The thing about the rain now going down sporadically is that we can no longer complain as much and we can no longer attribute so many pointless things to the fucking heat. A few months back everyone was whining, whimpering, moaning, and groaning in the callroom because of course, the aircon should break down at just the right moment. Or maybe the groan was from Pyro sleeping while drooling on that blue shiny pillow and dreaming of some stuff we shouldn’t know about, but everyone else was whining, whimpering, and moaning. During one of our genmed rounds I asked Army Navy what would indicate that the patient has Stage 1 Hepatic Encephalopathy. “Reverse Sleep-Wake cycle!” Army Navy exclaimed with much excitement. “Good…” I said, a swirling haze of colors in front of me, encephalopathic myself from the terrible heat. “Good... but in this heat… none of the criteria would be reliable. I sometimes wake-up gasping and sweaty in the middle of the night, crying ‘ang ineeeet!!!’ and then…” and I went on to narrate verbatim one of my old blog entries where I narrated the story about waking up in the middle of the night. Once again—my poor genmed service. 30% teaching, 70% me doing an audio-version of my blog.
BL and Vampirella finally got around to facilitating buying a huge new aircondition unit. Facilitate—what an annoying word, one that has elicited nightmares and would forever damage us psychologically in the future after having heard that word too many times in residency. Facilitate 2d-echo scheduling, facilitate administration of antibiotics, facilitate wheeling of the patient to CT Scan, facilitate facilitate facilitate!!!! I remember that two years ago I was awoken by a call at 7am by then-Japod Raininer telling me we need Midazolam for the patient’s TEE right now, and without so much as brushing my teeth or combing my hair I ran… ran!!!!.. to the operating room to look for any anesthesiologist friend and were it not for Netty Jao I would have received the twentieth degree from Ma’am Lu.
But buying the aircon has been facilitated, and it was awesome. As soon as the new aircon was dragged to the callroom Roothie ripped off his shirt, lifted the aircon half-naked, and slammed it into the wall all by himself or something, and we all whimpered in comfort as the cold air blasted its way into the room. I don’t think I’ve featured batchmate Roothie as much as the others in this blog, which is probably an injustice as he has recently made it to the hottest residents’ list. “You won by gay votes,” we bitterly accused him. I recently informed BOTD that I am just assuming that I got the 6th place in the hottest residents. “It’s not you,” she says flatly.