A Walk To Remember~

5 hours and 53 minutes

2012-01-30T17:52:00.007Z

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!!

Birthday Buddies

2012-01-24T20:21:00.010Z

The hype surrounding birthdays has never really been there for me. This year however, was the last time we (Daisy, Coco, Nenek and I) would get to celebrate a birthday together, hence I decided to at least settle for dinner over the weekend.

The morning started off horrendous. There was a massive 4 and a half hour surgical ward round that lasted from 8 am till way past lunchtime, and it didn't help that my nose was dripping like a leaky tap the entire morning as well due to unknown reasons, or the fact that they kept making me carry stacks of notes to scribe on at lightning speed as we rushed from one end of the hospital to another.

The rest of the weekend was pretty much standard protocol of replying messages and catching up with those whom I had lost touch with. It's funny because Zhin and I use the word 'Birthday Buddies' alot to describe people whom we speak to only on an annual basis, but this year the term managed to take on a much more hilarious turn.

These, however, are my birthday buddies, and definitely some of the greatest friends I have had the pleasure of meeting:

The 'Neneks', and definitely one of the best parts of Med School

Thanks Daisy for the awesome cake :)

And then the night took a turn from mild to insane. So...Enough said. Pictures speak a thousand times louder than words.

All pictures courtesy of Daisy and her fabulous camera! Much thanks!

Definitely one HUGE moment to remember, and totally blog entry-deserving. Much thanks to all the awesome people who made my day and to the many wishes and thoughts that came my way. I felt the love :)

On top of turning a year more worldly and wiser, I also learnt a lesson at the expense of an 'almost' 'thunderclap headache'.

Here's to sobriety for another few months at least, to my fabulous 'Neneks' whom I could not imagine life in London without, and to all the other important people in my life who have shown me much love and support every step of the way.

And to those who were never deserving of my time and effort, as I have been flippantly saying these days, "Throw them away lah!"

And finally, here's to an awesome Lunar New Year as well, roaring ahead dragon-style. Finish Line, I DO see you! :)

More Walking and More Remembering

2012-01-02T13:07:00.009Z

As yet another year draws to a close, I feel pressured to write a customary year-end post reflecting on the good and bad times of the year gone by.

It's difficult to focus properly at this moment when my mind is not really on track considering how my holidays have come to an end and I pack up tomorrow to head to Chertsey for my next placement. But I will say that I am eternally grateful for all my friends and family for making 2011 one giant of a year, and I have never embarked on the beginning of another year as optimistic as I am now.

They say that with the grey moments, there is a silver lining folded inside every raining cloud.

And with the good moments, even if they pass on eventually, I am one who believes in actively savouring moments and MAKING things happen :) Hence my excitement to hit the ground running this year. I have a life list to pursue, and I will take on every downfall that tries to barrage my way.

Manda and I share inside jokes and fond memories of our 'infamous' (i.e. fun in characteristic ways) NYE celebrations in Kch. This year was a first for me spending it on Greenwich Meridian Time (GMT).

Coco and I 'co-hosted' (I use the term loosely, because it was at her place) a NYE Dinner Party / make-shift karaoke (SingStar) party / failed attempt at watching fireworks on TV, that turned out to be heaps of fun and a personal achievement (i.e. our meagre culinary skills produced quite good results in the end)

And all in all, this was definitely one celebration to remember. Although I miss the wishy washy plans usually made with the Kch people before each 31st December night arrives, mostly ending with an 'I dunno lah' or 'See how lah'. Well, hey....new year, new beginnings right??

So 2012, BRING IT!!

Almost Clockwork

2011-12-01T19:53:00.006Z

I will admit that the past two weeks of my life have been particularly unfamiliar ones.

For one thing, it had become increasingly frustrating to be continuously on the end of being an F1's personal lackey. At first, it was alright. More of an 'I don't mind' mentality to being ordered up and down - taking bloods, faxing letters, being a postman to bring referral letters to clinics for referral. Simply because I was fast and it was pretty much routine. Clockwork, to be exact. No second thoughts needed.

Then it got worse. It started dawning on me how disastrous it would be to work with people who were disorganised or irresponsible or just plain blur in the future - and I wasn't referring to medical-knowledge wise but just plain common sense. It started getting to the point where I felt plagued with a sense of dreariness going to the stuffy ward office and sitting in front of computers doing endless discharge summaries. And then it got worse when the other med students on my firm became increasingly annoying and started asking me every single blur question under the sun. It got worse when I became expected to pick up alot of people's slack and even got the blame for things I didn't do just because I wasn't up for arguing and defending myself. And most of all, I felt that my brain had come to a standstill. It was terrible. It was bad enough that I wasn't the smartest cookie in the jar to begin with, but this had started hitting all time lows.

And then today, everything changed. At the risk of sounding dramatic, I suddenly felt alive again. My lack of tolerance for the haphazard fashion that ward rounds had been carried out drove me to go in at 8 am to sort out the notes and check all the obs for the patients, simply because Consultant teaching at 8.30 am would mean that everything would not be in place for later if I didn't take any initiative to do it. Who knew that a tiny gesture like that would have earned me multiple praises from the people I least expected them from, and even being labelled 'Star Student of the Day'.

But more importantly, for the first time in 3 weeks, after a useful bedside teaching session, I finally felt in touch with medicine again. I was finally thinking laterally and using my bank of differential diagnoses to work up a patient systematically. I was learning new things, revising my CXR presentations and mentally going 'Ooohhhhh' in my mind because my brain was finally working. I had forgotten the thrill of getting things right and realising that there are some things you actually had no idea that you actually knew.

Thank God as well for the random Vascular surgeon later on who came by our ward to review a patient and randomly started giving me an impromptu teaching session on Mononeuritis Multiplex and the different types of Anaemias that could present in a Rheumatoid patient. Despite my wariness with his brandishing a pair of surgical clamps excitedly around (don't ask me why he brought it with him) while he asked me questions, I was truly intrigued. And grateful. At the very least, my brain was yet again given the chance to function for once.

And most of all, despite the slight dampening in the end to a great day, with my patient deteriorating rapidly in the afternoon and going into Septic Shock, at the very least, I was back in touch with my long-lost self again. I was reminded again that I had compassion as a healthcare provider, and a human being. That I was doing Medicine for all the right reasons as much as I had doubted my resilience greatly from time to time. And most of all, that there was no way in hell I would trade all the lack of seeing sunlight, trekking more than an hour to and from the hospital, and pulling my hair out due to the fact that none of my time would really be my own in the future. Because at the end of the day, the message was clear....

There's really no other place I would rather be.

Five Girls, One Heart

2011-11-10T21:06:00.004Z

As cliched as it seems, I cannot help but wonder aloud, over and over again.

Where has all the time gone???

It seemed like just yesterday that we were attending play dates, which progressed to Princess-themed birthday parties, slumber parties and then suddenly, we find ourselves at the next phase of life: Hen Do's.

This was the star of the day: Blushing Bride To Be and definitely the first close friend of mine to be walking down the aisle.

And this was the Bridal Party:

All decked out in the same theme of horizontal stripes (which was planned for) and the same COLOUR theme of black and white (which was completely coincidental, and brought about much laughter).

Possibly one of the most intimate and tame Hen Do's in the history of London, but as we always say, it is the company that matters most. And the day wasn't short of laughs, even if they started off as exasperated ones.

Our 'Do' kicked off in the late morning with an activity of designing and making our own 1920s Flapper-style Headbands, which did not fare too well considering none of us could sew competently, but triumph was to be ours in the end :)

After much stressing out and our stomachs threatening to digest themselves, we then headed off to Sloane Street for bubbly and afternoon tea.

What's a celebration without champagne? :)

Looking forward to the wedding reception (which we can hopefully all attend) where we can look back and reminisce these moments where we were all single, young and painting Londontown red (well, not really, but again it's the company that matters right?).

And as they say, the most beautiful discovery true friends make is that they can grow separately without growing apart.

(Credits to Lynn for the pictures)

Bagging That Style

2011-11-02T00:44:00.004Z

I am a firm believe of undivided loyalties.

And it is true what they say, that your heart truly lies where your mind wanders, because the moment I set my eyes and heart on these two bags a couple of years ago, there was no turning back.

1) The Balenciaga City:

I thought I was done when I got my purple Balenciaga First, which was a dismal second choice because I could not find a SINGLE purple Balenciaga City despite hunting all over London. The 'Kiasu' part of me then proceeded to snap up the very last purple 'First' on display at Harvey Nichols, despite Keith's disapproving comments of "No, Alyssa. It's too small!"

But No, I had built my hopes up so much for a purple Balenciaga that there was no turning back.

Almost 4 years down the line, it looks like there was a reason I fell in love with the label in the first place, because this has sent my heart fluttering at 224 bpm all over again:

The combination of this shade of Military Green and the Rose-Gold Hardware is a touch of class, miles above all of the rest. I have to admit I was rather skeptical about this shade of hardware when I first read about it, but this just proves me wrong....all over again. I am sold, through and through.

Now....just to karate-chop anyone else who tries to prey this away from my hands at the Balenciaga flagship store, or hunt down every nook of Londres for this colour in this style. And of course, the ever imminent problem of 4-figure price tags.

Credit Crunch whaaaaaat?? Swipe Now, Think Later......definitely. Thanks, Daddy.

2) The Proenza Schouler PS1 Satchel:

I remember clearly, the days of first setting my eyes on Leighton Meester strutting across New York City with this bag in tow. And I remember even more clearly, that I couldn't find a single retail store in London that carried Proenza Schouler, lest to say a proper flagship store in itself. It was then that I made a solemn resolution to visit Manhattan one day, and stride right through the doors of Bergdorf Goodman to claim this piece of art as my own.

Last year, I saw a couple of PS1 dotted over stores in London. A small dark purple one at Liberty, a brown one at Harvey Nichols. Sad to say, it was the exact same price in Pounds Sterling as it was in US Dollars. And as much as I tried to resist, my heart broke.

Because who.....who in their right mind could possibly resist this:

I would be willing to trade a kidney for ALL 4 of these PS1 satchels. LOVING the vibrance of these colours indeed, and SO jealous that I will not be heading to NYC or clearing the racks of Saks 5th Avenue with a (very hampered Credit Card limit) any time soon. Screw clinical electives though....shopping trip to NYC anyone??? I would even be willing to instill self control and complete discipline with a strict, no-nonsense shopping ban in London for the next couple of months or so. AHEM. For real.

Fat chance. As much as I can get away with making 'Puss in Boots' eyes at my Dad, I hardly think my own bank account limit would allow it.

Perhaps this is where my Grand Scheme to con a Cartier ring and as many PS1 Satchels as I want out of my future IB would come into play.

Canary Wharf tomorrow, anyone? ;)

And in the meantime, let's just say....all you need is Love. Or in my case, Balenciaga......and Proenza Schouler.

XOXO

Kung Fu Fighting

2011-10-09T16:19:00.003+01:00

Everyone knows that I am pretty much a gym junkie.

NB: That statement was dripping with sarcasm, just in case you guys didn't notice.

Yes, I go to the gym once in a blue moon, at the most. In the past year, I could probably count the number of time I have been to the gym with my fingers. And each time, in the midst of each workout session, I would be on the verge of arresting on a treadmill and proclaim aloud in my head that starving was MUCH easier than the pain I was going through. I would think back to the days of gymming with Pei Hua where the two of us would overdose on Body Combat, Body Pump and Yogalates. Unfortunately, the ULU Gym had none of these, and when it comes to leaving Shing to devise a workout session for herself without the guidance of an instructor, there is only one thing she does: she cuts corners. The lightest weights possible for all resistance training and well, the occasional crunch or two.....you know, when she feels like it.

And then this year, Coco, Daisy and Minnie switched gyms. It initially came as a bit of an impromptu decision, but I must say that two months into this routine (in which 90% of the encouragement comes from Coco, I must admit), I am loving life!!! Saturday mornings are much looked forward to because of this:

Oh Body Combat, how I have missed thee!!

Falling back into the routine of Upper Cuts, Cross Jabs, Roundhouse Kicks and Spinballing brings about a kind of euphoria of its own....not to mention that it is particularly therapeutic to be punching the air as hard as you can (+/- the option of imagining an opponent that you are really in combat against).

And really, besides the awkward hours I will possibly be anticipating in my next two weeks of Emergeny Medicine, at the moment, life cannot get any better than improving my cardiovascular fitness and strength.....at the very least.

(I have resigned to the fact that it is a tad impossible to actively wish any amount of weight loss upon myself when not much effort has been divulged on my part. Hellooooo water diet?!)

Perhaps it would be time to invest in a pair of combat gloves after this? :) Depending on how long I can keep this habit up for.

A is for Airway....and Anaesthetics

2011-09-18T22:47:00.003+01:00

I had had several apprehensions before starting Anaesthetics....and I had experienced EVEN more doubts prior to this when I had heard more than one individual proclaim their love for the specialty.

Perhaps it is true when they say pleasant surprises happen when you are least expecting it. Because my first week on the placement so far has been anything but unpleasant. Fair enough, I did come across a fair bit of grilling on my very first day and very first theatre session, but the amount that I took away from it surprised even myself.

And, taking into account the fact that I was still pretty much riding on my wave of vacation fever when I started last week, I had to say that the patience and effort that these wonderful beings poured into helping me grasp the core points around the topic was definitely much appreciated. At the end of last Friday, I had reverted from a Cardio Fangirl to an Anaesthetist Wannabe. Pretty much sold. No further persuasions required.

