The pressure is on

Baking for 2 demanding housemates is hard enough. Especially when one bakes better than you do and is proud of it.

However, all that pales in comparison to the task I've just set myself.

See, in order to thank our GP whom we've been working with for the past year, I decided, against my better judgement, to bake this for him. And this coming from a guy who can't make bread pudding to save his life.

Twice baked biscuits. Not too hard-sounding, but it took what seemed a mountain of sugar, twice as much flour and more butter than we'd eat in a month. And Tesco raspberries.

With that much invested in this, I'd be to blame if things didn't go according to plan. Thankfully, the final baking process is underway, and I'm checking things every few minutes, which wont do wonders for the final product, but its better than burnt biscotti.

Aside, Partition is well worth a watch. Though seeing native Indians speak in English wont do wonders for setting the mood, this movie manages to pull it off quite well. And if there's nothing else that interests you about the separation of Pakistan and India, or the atrocities of the time, there's always Kristin Kreuk.

Looking around my room

There's a lot of stuff to clean up. My cupboard is full of IMU notes, which surprise, surprise, I did end up needing at different times throughout the year. Books take up most of the remaining cupboard space, of these, the most dusty are the anatomy and pathology books, both rejected in lieu of oxford clinical handbook and a bit of paediatrics and obsgyn here and there.

Vikram Chandra's Sacred Games has taken the main book spot on my desk, previously filled by Pretty Girl in Crimson Rose(8) , Jesus MD, Ian Rankin's A Good Hanging, Coughlin's No More Christian Nice Guy and Strobel's The Case for a Creator. Yes, I like reading. The latest Harry Potter installment will be next on the list, can't wait till Saturday.

Then there's my laptop, behind which is squidged all the other paraphernalia necessary to ensure my multimedia needs are satisfied. Speaking of which, my laptop is close to 3 years old and still running sound as a bell! HP Compaq isn't too bad a company to trust.

Clothes have never been a big part of me, though I admit to feeling a warm glow inside whenever someone says 'You don't look too bad yourself.' And I realised; I DO have a comb. Found it the other day wrapped up in a plastic bag along with other stuff that I didn't unpack for the year. So there, Jack. Now I just need to learn how to use it.

This blog is becoming more inward looking by the day.

The feeling of not knowing how the future will pan out.

Of keeping the faith yet still being nervous and doubtful.

Understanding the truth yet finding it hard to apply.

Of liking where I am but knowing I must move on.

In many ways, it would seem I've not grown up since the heady days of IMU.

Yet decisions wait to be made, a five-year mission remains unfulfilled, and at 23 years and counting, all I can come up with is

Another introspective post without much meaning and more than a little bad prose.


Finally, plans for today (cos even unstructured lives need planning):
Church first thing, then to a heavy lunch at the Red Lion. Home at 2 in time to catch the Wimbledon singles final (I'm behind Nadal all the way), then its mucking about on a paper till its time to try fruit crumble for dinner.

And for some reason the title doesnt seem to want to appear.

Watching Wimbledon

It's been a while since I spent so much time watching TV. Watching players like Marion Bartoli and Djokovic play against household names like Nadal and Williams was fun. It's been fun for me to support the underdog everytime there's a competition going on, and this Wimbledon seems to have been full of underdogs taking charge.

I feel like getting out on a court and hitting some balls now.

***

After watching the women's finals, I like the way the players leave the court, a long walk to the back of centre court, exiting through the open doors, for all the world like a couple of friends coming in for afternoon tea after a leisurely hit. Wimbledon certainly is different from every other competition out there.

Now for the men's tmrow.

You know that feeling you get

For those of us lucky enough to have a Christmas tree when we were younger, and presents under it to boot, you'll be familiar with that feeling. Waking up on Christmas morning, with all the promise of unopened delights waiting for you downstairs. You spend some time thinking about what you'll be getting. Would it be the toy you've been pining for since the beginning of the year, or would it turn out to be something else equally as exciting? (If it were me at this point, I'd be wanting something from the transformers line!)

Today, a random comment in church went: The word 'hope' brings to mind children waking up on Christmas morning.

