Jack-of-all-trade and master of one or two

Seven years ago, I wanted to be a surgeon. Because I knew I can do it, heh.

Then I realised we had no lawyer in our extended family so in my final year of high school, I decided to read law. Graduating high school, I realised I could do both and decided on being a medical legal advisor.

But then I realised above all I wanted to learn from my dad. He's a consultant neonatologist so I stepped into medical school with that aim in mind. Graduate with MBBCh, take up MD in Paediatric and further subspecialise in Neonatology.

Despite all that, I still preferred surgery. Dad said I could go into paediatric surgery, so I kept that option in mind.

During second year, psychology captivated me. I realised despite my ignorance of my own species, I really enjoy messing with people's head. As a human, that was the one human bond I truly enjoyed; breaking the mind apart, understand them and put them back again. I called mom and told her I wanted to be a psychiatrist.

She told me no. She objected to me working with crazy people. I decided to humour her and dropped the calling.

Third year happened and that changed my life, so to speak. I lost sleep and time to overthinking. I was always on edge and became a fluent liar. I realised the importance of doing what I can with what I have and relying on my most basic of instincts. It made me a person who think 20 steps ahead, always ready to run off, equipped with protocols for any circumstances. To be ready to function in any stripped bare situation.

I also realised I was made for trauma.

During fifth year, I greatly enjoyed paediatric. I liked working around kids and hated their troublesome adults. I've always liked kids and animals better anyway, this is concurrent with my taciturn nature. One day, I finally get the chance to tag with dad at the hospital. At the NICU I realised paediatricians are a bunch of calm people. Too calm for me; I liked pre-planned protocols, making decisions on the run and act. Trauma and intensive medicine suit me better.

I didn't share this thought with my parents besides commenting how calm paediatricians were. But their reply caught me off guard. Dad and mom concurred that I wasn't calm enough for paediatric and they said I function better in an emergency setting.

I took up medicine to learn from you, dad. Wherever I may be, I will always learn from you.

Sixth year and during my Internal Medicine rotation, everything came easily and enjoyable for me, except perhaps Cardiology. Damn thing was, is and will always refuse to be nice to me. And as expected, Emergency and Psychiatry came naturally for me.

Surgery rotation came and I had the time of my life. Hell came when my Emergency Surgery rotation disappointed me and it hit me the worst because it was my favourite of all-

Ah, I'm still sore about this subject. Let's move on.

Study leave made me realise how frequently I had to stop for a very deep thought while studying for Psychiatry. I was fond of the idea of taking up psychiatry and even found myself imaging my future hot-headed daughter yelling at me for unconsciously psychoanalysing her like one of my patients in pure Hanazilla style and I wouldn't be able to blame her.

Hahah.

At this point, this post is unproductive and serves no function other than as a vent for me. Because there's only one thing to do now; study to become a good practitioner and graduate medical school with pride.

I don't know what's in the future for me, for all I know this could be my last post here. Regardless what may become, I know I will proudly do my very best and live happily.

I don't discriminate

If you chat with any HOs or senior doctors, the one mutual advice they give us medical students in order to survive houemanship is having the right attitude.

Behave humbly and politely.
Eager to learn.
Be diligent.
Yadayada.

They all repeat the same thing. I assume they tell us this in advance is for us to develop the right attitude right now, from this moment, now, before we step into the workforce. So that keeping a good attitude is easy for us by that time.

Go to class and respect your teacher and classmates.
Help each other out.
Be reasonable.
Be eager to learn.
Have depth in your knowledge to stand up for yourself.
Be nice to the patients.

I clerked this stuporous uncooperative patient once. She'd rather sleep than hear me out. She denied any previous operation while I was clerking her but when I examined her, there was a scar of previous hernia repair. Took everything in me not to smack anything.

Anyway. My batchmates are all grown up, at the age of marriage, they can do whatever they want and I should worry more about myself (I have difficulty sleeping early to be up for the 7am class. If this persists, how would I wake up before 5am for work?) But when you see your classmates ditching class, shoving clerking after clerking to you, shitting out bullshits like "if you assign me to present the case, I won't show up for class", you start to wonder how long does it takes before housemanship kills them and they drop out.

