The story of a bastard or two

Picture this - there I am standing by the patient, chatting with the anaesthetist when the registrar comes along. He joins the conversation and unsurprisingly wonders who I am and what I was doing there. He nods and even gives some salient pointers when I tell him that I'm there to intubate the patient and then insert a central line.

Whilst I intubate, the registrar then happily gets scrubbed up and gets ready to insert the central line himself. Before you can say 'what the fuck?' he positions himself and proceeds to do the procedure that he knew I was waiting for ages to do.

Another scenario - I go along with a patient who needs a DC cardioversion, chatting with another registrar along the way. I tell him how I'm comfortable with cardioversions and I'd like to do that particular one as the patient was under my care and I'd also like to get the procedure ticked in my things-to-do list.

We arrived in the room, where the consultant lies in wait. And as duck takes to water, said registrar takes over and proceeds to cardiovert the patient, pausing to mutter later on some bullshit about how he wasn't sure if I was able to do it and how he had to be in charge as the consultant was there.

Moral of the stories? You're bound to be forced to bend over and get yourself fucked if you're too nice. I had a chat with a consultant in Carlisle a couple of months back about career progression, and his #1 advice to me was 'be more selfish'. I know why he said it and I know the rationale behind it - one of the laziest buggers I've ever worked with was described as 'a brilliant doctor and an asset to the hospital' by a consultant due to the sheer number of papers that he was able to write up during the period of time that he should've spent in the ward looking after patients.

I tend to feel nauseous when I see people brown-nosing. I've got to where I am so far without having to sink that low (despite lots of advice to do the contrary) and I hope I won't be left astern by continuing to hold true to this point of view. Doesn't stop me from feeling pissed off though.

The indescribable moments of your life

The little 7-year-old girl wandered within the carriage, armed with her picture books and box of crayons, and decided to settle down opposite a man who was alternating between acts of screwing up his eyebrows as he read his book along with the more pleasant act of vacantly staring at the passing scenery. Although her mum probably told her not to talk to strangers, she proceeded to place her chin in her hands and started chatting animatedly to him.

It took the stranger a while to realise that the little creature was talking to him, and it took him a little while longer to realise that she wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon. With an exaggerated sigh, he proceeded to close his book and lean back in his seat to listen to all the worldly wisdom that the young one possesed (whilst secretly rejoicing at the excuse of not having to read more about the kidneys).

By the time the little girl left the train and waved goodbye from the platform, the stranger had not only listened to her opinions about the different Disney princesses, but had also made use of the crayons as well as proved to himself (and the little girl) that he was hopeless at drawing. But he did enjoy her company, and the rest of the trip proved to be dull in comparison.

The stranger was on a journey to fulfill a childhood ambition; to catch a gig by a band that had provided the soundtrack to much of his teenage years. The first song by the band that he could remember listening to was the wondrously melodic Tonight Tonight, which led to the purchase of both Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness and the different but equally brilliant (if not more so) Siamese Dream. And he had collected every other album since then.

With this background in mind, the stranger camped outside the Carling Academy a good couple of hours before the doors opened. He kept himself busy by reading a little bit more, enjoying the sunshine that was previously thought to have been banished from the skies of Glasgow and chatting with fellow strangers, who ranged from the 20-year-old uni student who chatted enthusiastically about philosophy in music to the 29-year-old cardiac physiologist who chatted rather unenthusiastically about echocardiography.

As the doors opened, he purchased a couple of inflatedly priced t-shirts, and the stranger made his way onto the floor and happily parked himself approx 5m from the stage. The opening act was a forgettable blur, especially since they had not even bothered to introduce themselves. But the 2500 individuals (the lads mostly clad in black t-shirt emblazoned with ZERO with the fairer sex in tartan mini-skirts) who packed the inside of the crumbly-looking theatre weren't too bothered and patiently stared and chanted at the rather congested-looking stage for the arrival of the Smashing Pumpkins.

Rapturous applause and piercing cries greeted the arrival of Billy Corgan, Jimmy Chamberlain, Ginger Reyes and Jeff Schroeder (purist might decry the lack of Iha and D'Arcy, but one should remember that the recording of Siamese Dream was essentially Corgan and Chamberlain). And the enthusiasm did not wane for the next 180mins which included songs from the entire spectrum of albums as well as a few layan-diri sessions of haunting guitar riffs and a couple of encores.

