Licensed to Heal

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

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

Aspirations: Neurosurgeon. 

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

Yesterday I passed my Med School Finals. 

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

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

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

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

The day I became Dr. S.

Another step closer towards possibly becoming that Cardio God :)

Sudden Cardiac Death

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keep Calm and Carry On.

Vamos, Shing!

Lost Without You

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OMG someone give me a medal already!!!!

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

An Orthopaedic Heart

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

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

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

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

"What kind of surgery?"

"Orthopaedics."

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

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

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

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

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

(Open - Andre Agassi, An Autobiography)

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

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

A.A.

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

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

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

I guess the common sense finally kicked in ey?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am a HUGE fan of Marni.

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

But I sidetrack.

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

It was the accessories that caught my eye though.

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

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

The Princess of Styles

I have a confession to make.

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

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

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

The Lace Dress

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5 hours and 53 minutes

5 hours and 53 minutes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Birthday Buddies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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