That feeling...of knowing there'll be something waiting for you. You're not quite sure what it'll turn out to be, but that it'll be great nonetheless, because your parents only want you to have the best. It may not be what you longed for, but something totally new and different instead. But you know its there, just waiting for you to take it, unwrap and enjoy it.


"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." Heb 11:1

Wimbledon 2007

Wimbledon 2007 was an impulse decision on my part, to escape the long recriminating thoughts about how badly I'd done in my prior exams. A day of fun on the grass lawns of SW19 was in order. By a minor miracle, I managed to get cheap travel tickets, and found an unlikely hostel to stay in, and Tues morning found me at the back end of this:

The queue, I found, would wind in and out of Wimbledon Park and was close to, if not more than a km long. And they were serious affairs, these queues. Each of us was given a queue card noting our place in the queue and if we didn't empty our bladders before arriving, woe betide us, because it took us the better part of 4 hours before actually reaching the gate.

800 yards to go!

Wii....mbledon

After being cajoled into trying for Court 2 tickets, (Centre Court and Court 1 seemingly being snapped up by the brave folks who'd stayed overnight under and on top of newspapers and tents) I stepped into Wimbledon, the first thing I saw being:

V. Spadea and I. Ljubicic ( a name I still can't pronounce with a straight face) were scheduled to play first on Court 2, so that was something to look forward to. Meanwhile I met up with Jane and Jan Hoong, who had skipped audit and classes respectively to come.

We walked around the grounds. Housing 18 courts and two separate buildings housing Centre Court and Court 1 respectively, it had its own bank and 4 or 5 different places to eat. Strawberries and cream, champagne and Pimms' being out of our budget however, we trudged around, picking spots to return to later.

Centre Court - the south end

Around noon, I snuck away to Court 2, where I was fortunate enough to get a seat 3 rows away from the court.

Arriving early, I chatted with a friendly Indian chap sitting in front who had come yesterday, but was driven away by rain. Looking upwards, we convinced ourselves the good weather would last the day out.

After watching the ballboys/girls march out to take their positions, and seeing the net being measured and erected, Ljubicic marched out from the opposite side to great applause. Vince followed after, affably waving back to the crowd, a stark difference to Ljubicic, who, it seemed, was of a particularly stony disposition. Or perhaps he was getting ready for the match.

Ballgirls at attention

A tight match followed. Vince seemed a bit taken aback by the raw power of Ljubicic's serve and single-handed backhand, while not being able to fire himself up enough. After losing the first set 6-4, he tried to perk up a bit, with increasing crowd support, but still ended up losing the second set. Ljubicic, sensing victory, was on form and hitting winners past Vince every time the latter charged the net.

Spadea in action

The tide turned as Vince started to step into his shots, forcing himself to return Ljubicic's topspin serves on the rise. This saved him enough points to force a fourth set. Fired up, he came out firing and started holding his serve while attempting to break Ljubicic's almost-invincible service game. However, he was denied a few line calls by the umpire, whom he later suggested of being against him throughout the game. This break in concentration seemed to distract him just enough for Ljubicic to close out the final set after a nearly losing it at 4-6.

A comeback

Ljubicic after victory

Having wandered around to stretch my legs, I stayed for a set of David Nalbandian's game. My sister being more of a Nalbandian fan than I am, I decided it would make interesting storytelling. However, Venus William's match against Alla Kudryavtseva was coming up, so that took precedence.

Nalbandian in action

Court 2 was again full, with a crowd seeming to expect Williams to take apart her opponent. However the crowd was shushed by a first set loss by Williams against a girl who matched her stroke for stroke, and who made far fewer errors. Cries of "Go, V!" were heard as she took the second set. Line calls seemed again to decide the outcome of this match, when, as Alla led by 6-5 in the decider, she challenged the umpires and linesmen, shrugging her shoulders in the direction of her supporters. Venus managed a dodgy 7-6 win in the end.

