Love is complex.
It’s simple to say,
easy to identify,
yet difficult to do.

Love has no synonym.
It’s more than a feeling,
it’s action,
it’s meaning,
it’s .. Love.

Love is about giving without remembering to receive,
love is about being,
and serving.

It shouldn’t hurt at all.
Love increases the more you give,
it energises,
it refreshes,
it strengthens.

Love more than adds colour to Life,
it brings music, theatre, dance!

Love is pure, gentle and kind.

It is patient, it will wait,
and even if the day never comes,
it will not be disappointed.

Love is,
to be able to exist for others,
and therefore,
God.

I eagerly look forward to attempting
to let myself be driven by the intangible force within
that does not calculate,
is not wary, or weary,
or fearful, or vulnerable.

It is strong,
and may it grow,
till one day,
it is effortless.

~ by Hoping to Inspire

She had come to see me for a suspected eating disorder. She was not interested in any therapeutic alliance. Her crossed arms and schoolbag planted firmly on her lap made her displeasure clear.

Her mother was quiet, pleasant and polite. She tried to make up for her daughter’s reticence. I spoke to her alone behind closed doors.

”She hits me.” She began to cry. The mother, not the daughter.

Hers was a heart-wrenching story of domestic violence. Of divorce and all its painful aftermath. Now the daughter was following in her father’s footsteps.

I listened, and consoled. I offered several suggestions and avenues for help. But mainly I just listened.

“Thank you so much.” Some of the tension had left her face. Now I can go on.

The rest of the consult was methodical, aimed at excluding organic causes of vomiting. For the first time in a long while, I left the clinic feeling that I had genuinely helped someone.

Lord, continue to make me a channel of Your peace. To console, to understand and to love with all my soul.

~ by Dr Alison Snodgrass

The Martian jumped for joy at such a slick- looking gift, and
immediately asked, “What is this?”
Having inherited my cheeky persona, he told the Martian
he had picked it up from the ground, on
Earth.

He then hid behind the bushes and watched, as
the Martian started to examine the iPhone intently.
He stared hard at it, smelt at it,
even put his lips on it, and then his tongue,
before realising it was too hard to be food.

He then shook it very hard, and then
made a loud sound.
The iPhone did not budge, but several other Martians
came to join him.
They all tried their hand at it, and then
someone noticed buttons.

When light came on, they
squealed in delight.
They noticed more “buttons” on the touch screen, and then they discovered
–“Angry birds”!

My great great grandson was amused
and enlightened.

He was inspired,
to think that he was (to the disappointment of his great great grandmother, “only?”)
an iPhone (which he thought was the masterpiece of mobile phones)
made by God his Creator.

After all, his great great grandmother’s famous last words were,
“God does not make junk. He only makes masterpieces.
Masterpieces whom He later called His children.”

He thought back at the time when he first got an iPhone.
He read the manual diligently so he could use the tool to its fullest.
His sister asked her boyfriend, after trial and error did not work well.
His mother wished Steve Jobs could be around
to tell her his full intentions.
(It bothered her that such an intelligent man merely wanted to make
a mobile telephone
with functions for entertainment and convenience.)

Isaiah 55 9-11:
9“As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.
10 As the rain and the snow
come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
11 so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”

Therefore, there were many ways to discover God’s plans for him.
He could, as he did the iPhone, read the Word.
He could ask his other brothers and sisters in Christ,
apply “trial and error”, or
he could ask his Creator, through prayer.

He watched the Martians, as the queue for
playing “Angry birds” grew longer, and
was gleefully wondering how long it would take
for them to discover the original function of the device.

He made a mental note to bring another iPhone
on his next outing to Mars, almost betraying his hideout
with a chuckle at their expressions, if the phone
were to
ring..
when suddenly, he was gripped with a fearful thought, more for himself,
–What if the Martians
never found the “on” button, and decided the iPhone was a

fancy paperweight?

~ by Hoping to Inspire

I met you in the children’s ICU one night, almost three years ago. Intracranial haemorrhage, they
said.

What happened?

We had to focus on trying to keep you alive at first. You looked so small in that
large hospital cot, dwarfed by technology and oversized pyjamas, your bedtime lullaby the hissing of
the ventilator and suction machines. We calculated fluid requirements, made your blood pressure
and electrolytes look pretty. We could do nothing about the unnatural floppiness of your little limbs,
nor could we coax you to show us better brainstem reflexes.

I met your parents. They were so very young, so new to mother- and fatherhood, so unprepared for
the death of their very first child. I never had a chance to meet your usual babysitter, although I had
so many questions for her. Did you fall? Did you cry too much?