Okay, I kid. The door is pretty much still open to me, and at the moment, the anchoring heuristic in me still sides the matters of the heart (pun intended) strongly. But it was moments like last Thursday where Lynn and I had had a very productive afternoon session brushing up on our Gen Med knowledge and our systematic approach (or maybe lack of) in handling emergent situations, that struck a significant chord in me and made me realise.....that moments like these...moment like these are what drove me to endure the hours of trawling the hospital, of being ignored or chastised as liked, of tearing hair out prior to exams.....and of potential identity crisis when work commences....and that at the end of the day, there is nothing else but this that I could imagine myself possibly doing.

I will miss Anaesthetics when it is all over. And maybe in another 3 weeks or so, I will have reverted back to the broken, bitter, ill-tempered med student scurrying around A&E when you next check this space.

But for the moment, in customary ABCDE approach, let me just say.

A is for:

- Airway

- Anaesthetics

and - Alyssa being strangely happy for the first time in ages.

Sensory Lab

2011-09-05T10:46:00.007+01:00

So much has happened since the last post.

For one, the dreaded farewells and customary bidding of Goodbye to Kch came and left, with less drama than anticipated. At that moment, it did seem apt when my own words rang true, that things were only as drama as you made them out to be.

Then the inevitable embracing of a new academic year came and went as well, amidst suffering from bouts of drowsiness and jetlag between Prescribing, Handovers and Case Histories.

And on the first weekend of all of us being reunited back in Londontown, what else was there to do but continue with the coffee-hunting adventures.

This time, our destination was Sensory Lab:

The latest Australian cafe to take London by storm. Or, as 'Time-Out' would put it, 'Great Coffee finally hitting Oxford Circus by way of Melbourne'.

Much thanks to Jane again (my Coffee-Hunting partner in crime - in spirit of course) for introducing us to this second Melbourne-based brand name. The first being St. ALi which we had visited and absolutely adored.

The ambience was slightly less appealing than it's sister branch in Clerkenwell, but later, Daisy and I came to love the countertops and window seats overlooking Wigmore Street, which allowed us much entertainment in way of people-watching on a rainy, windy afternoon in Londontown.

And of course, not forgetting the main point: The Coffee.

My Latte was awesome enough. And as Lynn pointed out, so was her Flat White, and YL's Cappuccino. Slightly stronger, I might add, than St. ALi's brews, from what my uncultured taste buds could recall, but definitely a gem of a place to add to our Coffee-Hunting adventures.

And with the string of Melbourne-based cafes that are jetting over the miles to land on this part of the world, it seems that life can only get better from here. Here's hoping that this final year will be filled with more laughs, wonderful memories and perfectly crafted espressos amidst coffee beans from over the world.....besides the best company in the world, of course.

Sensory Lab

75 Wigmore Street

London W1U 1QD

Coffee Hunt....Continued

2011-08-27T05:47:00.010+01:00

This time...in the comforts of none other than our beloved hometown of Kch.

I know there have been occasions time and time again where I have gotten a raised eyebrow in response to my ignorance of certain Kch 'hotspots', to the point that I am possibly....?Pseudo-Kuchingite, but hey, I swear I'm getting better.

So while Lynn was coffee-hunting in London, I decided to pull my weight and set off to do some evaluating in Kch.

Back to the awesome Carpenter Street where limited parking + lousy driving skills = exasperation escalated by subtly sarcastic reactions from my BFF in my passenger seat.

No matter though, Vamos Shing! Eventually success loomed. Managed to build some immunity towards the snarky remarks and head over to this:

Iced Lattes

It was definitely refreshing to be able to drink Iced Coffee again, after all those moments in London where any form of an iced drink would lead to uncontrollable convulsions and chattering of teeth the moment you walked out of the store.....and into the arms of the brutal cold. Ironically, the context in this case was the lack of any form of cooling device and a series of new mosquito bites to add to my current collection.

Overall, it was definitely a refreshing layout to the typical London (or rather Aussie) style Coffee place.

Simple, old-school and functional. This was Kch-style through and through. And the coffee wasn't bad either.

My substitute Coffee-Hunting partner in crime: Best Friend Forever and one of the causes of my deteriorating laughter threshold.

*Note: Shades are Tom Ford aviators belonging to the author, not the model...just in case you were wondering*

Black Bean Coffee & Tea Company 黑豆食品咖啡茶叶贸易公司

No. 87 Ewe Hai Street

93000 Kuching,

Sarawak, Malaysia.

Apologies for the mediocre photo qualities. All snapped with my sturdy HTC Desire S on a new awesome app that Daisy recommended.

So all in all, who would have thought that Kch would be so much fun this time around. And honestly, no sarcasm intended. As much as I thought there would be no one to see and nothing to do prior to coming back, the reality when I was back was that there still weren't that many of my High School friends back, and Kch was pretty much still a hole.

But then you realise that all it boils down to is 'The One where Laughter Never Ceases'. Or in this case, a list of random, significant, bizarre, 'What-The-Hell', yet memorable Kch moments with the Liangster.

The Adventures of Dora and Boots

2011-08-22T13:37:00.003+01:00

Back from a week-long adventure in KL! Which I must credit for the title of this post.

And a huge adventure it was! Definitely best KL trip to date EVER! Lol. Bit of an inside joke for me and Daisy Hoo, but this was definitely one summer holiday I would never forget.

What was supposedly a week of 'being keen' for two medical students, ended up being a barrel of laughs. From being continuously sloughed off onto the service of other members of the team to continuously being asked to 'study in the library' and my personal favourite.....'No patients have turned up for Clinic'. Just to say, the end point was that we both transitioned through periods of wanting to kill certain people, to being exasperated to the point of laughter, to making the most of our time together and turning it into an 'adventure'. What's not to like about escaping from clinic to go shopping in Pavilion countlessly?

Well, to be fair, I guess we did learn maybe 6 important points about Cardiology at the very end. Two new Diabetic drugs I hadn't heard of, VSD's, Wolf-Parkinson-White Syndrome and two more interesting patients we saw on the single round with pretty distinct conditions.

Other than that, this was definitely THE gastronomical KL experience!!! And sadly, I have to agree that the West has a far larger variety of food than the East, where my standard answer for good Kch food is 'Kolo Mee' and 'Sarawak Laksa'. Lol. Or maybe that's just me. Please don't kill me, I am still very much a Kuchingite at heart ;)

And the holiday is coming to an end.....soon it will be Kch-Withdrawal Symptoms again for me. And I have a feeling that they will be FAR worse this time around.

Oh well, still have got the week left.

In the meantime, a huge shout-out to my BFF Daisy Hoo, aka my fellow explorer Dora for an amazing time in Kay-Elle :) And pRease okay....I am being truly sincere ;)

Almost There

2011-08-06T07:19:00.003+01:00

4th Year done and dusted.

Officially one step closer to achieving my Cardiothoracic dream. Well, of course before that comes job applications and Final Year and FINALS.

KL-bound 15th Aug - 20th Aug.

HELLLOOOO SUMMER!!!!

The Djokovic Factor

2011-07-05T00:51:00.003+01:00

When these two great champions faced each other on court (or rather, grass), at SW19 before the Championships drew to a close this year, it was inevitably going to go one way or another.

And as though he was still sleep-walking and living his 4-year-old dream, it was eventually the Djoker who managed to follow through.

This was a moment of many firsts:

- This being Djoker's First Wimbledon Final EVER.

- The First time in years that anyone other than Nadal and Federer had dominated this renown title at SW 19.

- And ultimately, the First time anyone other than the greats Rafa Nadal and Roger Federer was World No.1....the last time being Andy Roddick in 2004.

But as much as Nadal put on a tremendous show and looked every inch the gallant champion he was last year here at the Championships, there was only so much that VAMOS RAFA could spur him. Because this year, it is all about the Djokovic Factor. And that proved to close that little gap between these two and give him the extra push towards living his dream.

And with that, we bid farewell to the grounds of Wimbledon, to the fantastic shows that the Championships brought this year....and to the perfect finale of it all.

See you again next year, Nole.

PS: In the meantime, I hope you realise how many meals I have had to buy my Tennis Partner in Crime this year, while you are happily on this winning streak. Perhaps the day will come when you will reimburse me.....or even acknowledge my existence. Lol.

The Djokovic Edge

2011-07-02T22:09:00.005+01:00

As much as I rave about tennis, this is the closest I will ever get to playing. This was taken last year at Wimbledon, posing with a Giant Babolat.

This year....no Wimbledon, and hence no Giant Babolat.

Instead, books, books and more books. Oh Joy!

But a big day lies ahead tomorrow....because for the first time, this man is World No.1 AND has scored himself a ticket to the Wimbledon Finals:

It is hard to identify just what I like about Novak Djokovic. I recently read an article identifying that despite his arrogant strut, the mad gleam in his eyes, the pumping of fists in mad euphoria each time he wins just one point, and the many times he has battered his racquet to smithereens, earning cautions from the umpire along the way, there is just something about Nole that is charming in so many ways.

That would be the so-called more poetic reason I could draw out as to why I am one of the few Djokovic fans in this tennis world.

Honestly, I am not sure. There is a part of me that just relishes being different from the norm. When 90% of all people I know are Man Utd fans, I have stuck to my guns and maintained my position in the slowly diminishing pool of Liverpool fans. Perhaps I like the fact that I am actually one of that 'rare breed', perhaps I just am used to being taunted at by this guy and that, and the numerous Red Devils who modify names to 'Loserpool'.

And when many a tennis fan grabs their hair in admonishment and exclaim "YOU LIKE DJOKOVIC?!!", it is almost a reflex reaction for me to defensively say "What are you trying to insinuate?!"

Maybe I just like being different, as per being a Liverpool fan. Who knows?

But there is just something about Djokovic that stirs an indescribable bond with me. I have lamented continuously that it was boring how this man was 45-matches unbeaten this year and that someone should stop him, but the moment he lost to Federer in the semis of Roland Garros, I realised that old habits die hard. It took great effort for me halfway watching the match to realise that I was not supposed to be hurling insults at Djoker on the TV screen but should be silently applauding Federer for his brilliant efforts.

So as much as Rafa is my favourite Spaniard in terms of determination and resilience, as much as I salute Federer for his absolute grace and poise on court, and as much as my Djoker totally defies the rule of tennis being a 'Gentleman's Game', it is with this Serbian that my loyalties lie. Love is blind, they say. But it is too late to start over now.

But I have always been a rational girl, when it comes to tennis and football and any other form of sport I watch (read: none), so I will lay down the odds for tomorrow as such:

Rafa will probably take the cup, but please, compadres, do it in less than 3 hours so as to save our time! We are busy people, you see!

And as for my Djoker: we'll see how much of the 45-match-unbeaten-streak man he is tomorrow. As far as I was concerned, he was pretty much a shadow of it when he was playing Tomic and Tsonga over the past few days.

Perhaps celebrations will be in order after tomorrow. Buying my tennis counterpart a Michelin star meal at Heston Blumenthal's restaurant, maybe. Lol.

A girl can hope.

As It Happens....

2011-06-24T21:54:00.003+01:00

....amidst 130mph serves, ground strokes that are pin-point precise, drop shots that make your jaw equally hang open in awe...and mind-boggling matches that persevere beneath the fabulous new technology of that Centre Court roof in spite of the temperamental English rain....it has taken much resilience on my part not to give in and visit the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club multiple times because, hallelujah: I still have exams. Which are yet to be sat. And preparation on my part is so slow that it is almost insane.

It took a great deal of self control the other day to relate my experience in Centre Court last year to my Reg and my firmmate when we drove past Southfields and the hoards of people (I threw them a dirty look as we drove past....pffttt) who were flocking to the grounds. I am sure it must have been devastatingly obvious how I had gone from monotonously naming the Clinical Features of Bipolar Disorder to suddenly raising my voice a couple of octaves when I retold my excitement at watching the great man himself, Roger Federer play.

This year, I have deteriorated horribly, so to speak. It makes me devastated to think that by the time I start working next year, I will probably not even know whenever a Grand Slam is being played. I have yet to find the time to watch a single Wimbledon match properly (blame my intense stress over trying to find one last stupid specialist visit ARGH!), and I have totally not been keeping track of my Djoker's performance this time around!

The most I have done is flick through BBC Videos at the end of the day, and placate myself with these:

The.....wait for it......LEGENDARY man himself: Roger 'Fed-Ex' Federer. Whom I am still hoping will dethrone Rafa this year, even if it means trampling on my Djoker to get to Centre Court on Sunday.

And who could forget the Near-Invicible creature this Serbian has become this year: the man who started it all by sparking off my interest in tennis - My Djoker.

So for the moment, as we cruise into Week 2 of this year's showdown of the creme de la creme of all Grand Slams, I am aware of how much I lack the euphoria and anticipation of the past year....simply because I lack the time.

And as much as I harbour resentment against these exams just because I am skewed in where my passions lie, I promise myself this: that next year I will frequent the grounds SO often that by the end of it, I will have exhausted Wimbledon in every possible way, and that means not just having to rely on a recapitulation of these amazing showdowns or ponder on a distant memory of my surreal moment in Centre Court in 2010.

Wimbledon, I'll be seeing you yet. Let's keep our fingers crossed.

Something Old, Something New...

2011-06-14T21:43:00.009+01:00

....Something Borrowed, Something Blue.

I must be the most unromantic person in the entire female population universally.

Back in school, when my friends had dreams about their weddings in full detail - down to their dresses, the flower bouquets they were going to carry, the interior of their reception hall and so on, the most I could offer on my part was roll my eyes and declare, in all sincerity, that I really wasn't interested.

When asked to describe my dream wedding in words, all these years later, my response is exactly the same as it was when I was a teenage girl.

I don't know, really.

To be fair, the realistic side of me means that I should probably take baby steps, one at a time, and only speak of this when I actually have a tangible wedding candidate. Yet, to be honest, I am not being pessimistic. Because the obsolete truth was that I really didn't care, still don't...or rather, to put it more subtly, I am pretty much flexible and pretty much up for anything.

