First, an update on Mr Wrigglebottom (aka Babybum):
He's a big kicker/ somersault artist. Well, technically I've to have another pregnancy to compare him with - whether this is normal fetal activity or a trampoline master in the making. I hope he plays soccer. (Even if he picks up Aussie Rules Footy in the school yard, pleeeease be partial to soccer.)
Since conception, he's consistently liked peaches and orange juice. His new thing is apples. He had a Ribena and raisins phase. Only tolerates junk food in moderation. I'm incubating a health junkie.
We have 3 names picked out. We'll see which suits him best when he emerges. No, not into stringing all 3 names together, he's not Prince William Arthur Philip Louis. Just "[insert name] Hasibuan" on his birth cert, thanks. His grandparents have been warned.
And now, on to today's entry!
Look, guys, I'm really sorry if infants and boobs and perineums ain't your thing. Work's great; the weekends and days off and quiet little Adelaide are as happy happy joy joy as ever, but my hormone soaked brain is obsessed with my gestation and all things pertaining to his cute little self at the moment so if i'mma blog, this'll probably be the theme for a while.
So yesterday I watched the 2008 documentary The Business of Being Born. It's really interesting even if you're not expecting - you can just watch it as a critique of the American health care system, particularly with respect to maternal medicine.
I can't describe how thankful I am to work in Obgyn late last year/ early this year. It's not something I would ever consider as a specialty, and is usually a rotation offered to junior doctors who are considering it as a career or to General Practice trainees as part of Women's Health. So the whole while I was doing it, I treated it as "just another job". (Actually, there were certain points when I wondered why I was being punished with it.)
But soon enough I saw what an invaluable experience it was for me as a woman. You know, you always hear the argument thrown around that it was the norm for women in the past -and indeed, in some rural communities today- to have witnessed and aided in the labour of their fellow womenfolk. It's a rite of passage lost to the modern woman, resulting in anything from a crippling fear of the unknown to an unrealistic (almost romanticized) expectation of the birthing process.
So the whole experience in Obstetrics? An absolute privilege, even from a non-medical point of view.
The other plus point is to know how the system works and therefore what birthing options are available to me now as an expectant mum. As mentioned in the documentary, unlike the United States, Australia has a similar system to the UK and many other European countries where there is a midwife-dominant model of care, with very accessible medical backup.
Nonetheless, it still is a hospital environment, and though nowhere near as pushy as what you see in the documentary, the time constraints and the "readiness" to intervene with Syntocin (similar to Pitocin) and ARM's and vacuum/ forceps and The Big C Word exists. But no, the decisions are not motivated by money or selfishness or fear of litigation. From experience, I can vouch that we're not lurking in the corner rooting for a "Failure To Progress" so we can jump on a labouring woman and perform a Caesarian section.
At the end of the day everyone involved truly just wants a healthy mum and a healthy baby. And each woman who ends up in ICCU or each stillbirth is one too many - a loss that dampens the morale of the team for weeks on end.
For all the bad press the medical profession gets especially from certain members of the community who hold certain extreme views about childbirth, I have immense respect for the Obgyn Registrars and Consultants I worked with. I've witnessed them literally save lives of mums and newborns with their decisiveness and skill. And it's only when I reach home at the end of the shift when I realize, "Wow, I was part of the team too, what a privilege."
However, after that accolade I must admit, I'm actually booked in at the Birth Centre.
A Birth Centre is set up to be as alike to a home environment and as different to a hospital setting as possible. I've nothing against home births (my grandma had 6 home births by choice) but I know it's not something that'll work for me at all. Ignorance is bliss, and my medical mind will not be able to relax labouring outside a health facility because I know I'll be thinking of every possible complication along the way. I already spent my entire first trimester petrified by the possibility of miscarriage.
But being in a Birth Centre room is nice because I don't feel like I'm in an actual... hospital ward/ room, which when you think about it, is kind of like my "office", know what I mean? The one I'm booked into is actually literally down the corridor to the labour ward - much to Ridwan's relief! It has a double bed (instead of a hospital bed) and armchairs and a kitchenette. Also, a bath for water birthing, which I haven't decided on one way or another but may use for pain relief.
