Hands

I wouldn’t call myself a butt woman (although I did admit that I liked looking at my crush in school’s butt one time).

(And no, I don’t mean that I have a bootylicious butt.)

I mean this in the context of guys either liking a woman for her butt or her boobs.

For example, my cousin Chris goes for faces (i.e. if the girl has a very pretty face, everything else just follows.)

Me? Hmm…I go for beautiful eyes and a great sense of humor.

Oh, and I especially like it if they are tall and have nice hands…

The preference for tall men is understandable, but tall men with nice hands…is really something else for me. It’s nothing sexual, and it’s not even a fetish, but I always was fascinated with people who were talented and always knew what they were doing, or were going to do. I was always drawn to guys who could get very intent on their work and produce results.

Hence, my fascination for nice hands… Especially when they’re at work, they are quite a sight to watch.

My crush in high school was a math wiz. One time, when I passed by the classroom where they did their practice for another nationals tilt, I saw him trying to work out a problem. On the board was a multi-chambered nautilus, cut into different levels and although I can recall what the math problem was, I do remember that the other two members of the team were working furiously with their paper and pencils, but A. (my wiz of a crush-object) was just standing there, a few feet away from the board, looking.

Less than a minute later, he goes, “Ok, I’ve got it.” and then proceeds to write out the complicated-looking solution for that math problem the others still hadn’t solved. It wasn’t really the answer that impressed me. I was more engrossed with the thinking process. While he was thinking it over, I saw that his eyebrows were knitted as he stared intently, and his chin was set. He would alternately run his hand through his brown hair (oh, and did he have nice hair…LOL), and twist his right hand at the wrist, and I could hear the crackling sound as the joint slid past the cartilage. With the chalk in his hand, he then wrote down the solution and then explained why that was so.

(I could only smile, being the spectator that I was. Bravo, I thought to myself, as I squealed silently, grinning like a schoolgirl. which I was, back then.)

Last night, on my last day as a Neurology service rotator, I ended up with a toxic (i.e. a patient in a critical condition) patient at the ER. He was getting prepped to undergo a CT scan procedure at the facility across the street, and as such, I had to conduct him there. I spent a considerable amount of time at the ER then, mostly waiting and monitoring.

So it was actually a nice surprise to walk into a venous cut-down procedure with a surgery resident doing the thing. They’re usually called in when the Peds people run out of venous access for their lines. On my way to the observation unit where my patient was, I stopped over and looked. and looked.

 

Yes, he was a tall, fair, surgery resident with almond eyes and close-cropped hair (which I like), but most importantly, I couldn’t help but be engrossed in what he was doing. He had big hands, with long fingers but he was able to successfully maneuver and work his way around that baby’s subclavian structures… I mean, the patient was tiny, but he was able to get the cut-down going in less than 15 minutes. He looked up and saw me staring, and I ignored him, tempted to say, “please go on, you’re doing great work with your hands” One of the nurses chuckled when she saw that beads of sweat had formed on his brow and mopped it up, saying that the patient was really giving him a hard time.

(What a man. Instant crush. lol)

Ahh…I love hands. But you see, my fascination with hands is more of a fascination with what they can do, and what they are used for. Aesthetics is a big factor, yes, but I’m more drawn into what these special people can do with them, and how they can help other people, or make them happy.

I knew this guy before who had nice hands. He loved to cook and was always volunteering to make this and that meal. I could watch for hours, it seemed, and I couldn’t resist watching him while he worked. He’d slice up the garlic and the onions and put them in neat little piles (and they’d always be proportioned), and even how he’d hold the knife and cut out the onion bulb’s root parts was always fun to watch. Even watching his fingers while he sprinkled the peppercorns onto the meat was very entertaining.

Up close, his hands were nice. No veins, no gashes, no scars… the fingers were long and tapered, and the fingernails were short and clean, and well-formed, and there was no bump from where the pen would rest in writing… and the palm was not soft, but not rough either, with whorls and creases in all the right places in the finger pads.

I had often wondered what it would be like to hold his hand up close so I could press my cheek onto the back of his hand, to trace the lines and creases of his palms, and to finally lace my fingers through his beautiful ones…

So yes, I dream of his hands…

And hands that work and love what they’re doing.

Love,

S.

Photo: Torn Between Two Lovers

While walking back to the hotel after dinner, I saw this guy on the street. "Torn between two lovers", who were both larger than life. Must be tough.

Ah people...they will never cease to amaze me.

