Licensed to Heal

When I was a little girl, all I had in mind was one thing: to be a Doctor. 

Somehow, it was just one of those things that I was sure about right from the start. At the age of 13, when we completed some profiles of each of our friends as an English project, my profile on Momo's page read:

Aspirations: Neurosurgeon. 

Of course, that has changed vastly since. Firstly, because I actually realised while on work experience how difficult Neurosurgery actually was, and secondly, in Med School that I was no genius. In fact, I was soooo mediocre, it was a huge piece of humble pie to swallow, realising that I was, in fact, hardly a dent in the pool of geniuses that made up a graduating year of medical students. 

Yesterday I passed my Med School Finals. 

We laughed, we shouted, we teared, we chugged down the alcohol, we partied hard, and then that was it. This phase of our lives was over.

The last Undergraduate exams of my entire life. A whole lot to take in. I struggled with ups and downs while trying to juggle sanity between OSCE-ing, calculating drug doses, placating people and laughing manically with my chums. Eventually, it seemed, I did know some Medicine after all in the past 5 years.

There have been brief moments in my life where I was fed a dose of reality of how tough Medicine really was. How much effort it took, emotionally and physically to be a great Doctor. How much my hand shook each year waiting to find out if I had passed yet another year and edged closer to becoming a Doctor, each time wondering aloud WHY I had chosen to put myself through such emotional turmoil.

At the end of the day, I say this over and over again, and I attest to this still. There is nothing else in this world I could imagine myself doing. I know I have yet to start properly Doctoring, but I do have high hopes for myself. 

The day I became Dr. S.

Another step closer towards possibly becoming that Cardio God :)

Sudden Cardiac Death

A Registrar once said to me, "This is why I like Cardiology. Everything just makes sense, you know. I'm not very bright."

I can't say I echo that remark completely for now - the stark differences being that I am no where near being a Cardiology Registrar yet, and I am sure that her definition of being 'not very bright' was vastly different from mine.

But I do see every now and again. That my overt preference towards Cardiology was never just an anchoring heuristic to begin with.

The term 'Sudden Cardiac Death' was almost foreign to me prior to my Clinical Medicine years. And now that I am approaching the end of my last EVER placement in Med School, I am being hurled with the terms 'Sudden Cardiac Death' and 'Cardiomyopathies' almost every other day. With all the hype about Fabrice Muamba collapsing in the middle of the pitch a couple of weeks ago and having to be resuscitated in public, I was introduced to the term of 'Non-Sustained VTs'.

Non-Sustained VT's : Ventricular Tachycardia of less than 30 seconds.

We were always taught to recognise the Ventricular arrythmias as the dangerous ones. VTs being no less so. 'Non-Sustained VTs' could progress into 'Prolonged VTs' and then eventually there was the risk of the heart arresting.

There you go. It could be Sudden Cardiac Death all over again.

I've never had an ECG in my life. I am sure that Fabrice Muamba never did regularly either. Who would have thought that a Premier League footballer would arrest for no reason in the middle of a football pitch. So in all essence, I could pretty much be at risk of Sudden Cardiac Death for all I knew. Lol. OK, I kid.

And this afternoon, I came up with a new term altogether: 'Gradual Cardiac Death'.

Clearly, I am becoming more and more insane with the manic mugging for finals than I thought. Because for a moment today, I thought that I would rather be a victim of Sudden Cardiac Death than a gradual one altogether. Although it seems that it is a little late to reverse things now.

Keep Calm and Carry On.

Vamos, Shing!

Lost Without You

Hello, my name is Alyssa and I am a Smartphone addict.

It seems, if a stranger were to chance upon my blog, that I could be pictured as having an addictive personality of almost every possible kind! After having confessed a while ago that I was a sucker for buying accessories, I now have to grudgingly admit that it doesn't stop there.

Yes, I suppose admitting it publicly is the first key to acknowledging the problem.