The model of care involves one midwife who follows me through my entire pregnancy, labour and 6-week postpartum period, including house visits and guidance with breastfeeding. I've enthusiastically consented for a midwifery student to be involved too, because my patients have taught me so much and I want to give back to the system. And I'm fully aware that with the exception of seeing my GP for specific complaints, there may not be a single Medical Officer involved in this entire process at all.
It's a decision frowned upon by some of my doctor colleagues - "no epidural?!?", "a hippie midwife?", "what if you need medical intervention?", "WHAT IF THINGS GO WRONG?". But what if things go right? And for the record, my midwife is not a hippie.
I just want to give myself a chance to do it like how mum and grandma did - I miss them even more now that I'm on this journey, I've so many questions! I want to give myself a chance to recover from a physiological phenomenon, not an emergency surgical procedure. I want to be guided by someone I've grown to know, not someone rostered for the shift. I want to be able to walk around, move, get into different positions, float in a tub, suck on a popsicle, take my time...
I don't know how my experience will be and I don't have an elaborate "Birth Plan" or any special pain combating technique up my sleeve. I just want to give myself a chance, in the most supportive environment available. We'll see how it pans out...
I began crying the moment I got into the car. "What's wrong? Was it a bad day at work? Was anyone mean to you while you were waiting for me at the lobby?" Ridwan's posed me a series of calm, concerned questions. I couldn't answer any of them, couldn't get any words in between sobs.
And like a vicious cycle, I felt increasingly worse about myself for getting upset at all!
I didn't mean to be unthankful. In fact, somewhere in my messed up mix of emotions was thankfulness and elation - I've always wanted to be a mum, Ridwan and I have been talking about our hypothetical children for ages! But I was so angry with myself for "not doing it right".
Now that we are, well, adult and working and independent and contented in the midst of building our life together, surely the responsible thing to do was to make sure all our affairs were in order before conceiving. We're in the midst of Australian residency applications, Ridwan only recently enrolled in Open Uni, we had travel plans, I haven't even decided on a specialty yet... all the thoughts and worries I had been suppressing the entire day in order to perform at work slapped me in the face in that car ride home.
Also, even though I absolutely adore my siblings, I've always wanted my kids to be only a year or two apart from one another so they're never lonely. So now that It has begun... I think I've to put my career on hold.
Oh and then there was the huge sashimi lunch I had the day before finding out. Not to mention all the dubious junk food I've been having, the skipped meals, the basic lack of anything with with true nutritional value. I wasn't exactly looking after myself - work's simply too busy. Good thing I'm a nonsmoker, nondrinker.
And the main thing really, was the realization that we are here, by ourselves, miles away from any family support.
I always imagined that we would make a conscious decision to conceive. Plan it all, take pregnancy supplements, mark my ovulation dates on a calendar. In my mind's eye, it's a beautiful sunny weekend morning and I'll wake up, pee on a home test kit, discover the positive results together with Ridwan, then go out for a celebratory brunch. Maybe buy a pair of cute baby socks for luck.
When we reached home, I curled up on the couch, letting the last few sobs die down. Ridwan had his arm around me waiting for me to tell him what was going through this head of mine if I so wished. He never pushes. "I'm pregnant," I squeaked, my head buried in his chest.
I sensed his body relax with relief. "Is that it? Then why are you crying? Alhamdulillah."
I'd really like to get this site going again. Mainly because I look at my archives and can't believe I didn't document 2010 as regularly as I did my years at uni - what a waste! It was a memorable, exciting, awesome year!
But perhaps the silence on the blog is testament to how busy it was. My first year working, getting used to graveyard shifts and sacrificed weekends. And of course, as family and friends already know, 2010 ended with a big surprise: Ridwan and I are expecting our first baby.
Some time in late November, my mum made a completely out of the blue comment that perhaps it's time Ridwan and I considered starting a family. Of course I said, "insya Allah". But also mentioned that I've other things I needed to get in order first, other plans to fulfill. I gave the arbitrary estimate of "two more years".
But later that very week, wondering why my period had not come yet, I peed on a stick at work (there are boxes and boxes of them in the store room) and it lit up.
I was stunned.
So the preceding week plus of vomiting was not gastro after all. Also, it probably explains why I'd begun fainting during long, hot, tiring Caesarian sections. I was doing Obsterics and Gynaecology at the time. No, the irony is not lost on me.
I had to break the news to Ridwan, but I didn't want to do it over the phone.
