Silence is not always golden.
If there's one thing that kills me a little.....
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Sadness
It's been one of those weeks.
My left gum's been acting up since monday. The fleshy bit just beyond my last molar where my wisdom tooth used to live.
Initially I didn't pay it much heed since I remembered I'd had my wisdoms extracted in NS. But there was an odd little bony prominence underlying the swelling which puzzled me, and I was reminded how I'd only had three wisdom teeth extracted previously because - according to the NS dental specialist - I only had three to extract.
As the week wore annoyingly on I somehow, for some reason became increasingly convinced that my mysteriously missing fourth wisdom tooth had appeared, and that the prominence I could feel was the corner of said tooth.
On thursday night my gum swelled quite dramatically. I found myself pressing instinctively on it - it hurt like hell, but it seemed to force the swelling down a little, although I felt rather feverish afterwards and my throat began to hurt. I also had a rather odd taste in the side of my mouth everytime I pressed, which I passed off as some form of sensory short circuit in my posterior tongue, or perhaps it was just the taste of my finger. My faltering medical mind decided that I had somehow managed to press away all the oedema.
On friday morning I was exhausted from all the pain, and although the swelling had subsided somewhat and the pain was less acute I sought help from a dentist. I'd meant to visit the dentist before work. Unfortunately it transpired that my shift wasn't 12 to 8 as I had imagined (why?!? why did I do that????) but eight to five.
NDC wasn't an option since they don't do walk-ins, and turning up to beg for help from a colleague just didn't seem right. And I only know a couple of them - what chance they would be around.
I arrived at my family dentist at eight only to discover that he was closed for a couple of days.
I briefly considered NUS but the thought of joining an A&E queue was far too daunting.
So I hopped into a taxi to head for Queenstown. That's when my phone rang and the bombshell dropped - I was already on shift. And the other guys were waiting for me to show up.
I felt - quite naturally - terrible. I rang back to offer to go back to work, and visit the dentist after work, but by then the damage was done. My consultant waved me away, having already recalled another MO to cover my absence and bade me sort out my tooth.
There are two dentists in Queenstown.
One doesn't put up his opening hours, and apparently opens late in the morning.
The other has his opening hours proudly displayed as 9.00 am.
Which has been crossed out in OHP marker and amended to 9.30 am.
9.30 am found me sitting on my bag (where I'd been the entire hour) reading my stupid surgical textbook. The receptionist showed up and told me that the sign may say 9.30 am, but doctor doesn't come in so early! He only comes at ten and probably won't be able to fit you in without an appointment! But nevermind, you wait.
So I waited. And wished I was a dentist.
Fortunately he did see me after all thanks to the first patient of the day being tardy.
Initially he thought I had a dental abscess, but after prodding it he thoughtfully said "hmm, it's bone" (which I'd told him...) and decided it was an unerupted wisdom tooth.
Much to our joint surprise, the OPG showed that I no longer had any wisdom teeth at all.
His final diagnosis was that it was a taurus - some form of bony spur - present in 5% of the population, and that my gum had become infected through minor trauma inflicted whilst eating, and now it was symptomatic and required surgical removal. One day MC, no painkillers (I guess that's what I get for being a doctor - the assumption that my bedside table is stocked with free goodies) and no antibiotics. (Because, he said, he wanted to start them after the operation on monday.)
I felt quite the fraud, to be honest. My pain was minimal, and the swelling mostly resolved. I wondered if the whole thing would settle down for good by sunday.
I've grown to dislike workig in A&E. I used to love it. In Singapore I dread going to work.
The largest part of it is how most - approximately eight out of ten - patients don't speak English.
Struggling through histories with my half-past six mandarin is screamingly frustrating, especially since the patients invariably say "huh?" the first time I ask them anything, neccessitating mindless repetition and doubling each consultation time.