There was a time not very long ago, that I was absolutely hooked. My battery life suffered terribly as a consequence, and I would freak out the very moment my 3G stopped working.

Here is some photographic evidence. Good times those were. Note: I have changed for the better. MUCH better.

Not particularly voluntarily though. Unfortunately. My sturdy HTC Desire S, which I had been enthusing about since I got last year, decided to die on me recently, and I was left in a bit of a state making multiple panic phone calls to the Orange helpline and to their store to source out a solution.

I must say, Orange is in dire need of some brushing up of their communication skills.

"Wow is it THAT dead? Sorry, we can't do anything for you."

"What?? You can't even find help me repair it even if I paid?" *lower lip trembles and tears almost start welling up in my eyes 'Puss-In-Boots style' at the thought of being phoneless....possibly forever"

The salesperson, not picking up on any of the cues at all: "Sorry, I can't do anything for you."

WHERE was the empathy?? I mean, seriously!!

Thank Goodness HTC sort of made up for its faulty device by offering good customer services. Currently my phone is off to some corner of the country to be looked at by the people who will hopefully repair it.

And in the meantime, I get to finally come to terms with my addiction by going cold turkey. No smart phone for at least 10 days.

*lip starts to tremble again* I have felt so different since. So.....empty. Meh. So....lost.

OMG someone give me a medal already!!!!

NB: All in good fun. But on a serious note, will not be on Whatsapp for a good amount of time. Text my UK number / Email / FB msg me if anything urgent beckons!

An Orthopaedic Heart

I once told a Gastro Registrar that my career choices lay between Surgery and Cardiology.

"What? Those two couldn't be more different."

"Really? What's the difference between surgeons and medics?"

"About 50 IQ points," he said. Typical Medical Registrar answer.

"What kind of surgery?"

"Orthopaedics."

I think he decided I was insane after that and walked off.

And then Mr. Agassi solved the mystery for me. Finally. Someone who found a similarity between the two. There must be a reason why I love Orthopaedics and why I equally love Cardiology.

In 1993, Andre Agassi was plagued with a ripping, searing pain in his wrist. His Doctor diagnosed him with Tendinitis. Specifically, Dorsal Capsulitis. Tiny rips in the wrist that refused to heal. The result of overuse.

A while later, the twentysomething Andre Agassi broke up with his girl of the moment. He told his trainer he felt shooting pains in his chest.

Sounds like a typical broken heart, was the response. Tiny rips in the heart that refuse to heal. The result of overuse.

(Open - Andre Agassi, An Autobiography)

Profoundly apt, in more ways than one. These days, my heart is set in bone. Yes, you read it correctly. A heart of bone. Notice how I am realistic, as such, because when bones fracture, we can fix them. Internally or externally. Outcomes are astounding. The less compound the fracture of the heart, the better it heals. Ah, now I see the perks of being an Orthopod. You see, you fix, you revel in a sense of fulfillment. Who knows, what career paths are to arise yet. It is a long road ahead as such. Cardio God or Orthopod, I welcome both with open arms.

But for now, let's focus on this.....or more appropriately, this case of an Orthopaedic Heart.

A.A.

In this case, Accessories Addict, guilty as pledged. Or if you prefer, Addicted to Accessories. Truly, madly, deeply.

Okay, trust me, I used to be ALOT worse. These days, with the dire job of having to wake up early and trek an hour and a half to placement, my brain fails to function well enough to think of what accessories to add to my daily outfit in the mornings. Although on second thought, I really should put more effort into doing that because this might be my last chance at 'louder' accessorising, being in General Practice.

Hence, I have cut down on buying every single pair of earrings and every single necklace I set my eyes on.

I guess the common sense finally kicked in ey?

My stash of accessories was on the verge of bursting my case, and there were many times when I would turn my room outside down just trying to hunt down one particular bracelet or necklace.

