Getting ready to be 24

Respect

Everyday is a test of respect. I have my own position and duties in this world and so is everyone else. As a medical student, I respect others as more experienced teaching or supporting staffs, patients, the likes. The very least I could do to them is respecting them as fellow human.

I try to teach myself that how others treat me will not affect how I should and supposed to treat them. This is because I am naturally a control freak but there are life facts that are beyond my control. The least I could do is have full control over myself. My feelings are my own, my thoughts are my own, my actions are my own.

If I try to control things beyond my power; like the abominations in Egypt, the occupation of Palestine, the war in Syria, the stupid people I meet, the doctors coming to class very late, the bloody unsystematic system, my ruined circadian rhythm, and a lot more, all these will easily overwhelm me and too much emotions is exhausting. I have already diminished GH from improper night sleep, I don't need avoidable things to tire me.

It works for me. My anger will dissipate and I feel more objective. What is important to me is to live proudly and happily with the thoughts I think and the actions I take. I am selfish in this sense, who cares about others? They can do whatever they want and I couldn't care less.

I'm doing my best, but sometimes I fail and when I do, I feel sorry for you. I'm still in training and by default I am a really crude and hot-tempered person.

Love

These past years circumstances have teached me the many shades of love. I met a lot of endearing people that made me feel, and that feeling can only be concluded as love. I also realise that there is no similar love for each and every one of them and that there is no two that is the same. Each holds a specific place in my heart.

Among the principles that I hold true are "love is appreciation, not possession" and that "have a lot of pleasures but few indulgence" because I firmly believe that everything is Allah's and nothing is mine, and I don't want my attachment to anything worldly to cripple me. I learned this the hard way when things didn't turn out the way I wanted  once and it sent me to a moment of weakness. Based on these two I put my act together and organize my thoughts and feelings so that no impurities will come in between.

This in turn held back a lot of my expressive actions. Lao Tzu said that "Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage." I suppose in my case, it is the courage to hold back for the sake of something bigger.

Nowadays, my greatest fear is that I forget. These things are as important to me as steps of resuscitation is.

She breathes on Baskin's ice-cream

My baby sister's name is Melle. She's the second youngest and is the youngest daughter. She is a melancholic and used to get upset over petty things, but now that there's only mom, dad, two boys and her at home, she had become reliable and adult-like. This makes being immature with her all the more fun for me.

For the record, when mom went into labour with her, dad told me to take the day off from school and help around the house. I was doing dishes when dad came home with the placenta and cord, and I watched as dad bury it in the sideyard. I used to change her diapers and put her to sleep, all those babysitting stuff. When she was a baby she only wanted to sleep while being carried on people's chest. My back had it hard. I was 10. Already very reliable at that age, right. Wahaha.

Anyway I did accidentally dropped her on the road in front of our house when she was a baby and she still had that teeny scar, and there was this one time when I was playing with a plier on her sleeves not noticing I was clamping her arm. She screamed like hell and I got into a lot of trouble, but really I didn't realize I clamped her, I thought it was only clothes. Every time I hold a plier I will remember that incident and vow to be nice to her, that's how much I was traumatised. Sorry Melle, I love you a hell lot and I would do anything for you. But I'm the big sis so it is my obligation to harmlessly bully you for the rest of your life, suck it up.

Actually I wanted to discuss her name. Her name was supposed to be from combining mine with kid sis's but Miru hated to be second. So dad looked another name up to settle this childish dispute.

We call her Melle for short and she addresses herself as Melle when talking to us (when she was a baby, every time she cry she will say "Melle ni, Melle ni," as if we forgot who she was).

She used to forbid us from calling her Melle in front of her friends because Melle sounds manja and despite being so manja at home, she's actually very reliable and honourable at school. Straight A's kid, class representative, all those stuffs. That's our Melle . Despite being short, her friends look up to her. Muahaha.

We all go to the same primary and secondary school, so the teachers there pretty much know us siblings. They used to call her "Hana'slittle sister" and that really pissed her off. I on the other hand simply rub the fact that I was so awesome that the teachers remember me in her face, conveniently hiding the truth that they probably remember more all the mischief I got into.

Settling

"Ah. Aku dah lama nak tanya kau. In your opinion, how am I at my worst?"

"At your worst?"

"Yea, perangai paling buruk aku ape?"

"Kau tak reti delegate kerja dan suka buat semua benda sorang. Contohnya masa assignment, nampak la kau lagi selesa buat semuanya seorang. Dan kau boleh je buat semua tu sorang. Aku tak kisah sebab aku tahu kau senang buat camtu dan kau tak rasa terbeban pun dengan kerja-kerja tu. At the end memang kerja siap dan senangkan semua orang pun."

Terkelu sekejap. That was my worst? I thought of something worst like ignoring people at will, insensitive jerk, walking off mid-sentence irresponsibly yadayada.

"Tapi orang lain mungkin rasa bersalah sebab kau buat semua benda tu sendiri padahal ni teamwork. Dan sebenarnya bila orang lain buat kerja tu bersama, it is for their own sake juga. Aku tengok ada kawan kita yang dah gelabah sebab kau buat semua benda sendiri."