I started eating for sahur at quarter to five even though fajr wasn't till half past. You never know when you're gonna be paged away! Sure enough, at five exactly, I was paged to review a febrile, tachycardic, possibly septic young patient. The taste of mango and peach yoghurt, the last thing I swallowed, was thick at the back of in my throat. I glanced at my watch as I was climbing up the stairs. Surely there'll be time for a sip of water after I go see this boy, insya Allah.
But there wasn't. By the time I was done seeing that boy and a few other things on the ward (there's always multiple unavoidable "by the way... since you are here... can you please write up some more pain relief/ have a look at this drain/ the patient in Bed 4 has some chest pain/ etc etc etc") it was quarter to six. Ah, I'm so thirsty, I think to myself.
By then, a few things that needed sorting out had cropped up in a different ward. Things that could wait. I went to do fajr first. The fast for the day had well and truly started.
I resumed working immediately after that. As I was walking back to the doctor's lounge, I saw my water bottle at a nurse's station along the way. I had been looking for it all night! Must have left it there earlier during my shift.
And then I started drinking. I drank. And drank. And drank. Until there was no water left in the plastic bottle. Got paged about a hypoglycaemic patient, sorted that out (not without having a chat with her about her grandkids and great grandkids, no less!), then continued my saunter back to the lounge.
As I was buzzing myself in with my ID Card, I noticed how light and empty my bottle was, and it struck me! A little chuckle escaped my lips and I stood there for a few seconds shaking my head. "Then which of the favours of your Lord will you deny?"
* * * * *
Ramadan kareem, everyone. I hope it's been a beautiful week for you. I was lucky enough to start my fast on my week off. Meanwhile, this week I'm reacclimatizing to the routine while I finish off my final week as a Surgical Intern on night duty. I move on to the Emergency Department next, but will have a break during that to return to Singapore and Indonesia for Eid, insya Allah.
Been thinking of closing this blog altogether because I can't seem to find the time (or commitment) to update it! But I know I'll regret it, so it's staying for now. Life's been good, a mixture of contentment and hopefulness, alhamdulillah. Till next time, have a blessed month! xox
I feel like I should account for my disappearance.
How I've missed you.
The simple excuse is that I've been busy. I joke with Ridwan that I must work twice the number of hours he does but probably don't earn twice as much. Then again, I shouldn't complain, we have it better here than our peers in a handful of other countries - I'm almost embarassed to tell my friends back in Singapore that on some days I actually do leave work at five! And I've only had to work both days of a weekend once! (It was a long weekend, I had the Monday off.)
It's a good thing that I'm not one for sleeping in. Each day off has been seized like a precious prize. Each afternoon or evening away from the hospital a respite. It's become more important to be in the moment with my loved ones. Online presence - not so important. Unless it's replying to a personal email or FB message, of course!
Nevertheless, there's much that I am looking forward to share if indeed there was time to spare. Stories and thoughts from the last couple of months, and whatever pops up in the ones to come. I'm starting a "service" rotation soon in which I alternate working from 9pm to 8am for a week straight with having a whole week off. Maybe then, there'll be quiet moments to write, to reflect, to blow the dust off my camera...
Tuesday, March 09, 2010 Timeline. In case you're interested.
0805hrs
Arrive at my office five minutes late. Three medical students already waiting. Night Intern waiting with them to update me on overnight happenings pertaining to my patients. I learn: one patient died, one was over narcotized and one had a fall on the way to the bathroom.
0820hrs
Consultant arrives ten minutes early for the ward rounds. The Consultant does full rounds only on Tuesdays and Fridays. I'm SO THANKFUL it's a Tuesday because today, both the RMO and Registrar sit for exams making me a one-man team (with three medical students in tow). We had several admissions over the long weekend. Our patient list is loooong.
We start seeing our patients.
0900hrs
Handover meeting. We get one new patient but my Consultant negotiates with the other Consultants... and manages to put that patient under a different team. I'm so relieved because the workload's too much for me as it is. We continue seeing our patients.
1045hrs
We finally get through our entire list of patients. Lots of "jobs" for me to do as part of their care plan. I get started with some help from the medical students (who I think were taking pity on me).
1100hrs
Discharge Planning Meeting. I surprise myself by presenting 25 different patients from memory to the attendees - I didn't mix them up! Yay!
1130hrs
Meeting ends. I get back to work.