(Photo by Sonia:  Dusit Thani, Makati. July 29,2011.)

Small circle

There’s a nursery rhyme that helps kids learn how to “do circles” among other thngs.

 I only learned what the nursery rhyme was this morning.

I’ll never regret anything that ever made me happy, of course.

Love,

S.

The Blue Party

Event: Ma’am Dhel’s going away/retirement party
Theme: Debutante’s Ball…
Motif: Blue
Party Planner Extraordinaire: Trina


July 8, 2011 – Ma’am Dhel, the Psychiatry department’s secretary was going away on retirement, and it was just the right time to have a department party. The theme was blue. And I mean blue.  Even the cupcakes were blue. ish.
True to form, the consultants showed up in blue.


Ma’am Dhel, makes sure everything runs smoothly in the department of Psychiatry. She is fondly called by department people as “The Chancellor” (because, most of the time, what she says goes, and this lady can practically work red tape magic.) It is no surprise a bevy of consultants would come and celebrate her last day at work. This picture is a “relaxed” one I took where I instructed everyone to “just relax and think happy thoughts, etc etc”, where everyone was game (and my batchmates even went a little further and did the “grave-digging” pose, which is, well, nevermind. haha


Ok, this is the official picture (but some consultants were late, so I didn’t get to include them in this picture.


Of course, the university hospital granted Ma’am Dhel an award…something akin to a Lifetime Achievement award of sorts, of course.



Everyone loves her, of course.


Lots of wellwishers…. and everyone had a great time.


The nurses did a number…and had everyone either tapping their feet to the beat, or singing along.

The nurses, and some of the reps. Everyone was there. (And yes, Trina IS the party planner extraordinaire.)


Oh, this was when the audio-visual presentation was running (I made the thing), and so naturally, that’s me, doing my “nervous” look (Its unconsious. I didn’t know Chamie snapped this picture.). <—I wanted to see how everyone was going to react. They (and most importantly, Ma’am Dhel) liked it a lot. (whew!) Oh, and Dr. B. (a.k.a. The Father of Philippine Child Psychiatry said he liked it a lot, and that he knew I was the one who made it. and guess what, he knew my first name! eek! <—I ‘m starstruck. LOL


Oh, and guess what. I sang (or attempted to.LOL) Ma’am Dhel and her husband’s song, “Devoted to You”, by the Everly Brothers, which is something my grandmother always sings, because it is her and lolo’s theme song as well. Dr. Vista, the Training Officer played the guitar, and although I didn’t think my performance was exactly stellar, I couldn’t help but tear up a little afterwards, as my grandfather’s death anniversary was on the day after this party. Oh well.  (P.s. Dr. V. and I hail from the same medical school and hometown. Dumaguetenos rock? you betcha.)


Oh, and true to form, Ma’am Dhel also had that debutante’s ball thing where everyone writes their messages and wish her well. Pretty cool, huh?


You rock, Ma’am Dhel. We love you!

Love,

S.

Attachment

An actual passenger on a jeepney, actually holding onto a stuffed animal.

I don’t know her, of course. Plus, I don’t think she would have minded.

Still, it was just amusing. Something different.

“How does it make you feel?”

Talking to people is not as easy as it looks.

I remember one scene in a movie with Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis (Freaky Friday), where they accidentally switched bodies, and it so happened that Jamie Lee Curtis’s teenage daughter had to fill in for her at the clinic because of the “body switch”. Well, there was this one scene where the kid (in her mother’s body) took on her job as a psychiatrist/therapist, and started asking the patient “How do you feel?” every time, with the patient not minding at all…and supplying answers, totally unsuspecting that anything was amiss.

In the movie, it appeared like that was all “shrinks” did…asking what people felt about everything.

Well…

After having taken my first ever oral exams last week, I therefore conclude that this is not so.

It is so much harder than that.

The set-up was that we had 40 minutes to get the patient’s history, do a complete physical and neurological examination, and after 10 minutes of “integration” and writing out our notes, we were to present the patient’s case and our management.

Now, it does seem to sound rather easy, I suppose, but it’s nicer to hear, because while you’re there, it’s a whole new different ballgame.

That day, I woke up extra early, reviewed my notes which I painstakingly did the night before, and when it was time to get dressed, I chose a white long-sleeved shirt, grey slacks and black flats…put my hair up in a bun, and hoped that I looked serious enough to be believable. When my turn came, I went in, greeted my panel (there were three), and then brought my patient in.

