Snowdrops for Ike

After 30 posts and many attempts to put up a decent photo, i’ve decided to stop using friendster blog.

Thanks for reading all this while. Do save the link of my new blog somewhere, as there won’t be anymore updates from friendster. Hope you’ve enjoyed ‘Snowdrops for Ike’. Thanks for those who left their comments, I’m very grateful cos it’s always nice to know what others think. It encourages me to keep on writing as well =)

Visit my new blog:   http://arisako.blogspot.com

Iris @ Arisa

     Just as I released a breath of relief, walking out of the building where I had given my case presentation, something on the ground caught my eye. This time it wasn’t shiny, the border was slightly irregular, but a coin nonetheless. Yes, a penny! Unwanted, ignored, but a precious treasure to people like me.

      The past 36 hours were difficult to go through. I was trying to improve the content of my presentation despite being in a low mood. Starting the rotations this year had pushed me out of my comfort zone where I have been feeling EXTREMELY uncomfortable. Therefore, seeing that penny smiling back at me, begging me to pick it up made my day. Finally, I received my reward! It’s a Friday at last, with the hardest bit of the day behind me now.

     My collection of British coins found on the ground started in my first year here in UK. And the whole thing began at 13, when I read a touching story (Lucky Penny) in Reader’s Digest in which a young boy was told by his grandmother to pick up coins that he spotted on the ground.

‘They bring luck’, she had said. Because no one has seen them except you. And you have to make a wish straight after and keep the coin. The wish will come true someday, she assured. I don’t really care if it’s true…because each time I pick one up, it gives a sense of well-being, that someone is watching over me. And I’m feeling fine again…

Pennies from Heaven (Author Unknown)

I found a penny today
just laying on the ground
But it’s not just a penny this
little coin I’ve found.
Found pennies come from
heaven thats what my Grandpa told me
He said Angels toss them down,
oh how I loved that story.
He said when an angel
misses you they toss a penny down.
Sometimes just to cheer you up
Make a smile out of your frown.
So don’t pass by that
penny when you’re feeling blue,
It may be a penny from Heaven that
an angel has tossed to you.

My collection so far..includes the 29th coin today =)

     ‘How are you, Ms Chung?‘, Mirabel would ask. Mirabel was my housemate last year, she was from Cameroon. I crave for that greeting now as I haven’t seen her for almost a year. Feeling a little guilty for not trying harder to keep in touch.

     So how am I at the moment? Not very well, I was pretty annoyed with myself earlier for taking 6 hours of nap, turning off my alarm clock without realizing it, and leaving my phone silent, causing Patrick to ring me 16 times. And now I’m wide awake at 3am, reflecting on my life so far.

     I met my counsellor, Pn Kasthuri, from college earlier and I haven’t seen her for about 3 years, since I left college in 2004. I was really excited, as she had made a great impact on my academic life a few years ago.

‘I remember you were in my office last time, thinking whether to do medicine or not?’, the first thing she said. I was hit, of course, I almost forgotten about that, but now it is all flashing back to me. How I knocked on her door so many times, disturbed her with my constant debate within myself and the troubles adjusting to college life, not having to live away from home before.

     And she mentioned also that my dad had rung her a few days before, just to say hi. I was surprised as he never told me that. And I also remember my dad had also ‘worked’ very hard during my 2 years in college. He was worried, concerned, and never failed to attend the Parents’ Day to keep in contact with my teachers. He never got anything more than ‘Iris is too quiet’, I guess. I am not sure, I didn’t want to be there so that my teachers could backstab me however they like.

     And sometimes, especially today, I miss my college life. I can say for sure, that it was the time i performed the best in academics (because there was no internet in my room), it was the time I actually had enough exercise every day with the sports centre so close by, and the swimming pool! yeah!

     I miss everything. The chalets. Resource Centre, Dining Room, Grand Hall with the piano in there. The uniform as well.

