Angel with a pitchfork

Agony...

2012-01-26T19:45:00.000-08:00

... is when you you get the most terrifying toothache and you're shrieking with your entire jaw on fire

... and the dentist realises that local aneasthetic is not safe for breast-feeding mums

... and then drills through your tooth anyway without aneasthetic!

GAHHHHHH!!!!!

Back in hospital...

2012-01-20T09:43:00.000-08:00

... the Dutch hospital, that is!

Took a leaf off Indi's book for this image, as all others I found were copyright

After weeks and weeks of hearing, reading and looking at pictures, I finally managed to go and check it out for myself. First impressions were like "wow, Colombo cleans up nice!" as I made Darling drive round and round the environs with me hanging out of the window in true Banda (Bandi?) Kolamba giya style.

The Dutch hospital was simply breathtaking, with the tall pillars and the massive wooden beams. With Bubs firmly strapped on to my chest, we proceeded to walk around, drinking in the colours (especially at Odel and Barefoot) and the smells (not such a fan of the cigarette smoke, though).

My second impression was an eerie flash back to the days spent in training at the Angoda mental hospital, now the National Institute of Mental Health. The same high vaulted ceilings, the same inner courtyard, the same massive walls and large windows, albeit with stout iron bars across them. I could just imagine how it was, centuries ago as pallid seamen and other patients lay on mats against the walls.

I loved the decor at the Hilton run restaurant ... and decided to order from their somewhat limited menu. All I can say was that I was really disappointed with the chicken schnitzel, the meat had been pounded so thin it resembled not so much a fillet than a slice of salami and the accompaniments were kinda meh. It compares very poorly with the one served at Urban Kitchen (Arpico, Hyde Park), which is not only nice and meaty, but comes with delicious hummus, grilled tomatoes, mushrooms and cheese. Dee has a review of other foods here.

We then went to check out the Heladiv tea club, which was charmingly decorated (a blue chandelier, I kid you not!) and smelled amazing. We decided to skip the tea and just take some dessert home as the Bumtrinket was going all kolavery di. The death by chocolate cake made a serious attempt to live up to its name. Although slathered in nice gooey icing, the cake itself was unbelievably thick and heavy (helloooo, baking powder?) and I swear I could feel it sitting like a rock in my stomach a good hour later. The chocolate eclair was slightly dry and an absolute rip off at Rs. 190/-., even though it had a fresh chocolate cream filling. Galle Face Hotel does a larger eclair with fresh chocolate cream for Rs. 50/- which is heavenly as long as it is fresh (choux pastry is nasty when stale). CJ sampled some other stuff on their menu, and his views can be found here.

On the way back we popped into Chocoluv, which had opened an outlet at Gregory's road. The ambiance was marvelous with shiny piles of frerro roche chocolate, fresh flowers, lots of mirrors and butterfly cutouts suspended from the ceiling. We had a frerro milkshake and a kinder milkshake, which were absolutely scrummy, and at Rs.250/- value for money.

Yup, that was a pretty good day! :D

Quotable Quotes

2012-01-16T23:22:00.000-08:00

Image from here

Liar!

- Angel accusing the weighing scale of unjustifiable bias

How come you still look pregnant?

- Darling, throwing all sense of self preservation to the winds

No abdominal exercises for 4 months

- Gyno, disregarding impassioned plea by Angel

You don't look like you've ever done crunches

- Gyno, adding insult to injury

It was the baby!

- Darling, trying to conceal the true origins of a large burp

You're a thumb-sucking "Choo"-bacca!

- Angel, looking at the 15th wet nappy for the day

Apologize immediately!

- Darling, voicing outrage at the flippancy

To the Bumtrinket, or to Chewie?

- Angel, seeking clarification

You're a very hydrated young lady

- Darling, trying to minimize the emotional fallout

Someone - and I'm not naming any names - has done the poop

- Angel, detecting a certain pungency in the air

Yes, all stinky-poo

- Darling, adding his 2 cents

She's the most gorgeous girl in the world!

- Darling, watching the Bumtrinket smiling toothlessly

Yes she is!

- Angel, relinquishing her title without a moment's regret

_________________

Inspired by The Circus

FML

2012-01-09T05:54:00.001-08:00

'nuff said

7 dead bodies...

2012-01-03T19:39:00.000-08:00

... lay there under the harsh light, waiting to be disposed. All victims of the same killing spree, they had died within minutes, if not seconds of each other. Limbs were crumpled against their still forms, yet even in death, their torsos sowed the bloated evidence of their bloody and parasitic existence.

Image from here

Gentle readers, I killed three mosquitoes yesterday. So what, you may ask, it's three less mosquitoes, but no big deal. It was a big deal for me though... it was the first time in seventeen years that I had deliberately, with malice aforethought, killed another creature.

Yes, I'm one of those* people. I let mossies suck my blood while I move to a window or doorway and flick them off. I fish spiders out of toilet bowls. I catch roaches in silisili bags and throw them out. I painstakingly remove each little ant before I wash a neglected teacup.

But...

Yesterday morning, my baby woke up with nearly 20 livid scarlet bumps all over her little body... on her face, arms and legs. Despite our best efforts, a bloodsucker had got in through the defenses of her cot and spent a merry few hours feasting on her. I was heartbroken at her plight and furious with myself for not detecting the creature before such damage was done. By evening, she began to develop a reaction around the bites, and her entire skin was turning a deep and angry pink. The poor little thing was quite distressed and cried for nearly an hour, and worse still, refused milk.

In my paranoid state I was thinking of all the dire possibilities from some sort of mutant dengue, to chicken pox to Kawasaki disease. Her doctor confirmed that yes, these are nasty insect bites causing an allergic reaction and she was then slathered in calamine lotion.

I covered her with her net, checked that the edges were firmly against the bed and went for dinner. When I came back, a fat, bloated creature had somehow wriggled inside and was buzzing around, clearly replete. I felt nothing but sharp clear fury (not my daughter, you bitch!**) as I squashed it to oblivion.

Later, as the body count mounted, I felt a sort of sick remorse... but my daughter is more important (to me) than a swarm of pests.

Where do you draw the line when in comes to avihimsa (non-violence?)

___________________________

* no, I'm not vegetarian, but I do try... I eat meat maybe 2-3 times a week, usually in the form of pastries and pizza topping.

** Molly Weasley, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

A Seasonal wish...

2011-12-25T08:14:00.000-08:00

Whew!

I, gentle readers, am having a whirlwind of a festive season and that whirlwind is taking both Darling and the Bumtrinket along with it.

Best of all, is that my Mum is home for the holidays, though only for a week. It's great to have her around and be able to lie next to her and talk to my heart's content. We're both having so much fun with Baby... loads of hugs and kisses and silly songs involved... Hopefully she'll be back again next month, so that's something to look forward to!

Of course, no celebration is complete without literary fare, so during the past couple of days, I have been digging into these...

Yup, 15 of Roald Dahl's finest titles. The collection was a gift from me to Darling... but it's actually a gift for myself! :)

The Phizwizzing Collection

Now, one cannot live on love, books and fresh air. For the Bumtrinket's first Christmas, we went to a celebration at her great grandfather's place (D's grandfather). I have no pictures of the scrumptious lunch we ate, simply because no one wanted to wait long enough for pictures! However, I need to place on record that Darling's grandma makes THE BEST pork curry I have ever tasted! My humble contribution was a peaches and cream cheesecake, adapted from my secret recipe. Happily, pictures are available!

Yummy!

Scrummy!

And you know what else made my day? My biggest cousin got me my most favourite chocolate ever, because he heard I was hankering after it...

Yes, that is ONE KILOGRAM of chocolate, and no, I am not sharing!

Naturally, the little pipsqueak had to be garbed in a suitably festive manner. Last week, I went a little crazy at baby shops, visiting about half a dozen (accompanied by Baby and the nanny). The stuff cost the better part of Rs. 3000/-, baby clothes seeming to follow the same trend as lingerie, i.e. the smaller it is, the more it costs... You have to admit though, my purchases are oozing with cuteness and the baby was a picture to behold when she was all dolled up to my heart's content!

Finally, Darling and I watched the Hogfather, punctuated in between by feedings, burpings and rockings to sleep.. .

Gentle readers, may you have a festive season full of joy love and good cheer... and wishes for the very best from myself, Darling and Baby!

How NOT to furnish a baby crib

2011-12-13T19:02:00.001-08:00

Cuddle overload!

During my baby shopping days, I went a little crazy with the cot furnishings... bumper pillows, bolster pillows, ordinary pillows, quilts, blankets, cot sheets, draw sheets and lots and lots of cuddly toys. A few days after the cot was lovingly decorated, I received an email with the updated guidelines on preventing SIDS - Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.

Although there is quite a kerfluffle about SIDS in USA, Aussie and Europe, we rarely hear about it in Asian countries. There are many reasons for this... all of them worthy of some consideration.

One is that in SL, small babies are almost always with their mother/grandmother and generally under supervision. I feel antsy about leaving the little Bumtrinket alone even when I go to brush my teeth. I would never dream of having her sleep in another room... as it is, her crib is right next to the bed, and she is only a couple of feet away from me. I can touch her when I want to, I can see her movements and I can hear her breathing. Studies have also shown that close proximity to the parent (mother) helps regulate infant breathing. I think there is a cultural/economic aspect here as well since the vast majority cannot afford the space for a separate sleeping area for a baby.

The other, of course, is breast feeding. Now this is also supported by traditional and cultural values and has been the rule rather than the exception in ancient SL. Exhibit B below is a woodcarving from the Ambekke Devale, and stolen from here.

During the 1970's there was heavy advertising by the milkfood companies, promoting infant formula but thanks to research and heavy lobbying by Prof. Priyani Soysa, Prof Dulitha Fernando, Dr Hiranthi Wijemanne and team, legislation was passed not only to ban marketing (Sri Lanka Code for the Promotion of Breastfeeding and Marketing of Breast Milk Substitutes) but also to allow mothers maternity leave in order to feed their kids (Maternity Benefits Ordinance). Since 2005, there has been overwhelming research evidence that breastfeeding reduces the risk of SIDS.

Source : Unicef, 2009

Our traditional choice of bedding is another factor. Babies sleep on mats or in makeshift cradles made out of a saree or bed sheet. No toxic foam, no soft pillows, good ventilation. Also not much chance of being placed face down as in the West... less chance of suffocation.

Unfortunately, several studies have noted an increase in SIDS in Asia, which is attributed to adopting "Western" practices. In Sri Lanka, opinion is divided as to whether the rarity is due to good practices or due to under-diagnosis.

The American Academy of Paediatrics parental guide to safe sleeping can be viewed here.

My safety tips would be as follows

1. Use a coir (kohu) mattress, with a cotton lining. These are natural, no toxic products like in foam mattresses, allows air to circulate and is cooler for the baby. Make sure it fits firmly in the crib.

2. If you're using cot bumpers along the sides of the crib, make sure they are firmly secured (check every day or even more often).

3. No loose bedding or bits of cloth/blankets on the crib.

4. No pillows.

5. No soft toys.

6. Burp the baby well, hold upright for 10-15 minutes afterwards, and then lay the baby on his/her back (not on tummy).

7. Any "tummy time" must be supervised.

8. If the baby is sleeping on your bed, make sure you/your partner don't fall deep asleep and roll over or squish the baby.

9. Breastfeed, breastfeed, breastfeed.

10. Make sure baby's immunization is upto date.

______________________

Edit:

11. Sleep in the same room as baby

12. Supervise constantly

______________________

Sources:

Department of Census and Statistics (2003) Sri Lanka Demographic and Health Survey 2002, Department of Census and Statistics, Sri Lanka: Colombo.

Fernando, R & Abayasinghe, N (2008) Sudden infant death syndrome/unexplained infant deaths in Sri Lanka, Medicine, Science and the Law, 48, 4, pp. 325-328.

Nelson, EAS, Fujita, T, Sawaguchi, A & Knight, B (1998) Is the incidence of SIDS increasing in Asia? International Journal of Legal Medicine, 111, 5, pp. 278-280.

Reid, GM (2006) Sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS): Microgravity and inadequate sensory stimulation, Medical Hypothesis, 66, 5, pp. 920-924.

Unicef (2009) Infant and young child feeding programme review: case study - Sri Lanka, New York: Unicef.

I love it when...

2011-12-08T06:03:00.002-08:00

... she goes "brrrrrrrrrrrr" when being burped and blows milky bubbles

... it's feeding time and she gets all excited, starts kicking her legs and literally pants in anticipation

... she unlatches and then rests her cheek on my breast and looks at me (like, okie, thatz enuff miluk, I wantz to be wif my Ammi)

... she grasps my finger in her hand, even though I know it's a reflex

... she sucks on my pinkie, and then it slowly dawns on her that she has the wrong appendage

... she gurgles in the bath when I splash her

... she protests against a wet nappy by lifting her bottom off the cot and wriggling it

... she sleeps with her fists clenched over her ears (like, Shhhhh, I'z tryings to get some sleeps!)

I just love her... so SO much!

To C or not to C

2011-12-05T22:28:00.000-08:00

So yeah, I had a C section. There were many reasons, and I won't be going into them here. It's not easy to decide between a normal vaginal delivery (NVD) and a C section (CS). NVD is the "natural" way to go... but also involves torn vaginal walls, a lot of pain, bleeding etc. Unless you plan on giving birth in a barn, it's not truly "natural" either... drugs such as oxytocin are given to kick start and maintain the contractions, and pethidine or even an epidural is given for the pain. This is because :

a) no woman should be in unnecessary pain (unless she wants to)

b) prolonged labour means loads of risks to both mother and baby

Almost always, an episiotomy cut is done, effectively widening the vaginal passage in a manner that will not affect the muscles controlling the bowel. So you end up with stitches, whether you like it or not.

CS is basically abdominal surgery... you get sliced open, there's a lot of blood and pain once the anaesthesia wears off.

NVD is safer for the mother, riskier for the baby. But it's better for the baby because the brain gets "moulded" and extra water is squeezed out of the baby lungs. CS is riskier for the mum, but the baby is born all pretty and rosy, not having gone through the trauma of being squeezed through a bony passage. NVD is unpredictable, you never know what might go wrong at a god-awful hour when no doctors are immediately available. CS offers a measure of comfort for the control freak.

I know a lot of people think that mothers going for C sections have it "easy". A couple of months ago, some of the Sinhala blogs on Kottu were discussing if mothers who deliver "normally" (NVD) love their children more. This offended me even then... how can pain be a measure of affection? I can't compare the two, since I didn't go through both*, but I can assure you that the C section is by no means easy.

The actual delivery is like the proverbial piece of cake, but afterwards, the mother has to deal with the contractions of the womb, since it is now going through the process of getting back to size (this happens naturally with NVD and is mostly complete by the time the baby is out). The process is helped by hormones that are secreted in response to feeding.

The difference? After a C section, the womb has a large surgical cut along the lower part... so with each contraction, the raw edges are squeezed tight against each other.... over and over again. For 2 days, every time I fed my child, I could feel the contractions one after the other, pain rippling through my insides in relentless waves. Sometimes it would make me moan with agony, tears dripping down onto the innocent little face nestling at my breast. The nice doctors offered me pethidine, but I refused, because I knew it would make the baby sleepy and make breast feeding more difficult to establish. And there's the pain from the surgical skin cut as well... a burning red gash across my lower belly.

