Mixed spices of a few days

There is one advantage living in a four-season country that possesses this amazing knack to switch weathers on the double- you won’t run out of topics for a blog entry. We had a cold day yesterday- a sudden change from the day before, though the sun has decided to spread some love this morning. It’s still cold though, a fact contributed by the ever swift gust of wind outside. Plus we haven’t had hot water in hostel for days now. The call for patience cannot be more aptly placed at this point in time, what with Ramadhan and all... At least people don’t hog the bathrooms that much! Hah.

Last Friday, whilst we were whiling the time away during our practical hours for Surgery, an old nurse came to me with the kind smile she always wore whenever we bumped into one another. She then suddenly asked (in Russian, of course), “Why are you wearing black headscarf? Why don’t you wear another colour, like your friend there?” She then uttered a Russian word- something like ‘gorye’, which didn’t sound like it had a very nice meaning so I determinedly shook my head no. “I simply like this colour”. Well, it’s true. The lady nodded and smiled, adding that she thought I was *insert gorye word and the likes* and simply asked. Back in my room, I suspiciously scrounged the word in the dictionary and found the answer- ‘grief’, ‘mourn’. Oh right.

But I wore khaki pants!

Well. Later that day, we were fortunate to witness an operation (our third in this class) where the patient had a trauma of the leg and subsequently a thrombosis in the popliteal artery- we went in late but managed to observe the surgeon performing anastomosis to repair the artery.

People these days no longer pose me this question, “Your parents suruh jadi doctor ye?” Instead, they ask, “Nak specialise apa nanti?” and my response would always be almost non-committal, ‘hehehe’-ing around and mutter, “Not sure la, see first”. Truth be told, I want to become a surgeon. The reason I don’t say it out loud- especially not in front of relatives- is that I would only be sadistically laughed at. Why, jokes have been made time and again on how I would like, leave scissors or gauze or whatever inside my patient’s body cavity if ever I become a surgeon. Which is rather funny and well, rather justified too (haha), but I still want to become a surgeon. Something about this discipline simply caught my eye in ways I cannot plainly spell out- perhaps it lies in the challenge; perhaps the seemingly sheer simplicity of the practice (according to some, “belah badan, korek2, buang ni, taruk tu, jahit”) yet its complex exigency for precision; perhaps the steadfastness in the doctors’ eyes that I had observed as they worked wonders with their fingers - I think I’ll risk trying to become a surgeon. And it’s not because I watch too much of Gray’s Anatomy, I promise.


Eating sushi the other day at Soko Maru (sesiapa nak tolong translate, silakan...)


The first time I tried chocolate-rice-coated sushi stuffed with fruits, drenched in strawberry syrup. Fab!

ps: pictures courtesy of Fatin's camera.