1134hrs
One of the three(!) pagers I was carrying beeps. Patient in a different ward has chest pain and is in rapid AF. I go to review the patient... with three medical students in tow. I start managing the patient and ask the nurse to initiate a MET Call.
1139hrs
Help arrives. Patient stabilized but still needs ongoing management and cardiac monitoring. Discuss possibility of transfering patient to ICCU... but Coronary Care Unit deemed more suitable. Medical students watch in fascination as the entire process unfolds.
1245hrs
Arrive late for Intern Tutorial after sorting out patient's transfer to CCU and contacting patient's family. I know it's a hectic day but it was an ECG Tutorial by Dr V. If there was ONE THING I can do for myself today, it's to attend Dr V's tute. So I did.
1330hrs
Tutorial ends. Rush back to ward. Get back to work. Medical students left for their tutorials.
1430hrs
Not under any delusion that I can do it all on my own, I call for help.
1500hrs
Help arrives! In the form of an Intern from another medical team! She helps with the "small" jobs like drug charts and IV cannulas, while I review patients, liase with medical imaging, order tests and chase the results for others, write up discharge medications, request consults, blah blah blah...
1630hrs
Things are surprisingly under control. Just a few more referrals and calls to patients' family members left to do. Manage to squeeze in first toilet break for the day. And a sip of water from the drinking fountain/ water cooler/ whatchmaycallit.
1730hrs
More or less done with the day's work. Rush to lobby where Ridwan is waiting patiently - we've a show to catch at 1800hrs! Realize the travel mug of coffee he made for me in the morning is still full. I gulp down cold coffee on the way home. So thirsty.
1740hrs
Change out of work clothes. Ridwan, sis and I head to the city. Traffic was baaaaaaad...
1815hrs
Running late for the show. Car breaks down! Or more specifically, heats up in a smoke.
1845hrs
Manage to park smokey car in an alley. Walk to show venue. Catch last 20minutes of the stand up act. Catch up with one of the performers who's an old friend from uni, tell him about our car fiasco. We get free tickets for tomorrow's show! Aren't they sweet?
1920hrs
Have dinner in the city. Did not realize till then that I was famished.
2100hrs
Head home with 2 pitstops along the way for fear of car heating up again.
2150hrs
Arrive home. Drink some water. Write this. Wash up. Go to bed.
Thursday, February 25, 2010 How to keep your wife happy
First, some background information (in the simplest terms possible). In Australia, you can "salary package" a portion of your pre-tax salary so that you only pay tax on the fraction of your salary that you don't "package". Your "packaged" salary can be used for several things including rent, credit card bills, mortgage, getting a car (including its running cost) and laptop purchase, to name a few things. In Victoria, even "food and entertainment" expenditure can be deducted from your pre-tax pay.
Yesterday, I text messaged Ridwan around lunch time to basically say oops! we forgot that we're supposed to meet up with the salary packaging lady today. And then today in the car...
ME
You know what? I got the day wrong! We're supposed to talk to the salary packaging lady today, not yesterday! She comes on Thursdays, not Wednesdays!
RIDWAN
Yeah, that's what I wrote in my organizer diary thing.
ME
Why didn't you say so?
RIDWAN
I jotted it down when you first told me. And then late last week, you said Wednesday. And you reminded me again earlier this week that it's on Wednesday... So I thought I jotted the wrong day down coz, you know...
ME
Coz... what?
RIDWAN
Coz you're always right!
ME
I'm always right?
RIDWAN
(laughing) Yeah... you're always right. I always doubt myself before I think you're wrong.
ME
Sweetheart, this is why our marriage will last a long long time.
Ridwan passed me the notebook after he was done with it and I found that he'd changed the desktop background. He didn't mention anything about it but I'm guessing right there's a black-and-white image of his dream come true. Which is the easier job - cat litter duty or diaper duty? Coz I'd like to volunteer for that one.
Hi. I'm Elia and I'm 27 years old. I live in Adelaide, Australia with Ridwan, the love of my life. We met in highschool, and back then if you told us we would someday marry, we would have been very amused.
We look forward to having kids... some time in the future. For now, we play guardian to my baby sister who's come to live with us since she started university. We are also thinking of a kitten, but prefer to wait till we get a backyard. Right now the backyard's where we accommodate my sister. (OF COURSE I'm joking.)