I know it's not a competition, but on behalf of all the much maligned mums who go through a CS, I'd like to place on record that it's certainly not an easy piece of cake to eat!

______________________________

* I need to ask my Sis-in-law or my friend T who both went through hours of labour and then had to have emergency CS, yipes!

Out and about!

2011-12-01T04:35:00.000-08:00

We had our first major outing today... and by "we" I mean Darling, myself and the little Bumtrinket. After six weeks (six weeks!) of being cooped up in the house, I was like a bird, flapping away towards freedom, and in high excitement, babbling away like a bubbling brook. Seriously, six weeks and the only outings were two visits to the Paediatrician and one to my VOG... (specially considering my active pre-baby lifestyle), I mean, who wouldn't get postpartum depression?

Don't get me wrong, I love being with the little pipsqueak, changing her, feeding her, rocking her... just watching her sleep gives me little goosebumps of joy and watching her develop and grow is incredible. She gave her first responsive smile three days ago... her first social milestone. And it was amazing... instead of her usual slightly blank smile (also directed at the light bulb, the water jug and Eeyore), she looked at me, focused on my face and this wide, delighted smile just spread across her baby face as if she was thinking "Yes! There's my Ammi!" I was so excited, I was literally hopping about when I interrupted Darling at his very important meeting and told him the good news.

But I digress.

One reason for the new found travel is obviously, that she is 6 weeks old, and ready to brave the wide wild world. Another is our aristocratically named Nanny. Readers, introducing Charlotte, a gentle soul with just the right knack to handle the baby and the slightly neurotic mama at the same time.

Today being a "neketh" day half the eligible couples in SL are getting married, and we happened to be invited to two of them. So we went. Darling, me, Baby, Charlotte, Eeyore, changing mat, nappies, baby wipes, baby dresses, et al. We made a glorious and conspicuous entrance at one hotel, caught up with the "gang", mwah mwah'ed the Aunties, nicked the key to the room reserved for the happy couple, fed the baby, then breezed out, only to make a similar appearance at a similar hotel nearby.

We came home, nerves slightly frazzled, with a voraciously hungry baby and a dizzily exuberant mama.

Watch out Colombo, here we come!

Birthday!

2011-11-17T19:59:00.000-08:00

Yes gentle readers, we are one month old today! (Her excellency has a tendency to use the Royal plural) :D

I've been meaning to write about what it was like.. the Big Day... but some memories are too precious to put to words well.

As it turned out, I had a Cesarean section (for a number of reasons)... it was good because, control freak that I am, I could decide on the date, time and the doctors who were to be there... not exactly an option for emergencies! So there I was, clad in theater garb, being wheeled into the waiting area. I hadn't got much sleep the previous night, so instead of being in a state of pleasant anticipation, I conked out, and the Anaesthetist had to shake me awake... erm, never mind.

Now I've had a lumbar puncture before, which hurt like hell, and had steeled myself to put on a brave show during the spinal anaesthesia. Honestly though, my doctor was so wonderful, I didn't feel a thing, not even that huge needle being plunged into my spine. So there I was, biting my lips and tensing for the pain and she says "okie, you can lie down" and I'm like "that's it?". She must have thought I was demented...

So once the drugs kicked in, I was stripped (farewell maiden modesty!), and then covered again with sterile cloth. My VOG gives me a thumbs up and I'm sure a big smile was there under his mask as he ushered Darling into the theater. The poor man (Darling, not the VOG) kept his eyes determinedly away from the scene of carnage and sat down on a little stool near me. It was incredibly comforting to have him near me... whispering soothing things and rubbing my shoulder while the doctors sliced me up. The drugs dull the pain, but you can still feel everything going on, and I was thinking, ok, now they cut the skin, now they pushed up the omentum, now they're mobilizing the womb...

Suddenly there was this huge sensation of pressure, making me gasp and making D pat frantically away at my shoulder... and she was born! There she was, pink with the effort of breathing for the first time, her eyes scrunched up against the brightness of the theater lights and body slick with our combined blood and fluids. Her mouth was wide open as she squalled with all her might, announcing her presence to the world.

I could only say "oh she's gorgeous" before dissolving in tears. You know how in corny novels they describe how someone's heart melted like a pat of butter in the sun? That's exactly how I felt. I kept craning to see what was happening while the Paediatrician assessed her and then the lovely, warm, wriggling bundle of joy was on my chest, snuffling her way towards the milk supply. How do I describe it... that first contact with my child, my flesh and blood? I'm sorry... there are no words... I was just floating on this fluffy white cloud, clutching her close to me.

Afterwards? Well all 3 of us donned out L boards and got on with being a new family... feeding, burping and changing nappies.

Words

2011-11-12T16:57:00.000-08:00

He said

"Twelve years ago, I stood in front of the Taj Mahal, and thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world"

He said

"Four years ago, I saw you step out of the car in your wedding dress, and I thought the most beautiful thing was you"

He said

"I look at our little baby, nestled in your arms... and I know she is the most beautiful thing in the world"

I love you, my Darling!

Poopy tales*

2011-11-07T21:04:00.000-08:00

*highly sensitive people are advised to stay away from this post

So yes, baby poop has now become a ~~delightful~~ standard addition to my daily routine. Newborns have only milk in their cute little tummies, so the poop is golden yellow, has the consistency of toothpaste and isn't really smelly. Darling begs to disagree with the last statement, and his pained face at every nappy change is a sight worth seeing... but that's because Ms Bumtrinket saves the messiest ones for him!

With my vast experience of 2 weeks, I have cautiously divided the poop into a few categories

1. The first poop: This is basically the accumulated gunk of 9 months being purged from the baby intestines. It's the colour and consistency of hot tar, and presumably equally difficult to clean off. During the first day we used over a hundred (yes, one hundred) cotton balls for cleaning purposes. Happily, after about 2-3 motions, things get a bit easier.

2. The relaxed poop: Baby gives due warning (squall, poopy face), and is positioned in a way to cause minimal damage. By manipulating the baby, it's possible to make attractive swirls on the diaper, rather like decorating cupcakes...

3. The gassy poop: The is minimal warning, usually an ominous rumble from down under, and usually when Darling is "on-call". Baby is rushed to changing surface. Poop comes out in a projectile manner, hitting the far end of the changing mat or the wall beyond, completely obliterating anything (cotton balls, clean nappies, baby cream) in its path.

I shall be updating this list periodically.

Ahhh, motherhood!

2011-11-04T06:22:00.000-07:00

This my dear readers, is the only occupation where the job description includes delight at the bodily effluents of another person... :)

1. Poop

As in : OMG she did her first poop....! OMG she did her 17th poop! (Ad infinitum)

2. Farts

As in : Better out than in, my darling! (Thank you Shrek)

3. Burps

As in : Wow, that was a *big* burp (Yes, and she will not regurgitate and choke)

4. Pee

As in : Yes! Her 10th wet nappy! (She is not dehydrated!)

5. Weight gain

As in : 200g! Brilliant! (That's equal to 2 whole marie biscuit packets!)

Await more additions to the list...

Names for Baby

2011-10-26T20:23:00.000-07:00

So, Darling and I are considering the following options...

Baby
Bubbee
Babsi
Babsianna
Babushka
Bambina
Ms. Poopy Bottom (aka PeeBee)
Ms. Bootle Bumtrinket

You may begin voting now....

Announcement

2011-10-24T15:20:00.001-07:00

A relatively short guide to pregnancy for the completely clueless

2011-10-14T08:24:00.000-07:00

A couple of my commentors were kind enough to say they learnt a lot about pregnancy from my humble posts, and some even followed up with more questions. I realised that we have access to very few sources about actual health experiences, pregnancy related or otherwise.

When I worked/trained at DMH and Castle Street, I used to spend a lot of time chatting with the mums-to-be and giving them advice on diet, exercise, what to expect in the labour room etc. Quite often though, I'd feel like a complete fool, because it was all "book-learnt" and never from actual experience. In fact, I had a 17 year old girl (let's ignore the underage bit for the moment) tell me off in the labour room after asking me how many kids I had. Her scathing comment went along the lines of "you haven't a clue about what you're talking about and what I'm going through, so be quiet and concentrate on getting this thing outta me!"

So this is one of the Bibles for our Ob/Gyn appointments.

Image from here

So as soon as the test came positive, I blew the dust off my copy and started thumbing through. My reaction was one of deep disgust, since (although it was obvious) everything was clinical and from the point of the doctor, not from the point of the mum. In addition, none of those much revered "Ten Teachers" were female... and the book was summarily discarded.

My cousin then lent me her copy of this.

Image from here

It's a bit wordy, but it became standard bedside reading and it includes chapters on pregnancy planning, week by week update about the baby, labour and best of all bits for the proud papa to read.

I'm not going to reproduce the book here, but just include a few highlights from my own experiences (wow, it feels so good to say that... am not a pregnancy-noob anymore!)

How do you know you're pregnant?

I've mentioned several times that I figured it out a couple of weeks before my period was due. One reason is that I'm frequently invited to do a lecture on the "physiological changes in pregnancy" to nursing students, paramedics etc., so I knew what to look out for!

It helps of course, if you're planning to get pregnant and have thrown your stash of pills/condoms out of the window. There are many ways to time doing "it", including counting dates off a calendar, checking your temperature daily for subtle changes. I personally recommend just getting rid of the... um... preventives and having a lot of relaxed fun with your significant other, but of course, to each his own.

The first thing I noticed that I was uncharacteristically hungry all the time and felt quite bloated. Then my boobs started to hurt (gah!!) and I actually went to work bra-less for a few days (no one notices under a saree anyway). Then came the need to pee all the time. By then, I just knew.

Of course the only way to be completely sure is to do a pregnancy test. The urine test (dipstick) costs between 40-50 rupees at the pharmacy and is simple to use... just stick it for a few seconds (5-15, it varies from brand to brand) and wait for the results. It's good to have a wide mouthed container (e.g. marmite jar) handy for moments like that. Note however, you need to be at least 5-6 weeks pregnant (i.e. about 2 weeks after your period is due) for this to be reliable, so any time before that, you may as well stir your urine with a hairpin.

Image from here

Unfortunately, when my test came positive (yay!) I noticed that the strip had expired (it was a remnant of my days working in the female casualty wards). So we went and got a blood test done the next day. The blood test is a bit more reliable and can read positive as early as 3 weeks after your last period. There are 2 methods, one tests just positive/negative, while the other gives the actual hormone levels, so that the doctor can estimate how far along you are... this is useful if your periods are irregular. The test can cost between Rs. 1500/- to Rs. 3500/-, and if you're doing it, I would recommend one of the more established/reliable labs.

To be 100% sure, an ultra sound scan is needed, and this gives additional information like where the pregnancy is (some conceive outside the womb), whether it's a singleton or multiples (eeek!) and a more reliable estimate of how many weeks the baby is. The test can cost between Rs. 1500/- to 3,000/- depending on the hospital and doctors charges. You'd also probably need a referral or at the very least a positive urine/blood test, before you saunter in and ask for a scan!

Planning for a pregnancy

Of course, it's always better if you can do this (cue flashbacks of all catastrophic-unwanted-unexpected pregnancy movies). If you like, you can have a pre-conception chat with a doctor/nurse/midwife/nutritionist and find out how you can optimise yourself for the baby. This is very important if you have a medical condition needing long term treatment.

This means having a chat with your significant other, checking your blood sugar, blood pressure and haemoglobin, avoiding smoking (even second hand) and alcohol, getting a dental check up etc. It's also good to start on the vits: vitamin B-complex, vitamin C and folic acid. In fact, I'd recommend them to any young female of reproductive age because, apart from being good for the teeny tiny baby, they give you nice healthy skin and shiny hair. You can also take iron and calcium if you like, but this can be saved for later in the pregnancy as long as you have a healthy diet.

AVOID the vitamin A supplements and foods that have loads of it like liver and cod liver oil because it can cause birth defects. Some acne medications contain retinol related compounds and should be avoided as well. The usual amounts of vitamin A obtained from yellow fruits and veggies are perfectly adequate and necessary for mum and the baby.

If you HAVEN'T planned and still find you are pregnant, no need to get all worked up and panicky about bygones... just decide to take it from there... :D

_________________________________________________________

Hmmmm... I just realised that the "relatively short" in the title is totally misleading. I'm not even sure if anyone wants to read all these details. Anywez, await part 2 soon (unless the Baby arrives, in which case, await part 2 later!)

Comic of the day

2011-10-10T09:14:00.000-07:00

Image stolen from here

Just a few more days...

Counting, hoping, praying...

Chuti-Baba

2011-10-06T19:44:00.004-07:00

This post is dedicated to my 2 year old nephew, A.

I spent a very relaxing day at his (or rather, his parents') place, being waited on hand and foot. It's amazing how everyone is so kind and accommodating when you are pregnant... it almost makes up for looking like a beached whale!

Towards the end of the day, A finally cottoned on to what everyone meant when they kept pointing to my belly and saying "See A, there's a Chuti Baba in there for you to play with". He started laughing and stroking the tummy, while cooing "Chuti-Baba" over and over again. He then ran to his toys, and comes back with a pile of lego stuck under his shirt, pointing to it and saying "Chuti-Baba" much to our amusement.

When his mother said, no, that's something different, he ran over to me, pulled up my preggy top (ooops!) and discovered my belly button, that recently started popping out (that deserves a post of its own!). Laughing delightedly, A started pressing my belly button, obviously trying to get the incumbent playmate to hurry on out!

Kids, I tell you!

Bop Bop Baby!

2011-10-03T09:04:00.000-07:00

Just the 2 of us

I don't want my pregnancy to end! In spite of all the worry and the complications and the fear and uncertainty... I swear, this has been the best experience of my life.

Pregnancy symptoms

Baby has truly been the sweetest and most considerate foetus anyone could wish for. When I first figured out I was pregnant (and this was a good 2 weeks before I missed my period), I just hugged the secret to myself. Just me and Baby - the two of us in our own private universe. Darling was let in on the secret... and then there were three.

Awesome threesome!

I hardly had any morning sickness... I may have thrown up a grand total of 4 times during the past 9 months, and on 2 of those occasions it was food poisoning rather than the preggy hormones. Sure, I felt queasy sometimes, stopped being able to taste certain flavours, and was completely put off by others... but on the whole, Baby and I managed to eat healthily and heartily.

Things are a little different now... I get excruciating cramps in my legs at night, that make me wake up literally screaming in pain. Getting off bed involves complicated wriggly movements and a lot of effort. Whenever I walk more than a few steps or climb stairs I feel absurdly breathless. And I need to pee... all. the. time. This is complicated by the fact that I keep dreaming that something terrible has happened. I've always had vivid dreams, in full colour, and with smells, sounds, the works. I've woken up distraught more times than I can count, sobbing because Baby had "disappeared" or "never existed" or had been "taken".

Specially after the most recent scare, I've started to welcome the symptoms... even the cramps. It's "proof" that I'm still pregnant and Baby is still there with us. I think they're not even bitter-sweet anymore. Just pure sweetness.

The kicks

These, I think are the sweetest of all. The textbooks call it "quickening", the sensation of feeling the baby move. At first, I wasn't even sure if that was what I felt... it was so small and so gentle... as if a flower petal had bumped against my belly. And then a few days later, it was as if someone was blowing bubbles inside me, that gently floated around, bumped against the walls of my womb and then went "bop".

