got to reply a corny message to your girlfriend? Another one, while you are straining to be macho and at the same time, maintaining your consciousness, you got to answer your girl's call every five minutes, telling you not to drink too much. And being tied up from your freedom to live your life at the age of 23? I feel you guys. So, if I were you guys, I think, I would probably be stuck at my friends' for days and would be clubbing and drinking my liver out. So, you guys are forgiven. The real purpose of me writing this stuff is, I realized I was quite cold to you people, because I hated you all. But, I like to keep it that way. Even if I get angry, I hope they all would really live their lives as how they have dreamt of. By being cool, macho and handsome. After all, we go on to live our dreams, don't we? But one thing, don't even dare to dream of being a playboy!



P/s can you direct your friends here? I really hope that they know that I don't hold any grudges against them. Anymore.

It is Ponggal. And I am supposed to be at home, feeling anew and Ponggalish. I have got plenty of credits on my phone yet I did not wish a single human. Because Ponggal means family to me, Amma Appa and the chaos at home. For a reason that I cannot fathom, or probably for a reason I don't want to accept, I am angry with them. All of them. But, the law of nature, u miss em more, when you are angry with em. Anyway, let's wait and see.