He was a patient from the out-patient department, chosen by one of the second year residents because he was fairly stable, and was very verbose about his symptoms. But I did not know of this beforehand, of course.

Well, I did my interview, and felt like I was pressed for time, because I knew I had to get everything in within the 40 minute time frame allotted for us. It was so…scary. I felt like I had to get everything together…make sure I was asking the right questions, and then afterwards be sure to do a complete Physical and Neurologic exam. So, anyway, after 40 minutes, one of the consultants held up a sign, telling me that my time was up. I thanked the patient, escorted him out, and then afterwards, I was told that I had 10 minutes to integrate everything that I had gleaned from my interview, come up with a diagnosis and differentials, and then state my treatment plan.

Ok, so I did all that, and then afterwards, I got my evaluation. I learned that I had no problems with presentation, they thought that I presented my case really well, had no problems speaking in English (well…), and did not even look nervous. The crusher was when they said that I needed work on the theoretical aspect, and that I was too poised during the interview, that they felt the patient couldn’t even connect with me. well, I didn’t connect with the patient, they said, I lacked empathy. <—But that totally wasn’t my intention, of course. (And, in retrospect, it was hard to really “connect” with a patient who was psychotic.)

Anyway, it didn’t go as well as I had planned. I thoroughly enjoyed the learning and the input from the consultants, but all in all, I wish I could have done better. I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me, and afterwards, I was just quiet for the whole day. I bounced back the next day, of course, like I always do (and like I always hope to be doing everytime I reach a speedbump in life), and now, I am able to dissect it more fully.

And yes, it’s not as easy as asking about feelings. So not.

Love,

S.

 

psychosomatic

yesterday,after an especially harrowing day at work.  i spent all afternoon walking around the mall, eating Red Vines, eating soup and siomai, watching Nikita, being quiet.then going to the hospital callroom where i met up with my other co-residents who just happened to be there. and then i saw a friend. and had french fries.

i didn't change. just paired my work shirt with a pair of khaki shorts. not that the detail mattered. anyway...

i felt a little better afterwards, but not really. Like I said, it was a stressful time. not much i can do about it though.

ah...stressful times. when will they ever end?

(psychosomatic stuff pertain to emotional problems and anxieties manifesting as physical symptoms.)

love,

S.

The big oral exam

The best place to study would be poolside, where I live. There's a good breeze (So not Manila
-like), and the people pretty much do their own thing all the time.

I'm kind of feeling the willies over the oral exam tomorrow. I have the tendency to talk really fast when I'm nervous, and to begin with, I already talk fast to begin with, be it in whatever language or dialect. It's almost, well...manic.

:-p

One time, I had a supervisor who wanted me to tape my interviews with patients, and I found out some surprising things about myself, I.e. I tend to talk (a lot) with my hands, and that I shouldn't wear a dress and that among others, I shouldn't be too, well, perky (because I usually am.haha)

And an important thing to note was that I shouldn't be wearing a skirt with a hemline above my knees, and that pants are better becAuse they make it easier for you to run when you need to. Oh, and that I shouldn't stAy within "grabbing" or "kicking" distance from the patient.

Its funny watching yourself do an interview on video. On can never really be aware of their own little tics until they see it for themselves. Oh, and another useful thing I learned from that was that...the angle from the left suits me better than the other. Haha.

----

it is the first year anniversary of my grandfather's death today, and I've been meaning to write something special about it. I was going to do it the other night but I didn't get to becAuse I was crying. Nd I was tired from work. But mostly, it was because I missed my grandfather so much.

I wasn't with him when he died. I was 2 hours away at the hospital where I worked then, and I had just done my first 24 hour shift when my cousin Chris called to tell me that Lolo was indeed gone. I was just quiet at first, but when it finally sunk in, I had to cry. And not just cried tears, I sobbed like a big kid. But I could not apologize for what I was going through that day, that big loss that I had felt in my heart. My grandfather, the kindest person I had ever known was forever gone, and I had never had anyone close to me die, and leave me like this.

I stayed in the doctors quarters for most of that morning (luckily I didn't have any patients that morning), and just lay motionless, wallowing in the finality of my loss. My friend Ivy called me after I texted her (she lost her dad at an early age, and she understood). I called another friend as well, someone I felt I could talk to about anything then, and he just listened while I talked about what I had felt. He had never met my grandfather, of course, but I felt much much better after I talked to him. I recall that he teased me about it, it almost felt like he was just patronizing me. But in the end, I felt a whole lot better after hearing his voice, I almost felt like I was home.