There are other reasons work at A&E is driving me insane. I'll save them for a later post, suffice to say I have now been marked as a "bad" MO for slackness and insubordination, which try as I might, I can only dredge up three potential scenarios in which I disagreed with senior decisions but, in two cases bowed to seniority, and in the third rang a specialist colleague to confirm the proper course of action. Oh and the now-famous incident of the MO who Ate Outside the Department. Nevermind that I was three minutes away and completely ignorant of the ban, thanks to reservist committments obliterating my first week on the job. Once a sinner, always a sinner eh.
Yesterday evening my gum ballooned again. The pain was excruciating, so naturally my body told me to press on it again. I had the presence of mind to spit up this time and found that the nasty taste I'd been having in my mouth on pressing on my gum was actually pus.
Disgusting. A gingival abscess.
Cathartic too - the bacteremia I produced everytime I squashed on my gum must have been causing the fever, and the sore throat and lymphatic swelling. And hence the reduction in swelling after I pressed each time.
I'd been feeling a bit bad about the MC I was about to take post-procedure, since I'm told by T my peridontal friend that in essence I'm having another wisdom tooth op, only instead of having a tooth extracted I'm having a bone filed down, and be prepared to suffer for a week and be on MC flat on my back in pain at home.
I'd meant to take three days out of the seven, but after my little "warning" yesterday evening for my perceived transgressions, coupled with sheer exhaustion of working through this stupid toothache, I find myself rather looking forward to this little respite.
Bitter? Me?
It must be the fever.
Wait till I start ranting about all the things in A&E that have driving me nuts... and the said cases of insubordination that I just have to bear silently at work as my cross - the lowly MO who Spoke Out of Turn. Sigh.
My left gum's been acting up since monday. The fleshy bit just beyond my last molar where my wisdom tooth used to live.
Initially I didn't pay it much heed since I remembered I'd had my wisdoms extracted in NS. But there was an odd little bony prominence underlying the swelling which puzzled me, and I was reminded how I'd only had three wisdom teeth extracted previously because - according to the NS dental specialist - I only had three to extract.
As the week wore annoyingly on I somehow, for some reason became increasingly convinced that my mysteriously missing fourth wisdom tooth had appeared, and that the prominence I could feel was the corner of said tooth.
On thursday night my gum swelled quite dramatically. I found myself pressing instinctively on it - it hurt like hell, but it seemed to force the swelling down a little, although I felt rather feverish afterwards and my throat began to hurt. I also had a rather odd taste in the side of my mouth everytime I pressed, which I passed off as some form of sensory short circuit in my posterior tongue, or perhaps it was just the taste of my finger. My faltering medical mind decided that I had somehow managed to press away all the oedema.
On friday morning I was exhausted from all the pain, and although the swelling had subsided somewhat and the pain was less acute I sought help from a dentist. I'd meant to visit the dentist before work. Unfortunately it transpired that my shift wasn't 12 to 8 as I had imagined (why?!? why did I do that????) but eight to five.
NDC wasn't an option since they don't do walk-ins, and turning up to beg for help from a colleague just didn't seem right. And I only know a couple of them - what chance they would be around.
I arrived at my family dentist at eight only to discover that he was closed for a couple of days.
I briefly considered NUS but the thought of joining an A&E queue was far too daunting.
So I hopped into a taxi to head for Queenstown. That's when my phone rang and the bombshell dropped - I was already on shift. And the other guys were waiting for me to show up.
I felt - quite naturally - terrible. I rang back to offer to go back to work, and visit the dentist after work, but by then the damage was done. My consultant waved me away, having already recalled another MO to cover my absence and bade me sort out my tooth.
There are two dentists in Queenstown.
One doesn't put up his opening hours, and apparently opens late in the morning.
The other has his opening hours proudly displayed as 9.00 am.
Which has been crossed out in OHP marker and amended to 9.30 am.
