Ameliorate

I wish 2012 brings only the best for you.

Much love.

…TUMBLR!

You say I have a certain amount of followers friends, then I get excited then you say “Oh wait, nope.. just kidding, you have less”

You say I have mail in my inbox, then I get excited and you’re like, “haha..I gotcha good! Just kidding…no mail for yeeww!”

Peekchas coming soon, as soon as I catch my breath. Until then, I shall admire all the beautiful photos of very talented people I am following, it keeps my love for photography alive. Much love, friends (and also strange fickle beings that seem to follow and unfollow my tumblr). Have a good day! 

Step 1: Start family medicine and district posting in your learning institution.

Step 2: Throughout the duration of 7 weeks of posting, do not study. Procrastinate every time you sit down to study by tumblring, playing guitar, drawing and chatting with friends.

Step 3: Have an epiphany at the end of the 7th week; your exams are in a week. Start to panic. Have a mini panic attack, or perhaps a series of them. Kick yourself for not applying yourself in school. Question your priorities.

Step 4: Spend 4 days in your room without seeing the light of day trying to fit 7 weeks of learning into your head. You don’t have time to do anything else but read. Live on nothing but cereal and milk, lots of it. Occasional leftovers in the fridge may also be consumed- salad, tuna and a lemon. 

You’ll see results instantaneously!

*Results may vary.

I hope you’re all have a splendid day! And if you’re not, then cheer up…it’s Friday. Yay for weekends!!! Much Love, Syahirah

Preparing for my surgical internship in Osaka ^^

*insert something kawaii here.*

 I’ve been starting to take an interest in portraits, there’s some really great work I’ve been looking at that’s just so inspirational. I feel very awkward taking photos of strangers though. (How does that go? Do you ask permission first then take a photo? But then it wont be candid…but it’s really rude if you don’t ask first.)

So for now until I can figure how to go about doing that, I would like to present to you a non-stranger portrait of my youngest cousin and brother. 

*i like the coloured more than the b&w C:

A 4th year medical student, about to graduate in a year and a half asking “Who is Marie Curie?” to five other 4th year medical students.

No one knew the answer. Should we not be concerned?!

Kill me. My education is worth nothing. For once, I’m glad I’m a misfit.

 I was watching someone get their nail pulled out and their finger stitched.

I hit the table then the floor like a log. I was still unconscious when they lifted me onto the bed. They think I can’t stand blood (Not true! I stitched a man’s arm after he got into a drunken fight during my 3rd year)

 My forehead, my head, my cheekbones and my pride is hurting. The most embarrassing day in my medical career.

Me: So these voices you hear, can anyone else hear them? Do you think it’s normal?

Patient: I’m not sure, I don’t think so. 

Me: Do you know what kind of hospital is this?

Patient: Mental hospital.

Me: Do you think you have mental illness? 

Patient: No. I’m sick.

Me: So why are you here, not in General Hospital?

Patient: I’m sick. 

Me: but you’re not mentally ill?

Patient: No.

Second night on-call at the mental institution. I wondered around a bit, the acute and chronic wards are on lock-down and I’m not allowed to talk to patients any longer so there’s nothing to do. I “found” a few wards separated from the main building that isn’t on lock-down, the place is so dimly lit and isolated. We wern’t even briefed about this side of the hospital. I started talking to a man living here for almost 10 years. He tried to sell me some corn. 

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Mr. T is a patient who was admitted into the hospital for relapse bipolar, manic phase. After sitting with my friend and I for 15 minutes as we clerked him, he got up and said to my friend, “Why, you’re very pretty. Are you Chinese?” (She was a fair-skinned Malay girl wearing a scarf on her head.)  After my friend explained how her grandmother was Chinese, she added that my grandmother was half chinese. “Oh, but you’re not very pretty…but you’re highly intelligent. I prefer talking to you, but I prefer to look at her.”, he said nonchalantly to me. He then enquired why my skin is tanned if I had Chinese (a combination of pakistani-indian ancestors too and too much time under the sun) blood running through my veins.

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