"Ah. Sebenarnya aku cuba ubah. Aku try je delegate and aku dah bagitahu secara umum ape lagi yang tak setel. Aku tak sure aku patut bagitahu sebiji-sebiji ke ape yang kena buat, so aku just bagitahu in general je, tak extract as a list. Tapi tak jalan juga ape yang sepatutnya. Sebab tu aku buat je sendiri.

Bagi aku it's about proactive. Takkan semua pun nak bagitahu. Contohnya first time jumpa patient, memang aku jenis bawa keluar kertas salin semua yang kita dapat. Mungkin naluri wartawan ke ape, tapi anywhere pun aku buat camtu, tak tunggu siapa yang sepatutnya buat. Last-last bila kita siap examine, aku sorang je yang salin semua.

Aku dah salin balik history and bagitahu ape yang lompong, and aku sengaja tak jumpa patient hari kedua tu sebab aku tahu kalau aku pergi, aku juga isi lompong tu. Aku tak extract keluar pun ape lompong tu, just the history written as a whole. At the end orang yang jumpa patient tak amik pun data yang lompong tu.

And pagi nak present tu, aku orang first yang ada ngan patient, so aku terus la amik data yang lompong. Takkan nak tunggu orang lain. Pastu masa nak amik temperature patient. Masa tu dah ada orang lain. Aku bagi dia thermometer and minta dia amikkan temperature patient. Dia keluar kelas, pastu patah balik kata tak sempat amik sebab doktor dah masuk. Aku amik thermometer dari dia pastu keluar kelas amik suhu patient."

"Dia tahu ke kau keluar amik suhu?"

"Entah. Tapi dia tahu la aku amik thermometer dari dia dan keluar kelas. I mean, yeah doktor dah datang tapi kan kita perlukan suhu patient. Buat je la."

"Aku rasa susah la kalau aku kahwin dengan orang macam ni, tension juga. Expectation dia mungkin aku tak boleh capai."

"Hmm."

Mungkin aku patut bagitahu ape expectation aku dan kalau dia tak boleh handle, bagitahu la. Mungkin aku patut rendahkan expectation aku atau aku buat sendiri.

Tapi. Should I settle for less when I could have done better? Settle for less if it makes people happy... but what about me?

That's why I love you

You should be with people who bring out the best in you. People that simply by being in their presence inspires you to go out there and do something good. Their smiles are contagious, their aura intensify yours.

They could either be the people you learn from, people you work with, people you live with, people you hang out with, etc. Generally they are brave and patient people because it takes a lot to let/nurture people to be the best they are. Brave enough to let you grow within and beyond their possible power, brave enough to put their trust in your strength, brave enough to help you get back on your feet when you fall (and you will), brave enough to let you be the best of you.

I am not limiting this to the scope of positive people, thus you should be strong in a sense that even negative people will make you be a better person by learning not to be like them.

There was this Korean horror rom-com where the female lead could see ghosts and she kept her (dis)ability a secret from the people around her fearing that they would be repulsive of her. One colleague, this sweet guy named Candy Kang, said this when he wanted to get close to her:

"I'll be brave. You be strong."

They didn't work out romantically, but that scene was really.. Yeah. It teaches me the many shades of love.

And as a sign of gratitude, you should never take them for granted, keep doing your best and likewise be a person who brings out the best in others around you (perhaps to those negatives around you). This obliges you give more than just an ounce of care, be terrifically patient and to do your best in this department.

Sounds tough because it is, but trust me it will be worth it. If you can't believe me now, you'll believe me on your deathbed. Good luck, Hana.

---

I personally believe I am who I am because of such people in my life. My teachers now and then, university friends, seniors and juniors, secondary school friends, juniors and seniors, primary school friends, family members especially my parents who let me roam and learn for myself because they believe in what I can do. They are very patient with me (at my worst, I'm too difficult and very reckless) and I can't even imagine their bravery in the trust they put in me. I always imagine them deep down already readied their heart for me unintentionally hurting them or for a phone call with the worst possible news about me.

These are the type of people I am drawn to. All the fangirling that I do, all the professor-crushes I have, that one doctor I truly love and respect, that one guy I still hold on to despite the impossibles, and generally all the people I keep around me. Hehe.

And Umair. I think I write a lot about her lately. I don't really hang with her 24/7 or always sit next to her in class. There was once last week I even ignored her in class just because.

Me: (in class, headphone on, answered Nisa's question and then turned to my right) Did someone just call my name?
Ume: (smiling from her three seats down) I did.
Me: (toneless) What's up?
Ume: Nothing just felt like saying hi.
Me: (turned back to the front without missing a beat)

By default she probably went glaring at my back, biting her lower lips with her hand up in the air ready to smack my head. She didn't hold it against me nor delete me from her circle of close friends because "I'm aware of your idiosyncrasies" and regardless of our distance, she always amazes me with her level of trust in me. I don't know why I am so lucky or why she is so nice. Maybe she's got a screw loose somewhere, haha.