Time will tell if I'll eventuate into one of those working mums who document their pregnancies and children's progress in their online journals. Meanwhile if you're looking for a blog by a married, young(?) female Singaporean Muslim doctor living in Adelaide, I guess this is it. Sorry if it's not what you were expecting.
I started blogging somewhat regularly in March 2005. There had been several attempts at online journalling prior to that but they were all short-lived.
I do this to keep in touch with friends (whose blogs I adore) and also because I like writing. Whether I write well is another matter. And I'm still trying to find the balance between sharing just enough and sharing too much. It is, after all, the world wide web.
First, an update on Mr Wrigglebottom (aka Babybum):
He's a big kicker/ somersault artist. Well, technically I've to have another pregnancy to compare him with - whether this is normal fetal activity or a trampoline master in the making. I hope he plays soccer. (Even if he picks up Aussie Rules Footy in the school yard, pleeeease be partial to soccer.)
Since conception, he's consistently liked peaches and orange juice. His new thing is apples. He had a Ribena and raisins phase. Only tolerates junk food in moderation. I'm incubating a health junkie.
We have 3 names picked out. We'll see which suits him best when he emerges. No, not into stringing all 3 names together, he's not Prince William Arthur Philip Louis. Just "[insert name] Hasibuan" on his birth cert, thanks. His grandparents have been warned.
And now, on to today's entry!
Look, guys, I'm really sorry if infants and boobs and perineums ain't your thing. Work's great; the weekends and days off and quiet little Adelaide are as happy happy joy joy as ever, but my hormone soaked brain is obsessed with my gestation and all things pertaining to his cute little self at the moment so if i'mma blog, this'll probably be the theme for a while.
So yesterday I watched the 2008 documentary The Business of Being Born. It's really interesting even if you're not expecting - you can just watch it as a critique of the American health care system, particularly with respect to maternal medicine.
I can't describe how thankful I am to work in Obgyn late last year/ early this year. It's not something I would ever consider as a specialty, and is usually a rotation offered to junior doctors who are considering it as a career or to General Practice trainees as part of Women's Health. So the whole while I was doing it, I treated it as "just another job". (Actually, there were certain points when I wondered why I was being punished with it.)
But soon enough I saw what an invaluable experience it was for me as a woman. You know, you always hear the argument thrown around that it was the norm for women in the past -and indeed, in some rural communities today- to have witnessed and aided in the labour of their fellow womenfolk. It's a rite of passage lost to the modern woman, resulting in anything from a crippling fear of the unknown to an unrealistic (almost romanticized) expectation of the birthing process.
So the whole experience in Obstetrics? An absolute privilege, even from a non-medical point of view.
The other plus point is to know how the system works and therefore what birthing options are available to me now as an expectant mum. As mentioned in the documentary, unlike the United States, Australia has a similar system to the UK and many other European countries where there is a midwife-dominant model of care, with very accessible medical backup.
Nonetheless, it still is a hospital environment, and though nowhere near as pushy as what you see in the documentary, the time constraints and the "readiness" to intervene with Syntocin (similar to Pitocin) and ARM's and vacuum/ forceps and The Big C Word exists. But no, the decisions are not motivated by money or selfishness or fear of litigation. From experience, I can vouch that we're not lurking in the corner rooting for a "Failure To Progress" so we can jump on a labouring woman and perform a Caesarian section.
At the end of the day everyone involved truly just wants a healthy mum and a healthy baby. And each woman who ends up in ICCU or each stillbirth is one too many - a loss that dampens the morale of the team for weeks on end.
For all the bad press the medical profession gets especially from certain members of the community who hold certain extreme views about childbirth, I have immense respect for the Obgyn Registrars and Consultants I worked with. I've witnessed them literally save lives of mums and newborns with their decisiveness and skill. And it's only when I reach home at the end of the shift when I realize, "Wow, I was part of the team too, what a privilege."
However, after that accolade I must admit, I'm actually booked in at the Birth Centre.
A Birth Centre is set up to be as alike to a home environment and as different to a hospital setting as possible. I've nothing against home births (my grandma had 6 home births by choice) but I know it's not something that'll work for me at all. Ignorance is bliss, and my medical mind will not be able to relax labouring outside a health facility because I know I'll be thinking of every possible complication along the way. I already spent my entire first trimester petrified by the possibility of miscarriage.
