SMS

A very old friend got in touch after disappearing for good long years. Apparently, he found me through Friendster and has been reading my blog. I feel sorry for him already.

This blog is where I come to vent my anger. I have to admit when I started it, I was going through an angry phase. I didn't know back then what I was angry about; I was just angry. But a recent bitching session with Amal finally shed light on the whole thing, which came as a surprise for me. It's not very often these things happen to me.

It was like click! and everything fell into place.

It came as a shock to me when I realized I was failing my parents because all my life I believed I wasn't doing too badly. I know a few of my friends are going through some problems with their parents as well. It's amazing that when you decide to listen to other people's problems, you realize you're not alone. Not that I want to start caring about my friends -_-

I envy those who have good communication and support from their family. More so if they don't seem to realize it and take their family for granted. Fucking idiots.

On the other hand, my first clinical firm for this year is about to start. I'm hoping it to be very distracting. I've had enough free days. I'm ready for work again.

POSITIVE

I have just finished a two-week course on sexual health (or rather GUM) and I'm done with all the gonorrhoea and syphilis; and all the BVs and TVs in the world. I'd like all the images to go away and leave me in peace until the end-of-year exam.

When you're taking out 7 books on sexual health and STDs from the library, the last thing you want is for the cheeky librarian behind the counter to say, "You've got all the interesting books here." I didn't need that.

The other day, the school managed to arrange for a HIV positive patient to come in and talk to the class. He was a black Muslim; gaunt and reserved looking. The first glance tells one that this man had gone through a lot.

He spoke about being diagnosed with NHL and HIV at the same time about 8 years ago. He told us about his anger towards his GP because a year prior to his diagnosis, he'd been in and out of the surgery countless times. He told us about how his family supported him from day one of the diagnosis.

He stuttered nervously when asked about how he could've gotten the viral infection. He never used drugs. He kept a pretty clean lifestyle. Then he admitted to having unsafe sex in the past. He was angry about it. Maybe angry at himself as well.

When he presented, his CD4 count was 21, his VL >900,000. His NHL was stage 4. Naturally, they thought he would never make it. Now his CD4 count is 240 and VL is undetectable. He had never missed a dose since 2001. He had changed his life. He used to see the world as a dark place closing in on him. But he loved his life now.

Since he was diagnosed positive, he'd read up a lot of literature on HIV/AIDS and felt he could challenge any doctor on the knowledge. He was very literate and articulate. These patients who know what they want, and know when they're not getting the very best that they deserve, they're the good patients. Never the troublemakers they're sometimes thought to be because they do half the job a doctor is supposed to.

When asked why he was brave enough to come talk to us, unafraid of the stigma and revealing to a whole bunch of strangers his HIV status and history, he said he just wanted to be useful. Like a candle that burns itself out to give light to the surrounding.

He ended by giving an advice to the roomful of future doctors. Always listen to the patient. Sometimes, that's all that the patient needs.

I think some of us came out of the session feeling jealous of this man.

LIKE

I have to say I kinda like this. It's boring but nice.

COFFEE

According to my friend, Starbucks has come out with a new drink. I have spent half of my free time stopping myself from rushing to the nearest Starbucks and ordering one. Coffee... The caffeine-craving monster in me is really trying to claw its way out, drooling and whimpering pathetically. After 4 weeks without coffee, that monster is quickly becoming a sissy.

Two years ago, I didn't believe in the power of coffee. I loved the smell of it but hated the bitter taste it left in my mouth. Plus I never really needed it.

But somehow my friends managed to convince me to give coffee another try. I did and fell in love with the stupid drink. Apparently I was doing it all wrong before that. Black coffee - blearghhh. Full cream milk and sugar - ding ding ding that's the way to go.

Thus I became a regular drug user. My relationship with coffee is a good one. Coffee is my friend in the morning, it's always there and always reliable. But like most of my friends, I don't really use coffee to stay up at night, fuck medical school and medical exams. By evening, my body is too tired to resist my bed, no matter how many cups of coffee I drown myself in. The only real thing that can make me stay up is called last minute panic. What is adrenaline but the best drug ever.

Every holiday, I stop drinking coffee. The first three days without coffee will turn me into a completely useless zombie. The headache will start in the morning until late at night. I will only have 2-3 hours free of headache before I have to go to bed and wait for the next cycle. On the fourth day, the headache will magically disappear and I will find myself free of caffeine craving. Bright sun will no longer annoy me, I can ignore the construction noises outside my window, life will be restored to normal.

Ehh I know the withdrawal doesn't sound good but it doesn't leave me shivering, hallucinating and puking. Now, those are nasty.

I'm a little bit scared to try RedBull...