The advantage of having a perfectionist/OCD-ish lead singer is that you're pretty much guaranteed a good show. And one was able to tell that Billy was continuously testing the quality of the sound that was emanating from the stage, which did not go unappreciated by the crowd. Although he did not indulge in much bantering, the non-verbal interaction with the crowd was amazing - punctuated by scenes such as the crowd singing the entire first verse of Today by themselves and by Billy coming down to thank the fans at the very end.

The stranger was always of the opinion that the Pumpkins were particularly exceptional because they kept redefining themselves by daring to be the different and continously challenging the status quo; whether by ignoring the sounds of grunge at the heyday of the Seattle music scene or by embracing electronica and making people go 'what the...?'. But their strength has always been the ability to flaunt and bounce comfortably from dreamy ballads to hard-rock epics that feature multi-layered guitars with blasts of power chords and feedbacks. And Chamberlain's drums of course.

And so the stranger was able to enjoy the searing vocals, the seamless intermeshing of guitars and the powerfully hypnotising, how-could-he-not-crack-his-cymbals drums. How does one pick a highlight? The classics, bringing with them memories of times past, were there - 1979, Zero, Bullet with Butterfly Wings - along with other well-loved tracks such as Hummer and Luna, and a good portion of the latest album, Zeitgest. If anything, the stranger wished there were more songs from Adore and Machina, but there was only so much time.

The stranger did take a few pics and video clips in the beginning, but had pocketed his trusty little phone about halfway through as he was intent on totally embracing the atmosphere. So he shouted and sang until his voice was hoarse, head-banged until his neck was sore and generally got himself lost in the music whilst intermittently grinning with the rest of his cohorts from the sheer joy of the experience.

Ticket price? 60 quid. Transportation costs? 50 quid. The experience? Priceless.

Twirl

Having watched yet another blockbuster during this summer of blockbusters, I felt the need to jot down my list of favs of the year, which is obviously based on movies that I've actually watched.

1. Transformers
2. The Bourne Ultimatum
3. The Simpsons
4. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix/ Die Hard 4
6. Oceans' 13
7. Fantastic Four : Rise of the Silver Surfer

Spider-man 3, Shrek 3 and Pirates of the Caribbean 3 can be lumped under the 'disappointing' category. Moral of the story? Trilogies ain't always the way to go. Unless you're adapting a Ludlum or Puzo novel I guess. Methinks Ratatouille might sneak onto the list at some point.

Trailer of the year has got to go to J J Abrams' magnificent mind-fuck. Still can't figure out what it's meant to be.

On a separate note, I've fallen in love (again) with Tori Amos' Siren. Try listening to it - it's one of those songs that just makes you want to close your eyes, get high and dance like nobody's watching.

Happy Birthday!

The past week has seen the coming and going of a number of birthdays of friends who're rather close to me. So without much further ado, here's a big shout out to Elly, Karin, CT, Reem and Wai Keong. May you all have a wonderful year ahead and be able to maintain the illusion of being forever 21. Yes, even you WK.

Hasbara

My reg and I were having a little chat about the current geopolitical situation and the rather apathetic response that society seems to have in general. Just as watching torture-porn seems to dampen one's response to violence in movies, the daily bombardment of military, political or economic mismanagements seem to affect us the way a mosquito annoys us. An annoying buzz that can be flicked away, or crushed into non-existence. Then you don't think any more of it; for the moment you're happy to sit back and placate yourself in the monotonous existence that is your life until one day you're bedridden as a result of the epidemic, and your brain kicks into gear to realise that there's a whole shitload of them out there that needs to be seen to.

The problem is, a choice of inaction because 'it doesn't affect me' is all too pervasive. And then there are the apologists, individuals who argue that things can't possibly be any better so you might as well tag along with the system and make the best of it. I'm guessing they're thinking more of lining their own pockets as opposed to Liebniz's best of all possible worlds.

It is on this background that I applaud the current movement by a number of prominent local bloggers to galvanise movement and action towards encouraging the powers that be to be more transparent and accountable for their actions. I remember mentioning to a friend that any talk about Malaysia being guided by Islamic values should first and foremost be led by more transparency in the actions of its leaders and my friend simply laughed and shook his head sadly at my naivety and explained how that won't be happening in our lifetime.