Dr. Ayman Gado told us that we should save the patient and try not to scandalize our colleagues. Today I learn that in  medicine, you have to save a patient's life and your colleague's ass.

I hope I don't trouble people by having them wipe my ass too much. And I certainly hope I stick around in this field.

Study well and don't make the doctors lose faith in us students

The other day our doctor had been telling us about the clinical indications for wearing gloves, which was examining mucous membrane and ulcer.

"But of course you will wear a glove during genital examination because you are grossed, but a difficult doctor might ask you about it."

So I was adamant after that that I won't be grossed out by genitalia. Which of course was big talk and totally short-lived, because for the next class we had a hydrocele patient and I immediately put on a pair of gloves. And thanked God for it as I stood near the patient and realized his last bath was probably days ago.

I know not everyone has the privilege of shower and I have to be grateful I naturally smell nice (or as Kak Junaidah said "you smell like trouble") but.. but.. I can deal with blood and organs and smelly kids but I can't stand to come near people who doesn't bathe. Extremely repulsive. I hate crowded trains.

Fast forward to today. I was going to examine the patient and Dr. Mohamed told me to wear gloves so I did, eventhough at the back of my mind I reminded myself this was not a clinical indication for gloves.

"You have to wear gloves because of scabies. There is high incidence of scabies and you don't want to catch it from the patient and then pass it to another patient."

Enough to say I was horrified and stunned. Dammit I forgot about scabies!

ربنا يستر

Kak Milah said their Surgery paper today asked Anatomy questions like something-fistula (no not AV fistula) and anterior rectal fascia and whatsit. Their doctor comforted them pre-exam that the questions would be crystal clear but they didn't expect such crystal clear questions were of minor topics.

"We expected Anatomy questions would be like hernia.."

"Or neck, thyroid."

"Yeah."

So Ijud advised us to study minor topics well and #crystalclear had become a running gag.

It's cold today and the weather forecast warned of showers so I put on my usual winter coat this morning. But I didn't expect it to be that cold. The weather sure is bipolar around here.

There was an anti-coup demonstration on campus today but apparently I missed out because I was still at the hospital at that time auscultating a 41 years old female with double mitral, aortic stenosis and tricuspid regurge.

Dr. Abeer said the patient has small volume pulse so I checked her pulse and compared it with mine. It was similar. Damn.

"Does this mean I have small volume pulse as well?"

I had palpitation at rest a few days ago and with this revelation, I felt like going down to the ER and hook myself to an ECG machine.

And in Al-Azhar University, the military continued to violently dehumanize the students in particular and us human in general. There is an illusion of peace in this country with targeted and localized dehumanisation and if you stop caring, you will forever be a fool.

Our midround Internal Medicine exam was announced to be next Monday at 8am. Which is brilliant because we have Tropical Medicine endround exam at 12pm. On top of that, my group was scheduled to present our seminar on Fever of Unknown Origin at 9am same day but I couldn't confirm with the doctor whether it is still on or postponed (though logic dictates it is postponed but you never know, we do have Murphy's Law). We were scheduled to compile our work tomorrow.

Because it's cold, I am planning to skip out on our hospital session tonight. It's either that or be dependent on turbohaler.

To balance this post, an Arab colleague of Ijud commented on his status that the only good thing that happened to him today was when Dr. Hussein Khairy passed in front of him in the exam hall.

Now that is a sight for any sore eye.

Some people are born to make others happy

while some others observe.

It had been a long day for some of us at the faculty today. Starting with the dean's surgery class at 7 (which I skipped because I needed to sort out some financial issues, I miss Dr. Hussein huhu) and our last class for the day, a double dose of surgery general lecture, ended at a sweet 4.30pm. Dusk in half an hour.

The day didn't end there. We had a meeting with the dean and our coordinator afterwards. I felt sorry for them to have to meet us at the end of the day and hear us commenting this and that, but they were steadfast and unrelenting in honouring their duties.

Except that the dean looked a little bit tense. It wasn't that he was expressive by default and he did look like he normally looked, but there was an aura of exhaustion coming out from him. And he wasn't smiling, there was no spark in his eyes. Ara told me earlier that he appeared to be in a sour mood during his class that morning. This meeting probably wouldn't help uplift his mood.

