This was written before I started my actual work. Wouldn’t want you to think I have time for myself. Snort.
So it’s finally happened; I’m employed and working in Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Kota Kinabalu. There’s no turning back now.
Not that I want to chicken out just when things are about to get interesting and meaningful, but I’d be lying if I said that my first thought when I got my placement letter was not, “Fucktits! Appeal for KUALA LUMPUR!” It’s only natural, seeing that I’d been home for 5 months. Comfy bed, transport, meals, The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf and of course, my insane family… what’s not to love, right?
Of course, appealing to work in another hospital when I just got a place in the hospital of my choice seemed counter-productive. And while I’m not the biggest fan of religion, I strongly believe that the things that happen in life are in our best interest (cue for everyone to start their arguments on how *insert tragedy/terminal illness* is proof that my opinion is rabid bat balls.) I prayed that I’d get something that would benefit me the most in the long run, and this is what I got.
So, how’s Kota Kinabalu, you ask? I can’t tell yet, but so far I’m pretty okay with it. The people are friendly and nice, which is something I was (somwehat) deprived of for seven years in Moscow.
One major obstacle for me at the moment is the lack of a driving licence. An aborted attempt to get one in 2004 has now returned to kick me in the shin repeatedly. I feel the pain every time I have to fork out RM20 just to get to work.
This inability to drive brings me to the challenge I’m about to face: my first rotation in a hospital famous for being tough and taking driving lessons at the same time. It’s probably going to turn out the way you predict: the shit of an elephant with dysentery will hit the fan and I will be screwed.
Three-month extension, here I come!