     Right now, I need to work harder. I don’t want my 2 years of effort in getting to UK go wasted just like that. Oh my teachers…Mr Vroege, Mr Amran, Mr Colin Dant, and…Dr Bano. Dr Bano, my tutor, had persuaded me to rise to the challenge, to reach for my personal best. How I would sit in front of her on Friday afternoons to unload my concerns and cry (when nobody else was around).

     And now I am here, with all the memories of college. The greatest times there with Nisa. My father, who never forgot my counsellor. I am touched with all the blessings. I hope I will feel guilty and humble enough to correct my mistakes, learn my lessons and simply, to become a better person.

    Recently, my mom gave a new nickname to my dad, Rok-ku. It means degeneration, aging, absent-minded, you’re-getting-old, anything along those lines. He’s only 55, but he’s been associated with all those when he’s starting to misplace his glasses. He doesn’t remember where he keeps my bank account book and has been searching for it a few years now. He has no recollection of my childhood, no memories of how i looked like then and the empty gap always fills him with guilt… and he always said to me, ‘I have not been there for you, where have i been in all those years you were growing up?‘. To which, I replied, ‘Dad, you’ve been there all the while, just that u don’t remember it. ‘

‘No..i remember when u were born, and the next moment, u’re this big!’

     Surely that was an exaggeration. Although it’s funny to laugh about his forgetfulness, I am worried the label will remain stuck on him. The Rok-ku label. ‘Your papa is getting rok-ku,’ my mom complained. And because of self-fulfilling prophecy, I am concerned my dad will allow himself to forget, allow himself to stop learning new skills.

‘Siau mei, nobody listens to me. Since you’re the youngest, you’re the only one who listens to my ramblings at the moment,’ he said. ‘But would you still sit down and listen to what I have to say if i really go rok-ku one day? When I don’t say things that make sense at all? Would you answer my repeated questions?‘

     I’ve across a few patients with dementia these months. There was one man in the nursing home who stays in bed all the time, unless he decides to roll off the bed during the night in his sleep. He has his mouth wide open and his eyes looked at his side all the time. No response to any triggers, any spoken words. And another old lady who sits in a wheelchair, with a difficulty of expressing herself. She couldn’t find the words to speak, but her eyes said it all when she reached for my hand to squeeze it, as if to say, ‘thanks for paying me a visit.’

     Of course, papa, I would. You have given me everything. As I stood there with the phone in my hand, I listened to my dad talking about the future. About having a library in the house, combining our books together to wow ourselves with. Me and him have a similarity, we buy books that we don’t read. My dad talked about doing what we used to do, eating ice-cream by the roadside. ‘Would you still do that with me after u’ve become a doctor? Would you buy me my favourite fruits even after i’ve gone rok-ku?‘

     But this man is far from becoming rok-ku! He intends to continue giving seminars after retirement (not too long from now). He gets more motivated after I told him the retirement age in UK is 65, 10 years older than his age now. A man who never fails to walk Ike every evening, who gives his wife a leg massage every night, who brings fruits to his daughter’s study room to freshen her up during a midnight revision.

     I love you, papa. Rok-ku, you are not! But for being a cute daddy who also pretends to bark, rok-ku seems to fit you for now. Hehe.