Anyway. I hope such people will always be in my life and for the one I'm settling with for the rest of my future. And for me to be such a person to the people around me as well.

Tonight I'm humming Blue - Best in Me.

Bila masa last untuk tajdid niat?

Kita mulakan pos hari ini dengan mengingati hadith yang dibincangkan dua minggu lepas (kot).

Solat, sedekah, sabar. Tiga benda ni adalah tingkatan amal, dimana solat itu tingkat yang lebih rendah daripada sedekah dan sabar adalah tingkat paling tinggi antara tiga tu.

Kenapa solat lagi rendah dari sedekah? Memang la solat tu pertama dihisab akhirat nanti, tapi dari segi kesusahan, sebenarnya sedekah tu lagi susah nak buat daripada solat. Orang munafiq pun solat, tapi mereka tidak bersedekah.

Hal ni benar untuk saya (aaahh ahhh aaaaahhhh). Solat memang wajib maka memang la akan solat, tapi sedekah tu... Selalu jugak la berkira, malas nak berhenti ambil duit syiling la, itu la, ini la, dan sebagainya.

Dan sabar pula paling susah antara tiga-tiga ni. Tak perlu hurai la kan. Sabar itu pada pukulan pertama, setakat ini saya masih gagal dalam usaha untuk bersabar maka selalu resort to ignoring je. Kadang-kadang, untuk tidak berambus begitu sahaja pun susah apetah lagi untuk tidak berkerut buat muka annoyed.

Maka pos ini untuk mengingatkan Hana bahawasanya sedekah itu susah dan tidak semudah menghulurkan wang semata. Dan sebenarnya, penat keringat sakit belakang sama-sama berusaha tu lebih manis rasanya daripada hulur duit je. Kena berusaha ingatkan diri, biar sakit belakang janji pengajaran hari ini dapat.

Bukan senang nak semua 11 orang IQ ada. Kita buat kerja bersama-sama maka tidak boleh berkira dan wajib la bantu semua orang. Hati jangan keras, kamu tu ganas maka selamat la menuju macho seperti Saidina Umar Al-Khattab.

Okay. Mari ke pos hari ini.

---

Dah 7 malam. Sejam lagi Maghrib. Sebelum ni cek dengan Ada-kun, nasi macam cukup je dengan satu periuk 4 pot sedang dimasak. Cek sekali lagi rupanya ada 9 bungkus lagi nasi tak siap.

"Serius 9 je?"

"Ye 9 je lagi."

"Okay."

Nasi 4 pot tadi cukup untuk 6 bungkus. Siap bungkus nasi tu, hantar ke depan untuk isi lauk-pauk. Pergi dapur basuh lagi 2 pot lebih untuk 3 bungkus lagi with safety margin.

Ulang banyak kali dalam hati "Ya Latiff, lembutkan hati-hati kami." Semoga diterima dan semua orang pun dengan sendirinya terus rajin bersedekah. Tengah malam semalam masa hiris sayur, tanya Ada-kun sempat ke kalau nak tulis pape on kertas kecil-kecil pastu lekat dekat polisteren nasi sebagai commemoration jual nasi kerabu untuk tabung Syria dan Gaza, tapi tak sempat. Haha. Tak kisah la, harapnya hati-hati kami sampai kepada mereka dan kalian.

Pergi depan balik untuk tolong wrap nasi.

"Nasi ada lagi?"

"Tengah masak inshaAllah cukup untuk 3 bungkus lagi."

Ada-kun sengih. "Sebenarnya 4 bungkus lagi."

"Cukup je 4 bungkus inshaAllah aku masak lebih skit," sengih balik dekat Ada-kun sambil mata jeling. "Tapi kalau kau minta 5, aku pukul kau. Haha."

Pergi tengok nasi dekat bilik Jiha, dah siap. Bawa masuk ke bilik dan sejukkan sekejap, mula membungkus untuk nasi bungkusan pertama. Ada-kun datang duduk sebelah bekas nasi.

"Takpe je kalau 3 pun. Yang keempat tu Nabila (junior ahli beit Raqaiq) boleh bagi dia nasi putih je."

"Cukup inshaAllah 4," sembur air masak dalam mangkuk Dhia' supaya nasi tak melekat, ceduk nasi bungkusan kedua ke dalam mangkuk, mampatkan. "Nabila bagi la nasi biru kesian dia budak lagi."

"Betul ke ni cukup?"

"Betul," terbalikkan atas polisteren, tutup dengan polisteren kedua. Siap nasi kedua. "Kita bukan berniaga, inshaAllah cukup."

"Oh ye kita buat untuk infaq, so boleh la bagi nasi kurang sikit."

Tak tu bukan maksud aku. "Kita buat ni demi.." Ulang proses untuk nasi ketiga. "demi Tuhan. Maka Dia akan tolong kita la kan. Bukan nak berniaga, tapi sebab Dia. Maka Dia akan tolong kita."

"Haha," Ada-kun gelak kecil.