Which made me move on to pen down another prerequisite in a future husband:

- Able to plan the wedding and its further minute details.

Lol, I kid.

All the same, a friend remarked that this was a dream practically every girl had had some time in her life, and it was almost as though I was developmentally missing a milestone not to echo this thought at all. Hence, I decided to come up with the bare minimum, i.e. set my style straight.

In terms of my preferred styles of wedding dresses, of course! Because God forbid I will have to strut down the aisle in something horrendously un-Shing in every single way!

There wasn't much difficulty in terms of browsing through a website and mentally short-listing. I was done in 5 minutes.

Elie Saab was a sure-win. I have always been a huge fan, and there is something about his designs that overshadow the crowd favourites of Vera Wang or lately, Alexander McQueen (Sarah Burton). There is nothing about his soft, feminine lines that one can dislike, and even for a wedding cynic like me, I was thoroughly sold.

Fangirl much. Hah!

This gown above, with its flowy layers of French lace, was an instant favourite immediately! (Virtually to me of course. How easy when there is no thought of real cost at hand when picking out an outfit. Lol!)

Moving along the popular theme of lacy bodices, in the style of Duchess Kate Middleton, I stumbled across this sleek piece, which reminded me of a rather Oriental-incorporated theme - perhaps because of the neckline and the cap sleeves - and the Mermaid-inspired skirt was a definite shoo-in. Not really my style, to be honest, because.....shoot me.....I am still a believer of lower necklines in formal gowns, but definitely something more refreshing than the standard A-line skirt and strapless tube top of many a bride these days.

And yes, I contradict myself from my previous line above about wanting to be different from the standard strapless-necked gown and full skirt, but what is not to love about this piece? A true Elie Saab piece of work, if I may, written all over it, with the chiffon folds and the little train at the back.

Now to find a rich Investment Banker husband to con to buy me this *rubs hands gleefully*

Much of a 'Wedding Grinch' as I am, I could probably risk my cool facade and be all starry-eyed and giggly and tearfully joyous walking down the aisle in this while proclaiming that I knew this dress was MADE for me the moment I laid my eyes on it.

Similarly, this gown isn't standard Vera Wang / Vivienne Westwood, puffy-ballgown-skirted Princess Wedding material, but there is nothing about Elie Saab's flowy lines that can't buy me enough to be willing to be that fortunate blushing bride gliding down the aisle in this.

And of course, the Duchess of Cambridge aside, who could forget the woman who started it all. My fashion icon and one of the most stylish creatures the world has ever known: Grace Kelly

Flawless piece of work indeed. Perhaps if I were fortunate to be the next 'Princess of Monaco' in the future (read: marry the tennis player who is actually really Serbian but is based in Monaco), I would cast aside all my dress preferences and proudly carry on this 'Kelly tradition'.

My friends scoff off my cynicism and proclaim that I will be the giggly, blushing bride that I am so distasteful about, and will one fawn about planning the dream-come-true wedding that I have so vehemently veto-ed all these years.

I say: Curse me not!!!

Jokes. Perhaps, if it involves a rich Investment Banker with a ginormous fortune and an Elie Saab gown.....

Coffee-Hunting....

2011-05-30T01:11:00.011+01:00

....Aussie Style.

It seems that these days, the BIG thing in London is Coffee Houses, Brunch Places, Breakfast Bars....popping up all over the place, and everything so far has been synonymous with the words 'Australian Style'.

Due to my large contact base in Melbourne, I have been reminded time and time again how trendy the 'Coffee Culture' is over there, so much so that it is much less of a past-time than a distinct feature of the city itself.

London, on the other hand, perhaps owing to its vastness and our lack of insight, falters behind in the quaint coffee places that a city like Melbourne has to offer. Sad, really....seeing how vibrant and colourful a place this city is in terms of gastronomy, trendy eateries and the likes.

And then we discovered that St. ALi had spread its wings to this part of the world....much thanks to Jane.

Of course, with an opening like St. ALi, it was pretty hard for us to ignore. The fact that I had received nothing but the highest of praises from every single Melbournian I had asked after, and that the owners had chosen to open their second branch 10,000 miles away from the first, definitely warranted a mention....and naturally a visit.

So off we went on our coffee hunt:

Being greeted by a myriad of Australian accents when we entered was truly heart-warming. It was as though we had just crossed over from East London to Melbourne in an instant.

I especially liked the open-plan counter where the baristas worked their magic

Flat White

Filter Coffee

Lynn obviously found the miniature milk bottle very entertaining

Overall, it was an experience worth two thumbs up! I was fondly reminded of my many dapples with excellent coffee experiences in Perth over last summer, and although many a Melbournian has vehemently reminded me that it is not a shadow of the REAL stuff they serve down in Melbourne, I still maintain that the coffee culture in the land Down Under is one thing that trumps England hands down. So much so that I almost forgive them for all being such Coffee Snobs. Gasp! (I kid, I kid!)

Also, Psssstttt.....you didn't hear it from me, but as a little birdie told me, St. ALi will soon be acquiring an Alcohol license and extending its opening hours to dinner times, so you'll be seeing me chilling there more often after I am rid of something called dreary finals.

And as for the Australian invasion to the slowly growing coffee map on this side of the waters, I am welcoming it all indeed....with open arms:

St. ALi

27 Clerkenwell Road

EC1M 5RN

London

WIP - Work In Progress

2011-05-23T21:24:00.004+01:00

It has been a while since Meredith's narrations rang out clearly in my mind, amidst all the new and upcoming drama that Greys spurts out each week.

This particularly stuck, and reminded me why she was my favourite character to start of with years ago.

"I always thought I'd be happier alone.

Not because I like being alone. But it's easier to be alone.

Because what if you learn that you need love and then you don't have it?

What if you like it....and lean on it?

What if you shape your life around it? And then it falls apart....."

Likewise, I am a piece of work under construction.

But at the moment, with Korean dramas, tennis, coffee and friends, who needs to dwell on the grey bits of it all?

C'est la vie :)

Dear 16-Year-Old Self...

2011-05-18T16:31:00.016+01:00

In between some random surfing of the web and procrastinating, I came across some blog posts that then inspired me to write one of my own: a letter to my 16-year-old self, a stroll down memory lane to reassure that teenage girl back then about the ups and downs that had seemed larger than life again.

Dear 16-Year-Old Shing,

When December finally swung around and Form 4 finally ended, I know it seemed like all too much of a relief because that ridiculously long and tumultuous year felt like it would never end. Firstly, I wish I could have given you a good shaking in the beginning back then when you started off the year taking Form 4 for granted, just because you thought topping the class for the past 10 years before was a sure-win even though you knew very well that you were being placed in a highly-pressurised environment with all the other straight A students from the other classes.

And even though it was good that you finally gathered your wits about you and went on to maintain the straight A's that were so expected of you, but I wish you could have had someone like me to tell you back then that no matter how brilliant you were in High School, no matter how many straight A1's you scored in SPM later on, or during your A-Levels, no one could ever have predicted the slump in intellect and discipline when you entered Medical School....when you were in the same class as 300 other aspiring doctors who are 10 times smarter and sharper than you.

Having said that, Shing, it is no good to harp on the negatives. You should dwell on the positives while you still can. Amidst those chatting / note-writing sessions you had with your bestie Manda during Sejarah lessons, BM lessons and more, despite how many times teachers might have caught you guys out for not paying attention: believe me when I say this, you should have spent MORE lessons gossiping with Manda instead of listening to the Sejarah lesson drone on and on.

Because you would not have come to realise in those days of seeing her for 8 hours or more EVERY single day, that one day would come when the two of you would be half a world apart, and that the last time you saw each other would be 4 whole years ago.

And the same would apply for your other amazing girl friends. At this point you will not know it yet, but a time will come when you realise that everyone has moved on leading their own lives, turning into hotshot architects, lawyers, physiotherapists and doctors, but the one thing to be grateful for is that you have still been able to see Voon on an annual basis, for standard Kch-style NYE Celebrations that go down in history. And a day will come when you are thankful that this bond between the two of you.....this Best Fried - Best Boiled bond, has not wavered, thanks to the fact that she will one day move back to Kch to be that hot-shot architect that you always knew she would be.

Fast forward a couple of years down the line, and you will realise, that no matter where your life takes you, your heart will always stay in Kch. And that you would be eternally grateful for those God-given amazing friends that have been around to hopefully, last a lifetime.

Of course at 16, you would not know this, because you have worn that same freaking school uniform for the past 4 years or so and you can't wait to be rid of it. But that year of Form 5 after this would fly by as though it never had before, and you would take off to the UK, where you always knew you would end up. Parent biasness, what can I say? Lol.

And at 16, you would not anticipate the 2 years after that would be the most incredible years of your life. I wish I could have flagged it up to you now, so you could have been ready to make the most out of your CC days. Because this was where you would meet the best friends in your life, who would go on to touch your life in so many ways, and leave such a huge mark.... that although most of them would eventually move on and away....back to Malaysia or to Singapore to continue achieving great things in life: you know that these are friendships that are made to last. God knows what would have happened had you not crossed paths the first day with Jenn in the airport, and had not later met Hanna, Rex & Noemi....and eventually, grown closer to CK, WL and Munchkin.

And of course, the most important thing to say to you, at 16 years old, would be that you would eventually achieve that life-long dream of yours to enter medical school, and with God's will, finally become a doctor next year.

Whether or not you will become that Neurosurgeon that you aspired to be at 14, or the Cardiologist you later realised was potentially more realistic, that is a matter to be discussed years further on. I will update you again when I have hit 35, whether or not you ended up doing Internal Medicine or Surgery or *gasp* dare I say it.....Obs & Gynae!

At Med School, you would go on to meet a whole cohort of other amazing people. None of whom you could have travelled a journey this difficult and this far without.

There is no 'What if....' that comes along with what would have happened if you had not met Pei Hua, or Yuan Lih or LX, because it would be difficult to describe and imagine you without them. You see, you have yet to know it now, but they will go on to understand you in every way, be it to catch you when you fall into the darkest of holes, or laugh along at every lame attempt at a joke you make.

So nonetheless, my dear 16-year-old girl, I am sure it has transpired now that you needn't have worried about getting along with people and finding friends whom you can click with after leaving the comfort zone of Kch and Lodge. God is kind on you, and you will have a comfortable circle of friends through thick and thin wherever you go.

As for matters of the heart though, that is another page in the book. I wish I could have told you back when you were 16 that those minor 'heartaches' that you suffered from the random high school crushes, the moments when your heart would go into AF when you saw that one crush.....hard as it is to imagine now, is something that you would possibly have liked to hold on to more tightly. Because High School crushes were the days of being 'bright and shiny', and you would realise that when later on, many a guy was to cross your path and produce blow after blow to your heart that you wondered whether you could possibly feel again in this state of trauma.

You would not have known at 16, when your one major high school crush left school, that you guys would ever see or speak to each other again. Who knew that years along the line, you guys would be even better friends than before, and that he would ironically be the one constant 'guy' there for you throughout tears and heartbreaks from all those others. You might have wished you had taken more initiative to treasure the high school days spent with him then, but not to worry. You guys will continue to be friends for a long time coming.

For better of for worse, I would urge you to be fully optimistic, because there is surely one guy out there... somewhere in this huge world who is completely in sync with you, and when the time comes, you will KNOW without a doubt, idealistic as this might seem. But then again, at 16 you should be full of hopes and dreams. Cynicism will come later. Don't rush it.

I know this is a whole lot to take in, literally....and at 16, I hope your English is as up to par as it would be later on. No worries though, I think you would have read alot more at 16 to add to your vocab than you would later on when your brain is even failing to take in short excerpts of medical blurb.

But the end point is this: that at 16, you would not have known what the world beholds, 10 years down the line. And unless you had a Crystal Ball, the best way is to live every day to the fullest, and put in your everything to achieve whatever you aspire to do this lifetime.

In terms of growing up though, do not fret. I can assure you that you will mature year by year, as tedious a process as it might be, as painful a lesson as you might come across on the way, to eventually be a down-to-earth, worldly, 25-year-old young lady. Poised, grounded and possibly with a flair for fashion.

We will speak again another 10 years from now, perhaps. Until then, take care. Hang in there. You are in for one hell of a ride!

It's a Tiger World

2011-05-04T21:09:00.008+01:00

As long as I could remember, I have been accustomed to the 'Chinese' style of parenting, as described famously by Amy Chua in her book - 'Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother', which I immediately got hold of a copy after I read her much-talked about article on the WSJ online: "Why Chinese Mothers are Superior".

Ever since then, I have been very open about proclaiming myself to be a huge fan of the 'Tiger Mother', and even managed to strike up a prolonged topic of conversation with a certain Neurologist about the book. I would invariably make my own kids practise the piano 3 hours or more a day, drill scales and arpeggios, make sure they hit Carnegie Hall-material within a couple of years, and expect them to turn out no less than successful, educated people who were not just around to be a waste of space and oxygen to society, yet retain the filial piety of a well brought-up Chinese kid.

Twenty odd years later, I admit that my childhood was no box of chocolates. My mum was as militant about school grades, music achievements, sports, dancing and being an all-rounder as any 'Chinese Mother' could get. And yet, still, twenty odd years later, even though I have not turned out to be the world class Cardiothoracic Surgeon, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra Flautist, Prima Ballerina, or Pullitzer-Prize winning Writer, I had dreamed of being as a little girl, I offer no regrets on my lack of childhood drama.

For if it were not for the tight schedules, constant fear evoked within when I got less than an A on any subject, and endless lectures-turned-tirades, I would not have been the person I am today.

Sure, I look about 10 times stronger than I really am, emotionally at least. Physically, I can vouch for - I have the strongest grip and super broad shoulders - but I kid, I kid. As much as I can turn into a sentimental schmuck when it comes to certain matters in life, I owe every bit of determination and strength I possess today to my mum's parenting methods and her amazing ability to drill sense into me, yet motivate me in the best ways whenever I needed them most.