"I thank Dr. Hala for insisting with this meeting, although at first I was a bit reluctant," at this point we all laughed. "But thank you all for attending today."

At the end of discussion, Khadijah stood up and thanked the doctors profusely for setting the time to meet us. "Thank you for always helping us, for listening, for hearing our voices.."

I was staring at the dean and there was a change in his expression. Just subtle.

"... although not everyone of us is attending, but deep from our heart, we really really love you."

And there was a smile on his face, just a slight upward lift of his right lips that showed a hint of his teeth. There was a little more spark in his eyes.

He looked contented. That made me smile, too.

He is a great man, a humble dean, an inspiring teacher, and he did so much for us Faculty of Medicine students. He taught us to always be inspired and to be the best that we can, and much more.

Maybe we never told him how great we think of him and how much he was doing a great job. It probably never occurred to us that the dean may need some encouragement and praise, too.

We thought he knew how great he is.

Dr. Hussein took the mike and said, "You made our day and night" with such sincerity, my smile widened.

Uplifted.

---

"Is there anything you would like to add, doctor?" Our MC the batch boss asked at the end of the meeting.

"No," but the dean was already reaching for the mike. "I wish you success ba'a and a nice stay in Egypt."

What Weekend?

We sixth year Malaysians started our academic session one month later than the Egyptians and to catch up, compensations must be made in the form of sacrificing our two-weeks winter break. It was understandably non-negotiable, but some of us still wanted to try.

Dr. Hala: We can give you two days.
Dr. Hussein: Yeah, a long weekend.

Hahaha.

Universally, weekend means two days off but apparently in the medical profession, you're more than lucky to even have one.  

Clairvoyant

"Recipients of a single organ donor exhibit the same bizarre, manic behaviour before lapsing into comas."

The first thing on my mind was RABIES because it was an infective neurological case from organ transplantation. I waited in high-spirit for a full 25 minute the series discussed the case, questioning why the doctors didn't think to investigate for rabies and to trace back what really happened with the donor.

And when they finally reveal the diagnosis, I was waiting with fist ready to pump.

Fist pump. God, was I smug.

And then... Nothing. I now knew the cause and that I was right. I knew once symptoms of rabies flare, there's little to nothing else you can do. But even if there was something to do, I was dampened. I didn't really wanted to know. I got my fist pump, I don't care for anything else. Aah, life's good.

It was then a revelation to me. That I am excited of cause and deduction, and not at all by actions of what's next. That explains my situation nowadays. Knowing but not doing anything about it. Clearly stated in Surah Al-Baqarah verse I-forgot-but-it's-around-two-third-of-the-surah about insolent servants like me. Huh.

The next day, it occurred to me that that case was probably the first case of rabies by organ transplantation in the world, that's why the CDC was hell late. And that my knowledge of it was inherited at their expense.

That fist pump was uncalled for. I wasn't great.

Kambings are Mycobacterium-resistant hence no need to shower. Sleep is more relevant.

"Kak ngah." Big boss called from the kitchen. The lump hummed in response. "Have you showered?"

The lump lifted her head from the sprawl on the floor. "Why do I have to shower? I want to sleep."

"You met a TB patient! You have to go take a shower and wash away every bacteria!"

"But I want to sleep."

"You met a TB?" The lump's brother said in fake indignation. "You touched me just now!"

"No I gave you the end of my stethoscope and you put it on yourself!" The lump managed a glare, which softened in concern at remembering the youngest sibling she percussed earlier. "But I touched Hakim.. Hakim go shower now!"

"Kak ngah go and shower! You dealt with infectious diseases!"

"There's no logic to that. I changed my clothes. I washed my face and my hands and-"

"You have to practice the correct method of hand hygiene."

"I did! I even used the sanitizer!"

"This is protocol for infection control. You wash off everything. This is the sister ordering you to go and shower now."

"Why do we have a nurse as a mother?" The lump moved a few inches.

"You are lucky to have a sister as your mother." Said sister sounded smug. "Now go shower now."

"Yes motheeer."

Hakim ran to the bathroom for his shower after hearing the threat of bacteria on his being. The lump continued her sprawl on the floor.

The will to live

Medical Ethics lecture today inspired me to write my living will right now.