Losing people we love is never easy...they have become a part of us, in such a way that when they die, it's almost as if a part of your heart was also taken away.

------

I grew up with a lot of love, I suppose. And I have a lot to give. And I'm very thankful for that.

-----

(I miss you, lolo.)


----

Happy Sunday everyone.

Love,

s.

So Unsexy

I heard this song while getting ready for  work this morning. I remember going "Hmm...that sounds like a funky song..." and then I realized as I brushed my hair and put on my make-up,





..... That I had to love me more. (except, of course, unlike in the song, my father always made me feel like a princess.)


Have a nice day. :-)
 -----


It's a totally underrated Alanis song, I might add. Lyrics below.


"So Unsexy"

Oh these little rejections how they add up quickly
One small sideways look and I feel so ungood
Somewhere along the way I think I gave you the power to make
Me feel the way I thought only my father could

Oh these little rejections how they seem so real to me
One forgotten birthday I'm all but cooked
How these little abandonments seem to sting so easily
I'm 13 again am I 13 for good?

I can feel so unsexy for someone so beautiful
So unloved for someone so fine
I can feel so boring for someone so interesting
So ignorant for someone of sound mind

Oh these little protections how they fail to serve me
One forgotten phone call and I'm deflated
Oh these little defenses how they fail to comfort me
Your hand pulling away and I'm devastated

When will you stop leaving baby?
When will I stop deserting baby?
When will I start staying with myself?

Oh these little projections how they keep springing from me
I jump my ship as I take it personally
Oh these little rejections how they disappear quickly
The moment I decide not to abandon me 

"Straight"

They say real friends dish it out to you, straight.
That's the mark of true friendship.
It smarts, actually, and really digs deep into the core of your being (and because only true friends have that right), i just really wish for tact sometimes. As I was saying to a friend yesterday, "As per the ego and milieu concept, the resolution of crises along the way makes for a better, more capable ego (and in this situation, mine). 
But then again, why do I ask something, which I can't handle the question to, right? (Which makes it kind of silly. And I'm starting to think it's become a coping mechanism...i.e. "Find out what's wrong, so you can improve on it.")
Yet, I ask anyway. Why do I want to know, anyway? Why do I even compare?
I've always been a sucker for self-improvement, learning...all that jazz. I just hate it though, when I feel like everything I've ever done is negated and my good points, and things I am proud of about myself, don't actually measure up after all.
This, of course, does not make me depressed right now, of course, I am merely stating the fact. True friends dish out the truth, but I keep wishing that they knew how to temper things...and try to understand more. If you're looking for sympathy, probably the best people to ask would be people who really know you.
--------- 


Over the past few days (and ironically, while I'm on super organic Neurology rotation), I learned that you can't be effective if you put your biases on people. Patients come to you and begin to establish a relationship with you as their "significant" person...it's the least you could do to clear yourself of your own biases and inner turmoil so you could be objective, and guide them along a path that's helpful for them, and not cathartic for you.
The patient IS there for a reason...and it's usually not for your problems or biases. 
------ 


I have a problem with goodbyes. as with being taken for granted. Just because I'm nice doesn't mean I graciously allow people to trample all over me. 
----- 
Some people just waste their talent. Procrastinating is the same thing. I've been thinking about it all day, actually. Ecclesiastes stresses that there IS a time for everything, but hey, the present pretty much is the only existing reality, isn't it?
Einstein would agree.


------ 
I've just been under a lot of stress. I love my job of course, but i can't help but feel tired sometimes...sometimes the weight of the psychotic world can get terribly overbearing. I yearn for a reprieve from all this. Or something to look forward to. or someone to do something nice for me, from out of the blue, for no reason, other than because they feel I deserve it.
----- 
White roses stand to mean affection, "I am worthy of you" and "I am faithful." 
---- 
Relationship lesson of the week: "Girls who allow emotional abuse... aren't very smart." Ladies, get a guy who respects you, and is ready to give you the world...and if he can't, at least show you that you matter enough to make him try just that to make you happy.


Respect.


Is true love really supposed to bring out the best in someone? So when someone makes you feel like crap and makes you feel "unpretty" and stupid is not it? 


well well well...
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Big Big oral exam on Monday. Must go back to work.
--
Much love, 


S.
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P.s. Obviously, I'm not in a very good mood tonight...