Siap nasi ketiga. Ada lagi nasi cukup untuk keempat. "Wah cukup! Thank You Allah! Ha kan aku dah kata." Ulang proses untuk nasi keempat.

"Tapi kalau kau minta lima, aku pukul kau."

Ada-kun gelak.

---

Ada-kun tengah makan malam dengan Atiqah Jr. Borak tentang bahan-bahan yang masih lebih sementara tunggu Jiha ready untuk solat Isya'.

"Minggu ni kita kena makan nasi kerabu je." Ada-kun kata.

"Kenapa?"

"Sambal ikan banyak lagi. Dalam peti ada satu bekas lagi bahan-bahan dia tak siap masak lagi."

"Urgh nape tak habiskan masak tadi."

"Macam mana nak masak dia?" Tasnim tanya.

Ada-kun mula ajar tapi tak jadi. "Takpe Jiha reti, kita suruh je dia."

"Sambal tu boleh je kan makan dengan benda lain. Kita tak larat nak makan benda berat dah lepas menghadap nasi kerabu hari ni," ujar Tasnim.

"Haah aku rasa aku tak boleh dah tengok nasi kerabu sampai balik Malaysia kot." Serius la 218 bungkus... "Rai kata tadi aku buat facial hari ni. Nasi panas berasap."

"Hahaha. Rai kata muka Hana dah edema."

"Haha bertuah."

---

Kami masak nasi kerabu hari ni dengan bimbingan dan pantauan Wa mak Dhia' yang thiqoh dan macho suka car tapi tidur menonggeng atas katil Tasnim yang ber-air cond hahaha. Semua keuntungan masuk tabung Syria dan Penajaan Hafiz di Gaza maka kami semua pun tulis nama untuk order nasi kerabu juga. Ye la today we also have to eat. Rupanya Wa kira semua jumlah untuk dimasak termasuk kami maka Wa kata kami tak payah bayar namun setelah diprotes ("Kenapa tak payah bayar pulak? Ni infaq bukan niaga.") Wa berkeputusan "Okay la bayar tapi boleh makan banyak mana pun nak."

Sebenarnya setiap sorang makan tak sampai separuh pun hidangan sebungkus nasi. 

"Ada-kun aku tak bayar lagi."

"Okay okay bayar bayar."

"Nah," ambil not yang ada gambar Masjid Sultan Hassan. "Aku tak nak baki."

If you can't remember the first dream you had sketched out, could it be because you have grown up?

One of the cases we had in Plastic Surgery was a young female coming with inability to close her left eye (ectropion of left lower lid), inability to open her mouth (microstomia) and limited mobility of her neck (contracture of the neck). She sustained a major third degree burn following a gas explosion six months ago, admitted to the ICU before the department handled her multiple graft procedures.

I kept thinking, God, it wasn't the gas tank we gave away after Ayyash burned down, was it? I swear it was intact and not unshapely when I gave it away.

"She was a potential mortality patient," said Dr. Mostafa with a slight grim tone. "She survived that and now she comes because of the contractures."

When she was exposed for examination, the Egyptian lady who was in the room with us drew a sharp breath and said "la ilaha illallah" multiple times at the extent of her injury but the patient remained unperturbed. Maybe it was the contractures in her face that prevented proper expression, or it could be her calm and steady acceptance of her conditon, or maybe she had long resigned her fate to such scrutiny.

But I -this might sound dramatic and overthinking- I kept thinking it could have been me. I was torn between saying alhamdulillah and bolting out of the class. I chose to further sink into my seat.

I had questions for that class, about the prognosis of the patient. Her lower abdomen and perineum were affected by the burn and currently hyperemic and contracted. Will she be able to get pregnant and can her abdomen accomodate the expansion?

But I stopped myself from asking, because the antecedent question was whether there will be marriage for this 23 years old single lady.

---

Stuffs like this reminded me of the grim thoughts I had post-Ayyash. Everyone kept saying "thank God you're okay" and Umair's only words to me about the fire was that she was glad I didn't die. And I quote Dr. Hesham when he taught us Liver, "a living problem is better than a dead one."

But truthfully, I thought otherwise. Maybe it was the depression of multifactorial etiologies that made me entertain things I shouldn't be; one of them was having no control over things. I had to remind myself that life means opportunities to increase my good deeds for the sake of afterlife and chances to repent. And everyday, I literally had to extort my brain to find reasons to be happy that life goes on and to get over this.

---

I have Plastic exam in about seven hours. At this rate, I don't think I can ever study for Burn.

The heart will always locate

So! I was on my way to Plastic class at 12pm, walking with Wani pass the old library, talking about things and thinking when would I eat since I haven't anything since 10pm last night.

We turned towards right at in front of the library door when suddenly out of the corner of my eye I saw a familiar figure walking towards us. He raised his smile in recognition and I reflexively turned to my left to face him.

I called out his name excitedly, super happy to see his smile. "How are you!!"

"Fine fine," his hand in a humble salute.

We all kept on walking in our respective destinations, but this is not just a simple crush here. I turned around, stopped walking and took my sunnies off. Oh God if only I had my specs on!

