Revenge Of The Cliche

State of Origin

The term, when used in isolation, usually refers to rugby league football or Australian Rules matches, in which players are selected for the Australian states or territories where they either first played (hence the name 'state of origin') or played the majority of their junior football. The concept mirrors international representative rules in other sports.

Nurse 1: Who are you going for? Blues (NSW) or maroons (QLD)?
Nurse 2: Blues
Physio: Blues of course!
Nurse 3: I'm gonna have so much champagne tonight, I'll be color blind!
Reg: Why would I sit down and watch sweaty men hug each other?
Me: (I'm going for Optimus Prime..)

State of origin?

Screw that. I wanna watch transformers.

---

And I did.

But the ending, like veggies, felt like it had to be force-fed to me.

Having said that, it did do what it was supposed to do. Senseless mechanical violence interspersed with moments of witty comedic relief.

And just when you might be getting a teeny-weeny lil bit bored of the cycle, Megan Fox happens.



Gotta love the way they ride. And I'm not talking about the bike.

Big W

ATSP re: fall ?mechanical vs neurological (known deficit R leg w a history of precipitating falls, currently for Ix)
HPC: Unwitnessed fall. Patient heard by nearby staff to have had a fall whilst enroute to toilet. Patient was found head first in a waste bin adjacent to the toilet..

If you're having difficulty grasping the concept, picture an ostrich, like so:



It was hard to hold a straight face listening to the nurse describe this story to me in rather graphic detail. Writing it in the notes whilst attempting to maintain professional decorum really wasn't any easier.

To say my first night shift was uneventful would be an absolute lie. My first ever review EVER, in my first ever night shift of my career, in only my 2nd day on the job, was this guy. This poor old man found neck deep in trash. In fact he so far in the bin that his neck got caught in the lid (it's one of those cans with a two-way flap on the front of a dome-shaped lid).

So we had to cut the bin to free him.

How did he get in there? Or, quite possibly, why? Who knows *shrugs*. I'll just give him the benefit of the doubt.

..Plan:
1) Simple analgesia
2) 4 hrly neuro obs please, and notify night MO should condition deteriorate
3) Patient to refrain from approaching waste containers unsupervised
4) Team to r/v in am

If only all my future consults would so needlessly entertain.

3 Lefts Make a Right

Orientation.

Feels like I'm at the beginning again.

I was a little surprised today. So many non-australian faces in the crowd. Obviously they were international medical graduates. There were residents, former lecturers, doctors that were already so decorated in their careers.

And then there was us: Team Do-over.

*Sigh*

At least we got there in the end.

---

The best part of the orientation (and trust me when I say it doesn't take much here) was the stuff towards the end of the clinical records talk. The first bit described medicolegal documentation in all its uninteresting and uneventful glory. Then they concluded with a list of unflattering errors, quoted from actual medical records of actual patients in actual hospitals. Actually.

I had a good laugh.

Apparently this is common knowledge too, because I found a virtually exact copy to reproduce here from the all-knowing source of the internet.

# Exam of genitalia reveals that he is circus sized.
# She stated that she had been constipated for most of her life until 1989 when she got a divorce.
# Rectal exam revealed a normal size thyroid.
# Between you and me, we ought to be able to get this lady pregnant.
# She has no rigors or chills but her husband says she was very hot in bed last night.
# Whilst in Casualty she was examined, X-rated and sent home.
# On the second day the knee was better and on the third day it had completely disappeared.
# The patient has been depressed ever since she began seeing me in 1983.
# The patient is tearful and crying constantly. She also appears to be depressed.
# Discharge status: Alive but without permission.
# Healthy-appearing, decrepit 69 year old male, mentally alert but forgetful.
# The patient has no past history of suicides.
# Patient has left his white blood cells at another hospital.
# Patient has chest pains if she lies on her left side for over a year.
# The patient refused an autopsy.
# The skin was moist and dry.
# Patient was alert and unresponsive.

And my favourite:

# Both breasts are equal and reactive to light and accommodation.

Somebody wasn't doing it right.

Unless.. solar-powered?

-_-"

It's still here?!?!

Now I'm obligated to update.

I guess I haven't had much to say of late. Really, its no exaggeration to say that nothing has happened to me in the past 6 months. Nothing of any great significance.

Except..

1) I passed my last exam in med school! I start work in a week.

2) I start work in a week.

3) I START WORK IN A WEEK!!!!!!

4) Which means I move out in a week, because I START WORK IN A WEEK!!!!! in Tamworth, which is a mere 4 hour drive north-north-west of here.

5) I have 5 months to hunt down, ambush and ensnare a "and guest" for Shubz wedding. It's only been 5 years since my last real date, so no pressure really.

And I'm an intern now. So maybe I'll have cool new intern stories to share in the near future.

But I wouldn't count on it. Not in Tamworth, a place that's apparently a hole several sizes bigger than Newcastle. Yeah, I know, I didn't think that was actually possible either. I'm not even sure I'll have any internet access in said remote country town.

But at least I'll have guitar hero, and THAT alone will make my house THE MOST HAPPENING place to be!

Although that's probably not saying much.

Never You Mind

Being at home for so long has rendered this blog nearly forgotten about. But I'm back. For now at least. I only blog when I'm ridiculously bored or utterly depressed, and it seems I have been neither of late.