That's what Darling and I call it... bopping. I tell Darling that I pity him, because he will never know how wonderful it feels to have this wonderful, living bundle of joy wriggling inside. And day by day Baby keeps bopping more and more, making my tummy bounce and wobble... and it's so difficult to suppress a delighted smile or laugh when that happens.

Baby somehow seems most responsive to Darling. Baby is Daddy's little love bug... and the bops are the strongest when D reads aloud to both of us, or spends time talking to Baby about his day at work and what not. Baby also bops in time to pirith and classical music. Excuse a mother's natural pride when I say that Baby has impeccable taste.

_______________________________

So here I am, counting my days and enjoying every bump and wriggle inside me...

Part of me never wants to let go of this warm wonderful feeling...

Friends for Baby

2011-09-30T10:11:00.000-07:00

This is Eeyore.

Eeyore was the first birthday present I got from Darling, and I remember how (7 years ago) he sheepishly walked into Faculty, carrying this large shapeless bundle wrapped in red wrapping paper. Eeyore has since graced my bed... being cuddled and talked to, especially when D is away on trips or holidays.

This is Little Eeyore. When in Hong Kong 2 weeks ago, this is what Darling bought first... Baby's first soft toy! Apparently he couldn't resist getting the little cute cuddly thing... doesn't he have the most winsome expression?

So there they are... Big Eeyore for Ammi and Little Eeyore for Bubbee. But Darling had been worried that Little Eeyore would be all lonely until Baby came along. So he decided to bring along his friends as well...

The more playmates for Baby, the merrier we'll all be!

Bottom's up!

2011-09-28T00:33:00.001-07:00

These days, when I look down at my tummy, it no longer appears uniformly round, but strangely lopsided... like a bullet.

The view from the top

Sometimes it looks like the badly drawn picture A (above) and sometimes like picture B. My last scan confirmed that Baby had flipped over, and is now in the recommended "head down" position.

So that large bump is the nice little rounded bottom, which Baby keeps moving from side to side in a sort of slow but enthusiastic rumba... :)

Darling says what ever Baby's other features may be, Baby has certainly inherited my posterior! Lol!

Pregnant with song...

2011-09-25T04:44:00.000-07:00

Hello everybody...! Well, you can see the sad outcome of my resolution to blog more. Darling - of course - took off with the laptop... and the desktop crashed shortly afterwards. Maybe it was lonely too. I managed to keep up with my bloglists at work, but felt guilty about blogging during work hours... and many posts just remained unwritten.

So even though JP and Chavie had some great ideas with links and the TV series, I did end up doing far more housework than was strictly necessary, including cooking a meal for my cousin (who is also pregnant) and her family. Am utterly exhausted today, but happy because I took the noon dane to the temple near my house and also found some time to meditate.

The good news is that Darling is back!! Yay! (Does happy dance)... And now I have laptop and interwebs while he sleeps off the jet lag. We watched the latest episodes of a couple of TV series, so I am very happy! The goodies brought home deserve a post of their own, and I shall get to it the moment I snaffle the camera and the cable from Darling's stuff.

I've been listening to a lot of great music these days, both for my benefit (keep down 'em raging hormones) and for Baby's benefit too. There's a lot of classical music on my play lists, Beethoven, Bach, Mozart and music from Swan lake and the Nutcracker Suite.

The Moonlight sonata, my favourite!

Also Yanni (esp. the Acropolis tracks... love them, totally love them!) and the more contemporary cute songs like Firefly

Getting a thousand hugs, from ten thousand lightning bugs... so cute!

I've also developed (not surprisingly paerhaps) an affinity for preggy movies/songs. Obviously, classics (ahem) like Juno and the Waitress top the list.

This is definitely going to be a "sing Baby to sleep" song

Great expectations indeed...

Ignore the slightly disturbing pregnant teen back-up singers in this!

So, yeah, that's what I've been up to last week. No internets, no skype with Darling (thank goodness for Dialog-my 10), lots of music and a reasonably clean house!

How has your week been?

Lonely

2011-09-18T08:18:00.000-07:00

So here I am, sitting all alone in my room, hoping the days will pass quickly. Darling has flown out of SL on a work related trip, and I can't describe how much I miss him. Of course there are advantages in travelling on company moolah, like getting to fly business class, and being put up at a swanky hotel. Thanks to Halik, however, I have been having visions of svelte Cathay Pacific stewardesses cooing "oh hello, Mr. Darling, would you like unlimited refills of assorted nuts?", not the most restful, you would have to agree.

Darling has been trying very hard to lessen the impact on me... taking me on a delightful mini-break to Bentota just before he left, and calling me three times a day since he got there. He has also left instructions to Brother to maintain regular supply of chocolate eclairs and apple juice, and admonitions all over facebook, email and elsewhere not to be a pundit and do any cleaning or heavy lifting. This is quite justified because generally being jobless and lonely tends to trigger my OCD, which results in me cleaning the bathroom tiles or the floor skirting with a toothbrush.

Meanwhile, I've set myself a long "to-do" list, which includes blogging more. But gentle readers, do forgive the over abundance of preggy-posts. Nothing fills my universe more than the minute human being inside me... and nothing gives me more joy.

Have a great Monday!

I'm pregnant... what's your excuse?

2011-09-12T02:36:00.000-07:00

Last week saw me waddle into one of the better known 5 star hotels in Colombo. I hadn't been to one of those for some time, and even better, my sense of taste was getting back to normal... so I was obviously looking forward to enjoying the fun, music and the food at the wedding.

We were late, but not late enough to dive into the buffet right away. After about 15 minutes of smiling serenely at the rest of the crowd and swaying gently to the strains of classical music, the hunger pangs hit. It is incredible how quick and intense the sensation of hypoglycaemia is these days... I get irritable, my head hurts, tummy rumbles and Baby does the cha-cha on my internal organs. There was no sign of wedding cake or the welcome drink. I waved frantically at a waiter who was loitering nearby, desperate for sustenance.

Angel (smiling sweetly) : we only just got to the hall, do you think we could have some drinks served to this table?

Waiter (somewhat loudly) : NO

Eh? What??? How dare he... what's wrong with him... can't he see I'm pregnant? I need special treatment...! Hang on.... I'm entitled to a welcome drink, dammit!!

I sit there, massively pregnant, wrapped in my cream silk saree, the voluminous folds making me look more like a beached whale than anything else, and stare up at him in shock.

Angel (stammering) : But why not?

Waiter (miffed) : we have been instructed not to serve drinks, Madam.

...................

??????????

...................

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The penny drops.

@##$@&&****!!!!!

Angel (in a voice so cold that hell would have frozen over) : I meant a welcome drink ~~you moron~~ not an alcoholic drink!

Waiter : Ah... um... sure.... (and scuttles off)

The rest of my unsympathetic table-mates burst out into gales of hysterical laughter. The general consensus was that the waiter has (quite understandably) put down my dimensions to alcoholic cirrhosis!

Hmmmp! I don't get no respect!

Our little survivor

2011-08-29T23:28:00.000-07:00

Thanks so much everyone for all your good wishes and for sharing our joy at the impending arrival of a wee bundle of joy. I owe everyone a bit of an explanation as to why the announcement was kept so late. Trust me, you weren't the only ones, some of our close relatives didn't find out till almost six months into the pregnancy...

Let me digress a minute on our traditions associated with pregnancy... among them eating jackfruit and brinjals (to ensure abundant milk), not completing the baby clothes before the delivery, not bringing the cot home before the baby, and reciting religious chants (Angulimala piritha) to ensure smooth delivery. In other words, there is no assumption that the birth is a certainty and that all will go well. Life is uncertain... and obviously, someone from my field will have abundant evidence of this uncertainty.

I knew I was pregnant a good couple of weeks before I missed my period. Maybe because I was more aware of the changes in my body... maybe because I just had a sense of not being "alone". So Darling and I waited, all starry eyed until it was time to do the blood test. I can't find the words to explain how I felt when I looked at my HCG report... nothing I have ever done before or since was comparable to this big jolt of joy that ran through my body. Some of you may remember that in the past, my views about kids have changed from ambivalent to negative to "whatevah" to expectant... mostly because (career woman that I am) I had little faith in my parenting skills. Over the last eight months, not a smidgen of a doubt has crossed my mind... even when I tested myself by deliberately thinking "will I be a good mum?" my gut reaction would always be "Good mum? Of course I'm going to be a good mum... I'm going to be the best mum ever, because no one can love my little Bubee more than I do".

One of the first pics... Baby lies between the green and yellow crosses

That said, the last 8 months have not been a bed of roses. Soon after the first scan, a contaminated sandwich gave me Shigella food poisoning. The fever, vomiting and diarrhoea nearly caused a miscarriage... Baby was 1.29cm long... and 1cm of the sac had separated from the protective walls of my womb! I was terrified... but our little survivor kept hanging in there.

After about 3 months, I kept feeling lousy, got odd fevers, swollen lymph nodes and developed a leaky valve in my heart. My blood work was crazy... and I had three consultants (still do actually) scratching their heads and wondering what was wrong. During the next 2 months I was tested for every nasty and obscure disease under the sun, from TB and HIV to toxaplasma and Epstein Barr virus. And throughout it all, Baby continued to thrive and grow in leaps and bounds.

Baby @ 13 weeks

Somehow, I got the ok to travel abroad, and honestly, those 3 weeks in Malaysia were a godsend. Of course the training was hectic... but I had no other responsibilities... I did minimum shopping and spent most evenings and weekends in my room with my feet up, reading Terry Pratchet. Once I got back, my Mum needed cataract surgery and Darling was hospitalised, (food poisoning again - honestly, we seem to attract the worst bugs).

And Baby continued to grow and develop. I felt the very first kicks exactly when I was supposed to... and the growth scans were right there in the midline. The "anormaly scan" is usually done at about 20 weeks and the doctor looks at everything visible... the brain, spine, heart, face, palate and nose, the stomach the kidneys and the bladder. Baby got gold stars in all of them... somehow managing to overcome the limitations of an illness prone mother.

I wish I could be in better health, for Baby's sake, but even as I type this, I am on medical leave, lying on my left side to maximise the blood flow to the placenta. Somehow, during the last few weeks, Baby hasn't grown as expected. I'm just 32 weeks pregnant and hoping against hope that we will not need to go for a pre-mature delivery. The worst thing about being a doctor is knowing full well of all the nasty things that can go wrong and having a dozen worst case scenarios playing through your mind.

Hang in there my little Angel, my Sweetie, my Cutie! You're a fighter and a survivor... You're the best thing that has ever happened to your Mum and Dad... we love you so very much and are rooting for you all the way...

Stay with us...

I can't do a shoe post because... (part II)

2011-08-25T07:06:00.000-07:00

... I can no longer see my feetz!!

:D

I can't do a shoe post because... (part I)

2011-08-18T09:32:00.000-07:00

I have ugly feetz.

No, seriously. I return from Malaysia, all ready to get pampered and petted by the usual ladies at my regular joint. I call them to get an appointment and I get this heavily accented female voice tersely informing me that they "do not provide services anymore". Hmmm.... I think they have gone bankoloth, though I doubt it had anything to do with my not gracing their premises with my custom.

So here I am, as hairy as big foot... make that big-ugly-foot, since I haven't had a pedi in ages, and the sight of my poor callused feet is not for the faint of heart.

Luckily, DeeCee in her timely and helpful manner has put up a post regarding her waxing experiences... and hopefully her wax-lady will be of help to me as well.

I've been waxing for about 4 years now... and trust me, although it hurts like hell at first, it's totally worth it because the hair grows slower and finer and softer each time and the skin gets nice and soft too. I get my upper lip waxed as well because threading hurts WAY more and the wax takes like 5 seconds.

I really wish my old place was still there though... the place was cosy and comfy, there wasn't much of a crowd, so more attention and the staff was very friendly. They also used this funny green wax imported from Singapore (I think). I found it differnt to the run of the mill hot/cold waxes I've had before. The wax hardens very fast, and the best thing is, it can be peeled off by itself, without the use of wax cloths or papers (less effort, more hygienic).

Oh well, no sense of crying over spilled wax... lets hope I have nice super smooth feet and legs soon!

I quit!!

2011-08-11T07:42:00.000-07:00

Image stolen and mutilated from here

So yes. I quit.

My job.

I am no longer attached to the Ministry of Health. And no, it had nothing to do with the previous post.

I know this is not news to some of you guys, but I thought I'll come out of the er.... closet and make an announcement to the world in general. In fact, this whole quitting thing took place some time ago, catalysed by a number of events, and is to blame for the dearth of patient related posts on the bloggie. Also responsible, I think, for the reduced traffic. As one so-called fan put it, "I really liked your angst filled gut wrenching posts more than the twinkly happy ones". Hmmm....

So what does this mean? It means I'm no longer prowling the wards in high heels or lurking inside clinics. In fact, I won't be seeing many patients for the foreseeable future unless I want to (like volunteering at women's health clinics and in health camps). It means I joined a university as a lecturer, for a substantially lower pay, I might add. It means I'm doing a bit of teaching and a lot of research. It means I no longer work weekends, night shifts or casualty rotations. It means I don't have to be on-call and get the jitters every time the phone rings.

I hear you, gentle readers screech out "why???" in tones of outrage.

Like I said, there were a number of reasons. I saw the vacancy advertised in the paper and decided to go for it. It meant having more opportunity to go places and see things, like here and here and here and here. It meant not being stressed like I've described here or having moments of frustration and sadness like here and here.

It may be because I want to spend more time with Darling, just chillaxing, just the two of us. The ability to go pee whenever I want to (note cartoon) is also a great advantage, since I have had patients/relatives diss me when I get up to drink some water or go to the washroom instead of writing out their cards.

I'm really happy at my new job... I work in a nice office, in air conditioned comfort. I work with a great team of like minded people. I have research assistants and a secretary to ease some of the boring work. I don't have to wear saree everyday.

Will I ever go back? May be. It was something I negotiated when I went for the interview... so yes, I may do a clinical degree as well. It's nice to know I still have the choice.

So yes, I think it's all for the best.

Happy weekend all!

Shame on you!! (A tale of irony, failure and blatant discrimination)

2011-08-04T08:48:00.001-07:00

And the star player is.... (wait for it ladies and gentlemen) the Ministry of Health!

Image from here

Of course, I need to add a disclaimer that I wasn't a witness to the sordid event, and that I heard it from a number of parties who were present.

Another sunny day in sunny Sri Lanka, a batch of young post-intern doctors, their SLMC registration cards all new and shiny, were attending an orientation programme organised by the Ministry. At one point, an official clambered on to the stage to deliver a lecture on "Communication, public relations and attitudes". Blinking owlishly at the audience, he has proceeded to deliver (very badly) a lecture in Sinhala.

After a short while, the Tamil speaking doctors have requested that he speak in English, as they were unable to follow what he was saying. A reasonable request, one would presume.

At this point, the official has snidely said "if you cannot understand, go outside and wait. You will be given a summary in English as a handout at the end of the lecture".

Stunned and horrified, yet maintaining their dignity, these doctors had walked out, followed by a few of their Sinhala speaking colleagues. Although the majority of the crowd had been outraged, few had the self assurance to join them. However, complaints were made to the organisers, followed by the assurance that this "official" will be pulled from the programme.

However, the drama continued on to the next day, lectures were still delivered in Sinhala, while the Tamil speaking doctors were taken (bussed?) to a different venue, where lectures were in Tamil.