"Are you doing well, doctor?"

"Yes I am, how about you?"

"Yeah we're doing great," Oh no I felt shy, I had so much to say, I really missed this guy. "See you."

Smiles and we turned our back to each other. I squirmed to Wani. "My whole day is brightened!!"

And proceeded to gush super fangirl style. How I really missed our class with him, how I hated when cat got my tongue when facing the people I really love and admire, how I envied Khadijah for being able to freely talk with whoever she wanted. Wani simply chuckled at my antic.

As soon as I got to my seat in Plastic, I turned to Umair.

"Guess who I just met!" With a stupid grin.

"Dr. Mostafa?"

Who? Oh right Department 11B's.. yeah I fancy that guy but we're talking about love here!! 

"Someone who totally brightened up my whole day. Nothing no one can do to ruin today!"

"Who was it that made Hana cry the other day?" Humairah asked.

Umair exclaimed his name and I nodded hopelessly. My excitement reduced me to a blubbering idiot who described the encounter in total with hand gestures, grinned and squirmed and nearly jumped and all those things a refined lady wouldn't make.

"Look at this excited monkey," Umair and the others laughed at me. Ahh who cares. "Did you hugged him?"

"I wish! If only I was his daughter-in-law or a guy. Damn if I was a guy I would have hugged him."

And proceeded to squirm in my seat some more.

---

1.45pm and we took a picture with Dr. Hameed Qadri since it was our last day in Plastic Department and tomorrow we will have our exam. Exited the department and my stomach growled.

Oh I forgot I haven't eaten. Okay let's find you some food.

Walked with Nisa towards our lecture hall. Talked to her how I was thinking of naming my second son after this favourite doctor of mine but I really liked the name Nasrullah, inspired by one of the seniors I respect.

"Just name the third son Nasrullah."

"So you mean I have to have three sons? What if I have all girls, it's going to take a while- Oh God. It's him."

We were passing in front of the Lecture Hall A and somehow I caught a sight of him discussing with an Egyptian girl. My my, aren't your radar in full-function today.

"Stop Nisa stop. I need to take a picture."

"Cmon Hana," Nisa laughed. "This is embarrassing."

"No no it won't," I quickly had my handphone out. "Stand beside me, it'll look like two girls taking a selfie, nothing weird. I'll just take a behind-shoulder shot of him."

She laughed and played along.

"Ahh this spot here is bad. We need to change." I dragged her to the benches in front of the Anatomy Department.

"You're really in stalker mode you know."

"No, it's not like I stalked him here. A simple encounter. There. Okay, done."

♥v♥

"Now what were we doing? Ah yes, lunch and lecture."

Useless and absent-minded

I ruined my spectacles frame yesterday. I think it happened while I was tossing around on the makeshift bed pretending to study. I don't usually wear my specs at home despite everything more than a meter is all fuzzy, thus my specs is pretty much anywhere I took it off after coming home and forget about it until I need to go out.

I only have one functioning specs and that is how I treat it. Such terrible owner.

So the left arm was bent and the right nosepad was completely twisted from facing medially to posteriorly. I only realised it after Plastic class yesterday after it repeated falling off and my clear view was askew annoyed me too much.

Stuffs like this happening makes me think I am uselessly absent-minded. What is going on up there, brain?

So today I didn't wear my specs to class. Went to the Ophthalmology outpatient clinic to get a new prescription and it was only a simple computerised see-the-tiny-house-in-the-middle-of-the-field test and looking at the Snellen chart (I failed the second row, sigh) without those changing red-blue lenses. Went to Plastic class, went to Tabba and chatted up with Roy. She said Musyi got a photogray glasses for LE120 in Madinat Nasr years back. Sounds promising. I was thinking of a LE200 budget.

I returned to Mounira at 9 plus. Went to the nearest optometrist and asked him if he could fix my specs for me. He said yes but I need to leave it there and pick it up tomorrow.

"Fine. How much is a new specs by the way?"

"Depends on the lens. Yours is plastic and anti friction, yes?"

"Yes plastic and whatever that is, I believe so."

"It's LE90."

Oh that's cheap. "What about those lense that changes colour in the sun?"

"Photogray? It's LE200 plus for plastic and LE150 for glass."

Still cheaper than Malaysia. I made one two years ago costed me a good RM450 sobs and sadly only lasted a year use because I changed prescription sobs sobs.

"May I see the frames you have?"

He showed me a bunch and we small talked while I chose a frame. Kept thinking what would Umair say if I chose this or that. I finally settled on a lavender of similar frame to my bent maroon ones.

He wrote the bill. "LE150 for the photogray. LE185 for the frame. Total of LE335."

Ano ojisan, I thought the LE150 is inclusive of frame.

"This is my best price I give you because you're a student and a nice kid."

That didn't sound very convincing. Should I skip all the new specs thingy? But I need a new prescription glasses and I don't want to waste time going to another optometrist but the price is nearly a month worth of lunch money. If I don't eat lunch, I'll get restless in the lecture hall and you'll see a squirming girl in the front row of the hall. My parents will declare I was adopted!