They decided, eventually, to let you go. One night, they came and dressed you in a frilly pink dress,
a little hat and pink booties. They brought your teddy bear and laid it beside you. Your mummy and
daddy sat next to you and whispered for a while. Perhaps you heard them. Perhaps you felt their
tears, warm showers of rain on your cheeks.

I could not remove the endotracheal tube.

My consultant eventually did it. And your little chest was silent. Your little heart was still.

Something broke inside me.

I had no right to grieve. That right belonged to your family, the ones who gave you up that night.
Mine was the duty of the calmly compassionate doctor. Still the tears came.

Focus. Rationalise. Detach. Bed number and cause of death, not small and innocent shaken baby
going up to heaven. I surreptitiously baptised you with tap water, hoping that the few remaining
electrical cardiac discharges from your little heart would qualify as life. When does the soul leave the
body? Lord, please take her to heaven with You.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, it’s all right.”

There was no time to fall apart. There were seven hours left till dawn.

~ by Dr Alison Snodgrass

The people here are helpful and friendly, and I’ve no issues with the food and accommodations. But these past 2 weeks have been busier than I’d expected. When I arrived, I had envisioned that it would be relatively quiet in terms of reporting sick numbers - but I couldn’t have been more wrong. I’ve inserted a couple of IV drips, did an auricular block with T&S, and even sent a patient to the hospital for an I&D. Out popped a conjunctivitis case, and I quickly isolated the poor patient into a single room, ala Survivor-Redemption-Island style. The number of phone calls I’ve had to make back to Singapore, be it for pure admin business or medical consult, probably broke the record for the past few years for this particular year’s edition of the trip.

Makes me wonder what’s coming my way for the next 2 weeks.

As I walked back to my bunk late one night - after doing a house visit on a sick GE patient whom I had dripped - my mind wandered aimlessly. I plucked absent-mindedly at the armband on my uniform, taking it off as per usual practice - I had never liked to advertise the fact that I was a medical personnel. Somehow, it seemed to draw a degree of unwanted attention, such as impromptu consults along the road / phone consults / the usual questions on medications / etc.

I stared at the Red Cross insignia, stitched onto a white circular background, which seemed to stare equally back at me. The question of effort and input, not being reciprocated in terms of emotional / physical / monetary rewards, suddenly came to the forefront. Who’s going to care about you putting in the extra effort to do a house call on a patient at night? Its not as if you get profound thanks from the patient / or you get a monetary reward / or you get a rank promotion. Who’s going to remember that this MO was the one who put in the extra effort for his patients? And worked even after duty hours, walking to the patient’s bunk with his MO bag at night? Actually no one does.

Tch. Human beings are interesting creatures. We are unappreciative of the good things around us, take for granted those close to us. We hanker after monetary and small gains. And we are ever quick to point the finger in every other direction; send off an angry email, demanding some kind of compensation / punishment for the smallest complaints.

Stomp’s gotten all abuzz over a doctor who published on his facebook wall, lamenting how his pay was still a “paltry” figure despite 4 years in the service. And that was hot on the heels of a MYOB newspaper article by a reputable medical professional, who literally drove the nail into the coffins of the public hospitals, when he successfully treated the symptoms of his private patient at a private hospital - when the same treatment was offered at the public hospital - except that the family didn’t want it.

Its like opening Pandora’s box. A whole torrent of unspeakable issues which have been previously swept up, stuffed in, and locked away - all coming out. Public VS private hospitals. What is a suitable pay for the medical profession? Is the medical profession a service industry? Is it always an issue of effort and input being equitable to rewards?

Was chatting to a regular serviceman, who expressed surprise that his pay was higher than that of a MO in a hospital. Haha, I’m sure that helped.

Returning to the Red Cross and its flurry of thoughts - I knew what the answer was already. I’m sure every medical doctor out there has come across this question in his medical career. It is a cross-roads for many. Depending on your answer - you stay in the public sector, you leave for the private sector, or you simply just leave to another profession (with better working hours, lifestyle, or simply better salary). Simply put, there isn’t an answer that fits everyone. You have to be convinced with your own answer to move pass this crossroad junction into your path for the next 50 years. So what’s mine?

That I am doing the right thing.

That one line means nothing to the casual observer. To me, it means that God called me to this profession. He has been the guiding hand along this journey. He has called me, to be his healing hand to my patients. And along the way, he has put many friends and family to support me along the way. It doesn’t matter that I’m not driving the latest Audi or that I’m not sporting a Rolex. Neither does it matter that patients don’t say thank you or send me compliment letters.

I have done my best for my patient, and that’s all that matters.

The past 2 weeks may have been busy, but everything’s been within my ability to control and treat. The Lord has given me these opportunities to learn, and He has made sure that I am able to handle all of them. So no matter what comes my way in the next 2 weeks, or even in the next 2 or 20 years, I’m sure the Lord will be with me at every learning opportunity to be a better doctor.