1) Please resuscitate me.
2) Power of attorney given to my father.
3) Please see that I get my manicure and pedicure. Conscious or not, I detest dead skins and untrimmed nails.
4) Don't mess with any notes left on my iPod and laptop or my wrath will hunt you.
5) If end comes to end, please donate my internal organs.

Thank you.

H*na Akmal R*slan
15th October 2012

Firefighter

Today we had our PERUBATAN Team Medical first aid training at Hadiqah Dauliyyah. There were four stations in all; there was Kak Shae teaching us first aid management of bleeding and the art of bandaging, Kak Nadiah taught us how to manage burn, sling and splint and Ijud taught us how to manage seizure, choking and CPR.

Baem was the facilitator in-charge at the station teaching us how to mobilize a patient. There were several techniques that could be applied and one of them was the common fireman's lift.


Theoretically it is simple. While standing with the patient's front toward your side, grab the patient's farthest arm and sling it over your shoulder. By this you should be squatting on one foot and the other be kneeling on the ground to ease your own standing up and prevent any back injury. Wound your arm between the patient's leg and lock behind his farthest knee.

Secure and lift.

Pushing

The technique itself reminded me of Asahina Daigo, the ambitious firefighter in Kisah Ahli Bomba serialized years ago in Kreko. (I grew up watching Ultraman with a brother so I know and enjoy this kinds of stuff.) If my memory serves me correctly, they were in their preliminary test to qualify as a firefighter that included a series of physical exercise. One of them was monkey-bar pulls-up.

Every one of them lifted themselves up above the bar. The trainer counted and as the number climbed up, so were the number of trainee who fall down from exhaustion and couldn't continue the test. Daigo was the only one remaining, pulling himself up like his life depended on it. What was on his mind at that time was himself during a fire some time ago, where he was between a helpless old lady and the hanging bar railing. He had been hanging on for a long time, waiting for help to come.

ATP depleting but if he let go of his hand, the lady and himself will fall into the fire below.

Gravitating

We are future doctors. Every day at school we learn the ropes of this life-saving, injury-preventing, recovery-promoting trade and when we get back, we study as well as juggle other commitments that make us a human. It is a mundane, repetitive chore that could easily loses its value if we are not grateful or thoughtful enough.

And today, the fact that God granted me yet another sweet day to be alive and the birds sung brightly and we had a family outing in a park could have fooled me into thinking learning first aid management is just another skill to be added into your bragging rights list.

It is not. The gravity of the situation is that LIFE depended on your ability to stay calm, know what to do and do so properly. We are servants of Allah in this world to do good and be a benefit to each others either from your pledge as a Muslim or through your professions.

You are not Suzumiya Haruhi; the world does not revolve around you!

"Now that we're here, we might as well make this real."

Lazy

I was told that I'm the laziest medical student around, up to the point that "if you work just a little bit harder, you'll get excellence for sure."

This is of no surprise, I'm acquainted with this fact since I was in primary secondary school. My parents know I am not as hard-working as my brother, who once told me the secret for his 4 flat was "sleeping 4 hours only."

Well I sleep for 4 hours too (yeah, right), but that's not the point. We siblings are different, and our parents celebrated this differences by tailoring how each of us gets treated.

Uh oh. Now I feel like going snowdiving. Since the jelly beans are spilled, we might as well do something about this, right?


Marriage

I'm all for marriage. Give me a married couple as the characters and I'll be all for them. Like Henry and Teddy lol ;)

My rational is simply that it's the right thing to be. A male-female couple rightfully belongs in a marriage, nothing less. And even so, the transition period is also very crucial, to see how pious you are to go by Allah's book, or will you do instead what every other couples do.

A big shame if you do the latter.

p/s: The title is connected, I assure you. If you don't get it, then you're not thinking hard enough.

New Approach to Blood Donating

Let me shift your paradigm about blood donating.


First, it's about sharing with others the very thing that keeps you living. Instead of just sharing food, reminders, notes, pens and punches that are mutually regarded as essential for the survival of human, why not donate blood and practically own that person for life?

Second, it's about building up concern for animals and nature. Your donated blood will help to sustain another person's life and you will be so overwhelmed with just how much contribution you can do by sitting still and be pricked for a while; so much that you would want to contribute just as much to the surrounding street cats and dogs and the fluttering leaf in the windy spring.