If Umair was here, what will she tell me to do?

You won't always have Umair and you need to take care of your own purchases yourself, miss. Be a grown lady for once.

"I don't have that kind of money. Could you change it to those normal lense without the photogray?"

"It will be LE90 and total cost of LE275."

That's still 75 over the ceiling and after that talk with Roy, I had my hope high that I could get away with LE150. Sigh.

"That's plastic, right. How about the glass?"

"Plastic is better and more durable."

He had a good point. I tend to throw my specs around so it's either I stop being a monkey or get a durable lense that won't crack. The former seemed impossible, monkey will always be monkey. I said okay.

He added another LE10 for my bent specs repair. I paid my bills in full, said my thanks and walked home in the fuzzy, rather dark outside, feeling stupid for choosing lavender. What the hell was I thinking. Lavender?? That sounded like some My Little Pony fag.

If Umair was there, she would have disapprove of my lavender frame, dragged me out of the shop after paying only LE10 for the specs repair and sign me up for LASIK.

Surgery is cool but I was reminded why I like Paediatric in the first place

We have a paediatric patient in Plastic Surgery nowadays. 8 years old Mostafa with a broken left jaw from falling from a height. He came in yesterday with his mom and Nisa took his history from his mom (mom said he fell from the stairs but Mostafa told Dr. Mostafa he fell from the asur which according to the doc is "the bridge surrounding the house" whatever that means) while I chatted him up.

He appeared smaller than an 8 years old, swollen left jaw, distorted teeth alignment, somewhat adenoid facies, and definitely looked like a buas kid. No wonder he fell from a height.

Today he came into our class again, wearing a white jubah commonly worn by patients. He came in without his mom, carrying his xray and CT films in a Nestle plastic bag bigger than himself. Sort of looked like a pakcik, haha. He played with some coins while the Dr. Hosam taught us a separate case of palatine fistula.

The coins fell on the ground, he picked them up. Coins fell again, he picked them up. "Shh Mostafa, the doctor is teaching!" I mouthed, and he stood there watching me silently, as if wondering what to do now that he couldn't play with his coins.

It wasn't that noisy, but his innocence was distracting me and I just like to bully kids, so I gestured for him to come near and held my palm open demanding for his coins. He obediently gave me all, hahaha. Someone needs to teach this guy to hold on to his money.

I put them back in his jubah pocket and patted him. "Keep them there."

---

The doctor was showing his xrays and CTs to the class. Mostafa was standing by the bed, obediently passing the doctor one by one of his films.

He looked like Assistant Lecturer Mostafa, hahaha. I pray this guy grow up soleh, happy, healthy and successful.

Let's get along

One time we went to a surgeon friend of dad's house-warming party. Mom went to the lady of the house to introduce herself because it was their husbands who were acquaintance. She said her name, dad's, and where she works at.

The lady was surprised. "So you must know Dr. X? He's my brother."

"Yes, we work together."

"I am sooo sorry on his behalf," and they both laughed knowingly.

Turned out said doctor was known to be rather tactless in behaviour. I am also rather tactless in behaviour, so it made me thinking perhaps there will be a moment when any of my family will apologize to outsiders for having been acquainted with me.

---

Umair and Fatima came to our house for the first time mid-July last year. I just arrived in Kota Bharu from Egypt that morning after sleeping on the couch in KLIA last night, so the tiredness was blamed for my inability to recall what happened during that time. Umair until today will make reference to that day, how Maru was cutely referring himself as Maru to everybody

Ume: Maru dah mandi?
Maru: Belum. Maru mandi bila mama suruh.
Mama: Maru pergi mandi!
Maru: (merangkak ke tandas)

how James was the silently obedient kid who came down for iftar to our dining table at the kitchen, but mom shooed him to go eat with dad at the dining table in the hall in front.

How my mom was such a beautiful nice lady, motherly and womanly (insert all sugary descriptions here) and thus subjecting me to "Hana cuba kau behave dan jadi macam mak kau punya la keperempuanan tapi anak dia sorang ni isk3" by Umair each time afterwards that I behave like a monkey.

Well I don't remember any of those, those were accounts from Umair. It made me wonder what did mom said to Umair on their first encounter. I imagined it went something like this:

Ume: Saya Umairah. Saya sekelas dengan Hana.
Mama: Oh ini la Umairah. Terima kasih la berkawan dengan Hana, dia ni buas sikit. Makcik minta maaf. Haha.

(--.)

---

Back to that party. (Now that I am writing this, I remember it was on the same day of Aisyah and Damak's wedding, and that we went there afterwards.) There were loads of surgeons, HOs and MOs of Hospital Kuala Krai attending. Mom and dad were chatting with a group of Hospital Kota Bharu's surgeons and they introduced me to them.

"When she goes working HO in surgery department, please teach her well," dad said to Dr. Y.

"Oh, future junior. I'll have my eyes on you. Get ready to be belasah-ed," Dr. Y declared as he locked his eyes on me. "Your mom was the staff nurse when I was a HO, consider this payback."