And then the genius Daisy got me this for my birthday. I guess BFFs have telepathy huh?

I LOVED it!!! I had been hankering after these jewellery boxes for ages, but never found the time or actually got around to purchasing one. This was just what I needed for the mess of metal / string / beads that was accumulating in my 'jewellery case'.

There are add-on trays to pile on beneath as well, which I will definitely get on to after my exams, because yes, you guessed rightly, this is just about a quarter, give or take, of my stash of accessories.

In the midst of some procrastination and article-surfing, I somehow ended up reading about the latest H&M designer collaboration on Vogue: Marni for H&M.

(Don't ask me how, the stunning Marchesa pieces on London Fashion Week plastered all over the internet must have sent me into some kind of depression mode LOL)

So for the civilians like me, what do we do? We ogle at High Street designer collaborations on the internet.

I am a HUGE fan of Marni.

I was introduced to the Balloon Messenger circa 2007/2008, and it has seen me through a good number of years. (Crap, when was the last time I wore mine). Besides the fact that I would have preferred a brighter colour such as yellow or orange - too bad, the only one on sale was plain black - I was much comforted when I saw how easily Nicky Hilton pulled the look off. I like to think she and I share similar tastes (aye, Balenciaga and Marni). And yes, I am delusional like that. Lol.

But I sidetrack.

You can imagine how excited I was when I flicked through the Marni for H&M Collection. I've never owned any Marni attire, but to be honest, it is more because I couldn't AFFORD it. Ahempoorstudentahem. The prints and the concept in this collection was definitely very interesting, some a bit too OTT for me, but the first designer collaboration with H&M that I would actually consider.

It was the accessories that caught my eye though.

OMG I WANT TO GO TO H&M IN MARCH!!!!

Obviously, it is not difficult to suss out my weak link now. Just dangle a couple of shiny accessories in front of me, and I am sold. AA much? ;)

The Princess of Styles

I have a confession to make.

I have been secretly coveting after Kate Middleton's sense of style for the past few months, ever since TIME Magazine launched a series of her top 100 or so outfits, dubbing her THE most stylish woman this winter.

Okay, so she may not be a 'trend-setter' per se, but her poise and elegance and the sheer ease which she manages to pull off her outfits was enough to conscientiously flick through photo by photo, and for a fair amount of time after, I went around dubbing this and that to be 'very Kate Middleton'.

But it wasn't difficult to soon identify her clear favourite, which also happened to be a serious weak link of my own:

The Lace Dress

I had developed a serious addiction to lace tops / dresses since the end of 2009 when I purchased a lacy black top on ASOS which is still a current staple in my wardrobe. And since then, the addiction has only grown exponentially.

So it wasn't completely surprising that I walked into Reiss (which also happens to be one of Kate's favourite High Street stores), spotted this and immediately dragged it off the rack:

And proceeded to flit back and forth between indecisiveness for a whole week after purchasing it, until my friend put at end to it by proclaiming that I wouldn't have bought it in the first place if I didn't think it looked good, so I should just keep it and stop fussing.

Anyone would have thought the addiction to lace would have been stopped right there, because there are only so many lace dresses one can have in her wardrobe.

Well, if one can't buy anymore, one can always window-shop right?? It is good research, after all. Don't listen to what anyone tells you.

These dresses make me go weak at the knees. And if I could, I WOULD. One in every single colour and style, I tell ya. These are by Issa, exclusively for Net-a-Porter. Unfortunately, there is just the small problem of it being slightly at the higher end. Do I hear a thousand quid right there? Mmmm.

The red-coloured version of the above. Absolutely.....flawlessly......perfect.

But life is all about unfair ways and the severe discrepancies that make it impossible for all of us to get our hands on one of the above *kicks, screams, claws, throws tantrums* I kid, I kid. But I'm equally loving this slightly more laid-back and relaxed look (below), with a little less lace, pouf and elegance, but sooooo versatile it almost makes up for it!