In a time where we all speak of ethnic cohesion and reconciliation, I see this as an insult to all Tamil speaking persons and to all doctors. I see it as a personal insult to myself and my beliefs. I am shocked, disgusted and ashamed... but on further thought, I don't think I'm really surprised.

They talk the talk... but do they really walk the walk?

Snake in the grass!

2011-07-19T09:36:00.000-07:00

Literally...!

Image from here

A few days ago, hopping out of the car and striding ahead to the house in front of Mum, I notice a black and yellow shoelace lying on the path. I stooped to pick it up and realised that

a) No one at home wears lace up shoes anymore

b) Shoelaces don't taper off towards one end

I shrieked and jumped back as my brain processed the triangular head with the wicked eyes and the familiar mottled markings of a baby Russel's viper, and my muscles worked on a survival instinct of their own. The fellow was tiny, compared to the monster in the picture above, actually looked more like this.

Panic and pandemonium reigned for a few moments and with the help of the neighbours, the offending critter was hacked to pieces... I didn't watch (too busy with a mini trembling fit inside my room), and although I am all for the sanctity of life and live and let live mindset, I was not in the mood to suggest catching it and sending it to the snake lab of the Colombo Medical Faculty (where the snake venom is milked for experiments).

Daboia russelli is one of the deadliest snakes in Sri Lanka... the venom wreaks havoc on a number of body systems, messes up the clotting, poisons the liver and kidneys, causes dangerous heart rhythms and can damage the nervous system, i.e. you're pretty much screwed. Antivenom is available, but it's a polyvalent antivenom (common remedy for several types of snake bites) that's is imported from India. Although quite effective, it causes unpleasant allergic reactions - fever, chills, rashes, itching, clogged throat, and in about 40%, anaphylaxis, which is life threatening. In fact, a patient once said to me "Doctor, I died and went to hell twice and crawled back. Once when the snake bit me, and once when you gave me the injection".

Dr. Asitha de Silva and his team recently published an article in PLoS Medicine, which will revolutionize how snakebite is treated in SL as their method can reduce adverse reactions by over 40%. Hurrah for the doctors who are doing something to take snakebites out of the "neglected disease" category!

According to the Annual Health Bulletin, 39,321 patients have been admitted in the year 2007 to Government hospitals following snakebite. Most are probably from non venomous snakes, but that's one of the biggest problems we face - difficulty in identifying as the snake is often not brought. Of course when they DO bring the snake, that can result in complications as well. I have my share of snaky stories... just like most of the other docs out there...

Once the patient was accompanied by a 3 foot long live cobra in a gunny sack, which was jumping around like crazy and obviously enraged. The relatives kept egging me to peer inside the sack and confirm the identity and I kept saying no effing way. Finally, they killed the fellow and put it in a glass jar and brought it back to the ward... gah!

On another day when I asked "did you see the snake?" the patient signaled to his friend, who promptly dropped the snake at my feet. I screamed and leaped on to my chair before you could say "fatal haematotoxicity"... and then realized that the snake was, thankfully, dead. That is of course no excuse and I swear that incident is responsible for my crop of grey hairs.

Yet another day a couple of teenage rasthi-types walk in holding a jar that had a coiled up krait. Apparently one of them had felt "something" and then noticed the snake. I was quite pleased since we had a suspect, and careful examination (I went over his skin with a magnifying glass) showed that the guy hadn't been bitten after all. I asked him to stay for 4 hours observation just in case (as he said he felt something), but next thing I know, they had disappeared, leaving the snake filled jar on the floor of the corridor, where to my horror, it was kicked by an unwary labourer and went rolling around the ward! Much frantic scrambling later, the snake (still in the jar) and I were eyeballing each other from opposite ends of the doctor's table. It took another 4 hours to find a labourer who was willing (read - not too scared) to hand the snake over to the Faculty.

So what do you do if, gods forbid, you or someone with you is bitten by a snake?

do not panic and run around (muscle activity = the venom will be absorbed faster)
remember that most snakebites turn out to be harmless
do not cut or suck at the wound, don't apply ice
wash with soap (if available) and clean water
remove anything that might constrict a swelling limb : bangles, rings, watches etc.
immobilise the limb, if possible at a level below the heart. If it's a leg, splint/tie it to the other leg, or use anything handy (e.g. an umbrella) as a splint. The victim would need to be carried, which is all the better since that minimises muscle activity.
don't tie tourniquets (reduces blood flow to the whole limb and may make things worse)
don't give aspirin or ibuprofen; paracetamol may be given if pain is severe
take the victim to the nearest government hospital - most are equipped to deal with snakebite
don't waste time searching for or killing the snake. Even dead snakes can give a "reflex bite" and you may become the second victim!

Stay safe, all!

Back...! And rushed off my feet*.....

2011-07-15T04:19:00.000-07:00

So yes, back in sunny, warm, humid Sri Lanka, which is very similar to sunny, warm, humid Malaysia, except here I do not have the luxury of having air conditioned surroundings practically 24/7!

As you can imagine, being out of sight does not really translate to being out of mind, and I have come home to a *huge* pile of written (i.e. official) correspondence that needs to be followed up on and loads of other commitments, family, work, friends on my pending list.

To add to this, hours after I land, I learn my cousin has been diagnosed with typhoid, and also that my Mum has dense cataracts in both eyes, needing quick surgery. So, cousin was started on antibiotics, Mum goes in for surgery, and the next day Darling gets severe food poisoning and needs to be hospitalised. Thankfully, all are out of the hospital now but Mum will get her other eye operated next week and Darling is back on a "normal" diet and eating goodness knows what, so I'm feeling very gloomy when I think of the next few weeks.

_______________________________

*Needless to say, posts will probably be few and far between... and shoe post will be delayed until i have a pedicure... I cannot model ze pweety shooze while having ugly feets! :)

Status update...

2011-06-27T05:01:00.000-07:00

Finally... free internets!

*falls dramatically onto a couch and pants in relief*

Yes, dear friends, 'tis me, live and kicking and mooching around beautiful Malaysia.

Actually, I'm doing anything but mooch, being here on training - and the intensive would be an understatement to describe the program so far! We leave the hotel at 7.30 in the morning and the last lecture finishes at 6.00pm, so I am usually exhausted but have to to group work and individual work as preparation for the next day.

They've put us up in a fairly swanky hotel with a lavish buffet breakfast... and if it were not for the academic commitments, it would feel like a wonderful holiday away from the hecticness that was my life for the past couple of months. The rest of the food is rather meh... Malaysians tend to favour very oily, meaty rice which I couldn't tolerate after the first 2 days and I've been surviving on soup and sandwiches for the last couple of weeks. My other grouch was having to pay an exorbitant amount for the internet at the hotel... and finally after days of begging, the course agreed to give us a free connection, so yay!

I think I've mentioned before that Malaysia is shoppers paradise... but only if you have the stamina for it! The malls are huge and numerous and varied, but finding good deals (yes I DO believe in value for money) takes time. I did spend a couple of days shopping with friends, but to be honest, most of the weekends were spent lounging around in a truly decadent way, just enjoying the time to myself.

The only downside is being away from Darling for so long... and even with frequent calls and skype, I miss him with every fibre of my being. I yearn very badly for the moment I can rush into his arms and hold him tight.

It looks like even after (in spite of?) 3 1/2 years of marriage the flame still burns, more intensely than before....

__________________

P.s. : I have got loads of new shoes I am dying to show off... someone please remind me to do a shoe post when I get back!

Tired....

2011-06-03T10:39:00.001-07:00

I am so utterly and chronically exhausted that even lifting a finger seems to be too much effort at the moment. This post is being fueled exclusively by my emergency stash of toblerone mini's.

I guess we all go through this sometimes... burnout, maybe... maybe just feeling out of sorts.

I've been wearing the same half a dozen sarees to work for the last month. Why? Because they are made of nylon, i.e. no need to iron, just rinse, drip dry and wear. Unlike the more fashionable Hyderabad cotton sarees that are a PAIN to starch and iron. Speaking of starch, does anyone else use the spray on type available at supermarkets? Darling swears they keep his shirts crispy all day. He doesn't trust me with his shirts because the last time I starched one, it was so stiff, it could have walked off and hung itself in the closet.

I have spent the last 5 days marking MCQs, on paper that has been designed to be marked by a machine and not by humans. Said machine broke sometime ago. After a couple of hours, the coloured dots start to swim in front of your eyes. I hallucinate about them even while at home. Life has become a binary black hole. Adding insult to injury, the payment is like 2 rupees per paper or something.

Not sure this post makes sense... need to sleep.

S&M in the car

2011-05-27T03:19:00.000-07:00

So there we were, on the way to work, listening to Rhianna belt it out.

Angel : "Come on, come on...."

Darling : ........ (raised eyebrow)

Angel : "I like it, like it...."

Darling : ".... sweetie, do you know what this song is about?"

Angel : "sure I do - cupcakes!!"

Darling : "er.... you are absolutely right..."

Angel : (happily) "I always am!"

_________________________________

Of course, a discreet Google search while at office proved me wrong.

Oh well...

And yes, world, this is a sign of life!

Yearnings

2011-02-15T18:30:00.000-08:00

Le sigh...

So after the big "Three Oh" comes the big "Three One", not with a bang, but a fizzling realisation that the wonder years are really over. And I've got this awful bottomless-bottomful feeling at the pit of my stomach... where do I go from here? What next? Is this it?

My birthdays have almost always been low key... a few friends over for lunch, cake and tea... later on dinner out with friends. My family is so big that their numbers tend to dwarf any invited friends... and the whole thing resembles every other family gathering. I haven't invited relatives over for my birthday for a few years now, but they still drop by for cake and cutlets my mum prepares, "just in case".

I had an absolutely wonderful wedding, but it wasn't a party as such... and while I was the centre of attention (along with Darling) (yay!) I didn't really get to talk to my friends much... once more my relatives dominated the scene. I couldn't even invite some of my friends, even though I wanted to very much.

I've always wanted a big birthday party... lots of friends and balloons and flowers, yummylicious chocolate cake, or a host of cupcakes with fancy sparkling candles to blow out . Wearing a pweety dress and sparkly earrings, and getting compliments, just because I was the birthday girl! Lots of dance music and flashing lights and dancing with Darling and my friends like there'd be no tomorrow.

There are so many people I want to invite... school friends, campus friends, work friends, Bloggers (of course!!) and Darling's mates. I gave into temptation and drafted an invite list... which somehow made my "wanting" a party that much stronger.

Not every day or every year, but just once.

Call it an item on my bucket list, if you like. It's right up there, in big capital letters along with "be a mom", "lose weight" and "stop being a doormat".

Darling, being the total sweetheart that he is, is all set to organise a (belated) birthday bash for me. Does wanting it make me unrealistic, juvenile and a total material girl? Is it mutton acting like lamb? Is it a delayed quaterlife crisis or an early midlife crisis? Would anyone even bother to come?

Sigh... I dunno...

Easy no-egg, no-bake cheesecake

2011-02-12T07:14:00.000-08:00

It's been ages since I had a foodie post... and since WikiLeaks has been planning to release my secret recipie, I decided to put this up as a pre-emptive strike.

Note to self: when tall blonde Australian dudes try to hit you up, go easy on the alcohol, since it is desirable to have some secrets remain so.

You will need

150g marie biscuit crumbs (a little less than 2 packets)
80g unsalted butter, melted
250ml whipping cream
250g cream cheese (room temperature)
1/4 cup of sugar (not sure how much that is in grams)
1 tsp vanilla

Method

Mix the butter and the biscuit crumbs. Grease the bottom and the sides of a 8-9 inch cake tray and press the crumb mixture onto the bottom and about an inch up the sides. Put it in the fridge to chill.

Beat the cream cheese, sugar and vanilla until smooth, then set aside. Beating at the lowest speed gives better results as less air is beaten in and the cake is less likely to go "poof" and collapse.

Beat the cream until the legendary "soft peaks" form. Again, beat it on low speed and keep an eye out for the texture... if you beat it too much it will start to granulate and turn into butter!

Fold in the cheese mixture to the cream bit by bit and beat until the mixture has a thick pouring quantity. Pour carefully into the chilled cake tin, making sure you don't dislodge the biscuit crumbs on the sides.

Put it in the fridge for 2-3 hours, cover with a topping of your choice. This time I used the Jagro strawberry topping available in supermarkets, but have also used stewed fresh strawberries and strawberry jam. Put back in the fridge for another couple of hours or overnight.

Serve in generous slices, and enjoy!

Took this to a friend's place a couple of weeks ago... and from the gasps, moans and cries of "I think I just 'gasmed!", could only conclude that the cheesecake exceeded expectations! :)

Travel log - Singapore and the Bunny of Abundance

2011-02-05T03:20:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year everyone!!

Bunny of abundance

Display, Changi airport

Chinese New Year, that is... the year of the rabbit, which incidentally fell on my birthday. I decided to leave the glomps aside... cheered by the fact that a very very large portion of the world population are making merry with me. Mind you, nothing very merry happened, but I did get 96 birthday wishes via Facebook. Mark Zuckerburg, you rock!

In addition, Darling and I just returned from what is now turning out to be my yearly pilgrimage to Singapore. For a small country, there certainly is a LOT of shopping to be done over there, and fiscal status being marginally healthier than before, I was able to indulge in shoes, clothes and handbags... woot!

What I admire is how much they capitalise on the tiny resources they have and make them into mega attractions. We finally managed to find time to go and watch the much lauded laser show at Sentosa island "Songs of the Sea"... it was lovely, and I've put up a few highlights below. Better, longer videos can be found on Youtube.

Highlights from the show

As expected, every street corner was decked out for the Chinese New Year, with larger than life bunnies and orange trees thickly covered with real oranges. Did I mention the word shopper's paradise?

The sweet-toothed glut in me succumbed to the luscious cream puffs that called out temptingly from every food court and sweet stall. They were lovely, creamy and very subtly sweetened, unlike ones I have tasted before that would give a person instant hyperglycaemia!

Triple chocolate and blueberry creamcheese puffs...

We also explored our wild side by getting one of D's "happening" friends to introduce us to the Singapore nightlife. So there we were, strolling along Clark Quay on a Friday night, gawking at the skyhigh skirts and thigh high boots adorning the ladies, and the elaborate tattoos on the guys. Suddenly this chap in a white coat, carrying a IV drip stand rushes by us. We both do a double take and then focus on one of the bars, aptly termed the "Clinic". The "chairs" are wheelchairs or hospital bed styled sofas. The lights are the sort you find in the OT... and the drinks well, they are served IN the IV infusion set, which is placed on a stand near the patron's chair, and he sips it through the bit which usually goes into a vein.

Real godayata magic stuff.

The Clinic

My trusty camera failed me just about then, so could get only one photo. Note the guy with the drip set in the left side. More pics and reviews can be found here, and here.

We spent the next few hours in an absolutely packed club, gyrating to some great music... none of that awful house stuff! There were two very spacious rooms on either side of the dance floor, great place to play pool or darts or just chillax when tired of dancing. The smokers were in a nice enclosed area by themselves... something that was much appreciated.

All in all, it was a hectic trip, mostly because it was work related for both of us, and also because we were scurrying to get the maximum stuff (and shopping) done in the limited time available. Thanks to the ready hospitality of my dear friends S and D, we once more had a place to crash in and a great saving as hotels are really very expensive.

