Various Things

OK, so the weirdest thing just happened. Apparently Suji, the Canadian elective student who's here with me was trying to take a photo of the hospital and ended up getting chased by the hospital guards (who, by the by, carry guns). She just came in here, visibly shaken and crying. How absolutely bizarre. I mean, I guess they would have misinterpreted what she was doing as a security risk, but it seems rather callous of them. Suddenly I feel a lot less happy to be here. Things like that just end up increasing your sense of alienation.

So, in Sri Lanka, there is often overcrowding in hospitals, and patients end up with no bed, either on the floor or in chairs. A couple of days ago, a man who was in the "local ICU" (like a Coronary Care Unit, but in the ward itself) who had had a heart attack was moved to one of the beds in the ward, thus replacing a patient with valve disease. A loud argument erupted between the two patients when this happened, the man who was losing his bed accusing the other man of deliberately taking his bed and being ungrateful.

I now also understand why they have male and female wards. It's because rather than having rooms of 2-4 patients, basically the whole ward is open, with many beds and pretty much zero privacy. There are also mosquito nets above each bed, to prevent the spread of diseases such as dengue and malaria.

It seems like my trip to Colombo might be a bit of a waste, since I won't be able to meet up with at least 3 of the people I was planning to catch up with. Stupid New Years' weekend.

I miss sushi. I I miss videogames. I miss my mum. I miss videogames. I, I, I miss my mum. (If you didn't get the reference, all I can say is, "maybe when you're older").

Good Day.

"God it's been a lovely day
Everything's been going my way
I took out the trash today and
I'm on FIRE...

...so you don't wanna hear about my good day?"

I can't get that song out of my head! Well, the whole Dresden Dolls CD in general. It's on repeat in my head, thus replacing Cake's "Haze of Love" and The Killers with "All the things that I've done" and "Love song for a girl" by Diana Ah Naid. Sometimes I get slightly creeped out when I have a series of songs in my head like that... is my head trying to tell me something?

And in other news, I'm having a good day, and I'M ON FIRE! Wow. So, ever since I worked out that I should just follow this particular registrar, who is, by the way, an excellent teacher, suddenly my life improved. I got to see some pretty interesting stuff again today and learn things. Then I went off to a lecture on Polyneuropathy (grrr... now I remember why I hate neuro so much) and got an invitation from one of the Anaesthetists to get taught intubation and spinal blocks and other kick ass things! I feel a lot less useless and overwhelmed now, which is good.

Given that I started my day with "I don't want to go to school"-itis (stomachache subtype), I'm quite happy with the way that this has all turned out.

Let me just make it clear that in my last post, I was referring to a phenomenon which only affects a minority of people- there aren't that many people who are weird and hostile about the foreign-born Sri Lankan business, it's just a few fairly loud ones more than anything. Most people are vaguely curious and very friendly.

Anyway, not much more to say. Off to Colombo this weekend. I'll try and update before that.

First day of General Medicine

I'm officially homesick. I miss my computer and my friends and drinking and good coffee and decent films and TV and the English language. So today, I'm just going to complain on here.

So, I've finally started. *sigh*. I'm feeling exhausted, and it's only lunchtime! I think I managed to join three ward rounds, during the course of which I learnt the following great lesson: Consultants make crap teachers, and registrars make good ones. For the uninitiated, consultants are specialists, and also at the top of the medical food-chain; registrars are specialists-in-training and do most of the day to day management of the ward. For whatever reason, the registrars seem to be a lot more interested in teaching and explaining and have a better grip on what sorts of things you should learn. My theory is that consultants just live in another world, really.

I suppose things will get better once there are other students around. For now, it's a bit crap because I'm the only one. I already feel very much like I'm back in the grinding mill that is my chosen profession. What does that mean? I already feel stupid, having been asked a whole lot of questions that I should know the answers to, but don't, on account of the fact that I wagged renal and neuro. It's a bit crap when you work out that proximity to your future job is inversely correlated with your self-esteem.

On the other hand, I managed to see a fair few cases of dengue fever, something I've never seen before, as well as a case of Takayasu's Arteritis, something I may never see again.