Third, it's about romance. You can't really get more intimate than having your blood cruising in his/her veins.

Fourth, it's about keeping yourself physically, mentally and emotionally fit. In order to participate for a blood-donating campaign the next day, you'll have to be so! If you had a pathetic 3 hours of sleep the night before, had nothing throughout the whole day except for two cups of coffee, and is lacking blood as it is; you'd better forget it.

Or maybe it is a clever way of delusionally avoiding the scale ;)

His side: Waiting for you to be back home.

As I humbly quote from a senior's YM status,

There are three sides in an argument. My side, your side, and the right side.

Here is my side.

Yesterday or so, Kak Pijot shared with us this blog post of a previous UKM doctor who migrated elsewhere due to the terrible working environment faced there. It spawned my fear, somewhat, though I realize the so-called terror of housemanship should not bother me yet, a second year medical student struggling to memorize her pre-clinical studies.

So, the spoil daughter I am, I turned to my father who himself is a doctor about the authenticity of the issue claimed by that poor doctor, and here was his lengthy reply.

Assalamualaikum Atiqah,

Thank you for asking me my comments. I read it in the news about UKM grad leaving the country for Singapore. Well, to tell you the truth... whatever was said was true... but... but it depends where you work.

I have been working since 1980. Then, was the HOs in Melaka. The only few Malay doctors then. I was greeted and treated well by my MOs and Consultants. My pay then was RM 600 increased the next few months to RM 800.

I never think about the money. I wanted to learn and I take the time to learn. Respect need to be earned not because you are a doctor. People respect a doctor because you are a doctor, not during your working hours but after hours too. I was appreciated by the senior nurses and sister and learned lot from them then.

As a MO, I was sent to Miri and Kapit before joining Melaka as a registrar in Paed.

In Sarawak, we were respected... Me then. I never regreted my posting in Sarawak. I learned from nurses, MAs and also the people. There I understand the differences between Semenanjung and Sarawak which is neglected not by us but the politicians. I cried once about commenting to a Iban police officer for delaying the visit of his ailing mother. I did not realised how far they have to travel to reach the hospital in Miri. One week from the longhouse via river provided the river is not dried... Might take 2-3 weeks... I felt sorry and lucky the humbleness of the Iban change me from a Semenanjung doctor proud with all facilities available to understand how much they need our help (till today but doctor attitude change and so are the paramedic.)

I wanted to be a paed after seeing how much neglected the people there was. Did I ever think of quititng... Never in my life. Not the money... yes... now I know why I stayed. Allah wanted me to go on. This is my challenge. Yes, Singapore and UK gave good pay and also rest day.

I did 72 hours call as an MO in Melaka. We were short of doctors. I learned the hard way and I know thus encouraging my current HOs to understand why you need to do call.

Atiqah, do not be despair with the letters and comments. I survived with the system. It was worst before yes... But improvement seen. I never expected my promotion till I retire... but I got it. I know Allah yang memberi rezeki. Apa yang kita lakukan untukNya... mendapat restu dan ganjaran yang lebih baik kelak.

Cerita dari doctor [tu] lebih mengambarkan keadaan di Universiti. I worked and learned for 5 years as a master student in UM. You may not remember... but I nearly quit... Tough... The doctor need to set the IV lines and give antibiotics. Yes that is true...your mother keep supporting me. I never had a good day, weekend in wards and evening with you all. I was exhausted...pergi kerja awal pagi dan balik akhir petang.

But you know what...I learned a lot. The system in UM is like that. Your take blood, set lines and give antibiotics. Tapi papa tak ada masalah, they helped me. Papa tak bayar lunch mereka... yang ada ketika itu ialah wajah keikhlasan seorang doktor yang ingin membantu. That is me sampai kini.

You know why I was sent to Kelantan? Papa sendiri tak pasti. KL ingat papa orang Kelantan. Kelantan, Kota Bharu in 1993, lebih kurang sama tapi better than in Sarawak.

I was shocked to see the paed wards then. Masa di UM... everything was in order. Mama minta balik, papa kata kita tenguk dulu. Setiap hari raya, papa rasa nak minta tukar... tapi I changed a lot in Kelantan. I improve my Islamic knowledge. Papa tahu setiap yang berlaku ada sebabnya....