Like today, I went to KL. As embarrassing as it may sound, today was one of only a handful of personal trips to the city in my entire lifetime. This of course doesn't include the times I'm merely sending someone somewhere there.

Because today seemed to be the day of firsts, I had my first taste of Spanish food too. Apparently 'tapas' means 'really pricey food served in really small portions'. And Paella is like the fried rice you can get at SS2, except devoid of MSG and approximately nine (9!!!) times more expensive. I might as well have EATEN the money I spent tonight; maybe I wouldn't be nearly as hungry as I am now (digging through a snack plate and a Zinger meal as I type).

Things started to look up as we headed out to Luna Bar. 33 floors up. Chairs, lounges, sofas surrounding the hotel swimming pool, overlooking a brilliantly lit half of the twin towers rising into the night sky. And some annoying club-like music in the background that threatened to detract from the ambiance. But still the good company more than made up for it :)

A beer and a few cocktails later (including a Flaming Lamborghini, which turned out to be as interesting a show as it was a drink), we headed back to the Grand Millenium. Any hotel with a lobby big enough to get lost in is worth 5 stars, and this was one of them. I would've crashed in the sofa, but I sobered up enough to head off home and spare my friends from having to sleep through my snoring.

Then I stopped by KFC, and I here I am, chomping on cheesy wedges.

In the comfort of my own home.

Listening to John Mayer before I go to bed.

In Your Atmosphere

I don't think I'm gonna go to LA anymore
I don't think I'm gonna go to LA anymore
I don't know what it's like to land
And not race to your door
I don't think I'm gonna go to LA anymore

I don't think I'm gonna go to LA anymore
I'm not sure that I ever really could
Hold on to your hotel key
of your bedroom neighborhood
We're sleep walkin' in Hollywood

I'm gonna steer clear
I burn up in your atmosphere
I'm gonna steer clear
Cause I'd die if I saw you
I'd die if I didn't see you there
So I don't think I'm gonna go to LA anymore

I don't think I'm gonna go to LA anymore
I get lost on the boulevard at night
Without your voice to tell me
'I love you, take a right'
The ten and the two is the loneliest sight

I'm gonna steer clear
I burn up in your atmosphere
I'm gonna steer clear
Cause I'd die if I saw you
I'd die if I didn't see you
I'm gonna steer clear, oh yeah
I burn up in your atmosphere
I'm gonna steer clear
Cause I'd die if I saw you
I'd die if I didn't see you there
See you there

I think I'm gonna stay, gonna stay...
All the street lights say nevermind, nevermind
All the canyon lines say nevermind
Sunset says we see this all the time
Nevermind, never you mind..

- John Mayer

Misfortune Fetters the Foolish

I have a bad habit of always being too late.

Sometimes, I get lucky. All I have to deal with is the unnecessary pressure from the ordeal, and I come away with a story to tell.

Sometimes, I don't get lucky. I end up with consequences that I may live to regret for an indefinite period of time. Sometimes ever.

Today I struck out. Such is fate. The difference between glory and crap hinges in all but a moment. Surely I couldn't have been more than a minute too late to catch that ridiculously punctual bus. A minute sooner, and I'd be blogging from Singapore by now. A minute later, and I wouldn't have had to suffer the agony of watching helplessly as my ride south drifted away into the distance.

Consequences: A few years of my life lost to the stress of sitting on the edge of my seat as my sister and I chased down a bus that probably wasn't going to wait for me, whilst keeping to the local speed limit. And RM 90.

But it's not about the money. Okay maybe it should be a bit about the money.. but the point is that it reflects so badly on my life of late. The theme of most all my recent experiences are about missing opportunity. Always within sight, but out of reach.

This is stupid. Things aren't how they're supposed to be. When I'm home, everything's meant to be perfect. Something's different this time. Something's missing.

..

Shut up, me. I'll fix this. I always do.

First things first though. There will be no repeat of chasing buses today. I make my own luck, and my own coffee. No doubt my caffeine overdose will carry me through, as I wait on the first bus outta here.

..

*looks left*

Only a couple of hours now..

*looks right*

Dontsleepdontsleepdontsleepdontsleepdontsleepdontsleepdontsleep dontsleepdontsleepdontsleepdontsleepdontsleepdontsleepdontsleep dontsleepdontsleepdontsleepdontsleepdontsleepdontsleepdontsleep..

Breakfast of Champions

Cheese-on-toast and Bailey's^® with Milk.

Because we all need to start our day with a decent challenge to our liver function. A half glass of Irish creamy, chocolatey 17% is currently in favour, partly because its the only thing around here that's remotely alcoholic, but also because the taste is just class. I suppose I could do better/stronger/less wimpy, but remember this is merely breakfast: substitution for stronger spirits runs the risk of ending your day before it even begins.

And don't get me started on cheese-on-toast. It's probably been over a decade, and I can still write books worth in tribute to its splendour.

Awesome and simple. Just like my breakfast. Just like my last ever official holiday. And I'm (Dutch Lady Full Cream) milking it for all its worth.

Where are you, drinking people? I'm still waiting on getting plastered..

EDIT: I'm milking the holiday, and not the.. Dutch.. Lady..