It is a 'Chinese' thing, I am sure, and an acquired skill nonetheless, to disguise your true feelings and put on a front, hence the practice of never heaping praise or accepting it openly, despite how the heart might really be overflowing with emotion within. And I have grown up having perfected this skill, possibly to my own downfall at times. But I realise that in Amy Chua's context, there was never a doubt that the relationship she possesses with her daughters is a priceless one, and the entire book is pretty much Tongue In Cheek - humour which I totally get :) - and a similar shadow of the relationship I share with my own mum.

So all these years later, even though I have deteriorated from being near the top of a class of students to flailingly surviving Med School. Even though I have momentarily lost all the ambitions and visions I built earlier in terms of achieving the most of my medical career. Even though I am now nothing to show a whole childhood of discipline and character-building, I have grown up. In so many ways that even I have not realised myself, into this TwentySomething young lady, who hopefully one day, will possess as much poise as did her Super Mum.

And who hopefully will one day, get to practice the cardinal teachings of her one biggest idol, the Tiger Mother.

Picnic Royale

2011-04-25T19:41:00.012+01:00

Picnicking - London style.

Or perhaps, even Royal style, because we had ours one very sunny Saturday morning at Regent's Park, which happens to be one of the Royal Parks in London.

The last time we had been on a picnic was back in Sept '09, which was a pretty impromptu thing in Hyde Park, also planned by Daisy Hoo, but with much less 'grandeur' and preparation, i.e. alot less food, no picnic mats to sit on and no frisbee.

This Easter weekend, however, we upped our picnic standards a couple of notches with MORE food than the 6 of us could finish:

The HUGE spread - credits to Lynn who painstakingly prepared most of it

The Girls, who happen to be 2 sets of BFF's :)

T'was a lovely day!!

With lovely flowers in bloom as well

And because Jody had been eyeing the frisbee Bao donated to me last year from the start of the picnic, Lynn and I got roped into a pathetic game of frisbee with the guys, partly because much of my movement was restricted by my VERY LONG skirt, and partly because we girls were just lousy athletes.

(Pictures from Lynn's amazing Canon G11. Much thanks.)

The weather was picture perfect that day, perhaps a tad too sunny for April, as though it was already summer, but as usual, my efforts at trying to be a hero and going out bare-shouldered with no cover-up left me with red imprints on my back the following day, and two pale streaks where my spaghetti straps were.

What happened to the lesson learnt at Wimbledon, ey Shing?

Have been embracing the Easter break to the fullest this year, a very different, relaxing, other end of the spectrum from my super hectic 2-holidays-crammed-in-one-break last year.

And on Wednesday, we head to the hometown of William Shakespeare.

More pictures to come. Watch this space :)

The First Days of Spring

2011-04-17T23:07:00.006+01:00

These days when the sun is out and the current stat count is T-4 days till Easter Break, we have pretty much abandoned all medical knowledge and discipline to read. Seriously, goodness knows how long it has been since I have picked up a medical book.

So with all thoughts of Obs & Gynae completely abandoned (anything learnt in placement this week will be doomed, I tell you), more traipsing around London continued with Lynn and YL.

Notes, Music and Coffee - awesome place tucked away in Covent Garden, and definitely one of my better efforts at photo-taking

Mirror Images

Flat White

And from coffee to Flavoured Belgian Beer / Apple Cider post-exams last Wednesay:

YL's Cider and My Fruli (new-found Favourite)

And on a fine Sunday, while people were busy pounding London's roads for the long-awaited London Marathon, we leisurely sidled down East (Central) London, across the Thames to London Bridge

Stopping in front of some tulips along the way

And rediscovering our Polka Dot craze

The first days of Spring are truly here to stay. And as much as our week's worth of placements are completely doomed due to our lack of focus and End- of- Term moods, I say 'Sod It' for now.

Sun, Spring, Flowers, Awesome friends and one of the prettiest cities in the world.

And to top it all off, a virtual showdown between Roger Federer and Novak Djokovic at Wimbledon this Thursday to finish off the term:

What better way to prepare for this year's Wimbledon than Top Spin Move?

The Real Winner

2011-04-04T21:57:00.006+01:00

Unbeaten this year.... invincible, to say the least.

That is my Djoker for you :)

A 24 match winning streak, and STILL winning!

What started off as a disbelief in him reaching YET another final, and declaring adamantly that he would stand no chance against the King of a Spaniard Rafa Nadal, proved immediately where my loyalties (and heart) will always lie, the moment I watched the final set showdown between these two.

Instantly, I knew. Once a fan, always a fan.

Djoker must have sensed my escalating frustration with Liverpool and decided to give me something to cheer about this season, sports-wise.

And to quote:

'The real winner today has to be Tennis, as a sport. Both Rafa Nadal and Novak Djokovic deserve equal credits for a fabulous final'

And for the cherry on top of the cake, we decided to tweet Djoker to congratulate him. Different approaches, but both seambursting-laughter-worthy. Lol.

Let's go now, Nole! This is the Real Winner you were made out to be.

And it helps to put more smiles on my face as well :)

Anchoring Heuristic

2011-04-01T22:25:00.003+01:00

I thought this weekend would never come.

The end of this past week was eventful for me. For one, I finally managed to complete my last Mini-Cex with a Consultant, which I had been having near nervous breakdowns each end of the week about - which would account to about 4 in total - because it was THAT difficult for me to get hold of a Consultant who was willing to watch me examine someone and stick to his word at that.

Hence I had horrendously bad moods most Thursdays in Guildford, because I was going home to London for the weekend with a failure, YET again. Which might have somehow contributed to the fact that I only associated it with negative feelings.

And eventually, it was only natural to hate Paeds.

Perhaps hate is too strong a word. Maybe STRONGLY dislike.

And then on Wednesday when I got my final CEX signed off, I started reflecting and realised, retrospectively, that perhaps.....perhaps it was not Paediatrics per se, but ME after all.

The fact that I had started off thinking that I would not fare well with kids, and my mounting frustration with not being able to get my final CEX done, had turned into an anchoring heuristic. And as we all know, the mind is larger than life. It plays tricks. And I am possibly a master of mind games - being able to continually trick myself into believing something or the other just because I wanted to.

I have plodded millions of steps along this path of life, in hopes of achieving my lifelong dream of becoming this professional provider of healthcare and medicine, and there are many times such as these that when given the chance to pause and ponder, I wonder if I will ever be cut out to be that cool-as-cucumber doctor that I have admired so much, or if I ever do - which field I would be truly passionate about...for a lifetime.

I have anchored myself into thinking I love Cardiology, so much so that I have omitted the fact that it takes alot more to be a Cardio God than just a large-eyed Med Student who spends more time daydreaming than improving knowledge about Paediatric Cardiology, for instance.

At the end of the day, we shall see which path leads me to whichever destination....in the hope that I do get somewhere in terms of my career. And for the moment, anchoring heuristics are possibly more unhealthy than they might make out to be. Or perhaps, it is just that in my efforts to build a stronger personality, I have incorporated some sort of bullheadedness into me as well.

Whoever said things got easier the faster you grew up? Lol.

Indomitable

2011-03-17T17:33:00.003Z

When I was younger, I had always prided myself on my steadfastness and my dead resolution to achieve whatever I wanted.

I had a whiteboard and marker where I wrote down potential marks to aim for before every examination in school. And then I would make sure that I topped them all without fail.

This week, I have felt my energy faltering as every single day goes by. It is a dilemma really, between wanting the weekend to come quickly and wishing that it would not do so because I am running out of time to complete my Work Based Assessments. It seems strange that the smallest things can set me off, and today I just reached my maximal threshold. I am dead tired, mentally, from the amount of information I have yet to ingest in this Paediatrics attachment, and how my mind cannot seem to flip easily from dealing with as normal a condition as a respiratory infection in an adult, to dealing with one in a kid.

It is one thing to just continuously say that little children are not my thing, and I would still prefer to manage adults as my patients rather than kids, but at this point I don't think I have a choice of sub-specialising as a student, and I hate it when I underperform by my own standards - although I should have probably become used to that by now being the most mediocre medical student amidst a sea of brilliant others.

But it is just not as easy anymore to excel in my medicine as to achieve 100% in that Math exam.

To be fair, it might just be my sudden dip in mood and hormonal imbalance that is bringing about these swings in emotion.

But it just makes me wonder time and time again if I actually possess the willpower and strength to go as far as I have aspired to be through this lengthy journey of doctoring. Not even to be that world class surgeon in my dreams, but just to get med school over and done with and survive being a junior doctor.

I am not even sure that I have sufficiently transitioned from being a good student who had pretty decent grades in High School into a medical student with the enthusiasm and potential to learning doctoring skills, lest even a junior doctor who can complete the smooth transition between just taking a stab at the right diagnosis to making proper management plans.

It is strange how at most times, I feel that I am able to put on the strongest front just to make sure nothing can bother me in the slightest way, yet there are times like these that make me wonder aloud, when the last time was that I actually felt truly happy and satisfied with my life itself.

But the only way to go now is just to put one foot in front of the other and move forward. And hang on to this new ethos of mine:

'The world breaks everyone, and afterwards, some are strong at the broken places.'

- Ernest Hemingway

And just be....indomitable, as such. After all, whatever doesn't kill you....

Right?

Navigating Notting Hill

2011-03-15T17:41:00.007Z

And what else in that trendy area of West London, if not the renown market along Portobello Road.

Growing up as a teenager, I had swooned over the 'Boy Meets Girl, and despite the most different of circumstances, Boy Falls in Love with Girl' concept depicted in the movie 'Notting Hill'. I had been smitten with Hugh Grant's easy charm and British accent, and had loved the chemistry he and Julia Roberts put across on screen.

I had daydreamed about this scene on the park bench, and remembered it till this day. Unfortunate (or perhaps fortunate??) to say, it has yet to happen.

And who could forget their eventful encounter in that famous Travel Bookshop along Portobello Road that had sparked the start of all this.

So it was customary that Lynn, YL and I decided to pay a visit to the Road that had made such a distinct mark on my girly daydreams.

No blue door (if you remember in the movie, the blue door on the house belonging to Hugh Grant), but who can resist this brilliant shade of a pink!!! Beats the blue door any day!

Definitely one of the trendier areas of London I had seen so far. The shops were quirky, and so were the little bits and bops that were on sale.

One of the BIGGEST crowds I had ever seen as well, and that is saying something because I live in London and crowds are almost as common to me as pigeons. In fact, I am so used to overcrowded streets that leave pigeons no where to stand on the ground. But the crowd at Portobello Road.....that was possibly in a league of its own.

Obviously we didn't hold out very long amongst the excited antique / trinket- shoppers.

So we ended up here:

A good old cup of Latte and amazing Gelato. Nothing like a caffeine dose and a sugar high to end the day :)

Dri Dri - the gelato bar we were at. Thanks to Rex's recommendation and a prior visit there last year with her.

It's true what they say. London has such personality, such character. Two streets on, and you can find something that surprises you altogether.

And now that Spring is around the corner, hopefully there will be more exploring of these cobbled pathways of Londontown to come.

LFW #2

2011-03-05T00:30:00.004Z

London Fashion Weekend - 2011.

After this amazing stint last year, there was no thinking twice about going again this year!

No Hanna aka Shopping Buddy aka 'Best Friend who willingly gets dragged by me to watch everything / go everywhere' this year =(

But there was a suitably efficient replacement in the form of Amiri.

And compared to the 'Kiasu Shopping' experience last year, where we were scrambling for time because of juggling the fashion show and hunting for the gift bags alongside browsing the numerous stalls, this year we opted for focusing. Important matters first. Time management skills - excellent.

Hence, no fashion show and no gift bags this year. Just browsing and shopping. And we were done and home by 9.30 pm. Yes, efficient much.

Managed very good steals this year again, perhaps more so than last year's frantic grabbing of clothes for the sake of making the trip my money's worth.

1) My pair of polka-dotted flats from French Sole by Jane Winkworth. Ballerina flats at their best :) Amazing steal from Original Retail Price and sooooo comfortable they possibly rival my loafers. And that's saying something!

2) Yellow chiffon blouse from Twenty 8 Twelve by Sienna Miller. Pretty much addicted to chiffon tops from LFW. I got a similar beige one last year from LFW as well. Hahahah. Oh well, perhaps my style is not as versatile as I thought after all.

3) Green Waist Belt from an independent designer which I love to bits. Although I have to say that their sizes are possibly skewed towards the graph of skinny people. Hmmm. Then again, aren't most clothes these days? *sigh*

Okay, this definitely concludes my shopping for this term. I think my overflowing wardrobe is saying alot for itself, and I have officially exhausted every single trend I have thought of trying out this season.

*And this is the sound of me SEALING my wallet shut*

This Mind

2011-02-28T22:17:00.005Z

I think I have a brilliant memory.....

And before you think I am utterly full of myself, let me finish my sentence.

I think I have a brilliant memory.......

For stupid, non-medicine-related things that happened up to 5 or 6 years ago.

Like how I remembered this one-time favourite quote of mine that Meredith recited in Season 2 of Greys Anatomy some time back.

"But Derek, I love you. In a really really big pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheese cake, hold a radio over my head outside your window, unfortunate way that makes me hate you love you."

With some help from Google, I thought I would stick these exact words here so that one day, when my memory for even these things fail me, I will have this site to look back on and laugh at myself.

Because with my failing stamina and my increasingly tired eyes and my lack of ability to even retain any bit of Medical Info I have weakly attempted to digest (if any at all), I might as well take up a full time job as a professional TV Addict and kiss my vague dream of CT Surgery good-bye.