I keep getting the distinct impression of a certain amount of hostility towards foreign-born Sri Lankans here. Something along the lines of how we're all arrogant snobs with no idea of the local culture or the way in which people live. To add insult to injury, we also haven't bothered with learning Sinhalese properly, because we're "too good" for it or something. Whatever it is, it's starting to annoy me. I've heard a couple of remarks about what foreign medical students are supposedly like already, as well as managing to overhear no end of comments made by other random people in Sinhalese, a language that I can understand perfectly well. I read a review of a short story in the Sunday paper which was about how one of the characters, a foreign-trained doctor, is totally out of touch with the local culture and dehumanises the patient, who is from a remote village. I find it outrageous to assume that because I don't live here that I know nothing of the culture and have a high-and-mighty attitude. I've spent a fair chunk of time here, over many visits, I've spent a large proportion of that IN villages, and I certainly understand the culture here well, as well as being able to understand Sinhalese. To be perfectly honest, I've met many people from Colombo who have far less knowledge of the true state of this country and its people than I do. Hypocrites.

We (my uncle, aunt, cousin and I) went up to Nuwara Eliya on Sunday with Iresha, one of my second cousins. My 9-year old cousin, Sasika, kept trying to bully me the entire time. Heh. It was a fairly good trip. Nuwara Eliya is at a bit of an altitude, so is about 10 degrees cooler than Colombo. As a result, all of the European-type vegetables and plants are grown there, and it is full of pines and other coniferous trees. We went to a stuffy establishment for lunch, of the kind that is mostly frequented by rich tourists and rich people from Colombo. An oppressive silence hung in the air, as thick as a velvet curtain and just as old-fashioned (to use a Dire Assassin-ism). Our (whispered) conversation went a little like this:

Me: Are we allowed to talk in here?
Iresha: I have no idea!! It's so quiet!
Me: I'm too scared to use my voice.
Iresha: Maybe we should whisper?
Random tourists on the other table giggle

Some woman also asked my relatives if I was Indian. Then we stole some cacti. The trip to Nuwara Eliya, one way, was 3.5 hours or so, despite it being only 80km from Kandy. As a result, we were exhausted by the time we returned home.

I've been alternately hot, tired and ridiculously hungry since getting here. I keep going to bed at 10pm, exhausted. I'm clearly not used to 8-hour sleep times.

I'm going to buy myself a calling card today.

A Life Less Ordinary

How do I explain how Sri Lanka is alive in a way that Australia is not? Perhaps it's just the crowding, the heat, the chaos. Whatever it is, there is life everywhere, the streets are packed and busy, there is culture all around you, all the time. Cobblers on the pavement, fixing shoes, street vendors selling guavas and mangos at the top of their voices, three-wheelers (tuk-tuks) winding in and out of traffic, rickety buses squashed with people. The heat. Random goats, cows, dogs, cats and chickens. Blue kingfishers and other tropical birds. Hordes of crows picking at piles of decaying rubbish. Bus conductors calling out their bus destinations: "Akurana akurana! Katugastota! Akurana!".

We saw a water purification plant and came up with many ways to dispose of people. There were the "rapids of death waterfall manhole", the "mustard gas chamber", the "skirt-eating fan of doom" and the "sludge bucket". We hope to return some day to commit many a murder, some of which may be featured on such British shows as "Saturday night murders", "A murder too far", "Murder, a drink with jam and bread" and "the sound of murder". I can't believe this, but due to my unoriginality that entire paragraph will be reproduced on Snipergirl. Anyway, what was I saying? Sri Lankan plants are dangerous!

I am no longer sleeping in the same room as my grandmother who sleep-shouts. This is very good, as now I can actually get some decent uninterrupted sleep. In fact last night I was very happy to receive all of a sound 9 hours or so. While I had some odd dream featuring pretty Malaysian girls kissing each other and woke up feeling groggy as usual, the effects of my increased sleep is profound. I can string sentences together again!

We have also determined that the worst thing that could ever happen is going through Labour Colour Oedema Anaesthesia Theatre at the Centre for Paediatrics (OK, so maybe I went overboard with the Brytysh speeling, but really what I meant was labour, as in the pregnancy, not as in the work or the politics. Isn't it a shame that you didn't end up at the Women's Hospital, you ended up at the CHILDREN'S?!?!?!), while you're passing a kidney stone. Then, suddenly, you get a 3rd degree perineal tear. Then you get pyelonephritis (kidney infection). Then you have an asthma attack. So your obstetrician decides you're better off if you have a caesarian, making all that pain and suffering a bit, well, redundant. Then they shatter your kidney stone with ultrasound at the same time (this is the only happy part of this story). After all of that, you manage to get an amniotic fluid embolism, which manages to give you disseminated intravascular coagulation (DIC or basically having so many tiny little clots EVERYWHERE that you can just bleed to death). Then you die of strokes. The end.