Also sebab kenapa papa buat subspecialised in Australia. I was offered in the private hospital... I told them Thank you. I went ahead to learn in Brisbane. Hope you still remember...

Atiqah, banyak lagi yang papa nak luahkan. Do not listen to part of their grouses... yes, ada kebenaran dan ada juga tidak benar.

Yes, the system is the same. Better dah got. Pay good for all of you cuma 2 tahun HOs. Ini semua sebab ada HOs yang dari oversea (not Middle East) buat hal. Tak semua nurses macam tu... tak semua MA macam tu... yes they are more toward admin now tapi work very hard in Sarawak. Admin staff ambil tak peduli dengan claim... do not worry in Kelantan..tak ada masalah.

Mereka nak ke Singapore lebih untuk duit dan keselesaan di dunia. Kebanyakan adalah bangsa C namum dalam kes Sultan Kelantan...apa yang mereka lakukan adalah pelik... cuma nak kutip duit... ada masa untuk bercakap dengan pesakit.

My advise to you and your friends... jangan runsing... apa yang bakal berlaku ada hikmatnya. I do not know. Belajar dan balik berbakti kepada rakyat. Challenges akan timbul... papa dah pernah kena. Dimaki hamun namum papa tahu itu adalah kesilapan papa...

Now, I wanted to help not the patients... parents... but also junior doctors... and that will include you... Time off diberikan melihat kedudukan wad... ada doctor terlalu ego, itu buat paramedic marah. To me... simpan ego, then you be respected, willing to learn then you can progress... so take care...

Papa... waiting for you to be back home.


Study weh, baru boleh balik Malaysia dengan tenang.

Atiqah, do better than the best.

p/s: Dr. Mohd Hanifah Mohd Jamil is a senior consultant at Hospital Raja Perempuan Zainab II, Kota Bharu. His experience is not to be generalized and as I believe everyone is entitled to his own ideas provided he goes by Quran and Sunnah, you may leave comments.

Update:
Papa baca balik, reply... banyak mistakes lah. Sorry, masa terima email, papa rushing nak mengajar neonatal resuscitation program kepada postbasic nurses.

We Tigers Roar

We may be studious and hard-working. Nerd, even.

We claim our success but no, we don't succeed alone.

We still help our friends and we share our knowledge around.

We bring out the best of each other.

We set our intentions for Allah and we increase our awe in Him
as we further dwell in our medical reading.

Simply because that is our duty.


Medicophilic Week 2010 is coming close to its end.

Does your love for medicine brings you closer to Allah?

p/s: Adored tiger for as long as I could remember. And the genius behind Photoshop and Deviantart.

JPA Result

JPA result is out. Alhamdulillah, I am gratefully one of the scholars.

Details of it I yet to know. I got what I've been praying for; a chance to further my studies in medicine in Egypt.

I haven't mention my dad was also a JPA scholar; the first batch they send to Baghdad for medicine. Which was why he felt extra bad when U.S.A intruded the land. During his time, the cream of the cream was sent there.

p/s:
I miss my former job. It sucks so bad because I don't know for what reason I miss it, neither do I have the prerogative to do so.

UPU Result and Job Prospective

UPU result is out.

I got my first choice; Medicine at University Sains Islam Malaysia. *sujud syukur*

Along wanted me to study there, since the old geezer is reading dentistry there. Over-protective bear.

The official offer letter will be out on the 5th, and I've to confirm my yes by 15th May.

I'm still on the look out for the JPA result, though. Some say by 12th, let's just wait and see.

My posting at SRI Aman will expire by the semester holiday [23 May - 7 June] and I've to once again say "See you guys again." *choked with crocodile tears*

Muallimah Rushaida and Muallimah Mariah enlightened me on the Tamrin Pengawas to be held during the holls and I was invited. *jumps*

Lest it didn't clash with my preparation for university. But I so wanted to go!

Mom seems wary of it and dad told me to put my priority straight. But I so wanted to go!

Let's just wait for the official offer letter first. In the mean time, I've to go around informing my kipas-susah-mati and teachers of my UPU result.