Tired, and possibly incoherent.

Ah well. Tomorrow is another day.

Neurologically Intact

2011-02-19T13:34:00.005Z

Strange, how much we take these words for granted sometimes. How easy it is for us to forget the fact that the brain, with is complex anatomy and mechanisms, could literally make or break us.

The past week, the words 'Neurologically Intact' were passed back and forth so casually that it drove home again, how much I take my cognition and well-being for granted at times.

I had been truly pessimistic about the neurorehabilitation experience at the Wolfson before this week began, moaning about it to anyone who would listen about how this was a huge waste of my sleeping time and effort, and that anyone who knew me would know that I have little patience or empathy when it comes to the word 'rehabilitation'. Horrible as it might seem, the lengthy MDT Meetings in Oncology and Geriatrics had bored me to tears, and I was positive that this would do the same.

Strangely enough, it is the things you have had a mindset about hating, that turns around and never ceases to amaze you.

L and I were lucky to have a structured timetable which enabled us to cover all the disciplines involved in Rehabilitation Medicine, and apart from the session with the Psychologist that almost brought me into a stupor, everything managed to change my mind about associating a Multidisciplinary Environment with a couple of zzzzz's, to realising how INTER-disciplinary all the people there were at working towards those goals.

GOALS. Another word that was the bane of my life that week.

From the Long Term Goal of being able to walk out of the Wolfson, to Short Term Goals of being able to perform independent transfers (from wheelchair to bed, for example), I started piecing everything together and saw how important all these assessments and GOALS were in achieving a successful rehabilitation experience. I was genuinely amazed at the Goal Planning Meeting where each team (SALT, Physio, OT, Nursing) came together to give their input on the steps that had been carried out so far during the patient's rehabilitation process, the progress achieved so far, and any tweaks to the programme in the near future to achieve better efficacy.

I loved how the patient's Physical and Cognitive well-being was taken equally into account and fended for by different members of the team, i.e. Physio for Mobility and Transferring, and SLT/OT for ADL's and Cognitive Skills. And to top it off, my experience in Spasticity Clinic was equally rewarding, despite the patient taking more than an hour because his bones were so deformed and the anatomy so messed up that it had almost been impossible for the EMG to detect actively functioning muscle.

And most of all, I discovered once again that I DO have compassion after all. Deep inside. I had been wondering all year, if my enthusiasm had diminished along with my compassion for patients, not just in terms of managing a condition but also caring and empathising. But there could not have been a sadder story I had come across, than a 38-year-old who previously, was a Highly Functioning individual of the society, only to encounter a horrifying road race bicycle accident and be reduced to an individual in a wheelchair with Post Traumatic Amnesia, a lack of Cognitive Skills, apraxia and to top that off, 3 kids under the age of 4 years.

Or that 25-year-old who had ataxia, a huge lack of insight into his cognitive impairment, and no where to go after his discharge from the Wolfson because his mother refused to take him back, stating that he had changed horribly and she could not take any of this. Tragic as this was, it made me so grateful that my family would never do that to me in any case (TOUCH WOOD), and it made me incredibly sad to realise that someone could be reduced from having everything to literally being homeless in the blink of an eye.

I started off Neurology thinking that I would hate this rotation.

I don't. The people are weird, my Neuro foundation isn't brilliant, and even though my Neurorehabilitation experience has not turned out horrendous, I would still not list it as a first choice of career.

But as with all other things in life I possess at the moment, instead of dwelling on the past, the bad, the ugly and the grey areas, I will wake up every morning being thankful that I am neurologically intact.

I swear I'm not a Shopaholic

2011-02-12T19:51:00.006Z

But there are these few essentials that I just can't help falling for over and over again:

Flowery Prints.

On dresses, on shirts, on scarves, on headbands. You name it!! So much so that lately, I have been getting people pointing out a flowery shirt and going "That's so you", while my mum refers to Massimo Dutti as 'your favourite shop with your favourite flowery shirts'.

This one is by my one of my favourite designers of all time: the great man Matthew Williamson himself, and wayyyy out of my budget. Last year, I made an impulse purchase on a flowery maxi dress and found the occasion (as well as courage) to strut it out on these London streets. This year I might be looking to adding another piece to my collection. We'll see how fat I have become by then. Long flowy dresses certainly wouldn't be flattering on a dumpling.

Tapered / Twill Trousers!!

I find myself contradicting my own words on multiple accounts. Many years ago, I declared that skinny jeans were stupid - now they are the only kind I wear. When harem pants and tapered trousers first came out, I turned my nose up at them declaring them horrifyingly weird. I still have not drawn up courage to try on harem pants, but tapered pants - I LOVEEEE. I wear them as daily hospital / work wear as much as I can, and so far they have not failed to disappoint. Aspiring to purchase this pair above in this fabulous jazzy colour to welcome the warmer weather :)

Polka Dots:

I love these Polka-Dotted shorts above. Of course, again, wayyy out of my league in terms of price, but I have developed an incredible infatuation for polka dots as of late. Not to mention that shorts are my absolute FAVOURITE piece of clothing in my wardrobe and I could collect a pair in every single colour if I could - but polka dotted ones are just in a league of their own.

Also, if I had a choice and my daily outfits allowed the shorts/tights combo, I would find a wear to make every single outfit work. Unfortunately, hospitals aren't so welcoming. Neither is the image I am supposed to portray as a future doctor, hence I have tried many times to curb my addiction to city shorts. But be assured I will now be on the hunt for a similar pair :)

Yes, I know. So much for saving money and 'No More Shopping'.

No one believes me anymore, do they? Sigh....

Nostalgia

2011-02-06T22:01:00.002Z

How apt.

CNY is here to stay for 15 days. So far it has been exceeding my expectations greatly. Steamboats, Ballets, Fancy lunches, Musicals....More on that soon.

For the moment, I think I need to set a whole bunch of things straight. Starting with my priorities and my mental state of concentration, as well as my enthusiasm.

Faultless, he was :)

2011-01-30T15:49:00.009Z

"If my Djoker wins the Australian Open this year, I will buy you dinner at some fancy place," she said.

"Dream long long lah," her friend said.

And then Novak Djokovic went on to make me eat my own words. LITERALLY. Except, maybe, in my case and Lynn's we will be eating at some fancy schmancy place this coming Saturday.

I happily oblige, in any case. Because this is a true poignant moment of nostalgia where I sat on my couch watching him seize Melbourne Park with his charm and lift the Norman Brookes Challenge Cup to be crowned Aus Open Champion 2008.

Back then, it was Tsonga who had startled the crowd by knocking King Rafa out to end up against Djokovic in the Finals. Back then, everyone was going on about how a weak Final it was to have two 'newbies' challenging each other for the title.

This year, the Djoker did it again :) And at a much fairer level at that....playing against his childhood friend, former doubles partner and World No. 5 Andy Murray - the UK's Darling and No.1 player, yet to win a Grand Slam of his own. (Ahem *withgoodreason* Ahem)

Unlike 3 years ago, I was unable to watch him reenact his amazing talent every step of the way, thanks to something called Time Difference and Hospital Placements and Neurology Clinics. Pfffttt. Either way, I was able to catch Djoker claim the first game in the first set within 10 minutes, and his last shot against Murray, i.e. Match Point.

Murray really didn't stand a chance. I do feel for him, simply because this country puts too much pressure on their sportsmen to WIN WIN WINNNN something, and they really need to learn how to lay off a little. He will achieve a Grand Slam title some day, just give him a break!

For now, everyone should applaud Novak Djokovic's triumph, because he definitely trumped everyone's ass this time around in Melbourne Park. A better serve, many more aces, an AMAZING mental state of mind (surprisingly) and no heat stroke.

This is why I have switched to becoming a major tennis fan rather than follow on with Liverpool's dismal performance in the EPL.

Because when Nole has it, he charges down everyone in sight to WIN it.

Who knows what will happen in the Roland Garros, or at the Championships in Wimbledon this year. He will probably never be the cool as cucumber Roger Federer in terms of class, nor as resilient as the Spanish warrior Rafa Nadal.

But for now, let me revel in my happiness:

No More Djoking around!!

Blessed...

2011-01-24T20:41:00.003Z

.....because I have pretty damn awesome friends!

From my absolute FAVOURITE cake (Chocolate + Cherry) from my favourite baker in the entire world : YL Hoo, to the love and effort put into the gigantic photo frame of our amazing friendship by Pei Hua, to the Oscar-worthy acting efforts of LX Wong to pull of the one surprise in my many birthdays of the past that went without a hitch, to the many antics with my Neneks in my kitchen.

This birthday was perhaps alot more different than the last. Simply because this year, I had been whining and whining for days prior to it about having to trek to the middle of nowhere (Tunbridge Wells) to see 'dying ppl', i.e. Hospice Visit. Ironically, it did not turn out so bad, and my partner dropped me off at the end which made trekking back a lot more bearable.

I was also alot calmer this year, mentally, and I had come to realise that the best things come in small packages

(Translation: I am not for massive parties with about 10 other people whom you don't particularly know very well. It is heart-warming enough having a simple gathering with friends that DO matter).

Perhaps it's true what they say, A Year Older, A Year Wiser.

At least I hope that is the case for me :)

A Whole New Level

2011-01-18T20:06:00.003Z

I have been getting more and more stoked about Grand Slams since the Roland Garros last year, and I have been fuelling my own 'addiction', so to say, even though I wish I could be a tenth as excited about Neurology and Medicine as I am about the on-goings in Melbourne Park.

A friend commented on how huge a fan of tennis LX and I appeared to be when, the moment we met each other on Monday, began talking about Henin's game, Djoker easily brushing his opponent aside and Roger's smooth sail through to Round 2.

Even more so, when I looked back at this, and fondly remembered that late afternoon I was seated in front of the TV back home and could follow my Djoker all the way to victory.

Now the time difference is so awkward, I can't even watch anything except Highlights. Bleh.

And as much as I say that my tennis life is now 'complete', and I don't really need to go to anymore Grand Slams, I am positively itching to be at Melbourne Park right now, and I remember all the nostalgia from Centre Court last year when I was drunk on anxiety, excitement, frantically checking Djoker's score on the scoreboard from Court No.1 and the whole atmosphere of just BEING in this famed place that I had seen so many times on TV.

Of course, a new season means new outfits!! And Maria Sharapova doesn't fail to disappoint yet again in this stunner of an outfit. Not to mention the immaculate colour coordination!!! I am no tennis fashionista, to be fair, and I don't even play the game properly, but Nike never fails to disappoint :)

On another note, I really REALLYYY wish I could have been there to watch Federer play against Gilles Simon. Argh! Such an exciting Round 2 match, at that. And I won't even be able to watch it on Live Streaming.

Ballet Shoes

2011-01-16T18:02:00.004Z

When I was a little girl, I had great dreams of becoming a Prima Ballerina. I would pore over ballet books, read about any fictional ballet dancers in novels and imagine myself gliding across the stage one day in those pointe shoes and a white flowing tutu.

I would try and convince myself that I was poised, and graceful, and possibly had the ability to execute those long, flowing lines that I was so in awe of. I would try and make sure I sat up properly, back straight, and tried hard in ballet class to impress.

Unfortunately all that did not last very long. I discovered ballet was an art that appeared a lot more difficult than in had in my mind, and I had no patience nor the talent to become a shadow of a ballerina.

I grew up and I became more and more of a clumsy tomboy each year, with no etiquette or grace whatsoever. I slouched, I hunched, I suddenly found myself more immersed in the Hip Hop culture, forgetting my much enriched initial knowledge of Coppelia and Odette in Swan Lake and The Nutcracker Ballet....and most of all: my childhood dream to dance Giselle.

The 9-year-old me never realised how dark and twisty Giselle was back then. All I was interested in was the costume that the lead ballerina wore.

More than a decade later, I am soon achieving my Giselle dream - not to dance the role but to watch the Royal Ballet Company's interpretation of this romantic ballet.

Perhaps a part of my 9-year-old self had predicted that I would become fairly dark and twisty with my dapple with guys, all these years on. Lol.

But no, just so you know, I am not enough of a Drama Queen to kill myself over men who have deceived me. And similary I would never haunt them in that way. I am nice like that, you see :)

Ortho UGHHHH

2011-01-14T10:24:00.005Z

Sometimes I feel like I started off this journey with an entirely sure goal of the level of success I wanted to achieve and the kind of Doctor I would want to turn out to be.

Somewhere along this road, I realised it is one thing to have dreams, and another thing to be able to achieve them.

I remember a time in 2nd year when I would be nailing all the Musculoskeletal stuff and scoring near perfect marks in my Clinical Examinations in the OSCE's. Yesterday, in Orthopaedic Clinic, I realised I had never felt more incompetent in my life. So much so that I was sure the SpR was mentally killing me, or himself, for having had to bear with such a lousy student for the entire morning.

But I was glad I made myself go to that Clinic, in spite of my huge distaste for Orthopaedics, and even though I had already been done on Wednesday with everything. You gotta love what you hate eh?

Might even make myself go to the Orthopaedic Conference in a couple of weeks. We'll see.

Buck Up, Shing. You're spiralling to depths that you don't even realise yourself. And now you don't have SAD to blame it for.

The Simple Things

2011-01-09T19:43:00.003Z

Although this time around, my trip back to Londres did not involve as bad a dip in mood as over summer, nothing here could have replaced the times I had back home, short as they were.

People ask why I keep going back during the holidays. Firstly, to see my family...and more importantly this time, my brother whose holidays and mine don't coincide very often. Secondly, because no Kch holiday experience has failed to deliver yet throughout these years.

So by the time Saturday swung around and reality sunk in that I was back in this rainy, windy, chilly city, I was feeling a little peaky, as always although not so much the bad SAD I had before the break.