The group including mom laughed. I cringed. Ha..ha..ha..

"Just kidding. Kak Zai was really helpful."

Anyway, I know my mom is a bloody good nurse. And my dad is a bloody good doctor. Gaah I don't like it when people know who my parents are, the expectation is... urgh.

Not sure if my parents were aware I stayed out very late that first night in Paris

On our first day in Paris, Nisa and I wanted to stay out until dark so everyone else went back ahead of us. When we had enough sightseeing, we headed back to camp from Place du Trocadero via the Metro station there.

Inside the station, we were greeted with salam from his really tall guy who to me looked like Zinadine Zidane. And he chatted with us because he was just happy to see Muslim ladies wearing a proper hijab. He was a student in Paris and stayed with his uncle's family who owned a patisserie store.

I didn't really remember what we talked about, but I still remember standing there the three of us chatting because his English wasn't that good and he could only converse in French or Arabic. So Nisa talked to him in French and I talked in Arabic, and the two of us translated each other. It made me realize how cool Nisa was with her prowess in French and how humbled I was that Arabic language surely united all Muslims in the world.

Nisa asked him where was he from. He told us to guess.

"It's.. aah I forgot where Zidane was from.." I raked my brain aloud while Nisa guessed a whole bunch of nations which he denied (and I denied as well, I have this habit of preventing people from answering when I know the answer is wrong.)

"Oh! You're Algerian, right?"

"Correct," his side smile then really made the whole Zidane-resemblance thing more obvious. "How did you guess?"

"You look like Zinadine Zidane," I answered proudly. His course facial features I mean. The long structured face, roughened pearl-coloured skin and his lack of hair. But he's young. We then discussed the then Algerian-Egyptian dispute over some football cup.

We excused ourselves because it was getting late. I don't remember his name but wherever he is I pray he is well and under God's care.

---

It's World Cup season again. The Zionist attacked the Palestinians during the last time the world was hyped with football and the news of it went sideways with all the gungho over the sport. Amazing how human is easily manipulated by our selective ignorance.

This is our struggle to become better Muslims. It's either succeed or die trying.

Thursday is a good day to go AWOL

Yesterday afternoon, I went someplace with only my hosts' knowledge. I did what I did and that night before sleeping (at 2.30am) I checked my messages and there was my roommate asking me where I was and whether I was going to come home. I never replied. There was also work messages and since all my work stuffs were in my Note that I left at home, there was nothing productive in replying anyway. So I didn't.

Next morning I did what I did. Kemal was going to deliver the day's lunch of chicken rice that I ordered for the housemates so I had to go back around 1pm to receive it.

"Why don't you just ask your housemates to get it instead?" Host asked.

"Well I didn't tell any of them where I went. It will be weird to suddenly call them to ask for favour."

"You told no one you're here?"

"Aa. Roommate asked last night but I didn't feel like answering."

"You're bad."

The host meant it seriously, but I merely grinned. Yes, so I am. "I like to go AWOL sometimes. I'll do it again anytime."

"Hmm," host was definitely going to lecture me but seemed to realize I wouldn't change either way. "If it was me, I wouldn't be worried. I know well of your idiosyncrasies and that you can take care of yourself. I'm sure you will sleep somewhere safe."

---

I went back with lunch and was attacked by one of the housemates. "Where were you last night?"

"Somewhere."

"Why didn't you tell us you weren't coming home? You never not tell when you're not coming home."

"Hmm."

"Did you go to Rai's?"

"Why is it important where I was?"

"Bet you were at Umair's. You always hang out with her."

"I have other places too. Nisa's, Ara's.. Ara has new kittens. Smokey gave birth."

"Really? How many?"

Successfully threw her off. I was a bit touched that she cared when others had adapted to my idiosyncrasies. But I can't be on the radar all the times, I want to disappear sometimes too.

I had my lunch and went online. There was news of a 14 years old boy who went missing in Gombak. He is a special-need kid who loves to go off on his own without any ID or phone and he will always come home or check-in from somewhere the same day, but this time he didn't. His family filed a police report and spread the word via social media. We don't have Amber Alert like in the US.

They found him 15 hours later at his relative's home in Putrajaya. Apparently he went there the day he went AWOL but no one was home, so he went somewhere else and came back the next day. He really made people worry this time because he took a longer time to check-in. I bet they'll fashion a GPS tracker in his belt or button badge or something because there will be a next time.

I can relate to him. You can't beat that feeling of just going off and disappear without a care for anything except yourself. Selfish, I suppose. Reckless, maybe. Careless, not. So long you don't make people dead worried of you thus this type of activity should only be reserved for the responsibles (oh the irony) or for those who have a certain safe AWOL period.

I once asked the host how many days for my absence before they send a search party after me. I don't remember the answer, but it was probably around 3 or 4 days absent from class and home. With my family maybe 2 days because I normally check-in with them through various online means minimally every other day. Mom will probably write on my wall asking for my whereabouts if I completely went offline in two consecutive days.