Thank you, everyone, for the time to read and the infinite supports and doas given.

p/s: Tamrin Pengawas will be held as a day-and-night trip to Penang, last check. Bus trip with kids! Lovely!

p/s 2: Checked USIM's academic calender. Registration for the 08/09 Tamhidi is on 31st May. Please, I wanna go to Tamrin Pengawas! *solat hajat*

Pricking Raimi

Raimi pricked his blisters. With his pencil. He showed it to me with an eyeful of grin this morning.

I sighed. "Mari sini, teacher nak tengok."

He gestured open his left hand.

"Tangan kanan."

He smirked. Held out his right hand in mid-air. As I inspect the unsightful pencil mark on his blisters while holding his hand in position using my marker, the young boy dropped his hand playfully.

"Raimi, elok-elok la."

He chuckled. Held out his right hand in mid-air. Dropped it.

Again.

And again.

And would have repeated the playful antic had I not grab hold of his wrist and started to lecture the boy on skin hygiene.

"Teacher lepas la tangan kita dulu."

"Tak nak." I shook my head. "Teacher lepas nanti, mesti Raimi lari."

"Kita tak lari."

I wasn't convinced. Hussain came and prodded Raimi's blisters with his pencil.

"Hussain!" I stopped the cunning boy.

"Tengok, teacher." Raimi gestured at Hussain by pouting. "Bukan kita yang cucuk."

"Mungkin bukan, tapi Encik Raimi jugak yang bagi."

He grinned.

"Sakit ke benda tu?" Iman asked out of curiosity.

"Tak." We answered in unison.

"Jangan usik blister tu. Nanti dia sembuh sendiri."

I let his wrist go and proposed, "Kalau nak cucuk jugak, pergi bilik sakit waktu rehat nanti. Minta muallimah dekat sana cucukkan."

"Teacher cucuk sekarang la."

"Nanti la." I smiled at the eager boy. "Raimi pergi bilik sakit waktu rehat, ye."
An hour and half after recess...
I walked from the library towards 3 Sabar. Raimi greeted me by the doorstep.
I greeted my salam; knocked. Waited for acknowledgement from the residing teacher.

She was too busy with chatty Ikbal, so I let myself in. Walked towards the nearest table and placed 3 Sabar's marked BM Exercise Book on it.

I turned towards the door for my leave but was halted by Raimi and Haiqal, both on the floor, tackling each other.

"Raimi, Haiqal, ape ni?" I pushed the two boys apart. "Balik tempat. Raimi, mana tie?"

The goofy boy smirked at me and said, "Teacher, nak cucuk sekarang."

"Nanti la." I waved a short salute. "Teacher ada kelas sekarang."

As I walked away from the hectic class, it made me wonder why I was so interested in such insignificant blisters.

Must be the doctor instinct.

Biased Doctor

Do you think I've been biased?

Because I think so.

Today, I didn't address Raimi one bit in class. Just a short exchange of "You're done?" which was replied with an equally short "Not yet."

The rest of my attention was equally divided among the others, except for a private talk with Ikbal and Hazim.

But I suppose it can't be helped. Just before I announce my departure from class, Raimi looked up with his usual smile, a mechanical pencil in his left hand and gestured open his right.

"Teacher, can I prick this?"

I saw two tiny blisters. "No! Let me see that!"

He gleefully ran off. "Raimi, let me see that!"

He continued running. "I just wanna help!"

He ran. He grinned.

I ceased. I glared.

"Okay. Suits yourself."

He stopped. Flashed a grin and readied his mecha pencil for entry. I shot straight to him.

"Pencils are not sterile. Hands out, Raimi."

The boy obliged. I kicked into serious mode and scanned the blisters between his ring and middle finger. The rest of the class gathered around.

"No, don't prick it. Could cause infection, especially if you use filthy appliance."

He held out his pencil. I glared at him. "Are you listening?"

He chuckled. "Lucky you held there."

Huh? I let go of his cuffed wrist. When did I? Never mind.

"I mean it. If you still keen on pricking, use a sterilized pin."

"Okay." Eyes glistened mischievously and mecha pencil still in possession.

I sighed and smiled them adieu.