And then you made me smile again :)

The excitement I professed over Gtalk and over BBM was genuine, nonetheless. And when I woke up this morning to another message that was so you, I realised that this was the one time in a very long time that I had woken up with a smile on my face.

As much as so many other things have gone wrong, as much as we might lament about what 'might have been', I am thankful as much that this strange, special bond of a friendship we share might just about be one of the few things that I have done right in this lifetime.

Ahhh Zhin. All the way from the topic of High School Crushes to being the one who never failed to lend me a virtual shoulder to cry on each time my heart was broken. And to think the only time we ever met up properly was almost 4 years ago.

Note to self: I need to get my arse over to Melb some time soon.

Lady Lovely Locks

2011-01-08T11:42:00.011Z

Unfortunate to say, I hardly could remember a time when my hair was NOT dyed and JUST black at that. I started dyeing my hair the moment I was 17 and liberated from the clenches of High School rules, and I have never turned back since.

2007-2008: From Brown with Red Highlights to a lighter Brown.

HOWEVER, there was a stint I had in 2009 - 2010 where I recoloured my hair to the darkest shade I could remember EVER, and left it untouched for a whole year and more.

That is pretty much my natural hair colour - which really isn't COMPLETELY black anyway.

Fast forward almost 6 months later, and my hair remained untouched.

At Wimbledon here, in June 2010.

Unfortunately, the resolution to keep my hair in its black, uncoloured state did not last very long. I voiced the idea to my mum about letting the rest of my hair grow out and discontinue the routine of retouching and dyeing, only to have her scoff aloud and veto the idea completely. Absurd, she protested. Completely not me.

Yes, now you see where I get my addiction to hair dyeing from. Fuelled from my very own mother, nonetheless.

So in Sept 2010 I went back to my 'Natural' state again:

And back in Kch over the X'mas Hols, I just HAD to dye my hair again. Involuntary, okay. It was growing out. Unfortunately, all I could do was tell my hairdresser that I wanted a darker colour, expecting him to show me an array of choices, but he went ahead and said he would deal with it. So I ended up not going any much darker, but possibly even lighter!

2011

But not to fret, I guess at the end of the day, coloured hair was ALWAYS me . As much as hpy always protested that he did not like it.

Ahhh.....when I look in the mirror, I see familiarity again!! :)

Bandwagon

2010-12-15T23:15:00.002Z

Hopped on.

Alyssa Sim

For not quite those same reasons you'd think. But we'll see how far this goes.

Can't promise I'll be interesting, but I will try. Follow away!

My Novak-Djokovic-Experience

2010-12-04T14:41:00.012Z

Super delayed post.

But definitely something that needs to be noted down to remember, nonetheless.

On the 24th of November, me, LX, Woogui and friends flocked to the O2 Centre to watch a potentially great showdown between two of the most talked-about names in the tennis world:

Rafa Nadal vs Novak Djokovic

(credits to Woogui and her amazing DSLR)

NB: On a side note, Rafa's outfit DEFINITELY deserves a mention of credit here. The colour combination is soooo amazing!

To be fair, it was just the first round of the Barclays ATP Finals 2010, but a showdown between these two was something I had been anticipating for a realllyyyy long time. Simply because I had already seen Federer and Murray play last Wimbledon, and by watching these two, my Tennis accomplishments were now complete, having watched the Top 4 in the world play within this year.

Okay, looking back retrospectively, I am able to put this in words calmly and enthuse about how lucky I was to be able to watch Djoker play the World No. 1 Nadal. But on the night before when I found out the Order of Play, I was absolutely bubbling with excitement. Elated, was probably an understatement in itself.

To FINALLY watch my Djoker play!!! (gasps)

Yes, he fails to bring his performance level THAT much higher every time and would be lucky to have a tenth the determination that Rafa possesses, but still.....perhaps I just like people who are Second Best. (Or tenth, in Liverpool's case)

After very entertaining and lengthy bus rides, we arrived at The O2 and managed to flock to the Fan Zone to check it out before the Doubles matches started:

We got our picture taken by a Professional Photographer with the Barclays ATP Finals Trophy that Roger 'FedEx' Federer got to hold in his arms as the Champion after. On the other side was the Premier League Championship Trophy and IRONICALLY, a picture of Torres, which I refused to take a picture with because obviously Liverpool will not be lifting it any time soon =P

There were a row of posters that the Top 8 (i.e. the participants of this Barclays ATP Finals) had artistically created. This is Djoker's. All of them were painted from tennis balls being hit (on target obviously) at a cut-out paper silhouette of themselves.

And this was the racquet he used. Not Babolat, unfortunately, but it is still Djoker's masterpiece after all ;)

Lynn and I then proceeded into the court, where we were greeted by a nice surprise! Djoker was practising with some unknown friend or tennis player.

After multiple attempts to take a picture of me with Djoker in the background, we came up with this:

Ahhhh, he is oh-so-gooodddd lookiinnnnnggg!! :) And brings much sentimental value as well, because it was him winning the Australian Open in '08 which sparked my exponentially increasing interest in Tennis.

Despite Rafa Nadal trashing my Djoker in straight sets, (Corneal Abrasion much? AHEM Inside Joke) my money was well-spent, the freezing journey into and out from the O2 Centre worth EVERY moment. No regrets, whatsoever. This year has been an awesome one in terms of my dapple with Professional Men's Tennis, and I am grateful for having all these incredible opportunities - being in this amazing city where all the happening stuff occurs - to be able to watch these guys play.

Also, much thanks and love to my Tennis buddies LX and Woogui for being so willing to come along with me every time I drag you to an event ;)

For the moment, I am glad that Rafa was FINALLY defeated by Federer, but this 24-year-old Spaniard definitely has a LONG way to go in terms of his career as yet.

Guess Who's In Town!

2010-11-20T23:36:00.005Z

Looking dapper outside No. 10 Downing Street with Cameron (LUCKY GUY)

Here's another hint:

Did someone say Roger Federer? Rafa Nadal? Andy Murray? Novak Djokovic???

NB: This picture doesn't correlate with this year's contenders, just as a head's up. I couldn't seem to find the official poster for this year. Tsonga is out and Soderling is in.

What else, if not the Barclays ATP World Tour Finals.

And the boys are already in Londontown!

So fingers crossed, come this Wednesday, we will be breathing the same air in the O2 as Rafa or even.....dare I say.......Djoker. Either way, tennis is still tennis and I am on a mission to max out on my tennis tournaments here in London. Be it The Championships at Wimbledon, or this.

I'm smiling already :)

Seriously, I don't think I was ever this excited when it came to Liverpool.

Kidding!

One of Those Days

2010-11-18T21:48:00.002Z

Today is one of those days. A little bit of the weather and not seeing the sun the entire day, plus a cauldron of unspoken emotions deep within and I guess, just the dire routine of going to Epsom - although ironically today was one of the days that I probably accomplished more.

Got my procedure signed off, got the general sign off from the attachment.

What else more?

Today should be a happy day.

But instead I'm feeling completely out of it.

Yes, I could go on about how Med School is tough, how my level of enthusiasm fluctuates from time to time, how I should have been pleased today that I successfully described and recognised an SVT from an ECG in A&E (woots Cardio), or how I actually got around to doing some hands-on stuff in theatre on Monday. But sometimes it's not really about Med School in general.

It's just me. And today is one of those days that I would like to just curl up in a ball and disappear.

Style Icon

2010-11-13T23:32:00.007Z

For as long as I could remember, I have been plagued by the 'female curse' of being extremely wary of the 'Face of Shing' that I bring to the public eye.

As much as I have prided myself on being versatile in the past, sadly, thanks to very early starts and trying to turn over a new leaf by cutting down on the retail therapy, I have not had many chances to experiment with different looks as of late.

However, I have noticed a certain trend in my style throughout the years, although I have been labelling myself as versatile. Possibly not enough, to be honest. Most looks have been meandering around the theme of 'girly' and 'poised' and 'structured', and after Gossip Girl appeared on the scene: 'Blair Waldorf'.

A couple of years ago, I was obsessed with headbands.

For the sake of my wallet, I am glad these Headband Moguls: Sereni and Shentel had not existed back in 2006. The fact that they are Kuching girls, born and bred, prides me to say that despite its lack of shopping malls and big labels, no one writes of Kch girls as lacking style ;)

On another note, I am extremely tempted to get that piece above, except that their blog shop is based online, and it would be ridiculous to pay for shipping for something Malaysian-made all the way to London.

Fast forward a year or so later, when Gossip Girl was born, and the headband fever continued, being fuelled even more so, by this fictitious lady:

Blair Waldorf - whose style was the bane of my life for a good 4 years or so. I would say that she still is my 'Fashion Guru', but I have been trying to move away from monotone and add some more twists into my outfits.

Of course it was she who pioneered my venture into coloured tights, structured blouses, pencil skirts, the preppy look (although I might beg to differ on that, I remember being distinctly preppy even in my Concord days), and unfortunately high heels.

But then again, there is only so much one can pull off looking like a New York Upper East Side Socialite every day without getting bored of it eventually. And suffice to say, these London cobblestone pathways were NOT made for tottering stilettos.

Which is why I would love to be able to emulate this lovely lady as far as I can:

Olivia Palermo - all the faces of her in this picture sum up ALL possible looks one could pull off. Elegant, girly, structured, casual, quirky.

Of course one would need the equally amazing supermodel figure, as well as the numerous digits in her bank account. Seeing as I am about five times fatter, and NOT a New York socialite with a never-ending cash flow, I will resort to my High Street and infinitely less fashionable self for the time being.

Next purchase will be a sleeveless puffer jacket, in my attempt to revamp myself into a less girly 'face'.

And I am serious!

Joke of the Day

2010-11-09T17:00:00.002Z

Sometimes I think God works in mysterious ways :)

I have been having horrible bouts of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), and although retail therapy did help slightly, this couldn't have come at a more suitable moment to brighten up my day......with laughter.

Just to recap, last week I had a mock OSCE which started off the week in the WORST possible way. Firstly because I had been horribly ill over the weekend and secondly because I was STILL ill when I went for it and was not prepared at all. And oh, did I forget the last reason? Because we were doing it with some people who were on their Paeds placement and did I mention that I know NOTHING about Paeds? The Paediatric examination station didn't help. I had never done one before and the kid would not stay still / was eating crisps!! I wanted to kill him at the end of it. And yes, I mean it literally.

I left the OSCE feeling horrible. Sure that I had flunked it grandly. Then SURPRISE there was a written MCQ paper to follow. Even better. True/False questions. Just my cup of tea. MORE Paeds questions....and to be fair, Medicine and Surgery as well. But just as terrible.

Today, I got the emailed results, and was expecting to see multiple FAILS all over the Word Document.

To my immense surprise, I:

1) Passed my written MCQ! ZOMG there must be a Cerulean tinge to the moon right now! Amidst all those Paeds questions and me hacking my lungs out, I managed to get a pretty decent pass.

2) Not only passed my OSCE too, but got this comment for my Paeds examination station:

'Demonstrated a perfect Paediatric examination. A natural Paediatrician in the making.'

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. This sparked a good amount of uncontrollable laughter and I am still amused!

The whole world knows that I am not fond of Paeds. Or kids in general. I have not done it yet, and I even know that I will already hate it. Plus, I was almost in exasperation with the crisp-eating and a super sloppy respiratory examination. What can I say: the examiner must have been blind!

But works out well for me. Brightened up my day indeed!

HAHAHAAHA. What d'u think? Perhaps I should add Paediatrics to my (super short and super biased) list of career choices.

Cut Up

2010-10-27T21:23:00.004+01:00

Literally. In the Surgical kind of way. Haha.

I made a decision to go into Theatre bright and early on a Monday morning, simply because I had not gotten many chances to witness many big operations during Gen Surg last year, and hey, this is what a surgical rotation is supposed to be about right? Lots and lots of theatre and cutting.

Well not me cutting of course.

Turned up at 8.30 in Theatre on Monday, and was slightly shocked to see that no other student had beaten me to it, and that the Reg and SHO were not even there yet. So I hung around in the Anaesthetics room where the Anaesthetists ignored me, not that I cared much of course. I just read the patient's notes and kept myself busy till the surgeons came along. After that, CK explained to me that there was a code in the room where silence was maintained simply because they didn't want to agitate the patient any further / cause unnecessary nervousness before the big procedue. God knows, I would be SO nervous if I was going into an operating theatre, so I guess that makes sense.

Mr. T let me scrub in, and the Reg was the same one whom I had had from the Colorectal team in Georges last year, so all was quite good. Except for the SHO who ignored me, they talked me through the Anterior Resection and said I could scrub in. Although I felt later on that it was SUCH a waste of NHS resources etc, because all I did was scrub up to stand there like some kind of model. Touched the retractor for like 2 seconds, and the Diathermy pen for another 2 seconds to prevent it from slipping down, and the suction for another 3 seconds. I even felt sorry for the SHO whose job was just to hold retractors and snip suture. But I guess that's what being a Junior is all about in Surgery huh? You never quite get to actually do anything until you're a Reg probably.

Bar the initial excitement of scrubbing up and wondering HOW I could have screwed up my OSCE station in Gloving & Gowning last year, I eventually started wondering, throughout the duration of the 5 hours, what my purpose was as a medical student here in theatre. Was I supposed to gather anything by watching them do the surgery? It wasn't like I would be able to know what to do later on anyway. Sure, I knew that the patient had a Mid Rectal Tumour that was pretty large (Felt it on PR exam), and that they do Anterior Resections for these, and they do a temporary Ileostomy after to divert the flow of contents through the bowel just to let the anastamosed area heal for a while after surgery since the small bowel contents were the more 'nasty' stuff.