Hope you enjoyed the post!

Travel log - Bali, ... sizzle on!

2011-01-10T06:49:00.000-08:00

Well gentle readers, I regret leaving you in suspense for over 7 days... but here I am... and I warn you, there is a very long photo-blog like post ahead!

So Darling and I stayed in Jimbaran, at a handy distance from all the happening places. The sari Segara Hotel was a great deal for about US$60 per night, which included breakfast. The first thing you notice from the moment you step into the arrivals lounge of the Denpasar airport, till you check in is how wonderfully intricate and artistic Bali is. Everything that can be carved is carved... and that includes wood, metal, cement and stone. Bali is probably the only place in Indonesia with traces of the original Hindu and Buddhist cultures, unaffected by both the colonials as well as the Arab traders. This is reflected in their artwork, their dance and just about everything in the island. Most carvings are based on some part of the Ramayana chronicle, with the Garuda receiving high veneration as the vehicle of Vishnu.

Statuette at the airport

Our digs

Saraswathie like carving at hotel

Demon mask in lobby... notice the similarity to our own "yakas"

Fountain, conference hotel

Ramayana mural, conference hotel

Gatekeeper, conference hotel

Fire meets water, entrance of the conference hotel at night

Welcome dance, conference hotel

The two young ladies stand in front of the entrance all day, and as soon as a new guest arrives at the hotel, they dance in welcome. This is seen in almost all the classier hotels.

Somehow, one cannot speak about Bali without mentioning the beaches. I honestly do think that our golden sandy beaches with the crashing waves are much better... but the beach at Nusa Dua was just a calm, clear expanse of water extending a good half kilometer outwards, perfect for doggy paddlers like me who do not know how to swim... The surfer dudes head towards Kuta or Lombok which are supposed to have impressive waves.

Beach, Nusa Dua

The absolutely clear water

There is virtually no public transport and travel is either via taxi (slightly more expensive than a Sri Lankan tuk tuk), scooter or foot. Many tourists as well as locals opt for the scooter since petrol is highly subsidized at about SLR 60/- per liter. It's not uncommon to see women drive by with kids clasped between their legs, or tourists in abbreviated swim wear zoom off in search of more sun, sea and sand.

I spent a good half day exploring the by roads around the hotel, mostly because in search of drinking water, yoghurt and a top up for my simcard. The inner streets are quiet and tranquil... and reminded me strangely of Balapitiya... bare land full of coconut trees and scanty undergrowth, cement brick walls with women peering over them, a few stray dogs. The main difference is that walking around Bali is like walking around a huge art gallery. Every other shop or garden is like something out of a landscapers dream... I'd stop to admire some carved pillars and realize that they are part of the entrance to a scooter repair place or a shut down bakery. And on every major intersection, there would be these HUGE statues towering over the traffic, illustrating some scene or the other from the Ramayana.

Statue at intersection : Ravana challenging Rama while standing on the heads of terrified horses

Courtyard

Darling and I traveled inland to Ubud, which is like the craft capital of Bali. Throughout the 2 hour drive the roads were lined with miles and miles of wooden, stone and metal carving. We first visited Goa Gajah elephant caves, which are the remains of 9th century Hindu and Buddhist monastery. Affected by earthquakes, only the Hindu part of the temple and some of the stairways and pools remain intact, whilst the Buddhist temple is nothing more than ruins.

Entrance to Goa Gajah

Carving of Ganesh, inside the cave

The three lingams, inside the cave

Bathing pool for devotees, Goa Gajah

Ruins of the Buddhist temple

Remains of the rich carvings that adorned the Buddhist temple

On the way, we stopped by at a silver factory, and were amazed at the sheer beauty and the intricacy of the carvings. The gems set into the jewelry are imported mostly from Sri Lanka and were very expensive. However, Darling bought me an intricately carved pair of earrings for quite a reasonable price.

Silver factory, Ubud

Polishing the silver... note that in spite of the mask and the "chest guard" there is absolutely no protection for the fingers.

Silver jewelery

Silver ornament

One of my gorgeous orchid design earrings

Entrance decor, silver factory

Another highlight was the famous Uluwatu temple that sits at the highest point of a cliff. The blue waves break against the sheer cliff walls, throwing up swirls of white foam. I took the picture of the waves by lying flat on my tummy with my head over the cliff while Darling kept clutching at my ankles, horrified that I would fall over. Uluwatu is well known for its monkey menace which we witnessed first hand when a monkey grabbed a pair of glasses from a tourist, inspected it and then started showing off to the other monkeys.

Uluwatu temple from the bottom of the path

The foot of the cliff

Monkey business 1

Monkey business 2

Monkey business 3

Uluwatur is also famous for the Kecak (pronounced "Ke-chak") fire dance. Kecak involves the relating of the Ramayana, in a ballet form and is enacted around a fire. The principal actors are surrounded by about 70 bare bodied men, who sing with the peculiar clicking note that gives the dance its name. The clip below is the bit where Sita tells Rama and Lakshman of the golden deer, and they prepare for the hunt. remember to turn the sound on!

Kecak dance, Uluwatu

Another highlight was the visit to the Garuda-Vishnu gardens where we saw more of the amazing carvings and another Balinese dance performance in front of a giant statue of Vishnu.

Giant Garuda

This gives an idea of the sheer size of the carving

Balinese dancer, musing

A tiny part of the performance

The trip to Ubud also included a visit to a batik factory

Weaving

Colourful batiks I brought back to SL

I guess no travel diary would be complete without an account of the food! :) To be honest, Indonesian food did not impress me much as it contained a lot of oil and beef. The vege dishes usually included boiled vegetables floating in what looked like dishwater. Bali on the other hand was a sumptuous delight, with the food containing fish, chicken and plenty of vegetable, usually cooked in coconut milk and in short, very pleasing to the Sri Lankan palate. Balinese coffee is to DIE FOR and was among the best I've ever tasted.

Snake fruit... Darling placed the taste somewhere between jambu and pineapple. Notice the scaly skin

Fish broth

Seafood and sweet potato

Seafood noodles

Genuine Indonesian nasi goreng

Soto... a thick chicken broth served with rice or dumplings

Cendol... a drink made of coconut milk, treacle and some type of noodle

A final short word about the spas. Massage parlours and spas are dotted along every street and you can get a traditional Balinese relaxation massage for anything between SLR 600/- to SLR 6000/- depending on how posh the place is. There are many variations on offer including fruit scrubs and an astonishing "beer cocoon massage" where you first bathe in beer, then will be massaged with beer while sipping beer! Darling and I went for a special "couple aromatherapy massage", which left me so overwhelmed, I quite forgot to take pictures! ;)

Well... I think that's about it for this loooong post. if you have stayed with me for this long, gentle readers, I can only be grateful. I took over 1000 pictures in Bali, and this post is just a glimpse of that wonderful place...

Await more travel logs... soon!

Travel log - sizzling Bali

2011-01-03T23:23:00.000-08:00

Isn't it nice that I am starting my first post for 2011 on such a sizzling note? :)

So the Jakarta conference ended up with a bang because

a) My research won an award
b) I visited approximately 40 different shoe shops (yayyyyy!!!)

The conference was huge with close over 700 participants. The nice thing was that all us foreign delegates were allocated an "escort", either a final year medical student or a recent graduate who would help us change money, locate conference venues etc.

100's of participants!

I was really nervous while making my presentation because of the big audience, and because I tend to ramble and exceed the allocated time, but fortunately everything went well, including the Q/A session... phew!

The rest of the conference was very intensive, with workshops going on after dinner until 9.30pm, and then follow-up activities starting at 8.30am the next day. Somehow all the participants were oblivious to the bustling theme park around the hotel as they madly threw themselves into the academic activities.

Lovers at the beach, Anchol, Jakarta

By the final day, I was well primed for some fun, so I asked Gina, my lovely Indonesian assistant to take me shopping. Her reward? To be dressed in one of my sarees so she can take pics and post them on Facebook! So Gina and I, accompanied by her long suffering boyfriend hit Mangga Dua the shopping district of Jakarta...

Oh Em Gee.

The malls were massive, even when comparing with those of Malaysia and Singapore... and had everything from key tags to SUVs on sale. I was like a kid let loose in a candy store, running from one shop to the other squealing with delight at the offerings there. The only things that limited my spending were the consciousness of limited weight allowance by the airline, and strict instructions by Darling not to use my credit card in Indonesia.

SUVs for sale!!

Lame dude trying to sell me SUV

We shopped for more hours than I would like to confess, and I gorged myself on the yummy food available at every corner of the mall. They had sweets very similar to our kevum and banana pancakes which involved a sliced banana and a hefty dose of chocolate rolled up in a pancake, dipped in sweet batter and deep fried.... the chocolate melts and oozes out of the sides, getting caramalised and it's like a warm taste explosion when you bite into it... sigh...

Kevum, aggala, thalaguli, anyone?

Chocolate banana pancakes

Somehow, banana, cheese and chocolate seem to be the most popular flavours in Indonesia, since they were everywhere in all possible combinations. My foodie experiments also included a chocolate and banana bun, a chocolate and cheese doughnut and cheese and banana pastry. :)

Anyways, food experimented with, shoes and clothes bought... I headed back to the airport and boarded a truly terrible flight. For those of you who consider Garuda Indonesia as a potential carrier, don't.

____________________________________

The sizzle continues...

Well, my next stop was the beautiful tropical paradise of Bali... where I was joined by Darling. The declared reason was so that I could attend another conference... the underlying reason was for us to celebrate our 3rd year as hubby-and-wifey. Sigh.... isn't that romantic?

Conference #2 was even bigger, with close to 1000 participants... it was hosted in the post resort area of Nusa Dua, and the sheer size of the conference hotel made us go all O_o. Darling and I stayed at less ostentatious but very comfortable digs in an area about 1/2 an hour away from Nusa Dua, and close to Kuta, which is like teh happening place in Bali, night club bombings and all.

Ohhhh Bali!

The beaches.... the sights... the sounds....

I think that warrants a separate post, don't you?

Till next time, gentle readers... stay tuned!

Shamefaced....

2010-12-30T20:20:00.000-08:00

Yes, gentle readers, I have done it again! Made empty and hollow promises about ...erm... sizzling... posts and failed to deliver.

Yes I feel your pain and sense of betrayal, and I DO apologise.

I shall be postponing the sizzling for next week, since I am sure that all bloggers will be painting the town red on 31st night, and have no time to read Angel posts, sizzling, lame or otherwise!

A HAPPY NEW YEAR to all! Thanks for sticking by me, reading my blog and for all the encouragement.

original image from here

I love you all!

Mwah!

Back!!

2010-12-12T08:55:00.000-08:00

Yes, fellow bloggers and blogistas... I am back in Paradise Isle!

Maaannn... I never thought I'd be so happy to eat red rice, gotukola and parrippu!

Still a little jet lagged and running around in circles trying to catch up with what I missed during the last 3 weeks, with my friends, work, kottu, friends and friends.

Await loads of sizzling posts!

Travel log - Jakarta

2010-11-19T03:51:00.000-08:00

Gentle readers....

It is with great smugness that I report that not only am I safe and well in Jakarta, my conference hotel is located smack bang in one of the largest theme parks in South East Asia! The smugness fades slightly when I realise that a) I am not much of a person for rides and roller coasters and b) I'm stuck in the conference all day anyway!

So got to Jakarta nice and early and the first thing that happened was me zooming into Dunkin' Donuts and gorging on a sinful portion of double-chocolate-peanut butter delight. Um.

The second thing was that I nearly got suckered by an airport tout. The dude slithered oilily up to me and offered to show me around. Despite my polite "no thank you"s he continued to ooze along next to me and then offered to push my trolley. After another "no thanks" he grabbed the trolley from me, saying smarmily that he was an "airport worker". I was equally determined not to let go, and I'm sure we provided much comic relief as we both pushed a single (not very big) trolley towards the Garuda airline office (where my booking needed some adjustment). Half way there I got his whole (very boring) family history and an offer to take me to my hotel "very cheap".

Happily the Garuda thing was taking so long that I turned to him and said "go away". At which point he opens his palm, smiled oilily again and says "my tip!!". I kept shaking my head stubbornly and he kept saying "tip, tip" until I finally lost it, waved my arms around and reminded him I said "no thanks". He slithered away in a huff, as people, including the Garuda ladies started to stare. But hey, I'm a foreigner. I'm allowed to be eccentric.

I felt mildly guilty afterwards and compensated by tipping both the driver who took me to my hotel and the porter who brought up my bags about 5000 IDR each. My satisfaction evaporated somewhat when I realised (much later) that the tip was not enough even to buy a dunkin' donut (7000IDR).

Ah well.

And for those who requested pics...

I didn't want to take many food pics in the middle of the conference... would seem so godey as if no food in Sri Lanka. Couldn't resist the fruits though!! Notice the 6 different kinds of fruit... and the single lonesome lurid pink pudding... which tasted of pink gelatin, and nothing else. Almost everyone opted for the fruit, in stark contrast to SL where there will be 6 different kinds of pudding and a fruit salad. No wonder we have so many diabetics...

The Rector's office at Universitas Indonesia. The campus is HUGE sprawled over 700 acres with one entrance being in Jakarta and the other one in Western Java! There are 45,000 students enrolled at the moment... wow!

Faculty of Public Health. Each faculty has been built to reflect the architechture of a designated province of Indonesia. A walk or drive around the campus means that you will see different types of buildings from quiant to ultra modern. Notice also the manicured lawn. The university theme is "green campus" and it was adopted in 1987, long before "green" became a fashionable catchphrase.

Corridor in airport... notice all the woodcarvings!

OK peeps, me off to bed. Wish me luck for my presentations!!

My bags are packed...

2010-11-17T02:45:00.000-08:00

... and I am GONE!!

Yes folks, after a few weeks of heatbreak and nerve biting tension, my conference was relocated to Jakarta so I am on my way!!

Right now, this post is being typed in KL where I'm on transit for nearly half a day. This sorry state of affairs is due to the changes in flights, and the inability to change others, because of high penalty fees. Yeah, that's what happens when one flies on a limited budget.

I'm checked into the Tune Hotel, LCCT, Kuala Lumpur International Airport. The room is pocket sized (there is literally only 2 feet of walkingspace around the bed), BUT very clean, nice swiss parquet floors, tiny but fully functional tiled bathroom with shower and hair drier and well airconditioned. There is also a huge mirror over the headboard of the bed, which reflects the arty mural on the opposite wall. It's a huge improvement from the poky (albeit, much bigger) hotel room we stayed in the last time we were in KL... and costs about 2/3 of the price.

Ok, Jakarta tomorrow....

With any luck, I will continue to have cheap internet access so can keep you guys updated!

The rain gods...

2010-11-11T04:56:00.000-08:00

...they be unhappy....

Brother blames it all on his rain dancing skills... or lack thereof.

Yesterday's thunderstorm caused our garden to flood, with water seeping in through the crack at the bottom of the back door. There were horrid noises in the night... distant woomps and crash-bangs only hinting at the grim possibilities.

We awoke to find that part of our parapet wall had crashed down (narrowly missing the car) and that sheets have been blown off the roof, which was dripping water into the house. Happily the water had drained away, leaving only muddy floors to be cleaned.