"Thilini just said that it is ok to make fun of dead people ie if this actually happened to someone...she is going straight to hell in a handbasket!!!!!!!!!!!"

Clearly I have been having too much fun. Till next time!

I PASSED!

I passed med!! In fact I got an H3!! A middling H3, not just a scrape-through H3!! And I got depressed, had bad stuff happen to me and took 5 weeks off class no less!!

THIRD CLASS HONOURS WITHOUT EVEN TRYING! W00T!!

The Girl and the Small Umbrella

Kandy, the old capital during the days of the last Sri Lankan Kings, is a small city in the High Country (it is inland and at a higher altitude- as a result it is also much cooler, temperature-wise). It has old, narrow streets and buildings dating from colonial and pre-colonial times. The roads are thick with chaotic traffic. The slightly worn buildings are faced with busy, narrow shopfronts that sell all manner of goods- jewellery, watches, clothing, electronics, toys, food. It almost seems to be from another decade- the busy streets, the men in short-sleeved shirts and black trousers, the women in long flowing skirts and short fitted blouses.

Today it rained, fat raindrops pounding the city and turning me (dressed, once more, in my overcoat as it is rather cold these days) sodden. Pedestrians streamed past one another on the pavements, determined, carrying an assortment of umbrellas, and occasionally straying out onto the road in order to cross. I made my way hurriedly, bent over in the rain, to the umbrella shop. It was congested with customers, unsurprisingly. I pushed my way to the counter and perused the merchandise. There were no small, conservative, black umbrellas of the sort I was seeking; no. The plain ones were large men's umbrellas, and the small ones were ornamental and feminine.

One of the small umbrellas caught my eye- it was silky black with a red centre and patterned with small flowers. Opened up, it was bright, bold. Though perhaps a little garish, it seemed almost like it should be mine. I thought I would peruse the other umbrellas further. I came back empty handed. By this point another woman had "my" umbrella in hand and was deciding between it and a more drab greenish and somewhat old-fashioned one. To her, I feel, disadvantage, she ended up choosing the other umbrella, and handed me "my" umbrella with a smile. I bought it, and walked out, with this odd umbrella, quite happy.

I'm not sure what drew me to this umbrella. Its colouring perhaps? I have always been a fan of black and red. Or perhaps the ring of flowers that somehow reminded me of cherry blossoms, or maybe it was the small ornamental handle, in a delicate shade of blue-green. Whatever it is, it was an umbrella that stood out, even among the many designs and patterns of Kandy City. It was, oddly enough, very me. Even though it was this delicate, flowery piece. It was me.

What else? Some guy who seemed either sleazy or dodgy directed me to a cobbler and did not leave while my shoe was being mended. Wanker. I caught yet another packed bus from the chaotic bus-stop near the clocktower to the University. The crowding makes the bus smell intensely of stale sweat. Even on a cool, rainy day such as this one.

At the university, I discovered a building that was almost exactly the building from one of my dreams. It even overlooked rooves in the same way. The only thing it lacked were the abandoned dormitory rooms and cracked, mouldy bathrooms. The ELTU building (English Language Tuition Unit I think?) of the Medical Faculty. It was this very intense feeling of recognition- though I have never been to that part of the University. A similar thing happened to me when I went to the Flinders Street/Wellington Parade end of the Fitzroy Gardens. Odd.

Need to go and pick up my white coat from the tailor.

Till next time!

A hectic few days...

What can I say, it's been an interesting time. We had the almsgiving for my grandfather's 3 month funeral anniversary. While this may seem a little inappropriate, I have to comment that I managed to fail hopelessly at my allotted task of helping out as a close relative. My mother's cousins' daughters were, however, ruthlessly efficient machines when it came to preparing the ceremony. They packaged, served and prepared with professional zeal. Whenever I volunteered my services they had "already finished" or I was more hindrance than help. It disappoints me also that I have forgotten a lot of the traditional ritual-type stuff. I had to be corrected several times on my actions. I feel a bit hopeless, really.

