CNY Festivities (or rather, lack thereof)

So as with every other year since I have been in the UK, CNY often comes and leaves unrecognised. Surreptitiously, in the dead of night. 

Since I have left London, however, it seems my CNY 'festivities' have hit a new low. Gone are the days of our 'Concord' gatherings and dinners in Chinatown, despite the shrinking number of people in our group. 

I can't for the life of me remember what happened last year during CNY. After racking my brains like mad, I suddenly recalled that I had been on a weekend ward-cover day running around like a headless chicken throughout the whole hospital tending to every medical patient in the hospital who was threatening to die. I told myself since then that no CNY could be possibly worse than this.

This year, my CNY had hit a new low. Being the solo doctor on Gastro that Friday, I had been dreading this day for weeks, having been on a two or three man team on a Friday on Gastro and still leaving at 730 pm. Thankfully though, my desperation must have been heard and God must have answered my prayers because it did not turn out to be anywhere as horrible as I had expected. 

However, my CNY itself was desolate indeed. I spent the weekend cooped up in front of my computer, stressing about not being able to finish all my work before my impending job interview and then stressing again about my lack of medical knowledge. Why oh WHY did I have to sit MRCP?

I told myself that this would be my last CNY spent in a similar fashion in this country, though. 

So what's a girl to do but research pretty cheongsams? 

Last year, I had a bit of a nervous breakdown when my good friends Sue Lynn and Leslie got married and proclaimed that their theme was Shanghai 1920's, to which I suddenly realised that I had no cheongsam and no similar 1920's themed outfit. With my mum's help who went on a cheongsam rampage in Kch, I finally managed to rock up in this: 

Which, considering the fact that I had not spent a few hundred bucks having it made to measure, turned out pretty good. Unfortunately, I had put on a ton of weight then and had not looked my optimum self, but now have a few cheongsams at hand to choose from. 

And then I discovered this Singaporean designer, Ong Shunmugan, and I knew I had to get some of these dresses next year:

What better to complete my true love for peplum than to have it in form of a cheongsam. Ingenious! 

Well, perhaps I should grace Team Gastro with my presence in a cheongsam one day. 

What say you?

New Beginnings

The end of one chapter, and the beginning of another. I think I have to be grateful for the fact that I am stressing out with 2389 things to do before starting work rather than have to sit on my ass and ponder about whether or not I will be nervous about not having the excuse of 'just being a medical student' to fall back on any longer. 

So, graduation came and went. After much fussing for months and months on end about what colour of an outfit to wear under the robe, what shoes to match them with, how high they should be and etc, we are finally holders of an MBBS degree (Bachelor of Medicine and Surgery). 

Could not have done it without the finances and undying support from my parents who have listened to me sigh, tear and stress my way through Medical School. Each time they have done nothing but give me anything under the sun that I desired and believe in my meager abilities. Kudos to Mummy and Daddy Sim! 

Onwards and forwards to new lives... and with them of course, comes the inevitable farewells. The three years spent with 'The Neneks' and 'The Cartoons' have served us all well, and I am positive that we will remain fast friends for a long time coming. Some bonds are just meant to be as such - unbreakable. 

Also, the biggest new beginning would be the huge move out of London down south to the sunny coasts of Dorset in South West England. Possibly 'the middle of nowhere', as Lynn's Persk Friend describes, but I get to play wannabe Cardio God for my first job, so hey, if anything I suppose there's always that to look forward to. It has always seemed strange to me that after all these years in the UK, I have not developed any sort of affinity towards it at all. Each time I prepare for another 13 hour flight back to the UK, the reluctance to leave home is truly overwhelming. As with most things in life however, I do appreciate that the grass is always greener on the other side. But the one thing I have been sure about each time people have queried me about my future plans was that there was no freaking way I would live in the UK for another ten years on end.

Then again, I suppose anything the one thing could happen. Perhaps my Cardio God aspirations will soon evaporate and be replaced with being an Investment Banker (IB)'s wife whose main concern would be which Balenciaga bag to wear each day. 

Actually, that sounds like a much better plan already rather than straining to hear Mid Diastolic Murmurs and picking up all the signs of Mitral Stenosis.

So Here's a toast to New Beginnings. Of surviving my experience as a Foundation Doctor and of making the most of my medical degree :)  (And my life as an IB's wife in the near future)

It's a Tiger World

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.

Through Thick and Thin, For Better or Worse

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?

Gratitude

To my bestest friends in the whole wide world :)

To Jenn, for the simple act of being so concerned and entertaining me on MSN just to make sure I was alright. Thanks so much. I haven't spoken to you in ages but when we do talk it is as though time had never moved an iota. I have missed you tons, and I'm glad I have sort of managed to keep on par with your updates regularly, but I will write you that long email soon just to keep you adrift with my shenanigans. Alot of the time, when I encounted fair-weather friends in my life, I am reminded of you and our friendship and how it was built to last - and that no matter how sporadic our conversations may be, I am indefinitely here for you as you are for me :)

To Manda, my one-in-a-million, Pri1-through-F5, and favourite person in the whole wide world, for calling me alllll the way from Adelaide despite the time difference and your being so exhausted. Even though we only dwelled on the serious bits for a fraction of the conversation, the entire hour or so was therapeutic beyond words! I miss you heaps.

To Janey, who has so kindly shared her similar experiences with me and dished out all her sentiments just to assure me that it was okay to be not okay. Thank You. I will email you / speak to you online soon, even though I wasn't there when you left me those msgs....but I am beyond words trying to describe how much they meant to me.

And finally to CK, whose simple BBM of concern meant soooo much to me, plus the sharing of her stories - short as my stopover was at her place, really hit home and reality, and made so much sense that I was amazed at how sometimes you just need another person to point out the obvious to you, even if it was something there all along that you never saw yourself.

Not forgetting as well, the rest of my incredible friends for their support / texts / well wishes / concern. I have not gotten around to telling everyone yet, but I will eventually. I am infinitely grateful to have friends like you all. And not to worry, I have shed one of the final few tears for my grandfather, for now at least.

'He who does not weep, does not see.'

I remembered one episode of OTH where there was a death in the school and someone quoted this phrase from Les Miserables, which I found to be suitably appropriate.

Thanks again, people xx

Loss

I do know that my tear threshold is incredibly low, although it has improved tremendously since I started this year.

Swollen eyes, a headache and a distracted mind. Not good timing for an exam. But I've compromised by telling myself I can do all of that after tomorrow.

It wasn't surprising, whom I chose to turn to right away after I heard. And they have all turned out to be no fair-weather friends indeed.

My grandfather will definitely always be one of the best people I have ever known.