While we gloomily surveyed the wrecked garden (the wall had fallen right on top of Mum's prized red palms and gerberra plants) it started to rain again. And the water started rising. First seeping in through the back door, the water in the front garden also rose to a level that it was coming in. Then it started coming in from the french windows from either-side of the house. Meaning that we were being flooded from all 4 corners. Within half an hour the house was over a foot deep in muddy water and we had all retreated upstairs.

Peering out of the windows, there were snakes swimming about the water!!

Well, they turned out to be eels. From the Diyawanna oya.

I still wasn't risking going down there.

So, we are cloistered upstairts... ignoring the drip drip from one point in the roof and the not-so-remote possibility of having it fall down on our heads.

The only consolation I have is that ironically enough, the internet still works!

Whut....? Nooooooooo!!!

2010-11-02T10:51:00.000-07:00

Aiyooo!

I get a paper selected for presentation... I get some funding and Darling agrees to fund the rest... I book flights and pay for them... search for cheap hotels and book a room...

Then this happens....

-.-

Earthquakes, tsunamis and now the volcanic eruption, which is exactly 30km from the hotel. The subsequent eruptions that happened today have resulted in suspended flights.

I was all for going to Jakarta and then taking a train, thinking that even if the worst happens, I'll get some great pics. Darling pointed out that there are plenty of pics on the internet, but that there is only one of me, that I am however, a stellar idiot and he is now threatening to cut all funding.

Sigh....
_________________________

P.s. this post in no way intends to trivialise the loss of life and property and the looming health crisis in Indonesia. It's just me ranting....

Pathetic!

2010-10-15T08:01:00.000-07:00

I have to confess... this whole thing got me lol-ing with at the sheer desparateness of it all

Ok, I have much respect for practioners of traditional medicine, those who hold sacred their craft, the ayurveda, siddha and unani practitioners. Their practice is not scientifically backed and not evidence based.... but they have tradition behind them, and if anyone wants to get traditional medications, hey, be my guest. However, if you want treatment for acute severe asthma, or a heart attack, allopathic (western) medicine may be a better bet, but that is IMHO.

But of course, traditional practitioners who stick to their craft are few and far between. So many of them give their profession a bad name by giving guli and arishta spiked with prednisolone or dapsone... and we detect it after someone gets a serious side effect like Steven Johnson syndrome or liver failure. Remember that guy who was trumperting in the papers of the herbal cure for AIDS? What happened to him anyway?

Ayurvedic practitioners have no training in allopathic therapeutics (just knowing the name of a drug or how to write a prescription is not enough) specifically, when to give and when not to give certain pills. And now they want to prescribe western medicine and use blood pressure apparatus and ophthalmoscopes.

lolwhut?

Is the ayurvedic tradition so bankrupt that they cannot treat patients with their own medication or is it an inferiority complex that craves a littmann stethoscope round their necks?

I think I just lost all respect.

Gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!

2010-10-13T09:53:00.001-07:00

I just typed a looong angst filled rant, only to have a misplaced key stroke send it into an electronic black hole.

Technology can really suck!

(fumes loud and long, decides to close laptop and go to sleep).

'Twas on a windswept and gloomy day...

2010-09-26T09:59:00.000-07:00

... the wanderers stumbled, upon the secret moorland way...

Ok.. maybe not so secret... but this is a long delayed post on the Horton plains trek.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to go at all... unfit as I am, but Darling was willing, and it was somewhere I had never been. So hand in hand we meandered along the pathways between rolling hills, spying occasional swift footed antelope and unidentified birds wheeling across the featureless sky.

The eye could see almost to infinity

quiet stream amongst the greenery

The wonderful panoramas took my breath away... and somehow, I managed the 7km with my breath intact.

Towards the beginning of the trek...

rolling hillside

Lone tree as the mist rolls in

Baker's falls was another beautiful sight... wish I could have taken some better pics.

Cascades

White water

On the way back, we came a cross an unusual piece of flora Indecentus hurrius, often mistaken for pink cotton ladies' underwear. This was spotted as we passed a pathway leading, no doubt, to a cosy nook.

Someone sure would have been in a hurry!

It was definitely an experience I want to have again. maybe next time, we can stay over at N'Eliya and have a leisurely journey back, without worrying about the darkness or the mist.

Am happy...

Night mares

2010-09-22T05:18:00.000-07:00

Image from here

...or maybe they should be called night terrors. I have discovered that I am inexplicably prone to them. It got to a point where I would sit up in bed and start screaming... until Darling would manage to wake me up and quieten me down by reminding me that I was home in bed and not in the ward... and this has happened more than a dozen times.

There was the time I was with a patient in the ICU when the lights went out. I remember thinking, "thank goodness there is backup power and the machines still work" when the heart monitor started beeping and showed a flat trace... I rushed to the patient's side... and woke up. In front of me was a blank screen and beside me, a motionless body. I immediately reached for the carotid pulse and would have started CPR on Darling if he hadn't been woken up by my frantic checkings for signs of life. The blank screen turned out to be the laptop on powersaving mode.

Then there was the time I got out of bed and searched for the file of a patient who was desperately ill. I searched high and low, on my chest of drawers, on the dressing table and on the floor... muttering how treatment delays could kill. About 10 minutes of this and I realised that I was actually at home and not on call.

The there was the time where I was on call during a casualty. My ward at that time had no room for doctors. I didn't want to leave the ward at all, even to go to quarters. So the nurses screened off a tiny part of the corridor for me, I brought a folding bed from home and camped out*. And then my senior came to me, talked about an ill patient and outlined exactly how she was to be manged during the next 6 hours. I got out of my camp bed and went to the nurses station, inquiring about the patient. It was 2.40am.

Nurse : (blank look) there is no such patient...

Me : of course there is, I have to start specific treatment, which bed is she in?

Nurse : Dr. you have seen all the patients, there are no new admissions.

Me : (impatiently) look, Dr. R just told me about the patient, she is such and such a person, having this condition...

Nurse : Dr. are you ok? I promise you there is no one like that in the ward...

I spent the next 10 minutes or so, going to each and every one of the beds, looking at the patients, checking pulses and reading tickets before I satisfied myself that there was indeed no such patient and that I had been dreaming. By that time I had a splitting headache, and couldn't get back to sleep.

Then there was the time I was actually awake, and in a non-ward setting. A phone nearby was off the hook and started emiting a beeping noise. I swear, it was the same sound a cardiac monitor makes during ventricular fibrillation^#. I had a mini panic attack... my entire body tensing to the adrenaline rush as I looked around for a cardiac monitor hooked to a dying patient. it took me sometime to realise that I was in an office, and that people were looking at me strangely. At least I was lucid enough to figure out what had happened.

And these are just a few examples...

My seniors were getting most concerned. Apart from the fact that I was, possibly, clinically depressed... there was also a risk (however slight) that I would in a semi-dreaming state order wrong medication / treatment**. I was asked to speak to a counselor. I did, not that it helped much, but the depression lifted gradually and without resorting to pills. I guess I will never learn to leave work at work... possibly because these are people we are talking about here.

So yeah... I sometimes kick myself when I remember that I voluntarily joined this field.

______________________

*During those few months I had my pillow case stolen twice, and bedsheets once.

^#Also known as the rhythm of the dying heart, v'fib usually precedes cardiac arrest.

** It never happened.

Sad news

2010-09-08T01:47:00.000-07:00

24 year old Surani breathed her last yesterday (7th September).

May you attain Nibbana, little sister...

Meh...

2010-09-01T01:19:00.000-07:00

Image from here

So yeah... nothing much more to say...

Fat-cat Angel!

No time to be kind

2010-08-23T08:41:00.000-07:00

a.k.a. one more reason I don't like my job

I used to be a good person. Kind. Considerate. Empathetic.

Then I became a doctor.

I traded many fun years of my twenties for mad studies inside the library. I worked a gruelling schedule, not wanting to compromise my training. I started working in crowded wards that sometimes had more patients on the floor than on the beds. (Has anyone ever considered how awkward it is to hop from one floor patient to another, one hand desperately clutching the sari pleats and the other clutching a clipboard?) I've worked crazy 30 hour shifts, not because it was part of my job description, but because there was no one else to take over. I've stayed up with patients who were certain to die, even when I could have gone to sleep, because I didn't want to miss anything that could be corrected. I've missed uncountable meals and managed to keep functioning thanks to the packeted milo and minute maid.... but that wasn't enough to keep away the bad gastritis.

Still, I've had patients yell at me for getting up to have a drink of water instead of writing their discharge card... even though they knew full well I hadn't had anything to eat or drink for 5 hours. I've had patients and relatives disrespect me because I'm female, even though I gave them the best I could, and never less than any male. I've spent hours educating patients, writing out instructions in their mother tongue and have them blatantly ignore me and come back to the ward, worse than ever. I've seen patients been smothered by their loved ones... twice, and there was nothing I could do (that's for another post). And I was getting sick and tired of the futile nature of many aspects of my working life.

So, I cultivated nastiness. I used biting sarcasm and a loud voice that can be heard all over the ward. It became my defence, my protective wall against daily frustrations. I no longer jumped up the moment I was called (anyway, chikungunya ensured that I wasn't jumping anywhere without pain). But I took my time. I would look patients in the eye and say that I was going to tell them once, that I was going to tell them twice... but after that, I would not accept them into my ward if they did not follow my instructions (even though I have never ever turned away a patient). I pointed out to demanding patients/relatives that I was not a machine. When they got demanding, I would announce my lunch break (I am entitled to 2 hours, although never in my life have I taken more than 15 min.) and walk off. When large hords of visitors flocked in, despite my advice against tiring the patient, I asked them to leave, and restricted to the immediate family. I rarely smiled.

I remember when Darling cottoned on to this change. It was a heavy nights casualty in the female ward and there were several young girls admitted - fever, attempted suicide, unknown pregnancy etc. The ward rule is that males are not allowed in... many of these girls are wearing only skimpy night dresses, or are tossing with such delirium that modesty is not quite achieved.

Yet there are a group of males who boldly walk in with their women folk, and cluster around the aisles, or stand at the door and look into the ward, or stand at the windows and peer in. Even though it is obvious, I ALWAYS explain that this is a female ward, other women are also here, it is not correct to peep in. It annoys me no end when they don't give a damn to what I say and continue to cluster at the door or windows. One night I lost it, and questioned the whole world in general and the offenders in particular if they had no shame, that although they make sure their own women are covered from head to toe, they obviously lose no opportunities to stare at other women in their night clothes, and if they didn't leave, I would be calling the hospital police post. I did not mince my words.

Because I had (unfortunately) forgotten to disconnect a previous call, Darling heard the whole blasting from the other end of the phone. It took him sometime to get over it.

Just before I changed wards, one of the nurses told me something that shocked me. She said that in all the months working with me, she had never once heard me sing or hum a song. The realisation hit me like a cold bucketful of water as I remembered the person I had been... always smiling, always chirpy, always with a tune on the lips.

And I realised... I was not a nice or likable person anymore.

A moment in time

2010-08-20T09:27:00.000-07:00

Today I descended into the bowels of medical history - i.e. into the subterranean archives of the Colombo Faculty library. Dimly lit stairs lead down to a seemingly vast cavern filled with row upon row of old books, the air thick with dust, mould and an undefined sense of years gone by. A mezzanine divided the space into two levels, the floor of the upper level made of thin strips of wood, interspersed by wider strips of nothing. I walked, cautious and barefoot on the dusty boards as a shoe or even an ankle could easily be wedged in those spaces.

I have always felt a sense of awe when I see old books. The fragile pages, bound together in leather, cracked with age, the faded gold lettering on the spines only faintly readable. I thumbed through a copy of the Lancet that was printed in 1927, holding the pages up to the muted light that filtered in through windows that were possibly last cleaned around the same year. My fingers traced words penned by long dead doctors; one detailing the invention of a particularly intricate pair of forceps, another speaking of haemorrhage during childbirth and yet another emphatically stating the "hereditary nature" of tuberculosis.

Almost at the end of my exploration, on the very last shelf, I came across a tome that left me entirely breathless... the "Manual of Tropical Medicine" written in 1910 by Albert J Chalmers and Aldo Castellani. Dr. Chlamers was 2nd Registrar of the Ceylon Medical College and during his period of service did much to streamline the teaching of medicine and improve facilities. The Anatomy block which stands to this day, was his brainchild. Sir Aldo Castellani was possibly the most outstanding medical researcher ever to come to Sri Lanka. He discovered the causative organisms for parangi and sleeping sickness, and was the first to use combined vaccines. The book was huge... nearly two thousand pages and as I reverently turned them, I imagined the two great men, discussing the contents and then painstakingly penning their knowledge by the light of smoky oil lamps. At one quiet moment, I felt their presence beside me, displacing the space like the shimmer above roads on a hot day.

Terry Pratchett once said that written words distort time and space. The theory of L space is such that

Those old books may not have the magical properties of those of the UU library, but they did leave me affected, as if I had opened the gateway to literary hyperspace.

I think I have found a new love.

Morning laughter...

2010-08-09T19:24:00.001-07:00

Ok, so I'm back at work after a self imposed long weekend and just checked out one of my favourite webcomics... (giggling madly) this one is priceless!

http://www.sinfest.net/archive_page.php?comicID=3623

Happy Tuesday y'all!

Sad

2010-08-03T10:44:00.000-07:00

I met up with a friend today... a very old and dear friend whom I got to know on the first day at Uni. I was meeting him after more than a year, and it felt great to sit and talk... I hadn't realised how much I had missed his wry jokes and brutal sense of humour! So we tore apart the old scandals, talked gossipily about new ones and who was dating/married /divorced/cheating with who.

And then I asked an unnecessary question.

I asked if there were any guys in my batch who were "interested in me". And he said no.

I can't describe how hard that was on my self esteem... I know it is silly... and that I was well liked and popular with my batchmates, that I had fun during my almost-6-years there and that I have loads of great memories...

BUT

Seriously?? Not one single guy had so much as a smidgen of a crush on me? What is wrong with me? Am I not pretty enough or sexy enough or lustworthy enough? Do I lack an innate "hotness factor"? Was it the way I dressed? Was it my hair? Maybe I should have worn my contact lenses everyday instead of wearing glasses because they were comfier. Maybe I should have spent more on clothes from Mondi and suchlike instead of the sensible stuff I wore. Maybe I should have used fair and lovely.

Gah!

Not ONE lousy guy.

My ego is really bruised at the moment.

:(

Smelly stuff

2010-07-23T22:42:00.000-07:00

Those of you who know me are probably aware of my penchant for online shopping. Mind you, it's mostly window shopping (or screen shopping if you must) but I do get loads of fun out of it. Ebay, Amazon are pretty good and the sheer quantity and variety of the stuff on offer takes my breath away!

One of my favourite haunts is utsavsarees.com - the sarees there are so...ooo pweety and look so good on the models, I just have a lot of fun browsing through their huge collection. Oh yes, and I've bought 2 sarees from them.. one was my homecoming saree, which was a cream chiffon with a bright blue border, worked with cream flowers and sequins. The other one is leaf green with a red and gold border. They are both now out of stock so I can't link to the pics. Anywez, I wasn't too thrilled with one because it had a quality defect, but when I complained they apologised profusely and gave a $25 discount for my next purchase. The green one is absolutely gorgeous, and both are very unusual.

My bonanza find so far has been the Victoria's Secret summer sale, which I discovered in 2007. Actually, it's darling who pointed me in that direction, and I am eternally grateful. Yes I agree, the clothes are horrendously priced, but I zoomed in on the cream-lotion-potion section.... specifically the "Secret Garden Collection". So yeah... this is how I pamper myself.

