Wednesday, May 3, 2017

freedom

Phew, finally my two weeks of on call had ended. At this hospital, dental officers are put on passive on call. It basically means we don't have to linger around at the hospital all the time. It's only when we're being summoned there that our attendance is required.

Still, I am being dubbed the 'Jonah on call officer'. Jonah basically is defined as a person who attracts cases. On regular on call days, most of us receive 2-3 calls per night. Me? I'd be grateful if I only receive 5 calls per day. My record is 13 cases on a fine Sunday. 

You'd find me at the emergency department seeing a patient who'd decide to wait for months before choosing to come to ED at 2 o'clock in the morning complaining of pain on wisdom tooth; to as bad as a patient who is rushed to into red zone (ED in Malaysia is divided into green - non-critical; yellow - semi-critical; and red zones - critical), trying to stop bleeding originating from multiple facial bone fractures. Imagine waking up and suddenly speeding to ED and later holding that fragile piece of that floating palate which is completely split from the skull, fixing wires, desperately trying to immobilise it. 

The good news is, patients generally do not die suddenly from loosing blood from having facial fractures, but leave it long enough, then you're indirectly asking to be part of a mortality meeting of a deceased. 

It feels like it was only yesterday that I was on call at a district hospital in Port Dickson, when my knowledge in oral maxillofacial surgery is so scarce, during which I'd only cry if I was given a Le Fort case. Today, I am no longer that weak person. 

For this, I'll have to thank my boss, Dr Latif (the orthognatic sifu as my senior would call him), for yelling at me all the time for mismanaging patients. He is a man, from whom you'd learn a lot if you're willing to put aside your emotions and dignity for the sake of leveling up skill and knowledge-wise. Whenever you come to him with a question, if it's stupid enough or is somewhat ignorant, he'd answer you with, "Look, I'm not sure whether you're stupid or you just could not care less on reading... but as written in...*he'd start reciting an article or book*". If it's a question that's worth pondering upon, he'd answer you with, "Look, girl, listen to me. Why the hell would you do *insert your mistakes*, when you could have *insert the solution*". A systematic man who despite his old age, still actively seeks for knowledge. He deals with no bullshit and he hates excuses. 

Come to think of it... I think some of his attitude has rubbed on me. I seem to have lower tolerance at dealing with excuses and bullshit these days. To me, it is either yes or no. If I question a person with say, A. I expect to be answered with A. Not some meaningless seconds and minutes, beating around the bush, to finally get to that point of A or perhaps finally discovering that the answer is Y. I understand that people make mistakes, but I hate it when they do not admit them and try to mind-fuck me thinking they are being intelligent by twisting facts. At times, I'd just say, "Okay" (while my mind is racing, thinking what a fucktard this lad is, thinking he/she had gotten off with such a lame excuse but it'd take too much effort to fight over it). That's when I am in my best mood. Otherwise, I'd just answer with, "Stop with all these cock and bull. Did you do it or not?" (and still thinking what a fucktard this person is).

I'm a bit too abrasive I guess.

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