Respite

I'm off for the next few days, and I must say that I'm really looking forward to not doing anything at all. No plans to survey the unknown, no plans to discover distant lands. Just good old-fashioned, lazing-on-the-couch, time spent away from work. I shall put the time to good use with regards to snoozing, meeting up with friends and catching up on my movies, starting with the second part of Che in a couple of days with my movie buddy.

I think I need this time away from work, as I've been increasingly annoyed and pissed off with the various forms of disorganisation that I've been subject to. And when you start feeling underappreciated and feel like biting the head off the next person who says something stupid, you know it's time to go on a little break.

Tak marah, bengang je...

Most people, including myself, tend to think of me as being the patient sort of guy. But I must confess that I am in danger of losing this persona. But how can one not get annoyed when one is forced to deal with the following circumstances on the same day?

Scenario 1: Patient is cyanosed. Oxygen mask not placed on patient because it was handed over that ‘patient has vomited once and shouldn’t be placed on any oxygen’.

Scenario 2: I walk along the corridor, minding my own business. Nurse runs up to me and says something along the lines of ‘Helmy, I know this is not your patient but can you please help out? She’s not doing very well’. I walk into the room and do what’s needed. I look up after a couple of minutes and realise that the nurse is missing. After sorting the patient out with a couple of other doctors, I asked around to find out where the nurse went to.

Turns out she was on her break.

Scenario 3: A document that was ‘despatched as a matter of urgency’ 3 weeks ago has yet to be despatched.

Scenario 4: Nurse calls up and says 'don't worry about the patient, the D-dimer is only 100+'. Nurse calls up 6 hours later and says 'oh, I actually meant 1000+'. (I blame myself for this though, as I almost keep reminding myself to never trust results given to me verbally).

And this is just 4 of a few incidences that have pissed me off this week. And can you blame me? I am not the most intelligent person on the planet, and I don’t expect people around me to be members of MENSA. But is it too much to ask for sensible decisions to be made and a certain level of quality and logic in one's behaviour?

How can I not get irritated if I am forced to deal with fucking incompetent fools or a nurse who is more interested in taking time out to stuff her face than sorting out an ill patient?

Arrghh!!!

Inhale. Exhale.

Sigh...

The Perak state government is in chaos, after 4 Pakatan Rakyat peeps decided to either jump onto the BN bandwagon or become independent representatives ‘who are friendly with BN’ (whatever that is supposed to mean).

Back when Mr Anwar Ibrahim said that he was going to create a new federal government with the help of party-hopping BN MPs, I stated that I do not condone such behaviour for various ethical and practical reasons. Now that the Perak Pakatan coalition has tasted its own medicine (which was prescribed, but never really given), it is almost amusing to watch them howl in protest, with Anwar leading the charge by saying that BN is just intent on forming a state government ‘by hook or crook’.

Pot? Kettle?

Oh, and the so-called supporters of greater intervention by the Sultans? Now they’re crying foul when the Sultan decides against their wishes.

I can why Najib might have orchestrated this move to give himself a boost prior to the UMNO AGM, but this merely highlights the fact that the government (and the opposition) is placing too much emphasis on internal political manoeuvrings that might be both unwanted by the rakyat, and detrimental to proper governance.

I suppose we’ll just have to sit back and wait for the day when these politicians decide to stop the bickering, and actually start to govern. It’s not like as if we’ve got the worst economic crisis in a generation or anything like that, do we?

Patients/Patience

Having managed to elude the feeling of being burdened by one’s work throughout the month of January, I have hopped into the beginning of my night shift with a rather clear head only to be confronted by a steady stream of individuals who would put any of Chekhov’s characters to shame.

One of the blessings/curse of my job is that you come across a spectrum of misery that serves to test the limits of both the human mind and body. It is not uncommon to see health professionals occasionally succumb to the demands that are made of them; not just from the physical exertion of work, but perhaps more importantly and more exhaustingly, from the mental fatigue that plagues a person when he/she is expected to empathise with every facet of a patient’s existence.

You can only do this to a certain extent though, as the repercussions of being drawn into this world misery and discontent without exercising just restrain is inevitably severe. I tend to do this quite well; in fact I have the ability of viewing my cases dispassionately and completely abstain myself from being too involved in one way or another.

In a way it’s a defence mechanism, as I see no benefit in being sucked into a downward spiral that bears no fruitful outcome. In another way though, it is not surprising to feel disillusioned when one deals with an unfortunate number of miscreants who live a capitalist lifestyle, but have come to both rely and misuse a socialist health system - especially when their grasp of the resources poured into their care and of the lack of similar facilities elsewhere throughout the world is feeble, to say the least.

It is easy to empathise and feel sad for those who have undoubtedly been cursed by the frailty of the human condition – the husband whose body is riddled by cancer, with his wife of 50 years stoically standing by his side; or the child who will never know the love of the father whose life was tragically cut short by a wayward car. It is not terribly easy to sympathise with those at the other end though – the alcoholics, the wife-beaters or the junkies who use the hospital beds as a stop point between each trip to la-la-land.

But ethics demand that we treat each individual with respect, that we perform our duties with no prejudice with regards to not only religion and colour of skin, but perhaps more importantly to his/her way of life. After all, who am I to judge how someone decides to validate his/her existence?

So I plough through my cases. I bite back my curses, I blink away my tears. I immerse myself in my patients and embrace the chaos of disease during the pitifully few minutes that I spend with them. And I count myself lucky as unlike my patients, I am able to step away from the disease and sleep soundly at night.