Every Lousy Horror Movie Has A Sequel


The good Lord has been kind, and has proved once again that He reads my blog.

Not only have I been transferred to a relatively calm town in Peninsular Malaysia, I’ve been placed in the Radiology Department. It may not be histopathology, which is my pet passion, but it’s certainly a branch of medicine I like very much: Diagnostics.

All in all, 2016 was pretty damn decent to me. A good job with normal hours, excellent colleagues and a nice house. All those things I bitched and moaned about in my last post? It’s like a 180 degree spin with rainbows and sunshine thrown into the mix.

I get sufficient sleep, I can dress up pretty for work and I enjoy my work thoroughly. I wouldn’t say I hated housemanship, but there were days when I thought to myself, “Ah…fuck. Work.” Such days are etched into my memory, and it’s good because I appreciate every moment of where I am in my life currently.

My hair, you ask? Let’s just say we can’t have it all, yeah?

These are far too many words used to say that I’m back to regular blogging.


Things I Have Lost

The ability to come up with better blog titles is definitely one of them, as you can see.

It’s taken me longer than the average person, but after slightly more than 3 years, I’m done with being a house officer.

In the past three years, I feel like I’ve pretty much lost everything that makes me who I am, but there are a few things I’ve lost that make me go, ” why did I have to go and like medicine so much?”

Here’s the few:

1.Proper sleep

Since I began working, I can count the number of times I’ve slept without dreaming about work, or without waking up in the middle of the night, thinking that I’ve forgotten to do something at work or that I’m late for work.

The only times I have proper (i.e. dreamless) sleep is when I’m exhausted or have recruited the assistance of alcohol or Tramadol.

2. The ability to wear high heels

I love shoes, because no matter how many tubs of ice cream I gobble up or slices of pizza I inhale, feet don’t get fat. And legs look pretty damn nice in heels.

Along comes housemanship, where your tasks include being every single staff member of the ward and my 3 inch yellow espadrille heels with the cute bow on top will NOT cut it as sensible footwear. As a result, most of my days are spent in flats or even worse, black Bata school shoes. This bad habit of wearing shitty looking shoes has encroached into my life and now I’m never fully dressed. Fuck you, Sia, the smile doesn’t help when you’re wearing a gorgeous floral dress and brown flats.

3. A sense of style

It starts with shoes. Then it moves up. I start my morning by thinking about all the work that I potentially have to do in a day. That by itself usually eliminates skirts (no one wants to commence CPR in a skirt, trust me.) So, trousers it is. Everything else doesn’t matter because we have our white coats on anyway. By the end of my final rotation, my wardrobe consisted of stretchable trousers (no need to iron) and anything that fit.

I’m not saying that I used to be some super stylish chick who was at the helm of the fashion train, but at least I didn’t feel embarrassed about my clothes when taking pictures. These days, I look so bad that friends choose not to tag me in pictures out of the kindness of their hearts.

4. Hair

So. Much. Hair. Gone.

I’m sorry. This one’s too painful to talk about.

5. Life outside work.

My phone is flooded with pictures of x-rays, wounds and patient details. All my conversations are about cases, jobs to carry out and the like. My messages to my mum only consist of, “I reached work already” and ” leaving work now.”

The occasional invitations to go out just to chill and relax are met with, “Nah la, it’s ok. I work double shift tomorrow.” or ” No, I don’t have a full off day this weekend.”


I don’t expect these things to all return to me once I start life as a medical officer, but I hope whatever force that’s keeping them away from me allows visits.


Missing Out?

I blame Ed Sheeran for this. I blame age. I blame being alone for so long. But mostly, I blame Ed Sheeran.

I’ve never been in a relationship. Not many people believe this, I don’t know why. Some think it’s because I don’t want to be in one. Yeah, sure. I can’t even eat lunch alone in public. Not being in a relationship is TOTALLY my choice.

It’s never bothered me much. Until recently. Lately, I’ve noticed that I’ve been thinking about it a lot.

I’ve been thinking about how nice it would be to have someone to turn to when I feel extreme emotions, instead of telling myself, “God, I need to find time to write in my diary.”