9.30 am found me sitting on my bag (where I'd been the entire hour) reading my stupid surgical textbook. The receptionist showed up and told me that the sign may say 9.30 am, but doctor doesn't come in so early! He only comes at ten and probably won't be able to fit you in without an appointment! But nevermind, you wait.
So I waited. And wished I was a dentist.
Fortunately he did see me after all thanks to the first patient of the day being tardy.
Initially he thought I had a dental abscess, but after prodding it he thoughtfully said "hmm, it's bone" (which I'd told him...) and decided it was an unerupted wisdom tooth.
Much to our joint surprise, the OPG showed that I no longer had any wisdom teeth at all.
His final diagnosis was that it was a taurus - some form of bony spur - present in 5% of the population, and that my gum had become infected through minor trauma inflicted whilst eating, and now it was symptomatic and required surgical removal. One day MC, no painkillers (I guess that's what I get for being a doctor - the assumption that my bedside table is stocked with free goodies) and no antibiotics. (Because, he said, he wanted to start them after the operation on monday.)
I felt quite the fraud, to be honest. My pain was minimal, and the swelling mostly resolved. I wondered if the whole thing would settle down for good by sunday.
I've grown to dislike workig in A&E. I used to love it. In Singapore I dread going to work.
The largest part of it is how most - approximately eight out of ten - patients don't speak English.
Struggling through histories with my half-past six mandarin is screamingly frustrating, especially since the patients invariably say "huh?" the first time I ask them anything, neccessitating mindless repetition and doubling each consultation time.
There are other reasons work at A&E is driving me insane. I'll save them for a later post, suffice to say I have now been marked as a "bad" MO for slackness and insubordination, which try as I might, I can only dredge up three potential scenarios in which I disagreed with senior decisions but, in two cases bowed to seniority, and in the third rang a specialist colleague to confirm the proper course of action. Oh and the now-famous incident of the MO who Ate Outside the Department. Nevermind that I was three minutes away and completely ignorant of the ban, thanks to reservist committments obliterating my first week on the job. Once a sinner, always a sinner eh.
Yesterday evening my gum ballooned again. The pain was excruciating, so naturally my body told me to press on it again. I had the presence of mind to spit up this time and found that the nasty taste I'd been having in my mouth on pressing on my gum was actually pus.
Disgusting. A gingival abscess.
Cathartic too - the bacteremia I produced everytime I squashed on my gum must have been causing the fever, and the sore throat and lymphatic swelling. And hence the reduction in swelling after I pressed each time.
I'd been feeling a bit bad about the MC I was about to take post-procedure, since I'm told by T my peridontal friend that in essence I'm having another wisdom tooth op, only instead of having a tooth extracted I'm having a bone filed down, and be prepared to suffer for a week and be on MC flat on my back in pain at home.
I'd meant to take three days out of the seven, but after my little "warning" yesterday evening for my perceived transgressions, coupled with sheer exhaustion of working through this stupid toothache, I find myself rather looking forward to this little respite.
Bitter? Me?
It must be the fever.
Wait till I start ranting about all the things in A&E that have driving me nuts... and the said cases of insubordination that I just have to bear silently at work as my cross - the lowly MO who Spoke Out of Turn. Sigh.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Actually, Love
Two days ago, M (the nurse) MSN messaged me .
It's been a long while since we've conversed, and I wondered what she needed now, or what new crisis had cropped up to trigger this occurrence.
That's the nature of our "friendship" - if you can call it even that. I see her clearly now for what she is, a "user". Cynical, cynical me.
And I wonder what on earth I ever saw in her. Rusty - you were right, if you ever read this. Good old' rusty, agony aunt and celebrity friend all in one.
Somehow, in between long pauses while I surfed the web on ways to get X-com 3 to work on windows XP, and she doubtlessly continued getting chatted up by a million guys (such is the fate of pretty young females; I am resigned to it. Even my Other Half , the Peddler indulges in it, methinks...) the topic got round to my exams. After it had wandered around her wanting to go on holiday, and how scary it is for a girl to travel alone like she has been doing, because, boohoo, all sorts of angmoh strangers try to get to know her and ask her to go to their rooms, or ask to go to hers... tough life, pat pat. you poor dear...