And sure enough, we have a rather predictable reaction that would make Goebbels proud. Anything contrary to official versions of events is deemed blasphemous or perpetuated by enemies of the state. We receive broadcasts showcasing celebrations of our 50th anniversary whilst ignoring the simmering underscore of discontent that is brewing as a result of our midlife crisis. The economy is 'doing well' despite the rising inflation and supporters of the current administration keep telling me to 'wait and see as there are many projects being developed'. The fact that we're scoring lower on almost every worthwhile social and economic indicator seems to be lost on them.

The issue of a young Malaysian student 'mocking' the national anthem by rapping his discontent has also been taken out of hand and used as a smokescreen for other more pertinent issues. I don't agree with his actions, but the young lad has apologised. Instead the minister (who believes himself to be the intellectual superior of all and sundry) insists that he should be persecuted as he has given our country a negative image in the eyes of the international community.

Naturally, he has forgotten about a few issues such as the deplorable behaviour of our MPs in parliament who've indulged in racist and sexist comments without being ostracized, the Klang politician who built a mansion without a permit with millions of ringgit of dubious origin but was let off as he 'made a mistake', the debacle of the Klang free trade zone that has resulted in the loss of billions of ringgit and was dropped by Dubai businessman as there was 'too much red tape and corruption', the allegations of abuse and factions within the royal police force by our very own former Inspector-General, the collapse of Proton, the naming of our PM in the oils-for-food scandal by the UN and the labelling of our country as one that closes an eye to the hideous crime of human trafficking by the US government. These obviously do not affect the standing of our country in international eyes.

All the above were/are being shoved underneath the carpet or resulted in a flat-out denial by the spin doctors. None of the above has resulted in any prosecuted individuals - and yet they want to hunt down this young chap to make an example of him. The fact that he's chinese and sang about ethnic inequalities probably rang a few more alarm bells. In this, I think the propaganda machine has actually erred as by pursuing the issue, they've managed to turn it into a rallying cry as opposed to allowing it to die a slow death.

Rallying cries are good though - although the majority of the population are still lacking in adequate access to the information super highway, at least a fair minority is made more aware of the discrepancies that are paramount to highlighting the flaws that need to be set right. And that'll lead to either greater awareness or things will just die down again and we'll all be back to our ambivalent lives.

You can tell I'm the optimistic sort.

Sensory overload

I have been rather fortunate to be able to indulge in a little artistic appreciation lately. It started with yet another visit to the acoustically-magnificent-if-slightly-weird-looking The Sage sometime last month for a performance by Wynton Marsalis and his band from the Lincoln Jazz Centre with my usual partner-in-crime, Jo.

I don’t get to watch jazz performances that often, but I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to catch someone who’s regarded by many as the best jazz musician of this generation. The hype was there – multiple Grammy awards for both jazz and classical performances, along with the fact that he’s the only Jazz musician to have been awarded the Pulitzer prize for music.

The only thing that I was wary about was the atmosphere – in my mind, jazz should be performed in an intimate setting, not a concert hall. But kudos to the man – his interaction with the audience and his amazing performance (not to mention those of the rest of the band), along with the acoustics that allowed you to hear every scratch of the drumsticks made us feel that we were closed-in within a jazz bar.

The band played a number of Duke Ellington’s pieces (Marsalis is notorious for being a traditionalist who shuns more modern jazz pieces, except his own of course) and introduced us to concept of train sounds in jazz, which I had hitherto not realised. The second half was filled with his own compositions, which were notably influenced by the various subject matters that he brought to our attention. And we decided to finish the night and enjoy the rare occurrence of beautiful weather by randomly snapping pics of the quayside.

Second bit involved me going up to Edin this past weekend to experience the ambiance of The Fringe with my ol buddy Radzi. The first night was a case of walking around aimlessly and enjoying the sights and sounds that were on offer. I had wanted to catch one of my favourite comedians, Frankie Boyle, but unfortunately his show was sold out so we chose 4 other shows to watch instead the next day, none of which disappointed.