Ugh. I sound so sappy.

In short, I sorta kinda maybe want something like this:

Damn Ed Sheeran.

There’s No La Senza In Kota Kinabalu

It’s a new chapter. Sort of, anyway. I’ll keep it simple: I’ve moved back to Kuala Lumpur to complete my housemanship. We need not go into the details of how I did it, but I did.

So, here I am. Trying not to look at the rest of my friends on the verge of completing when I’m not even halfway there. Telling myself that all my decisions and everything that has happened is for a reason. Praying that everything will fall into place.

It has to. Otherwise, I’m fucked.


Just Spit It Out

I’ve been meaning to do this for ages. The way I’ve been putting it off, you’d think it was some epic post, but it’s just a list of randoms.

  1. I’ve been working in Sabah for a year. I’m only in my second posting out of six. Judging by the rate I’m going, my friends will become specialists by the time I’m done with housemanship.
  2. There’s too much going on in my head at the moment. I want to sort it all out, preferably before the new year begins, but there’s something stopping me. I believe it’s me.
  3. I need friends who aren’t doctors. I love my job, but I want to hear sentences that don’t start with, “So I had this patient..” or “I was in the ward today…” or “There was this guy who presented with…”
  4. After being around for 28 years, you’d think I’d be able to value time. Apparently not.

No Time For Sophomore Slumps

I learned 2 things this year.

1) God reads my blog

2) He doesn’t understand English so well.

When I said, “three-month extension, here I come!” in my blog post, I was KIDDING. Not only did I get extended, it was for FIVE MONTHS.

Most of my friends are in their third posting, and I’m just beginning my second.

I’ll admit, a bulk of my extension was my fault. A big part of me decided that I wasn’t cut out for Sabah and I attempted to get my ass back to Kuala Lumpur. I won’t bore you with the details, especially since it didn’t work, but all this trying to get out of KK was definitely a contributor to my long stay in the surgical department.

I’ve finally been released from the shackles of Surgery and I’m now in the Paediatrics department. It’s too soon to say if I like it or not, but I’ll tell you this much: I’m going to do whatever I can to be done in the 16 weeks I’ve been given.

“Sixteen Candles” Moment

I was informed by a good friend that pictures with him in them were not included in my last post. I know I said there’d be a Part Two, but I can’t believe I bollocked the post up like that.

( I also didn’t know I had friends who still read the blog.)

So, to the guy who would abandon a movie with friends for a massage, this one’s all special for you.

The Only Guy I Knew In Moscow With Dental Floss.

The Only Guy I Knew In Moscow With Dental Floss.



I’ve been in Sabah for almost six months now. Being away from what I’m used to makes me think about all that I’ve had and all that I miss. Words won’t do much for this post.

1. My family

The Elders

The Elders

The Young 'Uns

The Young ‘Uns

Aunties & Uncles Pt1

Aunties & Uncles Pt1


Even More Family

Even More Family

Possibly The Noisiest Family Member

Possibly The Noisiest Family Member

There’s more, trust me.

2. My friends


Special Girls

Special Girls


SONY DSCWithout these people, Moscow would have been a 7-year long drag. It’s so easy to think of any of them and smile. Or swear.

3. Moscow

Arbat Street

Arbat Street

The Moscow Metro

The Moscow Metro



Winter- The Longest Season

Winter- The Longest Season

There’s so much more about Moscow I miss, but the laptop’s on the verge of going nuts.

Trust me, there will be a Part Two to this. Probably with more words.

Balancing Between The Clutch And Sanity

Sabah has made me do what every person I’ve known since college has wanted me to do: get a driving license.

I know it got on nerves whenever I said, “I can go anywhere the LRT goes. I have no transport.” The truth was, the transport existed. I just didn’t know how to use it.

Some of you may know this, but for those of you who don’t, here’s the thing: I went for driving lessons back in 2003, right after my 18th birthday. I was down to my final lesson and I decided to stop. It was a stupid, bratty thing to do but I couldn’t take my instructor. The man was always getting on my case and yelling. I wasn’t a bad driver, that much I knew, so why was he yelling so much? I was entertaining thoughts of suddenly hitting the brakes whilst going downhill just because I knew he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. Imagine that.