An hour afterwards, I scuffled back from 2 Amanah towards the office building. Exhausted by the younger and a heller bunch of boisterous kids. Slowly climbed the stairs towards the teacher's lounge.

Looked up from sighing and saw Hussain leaning on the door towards my desk. "Eh? What's up, Hussain?"

"Oh, teacher."

I asked him of the pencil he borrowed from me during class. He chuckled it off. I expressed my wish to skin him.

We laughed by the doorway.

I turned to my left and saw the smiling prefect arranging books on my desk. "You're here, too?"

"Your desk, teacher?" His voice was low.

"Yea." I lowered my voice, too. Glanced around and saw the room deserted except for us. What's with the whispering?

I thanked them for bringing in the class's books and they took their leave. I sat comfortably in my usual idle pose and started reading the books.

Chuckled softly.

Evening saw the teacher on pursuit. Someone walked behind me and poked my waist. I turned around in shock. Which banat was that?

It was Ilham of 4 Ikhlas. He jogged off, goofily reminding me of my not wearing pants today.

I walked quickly, seriously reminding him of my wearing pants today.

He scurried for his life. Naim came up and said, "Poor Ilham."

I death-glared the smiling figure of his.

Evil Iqbal of 4 Amanah called me 'teacher pendek' in front of the public. I gave chase.

Cornered him and warned him against repeating the offense in future. He grinned despite expressing pardons.

I just had to pull that ear off.

Tomorrow, I shall start the regime of fight against disrespect and highlighting the boundaries between banin and banat.

p/s: Yesterday, I conversed with Muallimah Rushaida.

"Ikbal of 3 Sabar really is a blender without a top on, but Raimi is a shy boy."

"Shy?" I widen my eyes and chuckled. "Not the tiniest bit in my class."

p/s 2: Teaching sure is hectic. Why haven't I quited yet? Oh, yes. Because that place is a heaven for cheesy smiles.

Naim indulging ABC after pursuing villains in a game of Cops. Kids, grow up.

Doctors Uncovered

JPA program today saw us walking to Panglima Ward a.k.a male medical ward and was greeted with a trail of fresh blood along the hallway.

Now we're talking.

Patients were as critical as airway dysfunctional and corrected with tracheostomy to TB. There were also patients with excessive fluid in their stomach [I'm not sure the term, but it sure is not oedema.] and patients with lung probs.

Kind of like the time Hakim had bronchitis and had to underwent that tedious ventilator thingy.

A skill I fully perfected today [ceh] is the art of recognizing levels of doctor.

• A doctor who listens a lot, writes on a lot of PTH and speaks little is a sure sign of a houseman officer a.k.a newly grads.
• A doctor who talks a lot is sure is a medical officer a.k.a at least a year more experienced than a HO.
• A doctor who, when approaching a HO and a MO on a round, automatically silence the MO with his mere presence; now we're talking about a specialist.

I told dad of this. He pondered and laughed. "I suppose you're correct."
Next we were off to the O&G clinic and Orthopedic clinic. More blood-taking, simple urine pregnancy test and more dressing. Not much event.
I met Dr. Rosdi after lunch and he recognized me though the name slipped his mind. He congratulated me on the SPM result, expressed his sincere pride, tips for the upcoming JPA interview and sent his regards to mom and dad.
A nice doctor. He told me to go for it!
We under the JPA program were not enlisted to observe any paediatric clinic nor wards, a fact dad pointed out rather profusely. Despite it all, dad brought me along to his wards; NICU and another one with cute babies in their cots under the shade of ultraviolet light.
Sweet.
NICU was a sad view. Babies hardly the length of my humerus linked to machines and wires and more wires. Babies in ventilators.
I'll be a paediatrician one day and help those kiddies to achieve a fulfilling life as mine.
A surgeon or a paed? I'm not sure of what field I'll be in, but an M.D. nevertheless.
-----
Remember I mentioned about my JPJ retest on last Sunday? I passed, sure I did, but my P licence is still with Yakin Pandu. Mom's going to pick it up tomorrow.
I'll be reigning the roads! Police, beware!
And the OLC final debate? Well, do not underestimate Ninjas. Even with intentions of helming third place, we beaten the easy path to number one!
You're reading the drabbles of the team captain for Ninja Turtles.