This was the amazing piece of technology that I found so fascinating - which they used to anastamose the remnants of the descending colon and the rectum. I was wondering for a moment, how they would have done it in the past without this Stapler, seeing as the lower rectum was all the way down in the pelvis and out of sight, and there was no way they could have sutured without being able to see. Then I realised they probably wouldn't have done Anterior Resections in the past, they would have just gone with AP Resections totally.

After a whole 5 hours of standing on a platform and talking through a mask, though, I got pretty tired.

Thank goodness for CK's pep talk outside her flat while walking back after dinner. I was just telling her how afraid I had become of surgeons in general, after getting yelled at by the CT Surgeon, experiencing mood swings in some others, and although Mr. T was probably the nicest surgeon I had met so far - I was still a little apprehensive. And I was tired. What was I supposed to gather by watching surgeries in theatre? Was I supposed to become any smarter and any better in surgery after this?

I don't overstep my boundaries as a medical student, and get out of their way whenever they are having mood swings, and they might think that I lack initiative. And if I do? I would just get told off anyway. And there are only so many times I can get told off.

So there's never anything you can really do right as a medical student, really. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

I guess I am being a bit of a Drama Queen here. Don't get me wrong, I really do like Colorectal Surgery. Colorectal Pathology is this easy, you see. There are only so many things that can go wrong in your colon and your rectum. And the reason I like surgery is because everything is systematic, and broken down into bullet points. And there is a chronological system of categorising and thinking.

Reflecting retrospectively, I don't think that my experiences with Surgery have all been entirely horrible, and I really shouldn't be whinging about my team right now, seeing as they have actually been quite keen about teaching, but I guess I am the sort to lose focus easily and be affected by things.

I am lost in translation, but I guess it's just a matter of time before I get myself back.

I Miss...

2010-10-26T23:13:00.001+01:00

.....you already.

=((((

Half-Heartedly

2010-10-25T01:22:00.003+01:00

Perhaps I have just been influenced all weekend by John Mayer crooning to me across my amazing Altec Lansing speakers about not being able to give me more than 'Half of his Heart'. But honestly, some days I feel like I am going through my days like clockwork, just waiting for the sun to rise and then the days to turn dark again. And THAT concludes yet another 'sien' day of my life.

So yes, unfortunately I guess I am going through my Surgery days more half-heartedly than I would have liked to. And I can blame Epsom and the lack of patients to attend to, but that is just me picking a million excuses out of a hat without having to blame myself.

Looking back on the first week, I guess not ALL aspects of it were as bad as I had anticipated. First of all, travelling wasn't as bad. And I have yet to appear on hospital grounds at an unearthly hour, well except maybe, tomorrow.

I guess I should really be grateful that there is actually a Teaching Fellow around to offer teaching, and actually make the effort to bring us over to the neighbouring Trust hospital to hunt down more interesting patients. And the session on Thursday on Wound Management was REALLY useful, considering I had almost forgotten all the info I had collected from all the Plastics lectures I had in Georges last year. Plus, we actually got to perfect our suturing this time around, compared to how the ENT Surgeon whizzed through everything at tip top speed last year, and even though I won't say that I am Plastic Surgery material at doing Interrupted or Mattress Sutures as yet, I will say that I am better AND neater than I had expected. I know it takes a lot more to be a surgeon than to just be good at suturing, but it is just the satisfaction of being able to do something right and well, at least.

Thursday Colorectal Clinic lasted a record-breaking FOUR AND A HALF HOURS in the afternoon, and we got out at 1830. Both my firmmate and I were aghast at how many patients there were - some were waiting for a whole hour and a half. And personally, I was amazed at how passionate Mr. T was about his work. I got home at around 8 pm or so, but despite feeling completely knackered, I found some time to pause and consider how Mr. T might have felt in comparison. He had never lost his level of energy or enthusiasm one iota, throughout the whole four and a half hours of that marathon clinic, and there we were - merely sitting in the corner - not even having to actively think or act on managing, proceeding or breaking bad news, apart from answer questions every now and then - and WE were the ones feeling exhausted instead.

And that was when I felt that I had become more half-hearted at what I supposedly loved than I had realised.

During the days of pre-medschool interviews of tears and stress and proclaiming that Medicine was the only way to go, that there was no way I could imagine myself doing anything other than Doctoring my way through this link of people and clinical science, I was full of passion and ambition.

And somehow, halfway through this journey, I lost myself again.

A younger, more vibrant me would have been thoroughly amazed at that clinic session. To be fair, I was exhausted, but I KNEW that it was one of the most rewarding clinic sessions I had had the chance to sit in on. We saw the whole spectra of Colorectal diseases, and as Mr. T mentioned, there are only SO many diseases you can get in your large bowel - from harmless haemorrhoids, diverticular disease, the IBDs (UC & Crohn's), even a rectocaele, to the more frightening colorectal cancer. And we saw them all.

So on Friday morning I made myself go in on my own to get some stuff done. Having failed to hunt down any of Mr. T's surgical patients on the wards, I bumped into the F1 along the way and offered to help her with her jobs, as well as for any good patients to see. No surgical ones, but Ta-Dah! Cardiac Patient again! Hehe. Not a very flabbergasting history, to be honest. Possible NSTEMI, but I was grateful to perfect my Cardiac History Taking / Examining at any point.

So I will be looking forward to a hopefully rewarding Theatre session tomorrow.

And then after that, not really looking forward to Hanna's farewell dinner. Well, not really NOT looking forward to seeing the others per se, but you get the drift.

More about that another time though.

Meanwhile, I leave you with my favourite song of the moment:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lwd0h6V_4fU

Half of my heart's got a grip on the situation

Half of my heart takes time

And half of my heart is part of a man

Who's never truly loved anything

The Lakes

2010-10-24T21:11:00.004+01:00

In not so many words.

Xixi brought up the term of 'Seasonal Affective Disorder', and I voluntarily claim myself to be guilty of it, through and through.

Then again, weekends are always something to look forward to.

16th October - Weekend Getaway to Lake District:

Kudos to Nick's amaaaaazzing camera! This picture really DOES do the place justice.

And this is hilarious. Boyband album cover much??

Also, special mention to Nicholas 'Nod' Yeap for slowing down his pace to match mine while the fitter of the lot trudged ahead. Lol. Much appreciated, buddy!

Not THAT Kind of Girl

2010-10-18T20:26:00.005+01:00

Mini weekend getaway to the country.

AKA Lake District, Cumbria.

Was feeling extremely knackered all week and was wondering if I would be too exhausted to properly enjoy the outing, but again, I underestimated a trip with the kawans.

Beautiful place. Peaceful. Cold......BUT at least it wasn't raining. Very much welcomed from the hustle and bustle of London. When I was being jostled and shoved and almost knocked off my feet today in Victoria Station, I couldn't help but recall and embrace the lack of human capacity, where I could actually SEE miles and miles of unpopulated land at the Lakes.

Unfortunately, this was the response I got on two separate conversations after I got back.

#1:

hpy: How was the trip?

me: Good! Except we were hiking for 4 or 5 hours on the rocky footpath and my leg muscles AND feet hurt so much. Also I looked so damn out of place in my attire!

hpy: WHAT???? Just like Edinburgh?! Don't tell me you wore high heels!

me: *speechless* Why are you asking me the same question again?!

#2:

Jenn: Shing! How was Lake District?

Me: Good good. Really pretty! Except I wasn't exactly using proper footwear or gear and it was kinda tedious hiking for 4 hours!

Jenn: What improper footwear? Don't tell me you wore heels.

Me: OMG why is everyone asking me the same thing? Why would I wear heels to go hiking? Pffttt.

Jenn: HAHAHAHHA because you are sooooo predictable like that, Shing!

And this is coming from the two ppl who are supposedly the closest to me and have known me well for 7 whole years!

HMPH. I may like Minnie Mouse, and I like anything with a bow, and I wear heels on normal, non-hiking trips (because I am short!), and I do not own anything that is remotely North Face....but I am sooooooo not that kind of girl.

Pffttt.

Next purchases: Timberland boots, North Face parka, Deuter backpack. Watch this space!

In the meantime, here are some moments to remember:

Pssttt. Look at my shoes. Sneakers! No heels! I know my attire looks odd. But please ignore that. For the record, I had no idea we would be doing full blown hiking AND I have no proper outdoorsy clothes here with me in London.

And regular meetups with you are what keeps me sane throughout the year.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder. And yes, I say Best Friends are Forever :)

Cardio God

2010-10-14T20:12:00.004+01:00

This week has been a week of ups and downs. I started off the week with much stress, listening to MTAS conversations and coming to the conclusion that my future might be, perhaps, bleaker than I had ever imagined.

Then I decided it was possibly too late to lament any longer and decided to pro-actively try and be more involved in whatever clinical rotations I still had left before deciding my fate next year.

Much of what I discovered about myself this week was probably not very pleasant in many ways. Admittedly, I am not as nice a person as I would like to be, and can be rather opinionated, very evidently, about personalities that tick me off. And one of those are, perhaps, medics who are in the field for the completely wrong reason. Recently, a friend voiced his opinions to me about venturing into Investment Banking and Finance after having sat and passed some Surgical specialist exams. At that point, I was rather apprehensive of the idea, and said exactly so.

And then I realised that I was perhaps being unjustifiably judgmental about people's futures and their lives, when who in the world was I to say anything. I had learnt a very long time ago that the world was just becoming increasingly fake and more superficial from year to year, and I could possibly be one of those too in the near future. And as sincere and passionate as I would like to think myself out to be, I am not entirely sure that I REALLY am. Especially at this point in time.

Sometimes I really just wish I could get married after qualifying and be a Chronic SHO forever.

HAH.

On a perhaps, happier note, today is one of the days I would like to remember, simply because it was a whole 2 years ago that I last watched an open heart surgery at IJN - and that has definitely been too long.

Prior to some warning that previous students had been increasingly told off for appearing after 8 am and not having clerked the patient in theatre beforehand, I attempted to locate the patient yesterday afternoon to clerk - only to be told that no one had any idea what time they would be turning up, be it afternoon, night or early this morning.

Did NOT want to mess up my only chance of watching a cardiac surgery (only one theatre day for CT Surgery out of the Cardiology placement), so I stumbled into the still dark hospital at an unearthly hour to try and clerk the patient beforehand. Bumped into this woman in stiletto heels and a white coat and made the mistake of not recognising her as the Cardiac surgeon doing the operation, and got told off severely for trying to clerk the patient before the surgery, hence potentially stressing the patient out - and that I should have done this yesterday.

Decided not to argue, because I felt that she did have a point, but she turned out to be alot nicer in the end. She was demonstrating a Mini Aortic Valve Replacement (different from the standard AVR in the sense that they were not doing a full sternotomy) to about 20 other surgeons / anaesthetists present that morning via video conferencing, and she said we could watch but couldn't go into theatre because it would probably be overcrowded.

Fair enough. Turned out to be amazing!! The view was better than any I could have asked for. And there was no way any CT Surgeon was going to let a medical student scrub in on his/her major open heart surgery anyway, so I figured there would not be any point going to stand in theatre and try to disappear behind into the walls.

My firmmate, who was initially extremely ticked off for not having been able to actually go into theatre today, ended up seeing the bright side of things just as I did, and agreed that this was possibly alot more useful than having been there physically. Fair enough, the jargon of Cardiothoracic Surgery remained. Arterial, venous cannulas for bypass, where to place holding sutures, what retractor to use, which situations to be wary of.....and when the patient when into resistant VT/VF towards the end, my firmmate was on the edge of her seat because the multiple attempts to defibrillate did not work - and yet much of me felt SO in awe of Prof J because she hardly batted an eyelash. In the end I think the anaesthetist gave the patient Amiodarone which settled, but it was definitely a bit of a hairy moment.

It is strange, when I reflect back, how a whole pool of people (larger than I would have imagined), have written me off as a Cardiothoracic surgeon wannabe. When I was 13, I distinctly remember filling in 'Neurosurgeon' as my 'type of Doctor I hoped to be'. By the time I was 18, after a bunch of wide-eyed, innocent, 'taster' medical attachments, I guess I was sort of thrown into the Cardio ocean by default, simply because I spent the most time there, because it was the easiest to just follow my uncle around.

Who knows, maybe familiarity stems interest? Maybe ignorant attachments do sort of influence the kind of affinity you have towards a specialty, because I still maintain that Ob Gyn horrifies me to this day (we'll see when I do that rotation for real next year). 2nd year 'electives' after that saw me doing Cardio again, simply because my initial plan failed. Again, no regrets. Cardiology was amazing. I loved the Reg I was with. Cardiothoracic Surgery, even more. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that the CT Surgeon became my best friend towards the end, but generally my experience with Cardio has been generally good.

I do maintain that I am biased, though. Mind over matter. Most of my good experiences have come from good teaching and camaraderie with teams I have worked with in the past. My first Gen Med consultant was a Rheumatologist, but that was probably one of the crucial moments that I realised I was more of a Medic than a Surgeon.

I sing no praises for my Cardio rotation. Georges has apparently one of the biggest Cardiothoracic Units in the South West of London, but the nicest thing I can say about the timetabling and the rotation is that it could be less haphazard, at the very least. And yet my preference for it has not faltered one bit. I wish I could have been allocated more clinic slots. I wish there were less people being rotated around and chucked into different things on different days. I wish I could have brought my murmur-identifying skills that much further. But I will just have to make do with things and lament less.

As a renown Cardiologist I know likes to say, "Do more, speak less. Prove by action."

Will do, will do.

Here's to Gen Surg next week. I'm sure it will be good.

Cardiorespiratory Arrest

2010-10-11T20:28:00.002+01:00

I am stressed out.

I am frustrated.

I am edging on being depressed.

And strangely enough I am not even the one filling out my application for MTAS.

Maybe because I know I am most probably going to kiss my dreams of becoming a Cardio God goodbye.