This navy blue number is by Vanessa Bruno. Perfect for a leisurely stroll around the shopping mall or for a coffee-hunting trip in town. Although perhaps not quite the Princess's style. I would refrain from saying it isn't quite mine as well, because I am not entirely as structured as Kate, given that I don't have as many charity events to attend! Lol.

This is the Margot Dress by Erdem, currently dubbed one of THE LACE DRESSES to have. Yes, never mind that it costs almost 2,000 GBP as well ey? Small factor, that. I've seen and prefer the red version of this dress, but couldn't seem to find it online. I guess that's what happens when people continue to shop like there is no tomorrow. Was that a credit crunch you said was supposed to be happening now, London?

There's just something about lace and satin and the sheerness of it all that seems to spell out 'Princess' in every single way. Of course, not everyone can emit the same level as poise as our beloved Duchess of Cambridge, but that doesn't make me love lace dresses any less. In fact, it would be impossible for me to love them any more than this.

We'll see next which lacy number can capture my heart, and how long it takes before my fickle self moves on to another trend this season. At the moment, the time frame seems to be only one: indefinitely.

They say Fashion is an art. Does swiping my card en-route to achieving the 'best fashion sense possible' count as an art too??? ;)

5 hours and 53 minutes

5 hours and 53 minutes.

That was how long these two men spent fighting the biggest battle of their lives, each not faltering or easing up on the power of their ground strokes even after we careened past midnight into 2 am Melbourne time.

It was one of the biggest tournament finals of my life. The night before, I was feeling restless...exasperated....I was doubting Djokovic's mental strength after watching him flail against Andy Murray in the Semis during the 3rd set where he just lost it completely. Rafa was at least twice the man Andy was, there was no doubt he could easily finish Djoker off if he wanted to.

I should have had more faith in him. Because as much as I like to lament, the truth remains as such: Nobody becomes the No.1 tennis player in the world through just pure luck.

It was exhilarating in so many ways. I was freaking out and hyperventilating, and simultaneously juggling all the insults hurled by the 'haters' at me, especially when Rafa lunged back out of no where to win the tie break and take the 4th set. And even when I couldn't finish watching the final set, I was pretty much in awe when I left....not at Djokovic or at Nadal per se, but at how amazing these two guys were. The level at which they pushed each other to and their determination to never stop fighting was jaw-dropping, at the very least. I was flabbergasted at how hard two people could still drive those power shots home to pin-point precision after 5 hours of such intense tennis. Even we were exhausted from just watching almost 5 hours of what would come down as the greatest opening show of 2012's tennis.

But sadly, there can only be one winner. And when Novak Djokovic collapsed on court with an insane cry of jubilance, the statistics later showed that he had spent almost 11 hours on court that day, of the 54 hours throughout this entire Australian Open tournament.

I almost felt sorry for Rafa. It surely could not have been easy to fight back as hard as he had done in possibly one of the hardest and, arguably, the greatest Grand Slam finals in history. The men's game had upped itself so much in the past 5 years, that only those with the best fitness and greatest mental strength and sufficient amount of aggression could break the Fantastic Four of Federer, Nadal, Djokovic and Murray.

But this.....this final was possibly the perfect match of unquenchable spirit and unbreakable strength, with the best outcome possible: demonstrating the edge that a true champion required to stun the world.

Standard protocol pretty much followed after Djoker raised the Norman Brookes championship cup yet again for the second consecutive year. I went around grinning from ear to ear, my flurry of congratulatory messages, with a few mixed grudging insults flooded my inbox, and as per tradition, we will be celebrating his victory this weekend. No fine dining this time, but no less momentous an occasion compared to the last.

5 hours and 53 minutes. That was all it took for Novak Djokovic to redefine the term 'Super-Human' and remind me all over again why I have become more and more in love with this game in the recent few years.

Congratulations, Djoker! See you at Centre Court this June!!