"So when u going for exams, will it be in the UK?"
I wonder when the hammer is going to fall.
"I was thinking of tagging along..."
Ah.
Blink.
Subtle.
After a pause, I reply rather deliberately - if I was going to bring someone with me, it would be my other half... (and by implication, not you.)
I guess she doesn't know about the other half - thats how infrequently she messages me, and I never bother to initiate conversations with her. Just maintain a civil front; it would be rude to block her from MSN, no?
A longer pause this time.
She doesn't begin by asking about the other half, oh no. No niceties here.
"then I shouldn't come along ba, wouldn't want your gf to get the wrong idea..."
WTF is this? IS SHE FOR REAL?
Let me weigh my options. I think I am supposed to say no, come along, come along, here I pay for you? Or... perhaps I'm supposed to write that I'll take her and not my other half, and have a sordid sex holiday with her, since she's offering. Oh, oh. I know, I'll ask her to come along in secret, and bonk her when the other half's back is turned!
Wow. Incredible, I can actually make out the thought processes she's banking on my Y chromosome to lead me down.
Roll eyes.
"no. you shouldn't. I don't want my gf to get the wrong idea."
Unspoken : I love her. And she's 800... no, eight million times the woman you will never be, trapped in your juvenile teenagehood as you are. I would never do anything to jeapordize what I have with her. Run along now and find some fool to manipulate - I shall not be that fool.
M finally asks me about the other half -- not what she looks like, or even what she's like as a person, oh no. It's all about what she does and how we met.
I tell her repeatedly that I can't tell her, and she demands to know why I'm being secretive - at first she assumes I'm bound to silence, and says it's usually because the girl has someone else. And when she realises I'M the one who won't talk she badgers me incessantly, rather inconveniencing my web browsing.
I tell her to stop asking.
(Unspoken : I can't tell you because I don't want any harm to come to her, or her job. And I can't tell you even this, because then you'll seek out the answers more.)
In the end I tell her that I have to go and study, goodbye.
Some time later, she messages me "I realli miss the old times when we could talk freely about anything"
I think back... how long ago was that? Two years? Two and a half? During the time we were just getting to know each other? And how long did that last? A week?
I don't miss those times. I know who you are now, M.
*****
In the rest of this post (in time to come):
And about somethings that happened rather long ago, that resulted in the death of this blog.
And about The One - past, present, and future.
And about how time changes us.
Unfortunately, I have all of three minutes to write it. So for now, it shall remain buried in the haphazard depths of my mind.
I won't be blogging much, I don't expect. I have found peace, and I want to cherish every moment of this peace that I have been Given, and that has been shared with me. Even should I - should I be so lucky - somehow manage to keep this peace, and this remarkable person - for it is always really about a person, is it not? - by my side through this entire lifetime... I wish never to take it, and her for granted, and to cherish her, and us all our living days.
Lessons learnt from a stormy and dysfunctional past.
*****
I used to write primarily for myself, and for the latent audience of friends that knew me well. I didn't really write much for the faceless strangers that chanced by this blog, but it was gratifying, of course, to be paid compliments about the way I write.
I have lost my readership now; this blog was dead, then replaced, and now is completely unknown.
I begin anew; a clean slate. I write - for myself.
Re-minisce, remember all these words when you are older, and pray that you may still be smiling as you read them, the way you were when you wrote.
It's been a long while since we've conversed, and I wondered what she needed now, or what new crisis had cropped up to trigger this occurrence.
That's the nature of our "friendship" - if you can call it even that. I see her clearly now for what she is, a "user". Cynical, cynical me.
And I wonder what on earth I ever saw in her. Rusty - you were right, if you ever read this. Good old' rusty, agony aunt and celebrity friend all in one.