I’ve been told not to worry so much. Thinking about the future doesn’t help. What’s on my mind currently? I am about to meet someone I haven’t seen for 2 years and 7 months. Guess who? My 30-year-old eldest sister from US. No big deal about that, but it feels weird meeting someone whom you’re supposed to feel close to, and yet, I feel unsure of how I’m supposed to feel. She hasn’t really been a part of my life so far. Leaving home 10 years ago, she left me during the years I was growing up. Only have seen her 4 times in a decade, the bond isn’t so strong. I only remember how fierce she was, how scared and intimidated I became when I was young. She was my first role model to do well in academics, I looked up to her because she was smart, she could do anything, everything. To her, the sky was the limit. But as I grew up, having lived without her, I realise brains is not everything. Being brilliant doesn’t score the highest marks. Doesn’t give you happiness every time. I wasn’t happy, wasn’t proud of who I aspired to become, like my eldest sister. I was setting ambitious goals, leaving no room for disappointments. I had to draw confidence from achievements. Not surprisingly, confidence level fell each time goals were not achieved. And it was difficult, learning from each tumble down the ladder of success. That happened to me, and I decided not to be like my eldest sister anymore. She sacrificed her family to chase her dreams. As a result, her little sister doesn’t know her anymore. Not that well, at least. I am sure she’s trying. But I would try harder. Now, it drives me nuts thinking how am I going to cope seeing her again on my own. I’m facing a challenge of proving to her that her youngest sister has her own identity, individuality and that I do not need to follow her footsteps. I have my own way, own decisions. The eldest should lead, but not impose. It is nerve-wrecking. Sometimes I wish she is not coming to London. On the other hand, I don’t know when I will see her again. I don’t like the thoughts of family members separating. I don’t want her to stay there forever. Home is Kajang, where Ike is. Where childhood memories and old photographs are. I don’t see how opportunities are as cosy as the companion of Papa and Mama. As happy as the 3 sisters with the same initials: Ivy, Irene & Iris Chung. As funny as seeing old teachers trying to remember our faces and names. What is going to happen 10 years down the line? I hope she comes home. And finds that our house is still standing.

I have 2 previous blogs before this. You know how sometimes things just don’t work out. The problem is, I think too much. I think too much about what i want to post in my blog. If the material is appropriate. If others will find it boring, dull…. if it reflects too much about my personal life. Is it a proper article, or is it a release of my emotions? Is it intended for a specific person, or is it for Ike? I visited my friends’ blogs and always envy them for being able to post whatever they want up there. And I couldn’t do the same, fearing if my blog seems like a diary, who is interested in reading about my life anyway.. i kept looking out for themes and topics to write about. Messages to send across. Emotions to be felt. And seeing my blog idle for a while makes me sad, how I am restricted and limited in my own space, own corner in the Internet. And I was thinking of starting a new one all over again. Just like how my mom ‘ditched’ our 15 years old home and got a place in a condominium with swimming pool, nicely refurnished with expensive sofa, huge TV, new kitchen top etc. A dream place, to relax and wind down, for the weekend. But what I see is a dead place. So lifeless and cold. Not familiar to my senses. No Ike running up to me. Do I give too much thoughts to the content of my blog? Is it fully concentrated with emotions? Is it making a difference to its readers? Is it affecting them in anyway? Can i just write what happened in my life today? Can i just say i am not very happy today? And why am i even asking a permission? Why am i not setting my own rules of life, instead of keep listening to what others have to say? Even this post is a product of excessive and unnecessary thinking. And yes, I am not very happy today.

i have a friend
she dreams of a perfect love
a beautiful castle
and its humorous prince

he would lead her by the hand
twirl her into a dance
sweep her off the feet
and walk her down the aisle

i have this other friend
she keeps her diary safe
imagines a love story
and wishes it is hers

he has this grin on his face
looks straight into her eyes
locks her fingers with his
and mouthes the three little words

he brings her pretty flowers
writes her little poems
strums on his treasured guitar
and keeps her in his thoughts

she knows nothing is perfect
but pretends it doesn’t matter
what is there in the future
to fill her days now with burden

so my dear little friends
my god, you are so strong
you refuse to cry
but raise your head and hang on

you know you will find him there
his hand will reach out to yours
he will keep you safe
from thunder and storm

don’t listen to what others say
it can be so confusing
but who knows your little heart best
who knows exactly what you want?

as i sit by my diary
looking at the withered flowers
i wish you will be alright
with sweet dreams to hold you tight.