Venus Williams getting ready

Wimbledon was my first time seeing scores of British get behind their countrymen and cher them on. The hill outside Centre Court was packed with people watching Tim Henman's marathon with Carlos Moya. More than one ferocious "Go it, Timbo!" was heard from an otherwise looking sweet-looking granny and the collective sigh when he lost a point was very well choreographed indeed. You can imagine the chaos that erupted when Moya double-faulted on match point.England unites to support Henman

When I have more money, more time and maybe someone else to go with (it gets boring standing in a queue alone), I'd like to return and see Centre Court for myself. All in all, Wimbledon 2007 will be one of the things I'll remember about the UK when I've left.

When Thursday comes

It will mean we have finished our written papers and the dreaded LOCAS...feared only because its our first exam where we'll be tested on real patients.

Then we can all breathe again...until Monday after, where we'll tackle our OSCEs, and hopefully, come out smiling at the end.

SCared,

Stressed,

yet

Hopeful

It's still cold

..
The amount of hair I'm pulling out on a daily basis is starting to get worrying, even for me. Trouble is, I don't realise I'm doing it at the time. At this rate, I hope I won't have to resit this paper, or i'll probably go totally bald.

Then I might never finish using up the Johnson's Baby Shampoo that I'm using now. Papaya flavour, or something like that.


*****

Not too long ago, David posted 'you know you're spending too much time in hospital if...'. Now, i'm not doing nearly as much work as those guys in US, but today I was searching around for a way to secure my unfinished biscuits.


So I suppose its a sign of too much time in my room cramming...I wish.

Weather's turned cold again

Which would make it brilliant to sleep in a bit longer in the mornings, were it not for exams.

One of those rainy days which makes you feel like nursing a hot mug of something and watching movies under a blanket. Exams make me want to do the weirdest things.

Made beer can chicken again today. Had to run to the hospital canteen to get brown sauce and salad cream, but everyone was full in the end.

Lord of The Rings on my laptop is keeping my spare time filled now, in between youtube.
Favourite bits include the siege scenes, the bit in the Mines of Moria and scenes involving Gimli and Legolas. Youtube, on the other hand, gives me a mix of comedy and drama, depending what I'm in the mood for. Old cartoons like the Dungeons and Dragons series and Scooby Doo keep my lunchtimes occupied, though catching the 10 or so pages of Anaesthesiology in Oxford Handbook took precedence today. Honestly hope not much anaesthesia comes out this time around.

'Patience', was what I got from this morning's reading of 1 Peter 4. Patience, indeed. Not just for exams, but for a whole new working of God, as long as I remain faithful.

And its time for another round of studying again! Funny how doing questions always makes it seem like you've not actually learnt much at all.

You just never know

What lies around the next bend in the road

What surprises the day has in store

What patients the examiners will have in store for us

How much time we have left

Whether the next person we talk to may be the last

Or for that person, we may be the last person he/she talks to

2 weeks to go

And as always, I'm beginning to feel that this may the time when I won't make it. Somehow it always seems to be a cycle - I've felt this way before every major exam I've sat for. Nevermind all the times when I've escaped unscathed or by the skin of my teeth, I'll still feel worried to bits the next time exams come around.

However, this is indeed the biggie, the one that stands between us and the right to have a prefix before our names. And hence my feeling of inadequacy - for as much as I know (and that in itself is pathetically frightening), there's always more to read, to memorise and to understand.

But the hours don't stop ticking down, and time does not wait for me to grow up. So its full steam ahead, trusting that a miracle will happen, just like every other time.

This is it...the biggie.

Year 4 Summative Exam 2007

Eligible students: A100-4, A101-3

Written Papers: Monday 18 and Tuesday 19 June

LOCAS: Wednesday 20 and Thursday 21 June

OSCEs: Friday 22 June to Friday 29 June

Results available (Spider): Monday 9 July 4.00 pm

Year 4 Summative Re-sit 2007

Eligible students: A100-4, A101-3

Written Papers: Wednesday 22 August

LOCAS: Tuesday 21 August

OSCEs: Monday 20 August (plus Tuesday 21 August if 50+ candidates)

Results available (Spider): Friday 24 August 4.00 pm

Federer vs Sampras

If I were back home around Nov this year, I'd want to watch this.

I'm going hiking!

Woohoo!

***

In a final bid to escape exam pressure 1 month before finals, a group of medical students decided to attempt the dangerous and death-defying ascent of one of the Western Lake District's most notorious heights: Blackcombe. At a terrifying 600 metres above sea-level, for many of us, this would test us physically as well as mentally.