And maybe because I haven't been studying like I am supposed to even though CK keeps saying 'I am always studying', just because she asked me on two occasions that I was 'supposed' to be.

Should have studied harder. Should have tried to be a more gungho medic. ARGH.

Through Thick and Thin, For Better or Worse

2010-10-08T23:33:00.003+01:00

I came to take an interest in Singapore's Power Family, Lee Kuan Yew and family, after the initial exposure in Malaysian Studies sessions, when Mrs P would go on and on about how amazing Lee Hsien Loong was. How well educated all three of LKY's children were. And then later on, after some input from Bao, how pretentious Lee Wei Ling's weekly column in the NST was in Singapore - and how I can almost conclude that all neuro people are potentially just....weird.

And yet throughout all this, I had somehow managed to omit the presence of Mrs. Lee, despite the fact that she was on par, if not a step ahead of her husband, and her well-read children. It was only till recently through some mindless surfing and procrastinating on the net that I came across Lee Hsien Loong's eulogy for his mother, and subsequently Lee Wei Ling's.

But it was essentially Minister Mentor Lee's eulogy for his wife that brought a tinge of sadness deep within.

Reading through his reminisces of their times together that tracked all the way back from Singapore moments to relocating to Cambridge to read law, to marrying in secret, to all that they had managed to achieve before returning to Singapore, I couldn't help but feel copious amounts of envy. I remember reading somewhere once, when LKY recounted that the Western perception of marriage was to marry someone you love, and the Eastern way of looking at things was to love the person you had married - and that in this lifetime he had tried to do both.

And my bubble of cynicism burst, and I felt an overwhelming wave of sadness, when I realised that this was exactly how my grandmother must have felt when my grandfather passed on.

When you have spent more than three quarters of your life with someone, how easy is it to let go and continue living the rest of your life on your own again?

And then another bubble of doubt resurfaced, and I remembered the last scene in '500 Days of Summer', when Summer was telling Tom how she woke up one day and she just KNEW.....for sure, about what she had never been sure of when she was with Tom.

Hmm.....so through thick and thin......for better or worse.

What are the chances that everyone will end up like LKY and Mrs. Lee?

Heart-Stopping, Heart-Warming

2010-10-03T18:30:00.004+01:00

So the last week of Gen Med passed by in the blink of an eye.

MAU was amazing, in more ways than one. The consultants, the pace of it, the many many teams bustling around, the way no one has time to speak more than the necessary 5 sentences to you, the way you think of yourself as being 'useful' by helping the On-Call team clerk patients first.

I love Acute Medicine. And was oh so pissed off initially when DB made me go to all the Onco MDT's etc after teaching because he was taking one whole day away from my MAU days! But I guess he made up for it after by going through all this incredible Cardio stuff with us. I haven't listened to an Ejection Systolic murmur in SO long. So hopefully more of that to come tomorrow.

And speaking of Cardio. I was catching up with a friend on Skype last week when she came up with this for me.

LOL. Call me cynical. Call me skeptical. But I guess it is easy to laugh it off now when you happen to not be the one in that position, hey?

Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

So Cardio next, and then after that Gen Surg at this amazingly wonderful 'hole' at the end of the world named Epsom.

So the theme of this week shall be Hearts. Heart-stopping although it may not be, but perhaps it will be heart-warming at the very least.

Cardiology, Cardiothoracic Surgery.... and I heart my neneks <3

So....heart-stopping palpitations, a drama-filled life, or the presence of someone who makes your heart flutter that much more......vs. the heart-warming familiarity of amazing friends.

Give me heart-warming ANY day. But know that true friends are irreplaceable, at the very least.

Thank God I found you.

You know Apple is taking over the world when....

2010-09-26T00:10:00.002+01:00

......this conversation happens between you and your consultant.

Me: Yeah, I've just looked up (this drug) on Pocket Prescriber.

DB: Isn't there an app for that sort of thing?

Me: Yes, probably, but I don't use an iPhone.

DB: Oh, right.

Me: (In my head) Pfftttt not EVERYTHING in life is about iPhones, iMacs or iPads, y'know.

Now I refuse to succumb EVEN more!!!

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

2010-09-24T21:49:00.005+01:00

This week has actually been alot more productive compared to the last. I started off the Monday with a good candidate as a Grand Round patient, managed to get almost all my WBA's signed off by today (Friday), and had a really good week overall - with Daisy, Lynn and Nenek last night, and my firmmate today. It's a little strange how I realise that I have ended up clicking best with this firmmate of mine, even though I was a little apprehensive at first, seeing as he was this orang putih guy whom I initially thought was a tad quiet and whom I had never known to exist before this.

Him: "No, we DO have the same phone." (I use a BB Curve 8900 and he, a Bold 9700).

Me: "No, look at the buttons. And also I use a Curve and you use a Bold."

Him: "What? Mine's a Curve and yours is a Bold?"

Me: Hahahahahahah!!!! (At his obvious lack of knowlege of Blackberrys)

He amuses me through and through. Not to mention his blurness does remind me of hpy at times. Oncology has not been fantabulous, but I will say that conversations with him are probably the best part of this whole rotation. Not to mention a nice dress sense. Ahhhh, crush-worthy - from a safe distance. Because I know he has a girlfriend. Well, cheap thrills :)

But we had a really good teaching session with the CT2 who had been on study break and was just recently back, and both managed to get a CEX signed off.

Good day :)

I hope my good days continue and that my mood will remain this elevated for a while. And seeing as I am anticipating a good weekend of Opera with Chekkie & Zen and a good luncheon with Daisy Hoo, I am pretty sure I will be okay.

Yet, I need to constantly remind myself that all demons of the mind are IN the mind itself and do not exist outside of it in real life.

Even if they are demons of your past, that you have cursed yourself a zillion times over for ever making that most stupid mistake of your life.

As hpy has constantly reminded me last year, that momentary blip in my life has probably forever tarnished my record AND my reputation. And yet I have moved on and put that part of my life behind.....with HUGE relief!

Ah well, I guess I always knew that she who has skeletons to hide in her closet will one day be found out eventually anyway.

My Mental Kick

2010-09-19T21:15:00.005+01:00

Reading a friend's blog gave me a mental kick to make myself realise that I should not be wallowing and drowning further in my self-conjured rut before I could no longer save myself.

It took me a whole day of Acute Medicine on Friday at MAU to make myself aware that I had to buck up, or else I was already breaking the solemn promise I had made at the beginning of this academic year. Sure, Oncology perhaps was not the career of my dreams, yet I had to see a bright side to everything, and I had failed myself horribly by being frustrated about the wrong things, such as not having any Juniors on the team, hence the difficulty to get someone to even listen to a 5 minute history presentation.

Amazing how the mind could overpower someone so thoroughly.

I spent the weekend recuperating with a whole day of reading (NOT Medicine). It's been a while since I was this addicted to a novel, and 'The Lost Symbol' did just that. It wasn't fantabulous, mind you, but sometimes all you need is a quiet day at home, curled up in your bed with your favourite author and a mind void of all niggling, trivial matters.

EXCEPT!!! The ending failed to deliver!! It gave me a rather anti-climax feel, and I was left a bit bewildered. Perhaps my brain is rather slow (as always), or perhaps I just need to read it again! Daisy Hoo did not seem to agree with me.

Me: OMG! Ending sucks! I need to read it again.

DH: Hahahaah. Please! Read again also ending will not change okay!

Pffttt. I will prove you wrong......well, next weekend. When I have another of my quiet reading days.

For the moment, I really need to buck up tomorrow and get my Mojo back.

*psychs self* I Love Oncology. I will find my Grand Round patient tomorrow. I love Dr. B.

On another note, visited the Queen today. More on that another time ;)

I Dream a Dream

2010-09-12T20:44:00.004+01:00

So after ten thousand years, I FINALLY got around to watching Inception last night.

One word: AMAAAAAZING.

I was afraid my attention might shift from time to time during the movie, seeing how lengthy it was and because I was suffering from some post-prandial drowsiness, but I did not drift ONE bit.

The bad thing though, was that when it had all ended, I started thinking how a movie like that could actually mess with the minds of people. Those who were, perhaps, slightly disturbed, or weaker than others - who had a mountain of emotional baggage riding on their shoulders, i.e. Marion Cotillard's character in the movie.

A dream within a dream within a dream.

Three layer dreams. Who would have thought. Hats off to the one who devised and wrote out this idea on script. I could never have thought it possible no matter how much I sharpened my literary skills (which have now turned to a mush).

Not even the slightest possible shrivel of hope, but I could not help wishing that I could wake up one day and all the shit that had happened in the past had just turned out to be one.....no, make that THREE huge bad dreams. And that the day that I wake up, I would just be in my comfortable old bed in my familiar old room in Kch, snoozing away....and that time would just have moved past an hour.

Sometimes I look at myself and I dread to think how much of the old Alyssa Sim has disappeared into nothingness, because every bit of an obstacle that topples me off my well laid-out path has brought me further and further from the person I once knew - some in ways that could be medal-deserving, others in ways that are possibly heart-wrenching, to say the least.

When Mal echoed "You said you had a dream that we would grow old together", I couldn't help but feel for her.

And then I remembered when hpy said how he would look back at his old photos and realise that he could never smile back the way he used to anymore. I look back at mine and think that I look like a shadow of the past.

Hpy had a dream that he was rolling in money. I had a dream that all the mistakes I had made in the past year or two had been just one hell of a nightmare.

But ahh.....what's to say. We wake up. Nothing has changed an iota. Reality sucks, my dear.

GMT Tomorrow #2

2010-08-28T12:18:00.004+01:00

#2 because I wrote a post with the exact same title one year ago, when I was leaving for 3rd year, but I never brought myself around to publishing it.

One year later, it has gotten slightly better, but not alot. It WAS alot worse in January, when I was ridden with emotional baggage and dreading a zillion and one trivial things. This summer, I have to say that I am a different person by far.

In July, I remembered thinking that I would just have to pass these damn exams, and then I could spend the whole holiday emo-ing as much as I wanted, I just had to keep my head during that mugging period and not let it drift. When summer swung around and I found no emo vibe within, it was then that I realised I had achieved even more than I had anticipated over the past year.

This academic year, all I have is ONE aim. To focus on passing finals and to eradicate anything or anyone who didn't matter from my system.

So I am not jumping for joy at the thought of returning to London and I hate that every time I come back to Kch, no part of me wants to leave - as much as we complain about the weather, the humidity, or the lack of interesting places to visit.

But I guess I have achieved all that I have wanted to this summer. Be it the EtoH and chilling sessions in Perth, having the most awesome time with my cousin, nights out in the past week with Jane, meeting the KL peeps, and to top it off, my last outing in Kch spent drenched in sweat. Kolo Mee, aye. Carpenter Street, aye. Cheap thrill, but made me smile while it lasted :)

Now I have Bao to look forward to in Singapore (Thank God for that) before I take off at night.

Gen Med, bring it on. I know nuts about Oncology, not that I knew anything much in 3rd year, but there's no letting shit hit the fan this time around. Focus focus focus.

See you guys back on the other side, with my newly chopped and dyed hair.

XOXO

One More Down....

2010-08-05T14:55:00.003+01:00

Passed my exams!!! WOOTS!!

Am completely ecstatic, although I have yet to receive the proper breakdown of marks etc. But this means my summer plans are in place, to say the least.

Painting Perth red?

And Kay Elllleee town - I have missed you soooo!!

Shopping / EtoH, and also time to stop procrastinating now. Time to hit the swimming pool and the gym. No more excuse of pushing everything till 'after Thursday'.

WOOTS!

The Championships.....THIS Year

2010-07-04T22:24:00.006+01:00

When I blogged about the Championships last year, it had never ever crossed my mind that whole year later, I would not only be visiting the Wimbledon grounds on the 2nd day, but gracing the reknown Centre Court with my presence a week later.

Unfortunate as it was that the Federer Express faltered before my very eyes by the supposed NOOB Berdych who went on to trash my Djoker (not so Noob after all I guess), it was as amazing an experience as any. The shouts of "Let's Go, Roger!!" echoing around Centre Court and the surreal reality of watching the Hero himself in action, despite the steep price I had to pay, was definitely worth it. Alongside the fact that I can now check off 'Attending the Wimbledon Men's Quarter Finals' in my To-Do Book.

Perhaps next year Djoker will not disappoint as much. And perhaps next year, I will get to see him in full form.

For the moment, I am in awe of THIS spaniard.

Not because I think he is cute because he is NOT (and since when was I soooo shallow like that?! -flips hair- Lol) but because this guy is a fighter like no other.

When Berdych towed down the great Federer and then my Djoker like a lawnmower, he was on a roll, and yet at the end of the day he was no match for Rafa. As the commentator said, it was a pretty straightforward final - quite unlike the epic 5 hour match between Federer and Roddick that I watched at home last year, which was oh-so-frustrating, but it was a brilliant show of tennis nonetheless.

Someone once mentioned that the English football team (sorry to sidetrack a little) had a terrible weakness in terms of mental strength - that they played according to the scores and once they were down there was no way they could actually claw their way back on top in retaliation. Much like Liverpool, perhaps *cough cough*.

I saw that again in Djoker - this lack of determination and mental strength. So easy for us to say, yet when you are there on the spot and 2 sets down, it is so easy to just give in to defeat. I remember my squash tournament two years ago, when I was 2 sets up, and somehow managed to lose that lead, finding myself fighting for the final, determining set - how nerve-wracking that was, how easy it was to just slump into defeat because of the overbearing pressure.

I may not be a professional tennis player. But Rafa Nadal definitely is MY source of inspiration to fight through to the end. When the difficult bits of sitting for exams and slaving through mounds of material to mug for are over, the light and the reward will come.

Focus. Determination. Strength.

VAMOS RAFA!

VAMOS, SHING!!