Just so you know, I wear a necklace with my name written as a pendant. Mole on right temple and left shin and a scar on the upper right eyelid.

In which Haru is disoriented

The third day in the department, Nisa and I went to sign our attendance and suddenly Madam Shaheen the secretary asked, "Do Malaysians marry Egyptians?"

I squirmed and answered as elusive as I could. "Erm no because our families are in Malaysia and international marriage is tough."

Questions like this really make me feel bad. The guys who signed their names after us snickered despite me looking back at them pleading for assistance. They seemed happy to have us take one for the team, Zizou even laughed a "sudah la~" at us.

I wanted to dismiss myself and run without looking back, but she held us back. "Is there a case where Malaysian marries an Egyptian? Male or female?"

"Yes there are of course," this answer will expose myself to deeper trouble, but I don't know how to lie. "So far I think there's more female Malaysians marrying male Egyptians than the other way around."

"Oh I see. Can you tell us about Malaysian food? What do you usually eat?"

---

On the day of our General Surgery end round exam, I took a picture with Madam Shaheen. I like her because she does her job well and she introduced herself by name on our first day at Department 11B. She is so far the best secretary in the whole Kasr el Ainy. And after our conversation that time, she was friendly and kind to me. Saw her at the bank once and we had a short chat.

The whole picture thing saw me being laughed at because one, I was the one (probably the only student who'll take pictures with a non-teaching staff) excitedly approaching her and second, she kissed my cheek and I went blushing awkwardly and Umair the photographer told her to kiss me again because she didn't catch the first one on camera.

Ara then said she was my mom-in-law candidate and laughed at me again, haha. I was going to reply that I'm gay, but I feared people will attack me and condemn my usrah organization for coming out so brazenly, haha. I am messed up but I'm protective when it comes to people who have a share or try their best for me; be it parents, teachers, murabbies, janitors, whatever you call them.

---

Truth is I am asexual and currently in a long distance relationship. This is us, I'm the rolled up one. It's okay because otherwise I'm everyone else's bully.

Bwahaha.

A mole is a swelling

First day of Plastic Surgery today. We're stationed at Dept 28 for this coming two weeks. The resident came at 11 plus asking "Should we start the class now?" but class was scheduled at 12 and there were only me, Ara, Nisa (wow the original crew, haha) plus Chip in the class.

"We should start at 12. More are coming."

"How many are you?"

"33," Chip the class chief answered. The resident had a surprised face and gave a thumb up.

I turned to Ara. "We Malaysians aren't that good, it's just the Egyptians are bad (at attending class). We're just better relatively."

"Yeah. Unfortunately that makes us never want to improve."

So at 12 the class filled in and the resident brought in the patient. "He has a swelling on the left side. Take a history and then the doctor will come and discuss the case."

Chip asked who wants to volunteer for the first day, and I felt his eyes on me which made me remember my first day of fifth year Surgery, haha. As expected, nobody wanted to take the history. This was getting old. I didn't say anything and just took out my notebook. Eyed the patient and noticed an ulcer on his right temporal, but where's the swelling? Ara stood up and I took a chair and positioned it in front of the patient. Greeted the patient.

She noticed my notebook was out and so she asked, "You wanna present?"

"Don't mind." I glanced again at his left temporal and couldn't find the swelling the resident said there was.

"Okay then you're presenting."

And so we began. It surprised me when the patient said he is 62 because he didn't look that old to me. I would have guessed he was in his 50's. Usually Egyptians look older than their claimed age because of the tough life in Egypt. Mr. Khaled was 39 but he looked late 40's to me.

"What made you come to the hospital, sir?"

He gave a long account on his journey that I didn't understand, but I got that he came because of the wound on his right temporal that didn't heal for the past two years. We analysed that and Ara asked him, "You have any lump anywhere?"

"No I don't."

So where is the alleged swelling?

---

Dr. Hamid came and I presented the case. "... He complains of a non-healing wound since two years."

"This is perfect. In his own words."

I had a dispute with the partner over this wording!! See me do the penguin dance ~(^^,)~ Pardon the bragging. I actually nearly rubbed my head here and then on a job well-done.

"What about the swelling?"

Again with this mysterious swelling. "The patient denied any swelling, and I didn't see any either."

"There, on the left side."

"Where?" I came near the patient.

"There, that."

The doctor pointed to his mole. A one by one by half centimeter at his left temporal over the frontal ridge. And I laughed.

Apparently in Plastic Surgery, a mole is a swelling and must be treated accordingly. So then we discussed the presentations of basal cell carcinoma.

---

"You had the wound for two years, so why did you come to the hospital now?"

The patient repeated the account that I couldn't understand in the beginning. The doctor translated him to us. "He said he came to Cairo to visit his sister and when he was walking in the street, a doctor stopped him and said the wound was suspicious and he should get it checked. And that's why he is in Kasr el Ainy."

That was one amazing doctor. To point out a problem people are oblivious of, on the street, and directing them to where they would get help. And to be that trustworthy that the patient became compliant.