Leaving a bright and early 830, we were joined by our GP and another, older GP who apparently did climbing just for fun despite being weighed down with rheumatoid arthritis (a joint disease). The first part went well, with a rocky path to the first hill.

The walk in the valley with a stream at the bottom was fairly easy, even for someone like me whose main exercise was the walk up 3 flights of stairs to Ward 6 daily.


Things took a turn for the worse as the climb became steeper. The group dwindled slowly, finally leaving this sad bunch of stragglers trailing behind.

With promises of a break 'after we reach the next ridge', only to be confronted by yet another hill, we trudged on. The views reminded us of how far we'd come, however.

And with a bit of hard work, we trudged onto the peak, where the others were there waiting. Besides the views, the sun was out and a breeze was blowing. Nice.

(From left: Dan, Adie, Ruth, Beth, Becky, Sharon, Rebecca, Steve and Rob behind. Matt in the jersey in front, Alex, Sarah and Natasha on the right)

(From left: Faz, Kofo, Chris, Hsupheen, Dr Richard and Dr Pogrell in front)

The view from the top..pity its a bit misty on the camera.

We'd made it. Now to the pub downhill for lunch and a pint.

Where we decided which dessert to have

And where others nursed their sunburns.

I wonder if I'm going to get any work done tonight... And I bet I'll have cramps first thing waking up tmrw morning.

Ever wondered what hell is like?

Living the dream

Dusty roads mean dusty shoes. When one can get them. Otherwise its just dusty feet. Which actually wouldn't matter so much, if every other part of your body is dusty. Hair not washed in weeks, mud-caked eyes you don't bother wiping away because they cake up in a matter of hours again. Nose half -blocked with snot from the cold at night, dried with the gusty winds that blow across the desert. The back of your throat dried up from the dust and parched from the lack of water. Muscles tired and fatigued from lack of nutrition and from having to walk to and fro from the water holes to the tents you call home.

To the average person, this would be torture. To you, it is a fact of life, just another day in the short life measured in half the span of normal adult years. What you wouldn't give for a cool drink, a cool bath lasting longer than a minute, a chance to wash behind your ears and clean, fresh and softly pressed clothes to wear. A meal that would leave you full instead of wishing for more.

A chance to get out of the circumstances surrounding your everyday life is unheard-of. If you were told 'there is more to life than this', you would probably laugh. For you, life is simply about survival.

Hundreds of miles away, a medical student contemplates the mountain of work before him, turns around and selects his Windows Media 11 playlist of choice on his laptop and sighs. "Why were exams ever created?"

GP Away Day

Our GP walking up the path

Sort of a surprise for us; after a morning at our GP, the whole practice went out for an afternoon to Clarence Hotel. An excuse for the students to present their long overdue audits, and a excuse to take the afternoon off.

A great lunch always lifts the mood for the rest of the day.

Outside House 2

Right now

...there are 4 girls who definitely NOT Spidey fans.

One of the things I'll definitely not forget about Barrow this year: Going to watch Spiderman 3 with 4 girls, none of whom are the least bit interested about the movie, apart from Sarah, who liked Tobey Maguire in Pleasantville.


Myself? I thought there were many unnecessary bits, including many cheesy dialogue scenes. Funny, definitely. Full of action, very much so. Epic? Not really. I recall walking out of Sunway still recalling scenes from Spiderman 2. Here I was moving around in my seat three quarters through (though Barrow's cineplex does have very little leg room).

To keep herself entertained, Rebecca kept up a running commentary throughout for our benefit:

'Why don't the two guys just kiss and get it over with?' - during a moment between Peter and Harry

'Why is it that Spiderman saves just one person, but destroys about 60 cars and wrecks half the town in the process, and people still cheer him on?'

'I'd like to kill Spiderman myself.'

'It was either I laugh or poke my eyes out. Since I didn't have a fork...'

After the film - 'I don't like Peter Parker. He spent half the movie crying...'


I wonder what watching 300 with girls would have been like.

Why don't they just kiss and get it over with?

Outside House

Hugh Laurie on the piano. Funny.