But being in a Birth Centre room is nice because I don't feel like I'm in an actual... hospital ward/ room, which when you think about it, is kind of like my "office", know what I mean? The one I'm booked into is actually literally down the corridor to the labour ward - much to Ridwan's relief! It has a double bed (instead of a hospital bed) and armchairs and a kitchenette. Also, a bath for water birthing, which I haven't decided on one way or another but may use for pain relief.
The model of care involves one midwife who follows me through my entire pregnancy, labour and 6-week postpartum period, including house visits and guidance with breastfeeding. I've enthusiastically consented for a midwifery student to be involved too, because my patients have taught me so much and I want to give back to the system. And I'm fully aware that with the exception of seeing my GP for specific complaints, there may not be a single Medical Officer involved in this entire process at all.
It's a decision frowned upon by some of my doctor colleagues - "no epidural?!?", "a hippie midwife?", "what if you need medical intervention?", "WHAT IF THINGS GO WRONG?". But what if things go right? And for the record, my midwife is not a hippie.
I just want to give myself a chance to do it like how mum and grandma did - I miss them even more now that I'm on this journey, I've so many questions! I want to give myself a chance to recover from a physiological phenomenon, not an emergency surgical procedure. I want to be guided by someone I've grown to know, not someone rostered for the shift. I want to be able to walk around, move, get into different positions, float in a tub, suck on a popsicle, take my time...
I don't know how my experience will be and I don't have an elaborate "Birth Plan" or any special pain combating technique up my sleeve. I just want to give myself a chance, in the most supportive environment available. We'll see how it pans out...
I began crying the moment I got into the car. "What's wrong? Was it a bad day at work? Was anyone mean to you while you were waiting for me at the lobby?" Ridwan's posed me a series of calm, concerned questions. I couldn't answer any of them, couldn't get any words in between sobs.
And like a vicious cycle, I felt increasingly worse about myself for getting upset at all!
I didn't mean to be unthankful. In fact, somewhere in my messed up mix of emotions was thankfulness and elation - I've always wanted to be a mum, Ridwan and I have been talking about our hypothetical children for ages! But I was so angry with myself for "not doing it right".
Now that we are, well, adult and working and independent and contented in the midst of building our life together, surely the responsible thing to do was to make sure all our affairs were in order before conceiving. We're in the midst of Australian residency applications, Ridwan only recently enrolled in Open Uni, we had travel plans, I haven't even decided on a specialty yet... all the thoughts and worries I had been suppressing the entire day in order to perform at work slapped me in the face in that car ride home.
Also, even though I absolutely adore my siblings, I've always wanted my kids to be only a year or two apart from one another so they're never lonely. So now that It has begun... I think I've to put my career on hold.
Oh and then there was the huge sashimi lunch I had the day before finding out. Not to mention all the dubious junk food I've been having, the skipped meals, the basic lack of anything with with true nutritional value. I wasn't exactly looking after myself - work's simply too busy. Good thing I'm a nonsmoker, nondrinker.
And the main thing really, was the realization that we are here, by ourselves, miles away from any family support.
I always imagined that we would make a conscious decision to conceive. Plan it all, take pregnancy supplements, mark my ovulation dates on a calendar. In my mind's eye, it's a beautiful sunny weekend morning and I'll wake up, pee on a home test kit, discover the positive results together with Ridwan, then go out for a celebratory brunch. Maybe buy a pair of cute baby socks for luck.
When we reached home, I curled up on the couch, letting the last few sobs die down. Ridwan had his arm around me waiting for me to tell him what was going through this head of mine if I so wished. He never pushes. "I'm pregnant," I squeaked, my head buried in his chest.
I sensed his body relax with relief. "Is that it? Then why are you crying? Alhamdulillah."
I'd really like to get this site going again. Mainly because I look at my archives and can't believe I didn't document 2010 as regularly as I did my years at uni - what a waste! It was a memorable, exciting, awesome year!
But perhaps the silence on the blog is testament to how busy it was. My first year working, getting used to graveyard shifts and sacrificed weekends. And of course, as family and friends already know, 2010 ended with a big surprise: Ridwan and I are expecting our first baby.
Some time in late November, my mum made a completely out of the blue comment that perhaps it's time Ridwan and I considered starting a family. Of course I said, "insya Allah". But also mentioned that I've other things I needed to get in order first, other plans to fulfill. I gave the arbitrary estimate of "two more years".