Our afternoon had a rather oriental twist to it – we had Japanese food for lunch followed by our first show, called Legend of the Sword. It was posed as a play with rather amusing manga-istic tendencies, but really it was a showcase of wonderfully choreographed samurai sword-fighting (by the folks who brought us Kill Bill apparently) that was performed to the background of amazing (and I mean AMAZING) Taiko drums. The hot samurai-sword-wielding Japanese chick in a white suit helped as well.

The second show was rather slapstick in nature – I had my reservations, but the rather endearing Japanese duo that made up Gamarjobat had Radzi and me laughing so much that we had tears in our eyes. It was all done via a mixture of mime and sketches, and once again, it was the wonderful interaction with the crowd that made all the difference.

Fuerzabruta was probably one of the weirdest shit I’ve ever seen, but also one of the most amazing spectacles I have bore witness to. When I read that the creators of Fuerzabruta described it as ‘Fuerzabruta doesn’t have a purpose, it just is’ I thought we were heading for a rather pretentious and over-hyped show.

But it is very difficult to explain the show in words, as words can’t possibly portray the experience of being there. All your senses are assaulted – and it starts off by the audience being led into a darkened room bathed with gentle red light and left to ponder on what’s coming next. Suddenly, a guy in a white suit enters the arena, walking on a gigantic threadmill. He starts running...until he’s at full pace, before he suddenly gets shot in the chest and I find myself covered with his ‘blood’. This leads on to more wondrous performances – e.g. girls running along the side of the walls in the guise of fairies and performers (reminiscent of the nymphs of mythology) swimming and splashing playfully above us before coming down just low enough for us to touch them through the clear plastic. Even the sound of surf on the beach and the pitter-patter of rain plays their role. Oh, and somewhere in the middle, we find ourselves in the middle of a huge rave. My favourite bit involves a man and a woman clinging onto what can only be described as a ship’s sail, spinning and whirling around before it all comes down. Go to the website, it's definitely worth checking out.

What did it try to portray? I thought there was a bit of existentialism involved, Radzi thought it was to do with hedonistic pursuits. According to the creators, it’s anything you want it to be. Can’t really make up my mind, and to be honest, I haven’t really put much thought into it and don’t particularly care at the moment. Just enjoyed the spectacle of it all – the sheer brilliance of the person who not only thought of the concept but made it reality as well as the talents and commitment of the performers involved (e.g. falling smack on your face). I’m quite grateful that the video shots of the n95 is of DVD quality. Unfortunately, the fact that I’m on dial-up has prevented me from uploading them.

After pigging out on some spicy steamboat, we headed for our last show of the day – a stand-up by Rick Shapiro. This was more adult in nature, with jokes about the current American political climate to incest to why God must be a women (she made the testicles easily accessible – and hence easy to kick – but made the clitoris difficult to find). Not to everyone’s taste, but enjoyable nonetheless. The only downside was probably the fact that some of the jokes would’ve made more sense to a more Americanised audience.

Chilling with Radzi was great as usual, and this time round we even indulged in a little of Castro’s finest. Next stop will be Glasgow next week for a performance by a jazz drummer turned rockstar, along with his bald friend and a couple of new friends. And after Pumpkins, I might just get some work done.

Boro

It's been a week since I've started my cardiology rotation in the James Cook University Hospital. I'd like to say that the reason I haven't written anything in my blog is because I've been busy moving my things or that I've been hard at work. The main reason is simply because I've been lazy. That, plus the fact that I've been degraded to using dial-up for my internet connection with no end to this predicament in the near future. Took me a good half hour to download a Red Jumpsuit Apparatus song just now. After which I decided to call it quits.

With the exception for the medieval internet connection and the lack of a telly, things have been pretty ok despite the still-chaotic circumstances of specialist training. The flat's cleaned up and tidy, the department's at the management forefront, the colleagues are amiable enough, the nurses are wonderfully more than competent and I haven't been told off by a consultant yet. Although my lack of knowledge of cardiology-related research findings did bring about a sad shake of the head by one of them.

I haven't been to the wards yet though, as things might be different there. Will be based on CCU 'till tomorrow; this is usually a rather boring place to be but it's a different kettle of fish in a 14-bed tertiary admitting centre. Geeked out earlier today when I admitted a patient with a wonderfully (for me, not her) palpable murmur and when I saw my first diabetic retinopathy through an opthalmoscope. Can't remember ever getting this excited during those long months in O&G.