real life

i had the entire day off today, but i went in to hospital anyway. it's because i'm participating in this laparoscopic study, where the authors are trying to assess students' ability to learn surgical skills from a laparoscopic box trainer.

so there i was, doing my daily 'practice', when one of the anaesthetists came up behind me and asked me what i was doing. i explained, and he watched. after a while, he said 'this arm doesn't look very clever, it looks like it's doing *this*'. he then proceeded to demonstrate some spastic motions.

how depressing. if i were the protagonist in one of my fantasy books, (drizzt do'urden or sonea) i'd have displayed exceptional natural digital dexterity. a crowd of surgeons would have gathered behind me. i'd be offered direct entry into the college of surgeons because my laparoscopic skills were simply too dangerous to be unleashed onto the community without proper training.

but i am no protagonist, and this is real life.

i love green tea

when i was a little girl, dad used to bring back presents from his overseas trips. little things, like hair clips and handkerchiefs.

my siblings recently went for a holiday a in Tokyo. i couldn't join them because i had to be at hospital, but i watched them unload their bags in a way that was reminiscent of my younger self.

they didn't disappoint.

my stash of green tea biscuits

candice couldn't find me the green tea biscuits that i'd requested. instead, she brought back a sample of every green tea biscuit she came across. ocha kitkats included!

a very tired but happy me :)

the waiting game

summary of delivery shift #1
lots of standing around and pacing out, punctuated by excessively frequent obs to amuse myself. it turns out i didn't really need to practice so much in first year, my job description is all about being your friendly sphygmomanometer.

negative: recent induction of labour + nulliparous = one very long delivery shift.

positive: i ended up scrubbing in for the c-section (which was one of my personal goals for this rotation). and, uh, felt somebody's uterus. not that i've ever really wanted to.

i watched the surgeon as she slumped in a chair, waiting for the patient to arrive. i know she has no children; i've overheard her saying that she had no time for kids. for a moment i thought to myself: it's a saturday night, what are we all doing here? do i want to end up like this one day? i have a family to go home to now, but will it be an empty apartment that awaits me in ten years?
then the patient arrived, the senior reg arrived, the midwife told me to scrub in, i was handed a retractor, and all traitorous thoughts vanished.

i'm not really sure how i feel about O&G at this stage, but one thing is for sure- it is different. the two things which stand out the most are the fascinating conversations, and the suits.

so far i've had a number of interesting discussions with my consultants. one of them asked me in classic british* style, "...so why is it that reproduction is so inefficient in humans?", you can imagine where that conversation led. then there was that extended series of discussions on alternative career pathways.
it's nice that everybody is so friendly and approachable. it makes it easier when i have to present long cases at the weekly team meetings, especially since there were five (i kid you not) consultants present last week.

the second thing is the power dressing. my intern told me that we had to dress up for clinic, and just as i began to conjure images of long-sleeved collared shirts from G2000, she proceeded to elaborate: "wear a suit if you've got one... put on some heels". i couldn't believe she'd just contradicted the med student dress code: smart but still functional (ie very slightly sloppy). which means smart dressing, plus cardigans (not jackets), and ugly rubber-soled shoes. lawyers and accountants dress up, we do not.

as for heels, these are the people who have expressed disapproval when i have worn heels (as in, 1-2 inch) to hospital: ortho reg, theatre nurse, gen med reg. RPH in general (floors are pro-clicking, and everybody turns to see who's running in heels to get to ward round on time). and suits! in the unspoken med student fashion rules, you do not ever wear a suit. the consultant wears a suit, and very rarely the registrar may choose to wear a suit. if you're a cold med student, you wear thermal underwear+long sleeved shirt+the thickest jumper/cardigan you can find!

if my 15 year old feminist self could have foreseen that six years later, i'd be joining ward rounds in a suit and heels, i don't think i would have given mum so much grief about alternative careers.

*disclaimer: there is no real evidence base for me to say this, but i've observed that it's the british consultants who tend to quiz students with a mock inquisitive expression, eg "so why is it that we aren't transfusing this lady? she has a Hb of 70. wouldn't you transfuse her?" (maintains/intensifies eye contact, raises eyebrow).

salty egg pancakes

"why didn't you steam eggs?" my mother asked, as i woefully showed her my dinner over skype. so that's what i did today. steamed eggs and veg. or, in my rendition, "salty egg pancakes and raw vegetables." take that, masterchef. tt said he felt like vomiting when i described it to him, but i actually do feel like vomiting from eating it.

as much as i enjoy laughing about my own inability to cook, it's very inconvenient. especially considering my favourite topic, "adultescence" (this article sums it up), and my own resolution that i will have moved out of home by the time i'm thirty, whether or not i'm married. given my attempts at cooking this week, i sincerely hope i will be married by then. preferably to a chef.

i think i am beginning to get used to having the entire house to myself. even so, i was very relieved to hear that mum will be catching the plane home tomorrow. hooray! kaixing will be so happy to see her. she and me both.

ps sorry there's no picture. i wish we had another camera, these 'dishes' would make priceless photos. i can tell my future kids how i suffered before i met their dad (the chef).