Somehow, in between long pauses while I surfed the web on ways to get X-com 3 to work on windows XP, and she doubtlessly continued getting chatted up by a million guys (such is the fate of pretty young females; I am resigned to it. Even my Other Half , the Peddler indulges in it, methinks...) the topic got round to my exams. After it had wandered around her wanting to go on holiday, and how scary it is for a girl to travel alone like she has been doing, because, boohoo, all sorts of angmoh strangers try to get to know her and ask her to go to their rooms, or ask to go to hers... tough life, pat pat. you poor dear...
"So when u going for exams, will it be in the UK?"
I wonder when the hammer is going to fall.
"I was thinking of tagging along..."
Ah.
Blink.
Subtle.
After a pause, I reply rather deliberately - if I was going to bring someone with me, it would be my other half... (and by implication, not you.)
I guess she doesn't know about the other half - thats how infrequently she messages me, and I never bother to initiate conversations with her. Just maintain a civil front; it would be rude to block her from MSN, no?
A longer pause this time.
She doesn't begin by asking about the other half, oh no. No niceties here.
"then I shouldn't come along ba, wouldn't want your gf to get the wrong idea..."
WTF is this? IS SHE FOR REAL?
Let me weigh my options. I think I am supposed to say no, come along, come along, here I pay for you? Or... perhaps I'm supposed to write that I'll take her and not my other half, and have a sordid sex holiday with her, since she's offering. Oh, oh. I know, I'll ask her to come along in secret, and bonk her when the other half's back is turned!
Wow. Incredible, I can actually make out the thought processes she's banking on my Y chromosome to lead me down.
Roll eyes.
"no. you shouldn't. I don't want my gf to get the wrong idea."
Unspoken : I love her. And she's 800... no, eight million times the woman you will never be, trapped in your juvenile teenagehood as you are. I would never do anything to jeapordize what I have with her. Run along now and find some fool to manipulate - I shall not be that fool.
M finally asks me about the other half -- not what she looks like, or even what she's like as a person, oh no. It's all about what she does and how we met.
I tell her repeatedly that I can't tell her, and she demands to know why I'm being secretive - at first she assumes I'm bound to silence, and says it's usually because the girl has someone else. And when she realises I'M the one who won't talk she badgers me incessantly, rather inconveniencing my web browsing.
I tell her to stop asking.
(Unspoken : I can't tell you because I don't want any harm to come to her, or her job. And I can't tell you even this, because then you'll seek out the answers more.)
In the end I tell her that I have to go and study, goodbye.
Some time later, she messages me "I realli miss the old times when we could talk freely about anything"
I think back... how long ago was that? Two years? Two and a half? During the time we were just getting to know each other? And how long did that last? A week?
I don't miss those times. I know who you are now, M.
*****
In the rest of this post (in time to come):
And about somethings that happened rather long ago, that resulted in the death of this blog.
And about The One - past, present, and future.
And about how time changes us.
Unfortunately, I have all of three minutes to write it. So for now, it shall remain buried in the haphazard depths of my mind.
I won't be blogging much, I don't expect. I have found peace, and I want to cherish every moment of this peace that I have been Given, and that has been shared with me. Even should I - should I be so lucky - somehow manage to keep this peace, and this remarkable person - for it is always really about a person, is it not? - by my side through this entire lifetime... I wish never to take it, and her for granted, and to cherish her, and us all our living days.
Lessons learnt from a stormy and dysfunctional past.
*****
I used to write primarily for myself, and for the latent audience of friends that knew me well. I didn't really write much for the faceless strangers that chanced by this blog, but it was gratifying, of course, to be paid compliments about the way I write.
I have lost my readership now; this blog was dead, then replaced, and now is completely unknown.
I begin anew; a clean slate. I write - for myself.
Re-minisce, remember all these words when you are older, and pray that you may still be smiling as you read them, the way you were when you wrote.
Friday, July 13, 2007
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