It was not a particularly solemn ceremony (though, nor was it celebratory in mood). On the night beforehand, many relatives (but not all) arrived. Several monks chanted Buddhist scripture in Pali (an ancient language), we took the five precepts and one of the monks gave a sermon. From what little I could gather, it seemed to be partially about the dangers of materialism and pop culture, which seemed particularly inappropriate as my grandfather was 91 and quite obviously not interested in hip-hop, metal or the like. He was also fairly verbose- I prefer my monks pithy, and with more interesting philosophical points. After the monks left, we had dinner.

The next day, all of the relatives who were attending arrived. Most of my mother's cousins and their families were present (as well as closer relatives) and even 2 representatives from my father's family came. Preparations were continuing in earnest. There was a short recitation of scripture, we took the 5 precepts once more, and the most senior monk spoke a little about my grandfather and his life. After they had been served and offered their meals, there was a small ritual that is done whenever a death is marked. A small vessel was placed on a plate. All of the close relatives- my uncles, aunts, cousins, grandmother and myself- slowly poured water into this vessel, as the monk chanted. The water trickled and filled the vessel, slowly, until finally it overflowed onto the plate. In a way I suppose one can think of life as being similar to this- it fills slowly, and as you age, tension within your body and soul rise until finally there is that spilling over. Death.

We ate afterwards. I spoke with many of my relatives- many of whom I could not remember save recognising their faces. To be fair, I have only met most of my mother's cousins on possibly 2 or 3 other occasions in recent memory- at my cousin Pubudini's wedding, and at my grandfather's 90th birthday.

I also met one of the neighbours of the uncle (Punchi Mama = mother's younger brother) who I am staying with. He was a doctor. And boy was he the slightest bit of a wanker. He asked me how many distinctions I had.
"Well, seeing how they only allocate 4 of these per year in our year level of 250, I would say... none."
Heh. That felt good. Well, kind of. People have been telling me all week about how I should be planning my specialisation right now. I tell them, usually, though in less coarse language, that I can't be arsed right now. Honestly, my love for medicine is at some kind of dire abyssal nadir (dig those words, man). Pubudini asked me what my plans were, and I said something along the lines of working for a couple of years, trying to finish writing 2 novels and then travelling. And suddenly, as simple as that, I knew it was true.

I have been feeling a nice feeling of contentment, rightness and peace since of late. A feeling of elation, and joy of living. It is the way that I have been feeling for much of the year, but that I had abruptly lost somewhere in the mid-year. I thought that this sublime feeling of grace and simple happiness was lost to me, and this depressed me further. And yet. It has crept up on me once more. An ability to see the good in the world and to sense what is true and right. Taoists would explain this as living "the Way", and I would perfectly agree with this. It feels right to be where I am, doing what I am doing right now, being who I am.

I "began" my elective today. There was much rushing around, trying to find various departments. After obtaining a letter and my temporary student ID we finally found our way to the Consultant Physician. She was seeing patients in the most overcrowded out-patients I have ever seen in my life. People had barely a space to sit amongst the throng. There must have been a good 200 people in there. I finally got a chance to speak to her. Unsurprisingly, I was shafted to Community Medicine, as this is the holidays for the clinical students. Community Medicine really is "HP [health practice] in Sri Lanka". We're with the 3rd year kids, who are pre-clinical. I've met the other elective student here, who is from Canada. She seems pretty cool. Apparently this elective is slack as, because of the non-teaching period (and also because Community Health is really mornings-only). I anticipate many days spent down in Kandy sipping a latte (if I can find one). So. Community Medicine for a week, then General Medicine for the other 3 weeks. Right. Hopefully I'll get to see some cool stuff when the other students are back (in 2 weeks).

I have free internet access! I'm sitting in the medical faculty computer room (or "e-library"). In socks. Very quietly. Because not only do we need to remove our shoes for some bizarre reason, but we are also not allowed to make any noise. Just now we got sent a warning because the Canadian girl and I were being too loud. It's a bloody computer lab for crying out loud! Honestly! Interestingly, the University of Peradeniya has possibly the only dedicated broadband line in Kandy, through the Engineering Faculty. Everyone else uses dial-up. I was convinced that broadband would be accessible for free at the University, but no-one else believed me. Oh well. It pays to be proven right.