But later that very week, wondering why my period had not come yet, I peed on a stick at work (there are boxes and boxes of them in the store room) and it lit up.
I was stunned.
So the preceding week plus of vomiting was not gastro after all. Also, it probably explains why I'd begun fainting during long, hot, tiring Caesarian sections. I was doing Obsterics and Gynaecology at the time. No, the irony is not lost on me.
I had to break the news to Ridwan, but I didn't want to do it over the phone.
I started eating for sahur at quarter to five even though fajr wasn't till half past. You never know when you're gonna be paged away! Sure enough, at five exactly, I was paged to review a febrile, tachycardic, possibly septic young patient. The taste of mango and peach yoghurt, the last thing I swallowed, was thick at the back of in my throat. I glanced at my watch as I was climbing up the stairs. Surely there'll be time for a sip of water after I go see this boy, insya Allah.
But there wasn't. By the time I was done seeing that boy and a few other things on the ward (there's always multiple unavoidable "by the way... since you are here... can you please write up some more pain relief/ have a look at this drain/ the patient in Bed 4 has some chest pain/ etc etc etc") it was quarter to six. Ah, I'm so thirsty, I think to myself.
By then, a few things that needed sorting out had cropped up in a different ward. Things that could wait. I went to do fajr first. The fast for the day had well and truly started.
I resumed working immediately after that. As I was walking back to the doctor's lounge, I saw my water bottle at a nurse's station along the way. I had been looking for it all night! Must have left it there earlier during my shift.
And then I started drinking. I drank. And drank. And drank. Until there was no water left in the plastic bottle. Got paged about a hypoglycaemic patient, sorted that out (not without having a chat with her about her grandkids and great grandkids, no less!), then continued my saunter back to the lounge.
As I was buzzing myself in with my ID Card, I noticed how light and empty my bottle was, and it struck me! A little chuckle escaped my lips and I stood there for a few seconds shaking my head. "Then which of the favours of your Lord will you deny?"
* * * * *
Ramadan kareem, everyone. I hope it's been a beautiful week for you. I was lucky enough to start my fast on my week off. Meanwhile, this week I'm reacclimatizing to the routine while I finish off my final week as a Surgical Intern on night duty. I move on to the Emergency Department next, but will have a break during that to return to Singapore and Indonesia for Eid, insya Allah.
Been thinking of closing this blog altogether because I can't seem to find the time (or commitment) to update it! But I know I'll regret it, so it's staying for now. Life's been good, a mixture of contentment and hopefulness, alhamdulillah. Till next time, have a blessed month! xox
I feel like I should account for my disappearance.
How I've missed you.
The simple excuse is that I've been busy. I joke with Ridwan that I must work twice the number of hours he does but probably don't earn twice as much. Then again, I shouldn't complain, we have it better here than our peers in a handful of other countries - I'm almost embarassed to tell my friends back in Singapore that on some days I actually do leave work at five! And I've only had to work both days of a weekend once! (It was a long weekend, I had the Monday off.)
It's a good thing that I'm not one for sleeping in. Each day off has been seized like a precious prize. Each afternoon or evening away from the hospital a respite. It's become more important to be in the moment with my loved ones. Online presence - not so important. Unless it's replying to a personal email or FB message, of course!
Nevertheless, there's much that I am looking forward to share if indeed there was time to spare. Stories and thoughts from the last couple of months, and whatever pops up in the ones to come. I'm starting a "service" rotation soon in which I alternate working from 9pm to 8am for a week straight with having a whole week off. Maybe then, there'll be quiet moments to write, to reflect, to blow the dust off my camera...
Tuesday, March 09, 2010 Timeline. In case you're interested.
0805hrs
Arrive at my office five minutes late. Three medical students already waiting. Night Intern waiting with them to update me on overnight happenings pertaining to my patients. I learn: one patient died, one was over narcotized and one had a fall on the way to the bathroom.
0820hrs
Consultant arrives ten minutes early for the ward rounds. The Consultant does full rounds only on Tuesdays and Fridays. I'm SO THANKFUL it's a Tuesday because today, both the RMO and Registrar sit for exams making me a one-man team (with three medical students in tow). We had several admissions over the long weekend. Our patient list is loooong.
We start seeing our patients.