As I said, stupid and bratty. And really childish.

I wasn’t really interested in driving either. It was something I was asked to do so that I wouldn’t have to waste time doing it later (heh.)

So, for the past ten years I relied on my mum, my kind friends (one of which ALWAYS bitched about paying for the Penchala Link toll) and public transport. I didn’t find it troublesome. I’m sure everyone else did but that’s a different story.

Then came the appointment letter that sent me to Sabah. Anyone who had ever lived or been to Sabah told me to get my license before starting work, that I would definitely need it. Did I? Of course not. I’m nothing if not in denial about something or the other.

Jump to Kota Kinabalu. Car-less, license-less and completely stuck. No mum to drive me around, insane taxi fares (if you can get a taxi) and 2 hospitals to work in. I knew I was fucked.

It was clear that I had to get my license and quick. Thankfully, the number of hours one needs to spend on less are a bit of a joke so if you’re determined, a couple of weeks are enough to legally raise hell on the streets.

I was determined but arranging for lessons on days off, pre- and post-night shifts were tricky. I ended up taking 6 weeks to complete everything. Do you know what the biggest joke was? My lady instructor this time was even more of a pain in the ass than my first instructor! I was actually missing him!

At least he didn’t keep comparing me to other students, didn’t keep telling me I was weak and didn’t say that he doubted I was ready for the exam. More importantly, he taught me how do drive a car in places like Cheras at 5pm.

This sow disguised as a woman kept making fun of other students who were learning, probably (very likely) complained about how awful a driver I was, gave me confusing instructions and encouraged me to daydream about doing serious damage to her face. The only thing that stopped me from actual physical harm was my empathy for those working in A&E. No one likes a new admission.

I had a pre-exam evaluation and the actual exam. Both times I felt more relaxed with the examiners than I ever did with my instructor. I wanted to laugh when I realised that I’d much rather sit for 5 pre-exam evaluations than spend 2 hours in a car with that woman.

(okay, this is getting draggy.)

Long story short, she taught me how pass the exam. And pass the exam I did.


My Ticket To A Life In Sabah

My Ticket To A Life In Sabah


Like Scrubs, But It’s Not.

It’s not glamorous and exciting. There’s no baby plopping out at the main entrance of the hospital or quick romps in the linen room. Then again, if those were my examples of glamorous and exciting, I shouldn’t be left in charge of the adjectives department.

My typical day at work consists of me asking people about their bodily functions and writing about it. If said functions involve producing fluids, that’s a fair amount of time spent on the details. Colour, odour, volume, consistency, frequency and all those other things you need to know to put you off having breakfast. From time to time, I’m brave enough to prescribe drugs. Brave like Courage The Cowardly Dog, that is.

But I’m not complaining. I like going to work. I still loathe waking up early, but I’m comforted by the fact that some of my friends are dog-tired, taking blood samples from grumpy patients while I’m still contemplating hitting the ‘snooze’ button.

I enjoy seeing patients every day, I love seeing them get better and I’m thrilled when they get discharged. That last bit is partly for a selfish reason, though; I’m happy that they’re fit enough to leave and lessen my workload.

One downside of working in a hospital is the wave of germs that hit you when you first start working. Some of them really do a royal flush on your immune system. I fell victim to an upper respiratory tract infection, which was beautifully diagnosed as acute tonsillitis. We’ll ignore the fact that I’ve not had tonsils for the past 21 years. My silver lining comes in the form of the fear of developing pneumonia. I was so afraid that I decided to fuck everything and take amoxicillin. Some of you may not know this, but I have an impressive list of drug allergies. I nearly died taking aspirin and penicillin was a pretty cruel bastard to me too. You can imagine how reluctant I was to take the meds.

Now that I’m almost done with my course of antibiotics, I’m pleased to announce that there IS a drug I’m not allergic to! There’s hope for me yet.

Next post: My attempt at juggling work and driving lessons. I predict a big crash.