For a very limited time, they have a "8 items for $35" or "6 items for $20" offer, and this is what I watch out for. I've managed to hook my friends and relatives too, so a sizable order is placed. With the shipping charges, US tax and SL tax all factored in, it worked out to about Rs. 800/- or Rs. 600/- per item, which is great value for money.

My favourites so far are Lovespell (shower gel, scrub, bodybutter), Secret Charm (bodywash, lotion) and the Cocoa butter lotion. A friend ordered Endless Love, and I was madly jealous because that was so intoxicating, and I wanted it! The nice thing about these scents is that they are subtle, not overtly floral and certainly not the in-your-face-and-up-your-nose type.

Well, this is just a glimpse of the "My World" tag I'm yet to respond to (thanks Lo$t)... have fun y'all, I'm going to enjoy my Saturday pampering session!

Hawkers' street and spicy foods

2010-07-17T22:35:00.000-07:00

So yes, I regret to announce that there has been a relapse, triggered by 5 star hotels masquerading as street food sellers and the 50% discount afforded by access to a HSBC credit card.

I must say I had no idea there were so many frikkin' cars in Colombo... even though Darling and I meandered towards Greenpath fairly early, finding a spot to park required near superhuman effort. I also underestimated the interest shown by the Colombo crowd, who were there in full force... and it was a little annoying as well - for every person to go "hi meya" at me, there were a dozen going "ma-chaaang!!" or "hi...iiii (simper giggle giggle)" at Darling. Chaarmax was also there, Cindy on tow, heading determinedly towards the food - but didn't see any other bloggers. There was also an over-representation of skinny girls with sunglasses carefully holding hair in place (honestly, dudettes, it's night time), slathered on makeup, sky high skirts and jingly jangly earrings.

Don't mind me, I'm just jealous.

The food... hmmmm... I won't say I was overwhelmed since most stalls were going in for rice with a variation of curries and slapping on the label "South African" (yellow rice, chicken curry, beans and potato curry), "Indonesian" (nasi goreng), "Phillipino" (yellow rice, kebabs), "Malaysian" (nasi goreng).

My favourite was the stall by Mount Lavinia Hotel that was hawking Italian food - the indomitable Chef Lal was having everyone in stitches while yelling "enna enna apeng kema ganna" in a thick Italian accent. The ricotta cheese ravioli with potato wedges was simply to die for, and I'm seriously considering going there again today, simply to have another go at it. They very kindly allowed me to go round the back and take pics, amidst furious whispers from the other people standing around "Who is she ah?" "Why is she allowed to go there?" Darling reports that one long suffering dude kept insisting "no no, she's from Hi magazine men, don't fuss".

MLH display

Chef Lal

Chicken penne pasta on the make

We initially avoided the Mango Tree stall because of huge queues, but were tempted back by the sizzling chicken tikka kebabs on the coals, and the peni berena jalebi. The majority of the crowd was composed of a large Indian contingent, who were having a fantastic time bidding for the eats and treats. Darling very rudely told an Indian friend to go sample something from a different country, before jostling him out of the way and taking his place. Hmm... I might go back and check out the paneer puri today.

Handling the crowds

Chicken kebabs - yummeh!

Making jalebi

More jalebi

Almost....

OMG, this was so delicious!

Ramada was doing the Mughlai Indian stall, with this dude seen madly swishing the roti around.

Roti dude

The Phillipino food stall by GOH looked good, sizzling chicken kebabs, grilled fish, and banana fritters with mango cream. I must say the fritters were an utter disappointment, since they were made of raw alu kesel and the batter was the same type usually found coating chinese rolls.

Kebabs

Taj Samura had gone all crazy with the "Madagascar" theme, and had genuine South African food, cunningly disguised as burgers, yellow rice and miscellaneous curries.

The display

Reaction by the clientele

Genuine South African cuisine

Raja Bojun had risen to the occasion and had a flavoursome stall replete with hoppers, kottu, crab curry, polos curry etc.

Kottu

Curry world

'Oppers

The indomitable Tushar Amalean was there in person at the Sizzle stall, madly trying to direct a dozen operations at once. This was easily one of the most popular stalls... the sizzling smell kept leading me back by the nose!

Mr. Amalean

Sizzle....

Mmmmmmmmm......

The Mediterranean stall looked lovely, but I couldn't shoulder past the crowds to get a good look at the food. It sold out pretty soon, and a manager dude in a black tie was seen later on, regretfully turning away the hopefuls.

All I tasted of the Mediterranean cuisine

Live entertainment

Dessert courtesy of Elephant House

Actually, almost every stall was running low on supplies by about 10pm... but the more enterprising had sent for top ups to satisfy the hungry crowds instead of saying "sowwy, we is closed". All in all, I give the whole thing a thumbs up and will be definitely heading thataway tonight as well. My advice to all you foodies, go check it out, take your HSBC CCs, go early, and take an umbrella, just in case!

____________________________________

Edit : so yes, we went the second time, just to see what we had missed. My fave was the butter chicken bunny chow (isn't it a lovely name?) which is a bread bun filled with succulent chicken chunks in gravy. A lovely South African sudda lady assured us that it was very popular and very South African, so it's got endorsement from the natives! Actually, she could have been from South London for all we know but still....

Butter chicken bunny chow

We couldn't resist going for the ravioli again, and the 2nd time was even better than the first.

Ricotta cheese ravioli

While Darling was fighting for life, limb and jalebi, I wandered over to the Arabian food stall, run by Galadari. This was extremely popular, possibly due to its halal status. (Even an aunt and cousin of mine were spotted vaguely hunting for halal food... I have no clue why). The chappie there asked me if I was from the media and when I went "mumble, mumble" in reply, told me that their Arabian cuisine promotion starts tomorrow, so I promised to give it some publicity. So people, check it out at the Sheherazade where as an added perk, the HSBC cardholder dines free.

Ahhh..... shawarmah....

I found the french fries a little incongruous

Chinese cuisine from the Emperor's Wok

Victim of the crab promo

All in all, I had a great time, ruined diet notwithstanding. And it didn't rain, so I was the only person carrying an umbrella. If you happened to notice a harassed looking someone clutching several bags of food while trying to swing a large umbrella in a nonchalant manner, that would have been me.

Well, tomorrow is another week. Have a happy Monday y'all!

Commentaries, calories and sex

2010-07-14T07:17:00.000-07:00

Okie, this post is to the lovely commenters on this post, because I think it's fa...aarrr too long for a comment in itself.

Gehan, I hate to burst your bubble, but I'm so vertically challenged, I look as if I've been stepped on. :) Happily, this meant I never went through the phase that a guy trying to make eye contact would end up instead with an eyeful of my bust. So 50kg is an extremely reasonable target. PR you have a point as usual... us doctors are suckers when it comes to their own health and you're spot on with both the health risks and the genes.

First to the genetics. Obesity runs on both sides of my family. My mum's mum was significantly overweight, and my mum manages to keep to her ideal body weight because she's careful of what she eats. Four of my father's sisters are even more significantly overweight. Family gatherings often have a side conversation of "you're fatter than me" "no Akka, YOU'RE fatter than me". It gets tedious sometimes.

That said, I have been balancing nicely at my ideal body weight (50kg) since I was about 16. It fluctuated between 48 and 52, but was mostly stable. Internship played hell on my diet; because of all the rush I never ate on time and rarely ate healthy. During the latter months of slog, the three of us in the unit would collectively guzzle coke, minute maid and milo and munch on chocolate fingers or biscuits while writing BHTs or discharge tickets. There simply was no time. to eat healthy. At the end of that period of hell, I was so overjoyed with having reasonable hours that I went to town in the kitchen, but my culinary skills did tend towards pasta oozing with cheesy sauces.and salads dripping with mayo. My dear friend C nearly got me addicted to guava juice generously spiked with raspberry flavoured absolut. Two trips to Singapore and one to Malaysia (hey I deserved a break!) didn't help either, especially with me wanting to sample all the street food.

So I ended up gaining about 7 kilos over 2 months and a further 3-4 kilos over the next 3 months.

That said, my usual diet is very healthy. Green gram or chick peas (no coconut) for breakfast on weekdays, milk-rice and bread on weekends. Red rice and 3 vegetables for lunch, plus a green vegetable. Chicken during weekends, eggs once a week. I don't eat fish or more importantly, shrimp, prawns or cuttlefish that are chock full of calories. Rice flour hoppers/string hoppers or thosai for dinner, noodles /pasta once a week. The only fruit I like are bananas, so about 2 of them per day. Two cups of tea per day, one teaspoon of sugar. Coffee on weekends.

Like I said, that is my usual diet. But... I have a weakness for Fab pastries; I attend workshops frequently and eat at hotels (the food isn't always brilliant though); ditto for meetings, which also have generous refreshments. My worst tendency though is that I turn to food for comfort... when I'm sad or lonely or tired or bored or frustrated. The past few months have been particularly painful and angst filled. Misery, thy cure is food.

So I ate... burgers from Burgers King, whole portions of pasta as snacks, pastries and sandwiches galore, french fries, twix, dairy milk, pringle's potato chips, fruit yogurt - and more meat than was good for me or my conscience. My portion sizes grew bigger and bigger because my whole system had rewired itself to consuming more. I reached a point where I easily could (and often did) out eat my husband AND my brother.

My mood of tragedy and woe has lessened somewhat, not because things have improved, but because I've found ways to deal with them. Some ways aren't very wise, but we'll leave that murky kettle of fish for later.

So I have tailed off on the binging, and am back to my nice healthy diet. But I'm stuck with this stubborn weight and flab that is so horrific the mirror cracks every time I stand in front of it. It makes poor financial sense as NONE of the saree jackets that fit last year do so now and existing clothes show off rolls of fat. People think I'm pregnant and offer to send around more food.

CJ, thanks for the supportive comment, but this is just to shed the unnecessary, excess fat. Then I go back to my sensible, everyday diet, which gives plenty of lee way for the odd cafe mocha or pizza when I'm out with friends. if this fails (there is a good chance it might) I shall take you up on your offer.

Hisham, this one is for you.

Calories burned during sex*

* Disclaimer : none of the data in this site has been (ahem) independently verified...

Mission Impossible

2010-07-13T22:27:00.000-07:00

Image from here

Current weight - 62 kg
Target weight - 50 kg

So yeah, following the disaster of my previous weight loss plans, I've grit my teeth and made a firm commitment, yet again.

Problem is 1kg of body weight in fat = 7700 kcal. That then is the calorie restriction needed to lose 1 kg/week. Hmmm... that is cutting down 1100 kcal per day. My recomended daily calorie intake is 1650kcal. This leaves me with a paltry allowance of just 550 kcal per day.

Gahhhh!!!!

Starvation, here I come...
__________________

Edit : Yes, I know this is unhealthy. It's not recomended for a woman to have less than 1200kcal per day unless in a medical supervised environment.

Hang on... I am a medically supervised environment of one! :)

Health for all?

2010-07-06T09:29:00.000-07:00

I was pretty annoyed recently when I read of a statement by the Minister of Health that alcoholics should be denied treatment by the public health sector. That sanctimonious ... um... person...!!! Who is he to decide who gets treated and who gets denied? And then my second thoughts kicked in. I have been guilty of thinking the very same thing, not once but a hundred times, not just about alcoholics, but also of smokers and several others too.

It's hard to think charitable thoughts when an alcoholic is wheeled in as a "stat" admission, usually semi-conscious, vomiting blood, delirious and uncooperative. I confess I usually suppress a groan of despair at the sight of them... and with good reason. Almost invariably it results in a lot of running around, organising blood, plasma etc. etc. Especially at night where there is only one doctor and two nurses in a ward, this usually means that other patients might get neglected. Drugs and injections are not given on time, and other admissions are not seen to, because everyone is hovering around the alcoholic dude.

You see, the chronic alcoholics are LOUD. They are dramatic - swollen bellies, hallucinations, screams, blood and guts. They are critical - they may go into cardiac arrest at any time. And when (not if) they do, they are so obese, that it is near impossible for me to clamber on to their beds to deliver effective CPR. An additional thing I've noticed is that somehow, the relatives are the most demanding I've come across, the ones who are quick to make a fuss if things aren't done NOW.

And in the melee it is easy to miss the young dengue patient whose blood pressure has dropped, or the guy with the heart attack who has developed a rhythm disturbance of the heart, or the guy with leptospirosis whose urine output has dropped. When we do find out, it's because they too have progressed to a critical stage, when it could have been nipped in the bud. And that's not fair.

Then there is the expense. It's ironic that the patients with chronic lung disease due to smoking and chronic liver disease due to boozing cost the state more that the innocent johnny on the next bed who has done nothing to deserve his illness. Spiral CT scans, high resolution CT scans, ultra-sound scans, endoscopy, radiographically guided biopsies, inhalers, drugs, blood and blood products. Factor in the cost of hospital stay, meals, linen etc., which are also borne by the state. And then the health care sector runs through its allocated budget, and it is the other poor patients that bear the brunt of it. That's not fair.

You have to admit that the diseases are distressing, painful and associated with the hopelessness of knowing there is no cure. Yet because of the whole psychology behind short term rewards vs. long time penalties, very few cut down on their consumption, despite begging and pleading by the mothers, wives and children, and despite dark predictions by their doctors. I strongly believe that addicts must take responsibility for their actions, but there's always that niggling knowledge that for a person who is physically/psychologically addicted to something, the choice to stop is that much harder.

And this is where I blame the people in charge - officials who issue liquor licenses, politicians who extol the revenue brought in by taxing alcohol and tobacco but who are too short sighted to see the costs of a diseased society. I blame policemen who consort with brewers of moonshine in exchange for bribes, and officials who exploit legal loopholes. It has been scientifically proven that increase in taxation and ban of advertising and ban of public consumption are effective measures in controlling tobacco and alcohol. And yet we have this. No perfumes or jewelery; no watches, electronic gadgets or chocolates. Just tobacco and alcohol, sold duty free... thithata matha.

I am no saint. Even though I have never spoken it out for a patient or relative to hear, I have often thought viciously to myself "yes, go ahead, drink all you want, just die at home instead of landing in the small hours of the morning and ruining my sleep" (remember in SL, we don't get the following day off after a rough night on-call). To deny those thoughts is to be dishonest and blind to my own failings.

In spite of all that, we should never lose sight of the fact that we are dealing with human beings. That denying healthcare to anyone - whatever their failings may be - is unethical, unacceptable and a betrayal of the compassion we all need to cultivate within ourselves.

First death

2010-06-27T09:35:00.000-07:00

Somehow, I think that is something that really affects all doctors... the first time someone dies on your watch.

Mine was a few years ago and I still get flashbacks... still remember locking my self up in the teaching room of our ward and retching over and over again until there was nothing left to throw up. Still remember sliding against the cool wall until I was seated on the floor, alone in the darkness, hot tears burning my cheeks and whispering "I'm sorry" over and over again. Still remember it taking the best part of an hour to stop shaking... and then walking out, completing the night round, calmly writing out the death certificate. Still remember going home in a daze, walking into the shower, clothes and all. I threw away those clothes - they were so soaked in blood I don't think anything short of a blade would have gotten the stains out.

Since then, I have watched scores of people breathe their last, closed their sightless eyes, talked to hysterical relatives and filled out the forms over and over again. Death no longer has the power to shock... but the awe still remains. And so do the memories. I remember every. single. one.