The year 2006 finally ended. What a colourful year it has been, with so many ups and downs like an emotional rollercoaster ride. I don’t remember how 2006 started, probably with me studying for my 2nd year January exams. But what have I learnt from the events that happened in 2006? Hmm.. I learnt…

• How turning on the webcam helps to beat boredom
• How therapeutic MSN chatting is
• How to pick myself up again after falling down
• That jealousy can tear me apart
• That a night of crying makes me look prettier the next morning (cos I get double eyelids)
• How to be grateful after passing an impossible exam
• That everyone has different truths so I have no right of saying my truth is any truer than yours..and vice versa
• That you have to see and experience for yourself a certain event before giving a judgement. And if you’re not in the position to witness it…then don’t judge it. (and do consider yourself lucky)
• That it is actually possible for me to fall in love
• But I can’t keep on falling…cos I’ll land hard with a loud thud.
• That friends do change over time =(
• Maybe it’s easier to let go abruptly than pretending nothing is wrong
• Or maybe it’s not.
• That my mother has been sacrificing a lot, I’m loving her more every day.
• That I don’t have to feel upset about people from the past
• Sometimes, out of sight, out of mind…but still not out of heart. sigh..
• A letter from an old friend, a word from my dad, a concerned best friend…enough to keep myself going most of the time.
• Of course, a special someone’s presence would be nice.

And there’ll be a whole new lot of lessons coming up for 2007 and I know that they include…seeing furry friends is the best medicine of all! Woof! Happy new year!!

I have collected 8 snowglobes since I’ve come to UK. I thought they are almost magical and I often imagine myself being inside it. I like staring at the little shiny and white particles raining down the buildings in there.

My first snowglobe is of Venice. It’s one of the 2 places that I had been dying to go since I was 10. I wanted to go there for the musical significance and the gondola.

The second snowglobe is of Rome. The place that I enjoyed very much during my trip to Italy 2 years ago. I didn’t buy it then and after much regret, a good friend had kindly bought it for me from Rome a year ago.

The third one (yes, I’m going to list down every single snowglobe) is from York. I remember visiting York Minster all by myself during a society trip in 2005 because none of my friends was interested. And I was quite upset about that. And the snowglobe was bought by a flatmate a year after the trip.

The following snowglobe was from Windsor, where the Queen stays. It was a pretty place.

And a friend bought me the largest snowglobe of all, from London. I guess he was pretty frustrated, accompanying me when I went into almost every souvenir shop in that area, staring at each snowglobe without buying one. That snowglobe has got 2 of my most favourite landmarks in London, the London Eye and the Tower Bridge! How cool is that!

The next snowglobe I’ve received was from Berlin. I have not been there myself, but Take That held a concert there in 1994! Here’s a toast to TAKE THAT for reuniting!! (and to Mark Owen who remains cute after a decade.)

And in my recent travel to Salzburg and Prague, I bought a snowglobe from each place.

But the most important snowglobe of all is not yet in my collection. Florence. In the movie, ‘While You were Sleeping’, Bill Pullman gave Sandra Bullock a snowglobe of Florence, a place where she would like to have her honeymoon. And I like that movie very much, awed by Bill Pullman’s rugged looks and piercing eyes.

Someday I would like to make my own snowglobe. ‘Cause in snowglobes, there are only happy endings in there. No sad thoughts.

     In my days in the hospital, there are times when I feel like I won’t make it as a good doctor. Certain triggers will upset my thoughts, making me feel that way. But almost every Thursday, I will feel this renewed motivation to improve myself. It is GP day, when I’ll see my GP tutor and I don’t know why, I always feel like working hard in his presence. It’s almost as if I want him to see the positive changes in my skills, like how a child wants her father to praise her work.

     But today is not Thursday. For the past 2 weeks, I have been on this ward where this really nice F1 doctor is based. And she makes me feel like improving as well because she is such a great doctor and teacher who makes patients (and me) feel at ease. Moreover, my ward partner this time is so different from the other two that I was with. He listens and takes my concerns into consideration. I admire the way he talks to patients, the way he looks at them, and the words he carefully selects to say. Wish I could be like him in every way. So sincere and genuine.

     It is now the 15th week of Foundations of Clinical Practice in this hospital. The first semester of the year, filled with those first, awkward encounters with real patients, is ending soon. I am glad that this final week has been a great learning experience, made memorable by this wonderful F1 doctor and my ward partner. And today is one of those days that I feel that I can actually be a good doctor someday.