So, evidently my life has gotten fairly interesting, possibly to get more boring very soon. I hope I'll be able to find more books to read in the meantime- Nietzsche can be a bit heavy for 8 in the morning.

Made It!

So, here I am in Kandy. It's very humid, as it's the rainy season, and rather cool. I am even wearing a long-sleeved top! I arrived yesterday after 23 hours of straight travel, very very tired.

I had to wait a good long while in the check-in queue in Sydney- International Check-in may as well be a code-phrase for "most tedious and inefficient process on earth". On the flight up, on Singapore Airlines, I sat next to a gentleman of voluminous girth and a rather creepy touchy South African couple. I was hemmed in between bulk and inappropriate affection. I watched "The Edukators", which, thankfully, had a happy ending (I was in some sort of a mood- don't ask).

I managed to sleep rather soundly for 4 hours. I have discovered the most comfortable way in which to sleep in an airline seat in economy (this requires 2 cushions): One must first recline the seat back fully, then place the first pillow in the small of your back, with the other pillow slightly to one side beneath your head so that you can wedge yourself against the armrest and snooze comfortably. Singapore Airlines has great entertainment too- I had my last listen of "All the things that I've done" and "Everyday I love you less and less" on the flight up. I then had just enough time to dash off an email in Singapore before boarding my Sri Lankan Airlines flight to Colombo.

Sri Lankan airlines usually provides good food and service, however this time I was disappointed by surly attendants and mock Chinese food. Where was the curry? I have NO idea. I sat next to some total weirdos on the flight. They obviously did not use deodorant, and had brought on board two food parcels for themselves. Fair enough, perhaps they assumed there was no meal provided. However, even after an airline hostess pointed out there was a meal provided shortly after take-off, they continued to gorge themselves, eating with their hands. On an international flight. For crying out loud, this isn't Virgin Blue! Then as we were landing, instead of handing in their headsets, they surreptiously turned up the volume on them and hung them up on the tray tables. The air hostess had to yank it off. Twice.

It was an overcast day as we cruised over the tops of hordes of coconut trees and landed at Katunayake. Was met at the airport by Loku Mama (Sinhala for Uncle- meaning either your mother's older brother or father's older sister's husband). We chatted about politics and various other topics on the way up. Those Australians among you will be amused to know that he wanted to know about the Sydney riots. Felt rather ill on the way up and had to purchase some antacids, a month's supply of ranitidine (suppresses acid production in the stomach) and an asthma "preventer" inhaler. The inhaler was the killer, costing a cool AU$8. Everything else was so cheap that I'm tempted to stock up on them here.

I'm feeling very overwhelmed by everything right now. As my grandfather's 3 month anniversary of death is tomorrow, many of our relatives have gathered for the almsgiving ceremony to mark it. It is a big, complicated event, and everyone is rushing around. I feel at very much a loose end, and though I have offered my help, I feel that I have been more of a hindrance than a help, and that I help best by staying out of their way, which is rather depressing. My grandfather's death still has not really sunk in, even though we were once very close. I am not certain why.

I have already had a question about whether I have a boyfriend. Oh no. It makes me really quite tempted to marry someone in name only, just to satisfy everyone. Or just tell them I'm not thinking about it till I turn 30.

I start on Monday... I'm slightly afraid...

Sydney!

Today is the first day of my travels. I flew to Sydney this morning, sleep-deprived and groggy, lugging a suitcase with only one wheel and filled with books and clothes. I left Melbourne in a mad rush, after a week of partying, drinking, friends, sex, confusion and other delights...

I slept on the Skybus, in the gate lounge and in the plane. My father met me on the train and brought me to our new house, now fully occupied. It is a large one, and the rooms hide away from each other despite their closeness... My new room is larger (thankfully) and has the computer within it.

It is good to be back. I feel Melbourne slowly slip away from me...

Prologue...

On my summer holidays I went to London and America. I watched lots of surgery and I went out lots and I had so much fun and did so much shopping and like, TOTALLY MAXxXed my credit cards! I learnt everything there was to learn about Oncology and Microsurgery and came back a better medical student for it...

The End.

Or did I?