0900hrs
Handover meeting. We get one new patient but my Consultant negotiates with the other Consultants... and manages to put that patient under a different team. I'm so relieved because the workload's too much for me as it is. We continue seeing our patients.
1045hrs
We finally get through our entire list of patients. Lots of "jobs" for me to do as part of their care plan. I get started with some help from the medical students (who I think were taking pity on me).
1100hrs
Discharge Planning Meeting. I surprise myself by presenting 25 different patients from memory to the attendees - I didn't mix them up! Yay!
1130hrs
Meeting ends. I get back to work.
1134hrs
One of the three(!) pagers I was carrying beeps. Patient in a different ward has chest pain and is in rapid AF. I go to review the patient... with three medical students in tow. I start managing the patient and ask the nurse to initiate a MET Call.
1139hrs
Help arrives. Patient stabilized but still needs ongoing management and cardiac monitoring. Discuss possibility of transfering patient to ICCU... but Coronary Care Unit deemed more suitable. Medical students watch in fascination as the entire process unfolds.
1245hrs
Arrive late for Intern Tutorial after sorting out patient's transfer to CCU and contacting patient's family. I know it's a hectic day but it was an ECG Tutorial by Dr V. If there was ONE THING I can do for myself today, it's to attend Dr V's tute. So I did.
1330hrs
Tutorial ends. Rush back to ward. Get back to work. Medical students left for their tutorials.
1430hrs
Not under any delusion that I can do it all on my own, I call for help.
1500hrs
Help arrives! In the form of an Intern from another medical team! She helps with the "small" jobs like drug charts and IV cannulas, while I review patients, liase with medical imaging, order tests and chase the results for others, write up discharge medications, request consults, blah blah blah...
1630hrs
Things are surprisingly under control. Just a few more referrals and calls to patients' family members left to do. Manage to squeeze in first toilet break for the day. And a sip of water from the drinking fountain/ water cooler/ whatchmaycallit.
1730hrs
More or less done with the day's work. Rush to lobby where Ridwan is waiting patiently - we've a show to catch at 1800hrs! Realize the travel mug of coffee he made for me in the morning is still full. I gulp down cold coffee on the way home. So thirsty.
1740hrs
Change out of work clothes. Ridwan, sis and I head to the city. Traffic was baaaaaaad...
1815hrs
Running late for the show. Car breaks down! Or more specifically, heats up in a smoke.
1845hrs
Manage to park smokey car in an alley. Walk to show venue. Catch last 20minutes of the stand up act. Catch up with one of the performers who's an old friend from uni, tell him about our car fiasco. We get free tickets for tomorrow's show! Aren't they sweet?
1920hrs
Have dinner in the city. Did not realize till then that I was famished.
2100hrs
Head home with 2 pitstops along the way for fear of car heating up again.
2150hrs
Arrive home. Drink some water. Write this. Wash up. Go to bed.
Thursday, February 25, 2010 How to keep your wife happy
First, some background information (in the simplest terms possible). In Australia, you can "salary package" a portion of your pre-tax salary so that you only pay tax on the fraction of your salary that you don't "package". Your "packaged" salary can be used for several things including rent, credit card bills, mortgage, getting a car (including its running cost) and laptop purchase, to name a few things. In Victoria, even "food and entertainment" expenditure can be deducted from your pre-tax pay.
Yesterday, I text messaged Ridwan around lunch time to basically say oops! we forgot that we're supposed to meet up with the salary packaging lady today. And then today in the car...
ME
You know what? I got the day wrong! We're supposed to talk to the salary packaging lady today, not yesterday! She comes on Thursdays, not Wednesdays!
RIDWAN
Yeah, that's what I wrote in my organizer diary thing.
ME
Why didn't you say so?
RIDWAN
I jotted it down when you first told me. And then late last week, you said Wednesday. And you reminded me again earlier this week that it's on Wednesday... So I thought I jotted the wrong day down coz, you know...
ME
Coz... what?
RIDWAN
Coz you're always right!
ME
I'm always right?
RIDWAN
(laughing) Yeah... you're always right. I always doubt myself before I think you're wrong.
ME
Sweetheart, this is why our marriage will last a long long time.
Ridwan passed me the notebook after he was done with it and I found that he'd changed the desktop background. He didn't mention anything about it but I'm guessing right there's a black-and-white image of his dream come true. Which is the easier job - cat litter duty or diaper duty? Coz I'd like to volunteer for that one.