That fateful night was a Saturday, and the patient was Rupasinghe* a transfer from Dambulla, who had a couple of episodes of blood stained vomiting. We had scoped him the day before and found an ugly ulcer in his stomach, probably cancer. I had explained about the surgery to him, told him about eating well and getting his strength up and informed the anesthetist to do the pre-op prep.

Sometime during the ward round I heard a hoarse shout from the toilets... and I remember running into the patients' toilets and finding Rupasinghe lying on the ground... he mumbled about passing blood with his stools, and started to moan. I'm not sure how, but I had him out of there and almost onto a trolley by the time the attendants heard what I'm sure were my semi-hysterical shrieks and came running.

One look at his eyes and tongue was enough to confirm what I feared - he was as pale as a sheet of paper and that meant the ulcer had eaten into a blood vessel and he was bleeding into his stomach, so fast that fresh blood was coming from the other end. Rupasinghe clutched my hand, and asked me if he was going to die... and I said something soothing, and told him we'll be taking care of everything.

My senior was there in minutes, and we started pushing in pint after pint of blood, saline, and starch - me on one side, a nurse on the other, squeezing the blood packs to push the fluid in faster. Suddenly R started gasping and before any of us realised what was happening, a gush of blood fountained out of his mouth, drenching my white blouse. The cold hard realisation that this man was going to drown in his own blood terrified me. We pushed a tube into his mouth, and fixed it to the suction machine, removing the blood as it welled up. More doctors were called in, more blood and more fluid, all of us working with silent, grim determination.

And then he improved... blood pressure started climbing up, and he opened his eyes, staring semi comprehendingly at the drenched sheets. I told him not to worry... that everything was under control... and we kept on with fluids. I remember smiling at my senior, and wondering why the relief wasn't showing in his face. Then Rupasinghe clutched my hand again and said, "I'm going to die doctor". I shook my head and managed a smile and said no, that's not going to happen, things will be ok.

He looked straight into my eyes and gasped out "you doctors are such liars".

Those were the last words he spoke. Less than a minute later, he started vomiting blood again, and this time, we couldn't stem the flow. Deprived of its lifeblood, his heart stopped, and CPR was just a futile exercise.

And looking into his sightless eyes, all I could hear were those final words, clanging over and over again inside my head, each syllable a skewer through my consciousness.

Little Johnny Batta

2010-06-24T03:56:00.000-07:00

Image taken from here

Whenever I pass through the accident service, I get flashbacks to the times when screaming ambulances brought in casualties airlifted to Colombo, human beings mangled and torn apart by gunfire, batta mines, claymores, RPGs etc. Our hospital would sometimes get as many as 100 casualties in a single night... and this was after the "less" injured had been sent to Homagama, Jayawardenepura etc. Often the accident service theaters and staff will be overwhelmed and the general surgical units (such as the one I worked in) would be called in, and every theater would have teams working into the small hours of the morning.

One of the Consultant Surgeons I worked with once gave us the history of batta injuries. Once upon a time the blast only removed a part of the calcaneous, the heel bone. Surgery removed the damaged tissue, and the chipped bone was smoothed out so that post injury, walking wasn't too much of a problem.

Gradually the doctors began to see crushed ankle joints and lacerated calf muscles. Then one day my boss (who was at the time working at the Anuradhapura hospital) was called in to see a soldier whose foot was completely blown off, knee joint shattered and muscles ripped apart up to the upper thigh. An above knee amputation was the only option. Later, my boss had to face an inquiry as to why a "simple batta injury" needed such drastic surgery - a question he was more than prepared to answer as he had detailed records including photographs of the incident. Since the end of the 1990's, the batta injuries have gotten progressively more horrific as the terrorists packed in more and stronger explosives into the little device. I have seen and read of injuries where the pelvic ring was blown apart to smithereens, where the bowels have been ripped and torn by the blast and one instance on ruptured diaphragm and damage to the lungs.

Every time I remember the mangled flesh and horrific wounds, I curse the people who invented landmines and those who used them, and continue to use them. They rank high among those guilty of crimes against humanity, IMHO at least.

I believe there is a special part of hell reserved for them.

To the true heroes...

2010-06-17T22:47:00.000-07:00

Life was so crazy that V-day in May passed by without so much as a meh from yours truly. Therefore is came as a bit of a surprise to find out that the whole victory day parade and she-bang had been postponed to June 18th as the rain gods had expressed their displeasure regarding the timing. It was the very welcome public holiday and long weekend that triggered it alll! :)

On a very personal note, I can't even begin to find words to describe my relief when the conflict was finally over. Like so many many more, the bloody civil war was a part of my life... I grew up with it, went to school with it, felt the tremors of explosions, watched black columns of smoke climb heavenwards and felt the fear of those who wondered, day in, day out "will my loved ones come home in one piece".

Whatever his situation is now, we should never forget the role played by Gen. Sarath Fonseka in the brilliant tactics and sheer persistence that helped stomp the collective tiger asses. Whatever their failings now, we should acknowledge the political backing that supported the military. But, as so succinctly put by David Blacker, these are the true heroes. To he military strategy, to the political bulwark but most of all to those who fought long and hard, to the everyday men and women, burnt under the grilling sun and drenched by relentless rain, hungry, tired, lonely -who gave up their health, their limbs and their lives for us - to them I bow my head.

The following is adapted from the famous poem In Flanders Fields by John McCrae. It is dedicated to all who sacrificed their today for our tomorrow.

In quiet fields, wildflowers grow
Amongst row upon haphazard row
Of monuments, that mark where heroes lie;
And birds spread carefree wings and fly
For the guns are silent down below.

They are the Dead. Short days ago
They lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now they lie
In eternal sleep.

Oh ye who live, hold up high
The torch of mem'ries of those who died;
Let not conflict cause untold woe,
Let the guns be silent forever more;
Let them in peace at long last lie.

EPIC fail!!!!

2010-06-15T06:56:00.000-07:00

So.. um... yeah. I'm referring to this. And, no, it's not because I was busy having an affair... (wry face).

Needless to say, I'm feeling sheepish, and generally as blah as I felt on the 8th of April, which was when I typed my last post. And of the 61 comments I had queued up, 57 were from chinese spam bots. As Gehan put it and as underlined by the lovely Knatolee, I seem to have flunked the worst at #12. I haven't done too well in the others either... am trying hard not to burst into wails of frustration and despair.

Careful analysis of the last 9 weeks shows that I actually ended up gaining weight. This in spite of the fact that I was working literally round-the-clock for the last 6 weeks, elbow deep in the organisation of 2 international conferences. In spite of taking thyroxine in a bid to lose weight (I gave up after 3 weeks - and yes, I understand that this is abuse). In spite of sticking fingers down throat trying to throw up (it doesn't work for me, maybe my larynx is selectively paralysed). During the conference, I was asked if I was pregnant - by 7 different people. I guess you can underline the "epic" part again. The moral of this story, boys and girls, is don't go looking for eating disorders until they come looking for you.

On the slightly bright side, I am topping my PG class. The cloud to the silver lining is that I have so many asignments pending, and penalty assignments that it is unlikely I will stay there long. At least the view was nice.

I haven't made time for the girls. We are all busy, work full time and are generally more on the broke side than otherwise. Where I work, the company is intellectual from a medical point of view... but not in any other way. I have a very short attention span, and even a few free hours means I have crammed my head with thoughts and ideas and have no one to discuss it with. I recently re-read Dante's Inferno. I come across various interesting and hilarious tid-bits and comics during random net trawls. And I can't think of a single person I can discuss them with... no one I come into contact with on a day-to-day basis anyway. Sigh...

I did manage to buy some nice sarees, and new jackets that fit means there is less incentive to lose weight... hmmm... but the colours are pretty! Mostly pinks and greens... because once I get a colour stuck in my system, I can't seem to see beyond it.

So anyway... here I am, not given up, yet, hoping against all odds that I have a second chance.

The great OMGWTFIDK self help plan

2010-04-08T07:26:00.000-07:00

So yeah... two important things came out of my previous posts.

Boredom isn't reason enough for having an affair

People who want to have an affair go ahead and do it, they don't blabber about it on their blogs

So, although there is more to it than sheer joblessness, I turned my creative energies towards making a self help plan... implementable in 12 easy steps.

Concentrate on PG programme throughout the week, instead of procrastinating and doing everything at - literally - the last minute, every. single. week.

Upgrade baseline mood from irritability to detachment. Be more understanding, tolerant and loving. You are prone to double standards - recognise and deal with it.

Cut down on the calories, work out more and match Dee in her goal for washboard abs! Current weight 60kg (eeeek!) Target weight 48 kg (facepalm!)
Wear bright colours to work instead of signature funeral/neutral black, gray and taupe. Use money saved on calorie cut down to buy new sarees. Jewel colours are the new black!

Try to spend at least one evening a week helping the less fortunate... e.g. teach at the local orphanage

Nip in the bud any "what if" thoughts about old flames. Refrain from googling any flames. Realise that path to hell is paved with dodgy chatlogs. Attention whoring does not pay on the long run.

Commence personal truth and reconciliation commission and leach out regrets, horror-movie type moments and disappointments that poison self.

Get into domestic goddessing more often.

Find diva time for self - blow dry hair, do up nails, defuzz. Use the selfcare products at home without wasting them. Do best not to be unattractive, unlovable, unlustworthy and fugly.

Stop obsessing about hormone status and embrace motherhood as and when it comes - start taking folic acid. Daily.

Make time for the girls. Text, phone, mail when meet-ups are not possible.

Blog more often - this is my pressure vent, my sanctuary. Stop worrying about trolls... people are fundamentally nice.

The many options....

2010-03-30T01:12:00.000-07:00

So, Darling is rather miffed about one of my previous posts. Can't blame him really... actually I can, a bit, because I showed it to him before publishing. Proponent of free speech that he is, he said to go ahead. Now he says that with free speech comes the responsibility to deal with the consequences. Gah!

He is right, of course.

So anywez, I got quite a few comments on that post - on my blog, by mail, over the phone and to my face. Yeah, I'm popular. They have been summarised below.

You're attention whoring, WTF is wrong with you? Snap out of it!
The perfect couple isn't really perfect? (shock, horror, dismay)
Thou shalt not cheat!
Your situation is understandable - and I'm available!
Everyone goes through tough times, may I offer a shoulder to weep on?
Have a kid, things will work out.

But only one or two answered my fundemental question --> what is cheating? If I may qualify further --> where do you draw the line? I think PR and Knatolee gave the best responses... but I'd like an answer in the concrete rather than the upfront. So, please take the very long but seriously fun poll given below.

Oh, and one final question... is it "cheating" if you tell your partner about it first?

Wooo...oooot!!!

2010-03-27T21:47:00.001-07:00

So, my lovelies... I aced the presentation!!! Thanks for all the help with the brainstorming... it was like you were there with us because I was going..." hmmmm... Jack says cooking... maybe a strawberry cheesecake demo" and then saying "but LD and Cadence have a point about shopping and handbags" and then Darling really really wanted to go with the Yoda = Gotaimbara one (thanks KRP!)

Finally, I went with "reflections of greek mythology in modern medicine", which stemmed off from Janaka's suggestion... :) So there I was talking about the greek pantheon and the use of the staff of Aesclepius vs. the caduceus of Hermes . I spoke of Hygeia, daughter of Aesclepius and how their different ways of defining the healer reflect the paradigm distinction between Public Health and Clinical Medicine today.

I spoke about Psyche and Eros, and the other applications of greek terms in psychiatry narcissisum, echolalia, mania, the Oedepus and Electra complexes and about Phobus (fear), son of Ares, from whose name stems the term "phobia". I then went into the Iliad and the Odessey, put up pics of Brad Pitt as Achilles (drool) and some really smouldering ones of Medusa, who gives her name to the medical condition caput medusae.

I could have talked for an hour, but managed to restrain myself and wound up using just a little over my allocated 10 minutes! And the audience loved it! So, all in all... I am a very happy bunny... I'm pretty sure I got good grades in this.... :)

Thanks again... I love you all.... mwah!

Help!!!

2010-03-25T10:41:00.000-07:00

Ok bloggers and blogistas, I need inspiration real bad! I enrolled in a course that sort of brushes up on areas I'm interested for PG. Among the topics covered are the so called "soft skills" - communication, presentation skills etc. So on Saturday we're each supposed to make a 10 minute presentation - and the grades contribute towards our finals.

The presentation is not the problem... I use powerpoint on a daily basis, and I am rarely nervous when it comes to talking to people, whether it's at the bus stop or a lecture hall. The problem is the topic. We were asked to "choose a topic of general interest", and I haven't a clue what to talk about.

The audience is aboout 20 people, all doctors of varying specialities, all of whom are senior to me in experience. Therefore, talking about my pet areas such as "care of the terminally ill patient" and "nasty dermatological conditions that result from wearing wet shoes" will not be very successful. There's sure to be a wet shoe specialist there, who knows way more about the subject than I do. Apparently, a previous student had spoken about "how to service your car" and that had been a big hit. I'd ideally like a similar, non medical topic - but preferably not about cars since the clueless factor applies to that as well...

So, HELP....!!!!

Any suggestions for a general topic to make a 10 minute presentation on, that would hold an audience of doctors?

Please??

__________________

Edit : I would *love* to talk about blogging, but since I like to remain annonymous out here, and since there aren't many doctor bloggers, I don't want anyone cottoning on!

Waiiiiil!!!!!!

Conversation

2010-03-21T06:02:00.000-07:00

Hi all, and sorry for the delayed post... life hasn't been very kind to me lately, and I've had other reasons as well. Thanks so much for your views and comments... I had a lot of food for thought, and obviously have taken my time in doing the thinking... So I thought I'd share one little balloon from the multicoloured thought cloud hovering over my head...

There we were, Darling and I, stuck in traffic, late for work and profoundly thankful we have an airconditioned car. Conversation was at a standstill, so the radio lady was babbling away unhindered.

Radio lady : blah blah blah, twitter tweet, International Women's day activities last week, twittering wittering, blah blah, equal rights, opportunities and progress.....

Angel : (emerges out of thought fug) See.... progress! That's what we need!
Darling : What about the equal rights and opportunities?

A : (smug) Already have them... some of us are more equal than others!

D : Hmmmmmmmm
Yeah, you have the right to look after my every whim, and the opportunity to do exactly as you're told...

A : Whut!!!! (enraged)

A : (fumes for the rest of the - albeit short - journey)

D : (lols)

Later......

D : could you help me get these things into the house please?

A : Whut??

D :

A : awwwww...... (melts into a big puddle of mush)

Later still.....

Sigh... sometimes life is not such a biatch afterall...

_____________________

By the way, this happens to be my 100th post, and almost 3 years since I started blogging, so it's nice to have something nice to blog about. Darling is the one who gets full credit, since he was the one who bullied and cajoled me into blogging, and the one who came up with the name... based on a very astute observation of my personality, no doubt. I read through my blog agin, all the lame-ass posts I had in the begining, the dearth of comments, and the general lack of structure in my posts. I thank Dulan, Kay, Al Juhara, Half Doc (who I just discovered blogging again), DeeCee, Darwin, Pissu Perera and Daham who were my early commenters, and encouraged me no end.

I also thank Fallen, for the song below, and for helping me decide to actually go ahead with a 100th post...