And as I fold the Red Cross Medic Armband into my coverall pocket, a small smile broke out as I headed back to my bunk in the cool night stillness.

“LIFE is LIKE a CUP of COFFEE” video is a prefect example of 1 Samuel 16:7 – “The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”

As Thanksgiving is just around the corner – this is a great time to really focus on the hearts of our family and friends and maybe see them in a new light and it is also a good time to look inward.

As we make preparations to put the best turkey on the table it’s also a good time to make sure we put the best turkey at the head of the table too

Hopefully the result will bring us closer to our what is truly important in our lives “each other”.

Hugs & Love,
Yvonne

I had posted the little note on my facebook wall, forgetting that I had “be-friended” one of my medics on FB (kinda reminds you of the dangers of FB, doesn’t it?). Guess nothing online is really private. Anyway, was a little surprised to see a reply to my little note…

“ Dr XXX,

First off, I would like to say that I am very glad and thankful that I had the opportunity to work with you for those few months even though I may not have been the best “employee”. Even after ORDing, the things that you have said/done will still be with me throughout the rest of my life.

Like you’ve said, smoking is an individual decision. No matter what you say/enforce/counsel, it’s all going to fall on deaf years if the person does not want to quit. Everyone has their vices, some people gamble, some people smoke etc. There is no perfect world, no perfect workplace.

Anger - Smokers offering cigarettes to non smokers. I think your anger should be channelled into disappointment of the “non smokers” instead of being angry at the former. There is no way to force a cigarette down someone’s throat, unlike our dearest ERP/GST/ (insert abbreviation here). No amount of policing will suffice, unless you turn into a one man ruling party and enforce a strictly no smoking or else policy.

Disappointment - In my humble opinion, I believe that smoking does not dent one’s integrity/discipline/work ability or anything for that matter. Having a diligent worker who smokes versus a sloth who does not, which would incur more disappointment?

Regret - Parents send their son to serve the nation is akin to sending their kids to school. The school graduates 990 students and 10 fall off the bandwagon. Statistics don’t lie; parents do not have the right to blame the school/educators.

There is no pleasing everyone. You can do a good job and people will forget about it and just focus on the downsides. I feel that you should give yourself more credit Sir. From what I have seen for myself, from you helping to move the stores with your own bare hands instead of using your superiority to push your men around, to you encouraging us by buying us lunch when we stayed back to help, you definitely do not belong to the “I-failed-as-a-leader” group. I don’t think it is fair to carry so much of a burden on your shoulders. You are placed there to lead your men, not to be their babysitter.

Vexed - I think I have basically covered this in the aforementioned paragraphs. I would like to repeat that this is just my opinion and in no way do I mean any disrespect to you.

The few months that I got to work under both you and Dr YYY has taught me a lot, and I would like to reiterate that it was both a joy and a privilege. Don’t give up the fight, losing a battle does not equate to losing the war.

Yours Sincerely,

ZZZ

Many thoughts and feelings ran through my mind as I read the reply.

Yes, these “boys” are adults at 18 years of age. They can make their own decisions in life. But that does not mean that we should let them be. In our different positions in life, we are given the opportunity to empower people around us in a positive and Christ-like way.

We, as Catholic doctors, are always challenged to live up to our principles, to be a role model for others around us. Even though the journey will be tough (will, not might), always remember that God will be with us through this time. Never forget that as long as we are doing what is right, God will give us the strength to see us through.

We, as Catholic doctors, are challenged to be leaders of a different kind. There is no place for dictatorial styles of leadership where orders are given from an ivory tower. We have to see the people around us as individuals - not just a bed number, a disease, or an admin statistic or subordinate (for those in the admin field). Reach out to those around us.

And finally…

Rats. Note to self: be careful of what you write on facebook. =)

But last weekend made me realize that charity comes from the most unexpected places.

Last weekend, I took part in a 2-day 1-night race around Singapore. Amazing-race-style, we had our wallets and handphones sealed, and had to get around to various checkpoints all over Singapore completing various tasks. Our headache was, of course, trying to get to each checkpoint across the island.

Feeling really “refreshed” after running around Kallang River for 2 hours completing mini-station-games, we managed to hitchhike with one really kind lady. “R” drove the 4 of us from Lavender MRT area, all the way to Old Holland Road to our first checkpoint. “R” even waited for us at the checkpoint while we completed our tasks, then gave us a short ride out to the main road.

From there, we managed to hitch another ride from a pleasant couple, who were visiting the dis-used KTM rails at Bt Timah. They were really kind to send us all the way to West Coast Park! We chatted a bit on the ride, and realized that their son was actually a M2 student in NUS - what a coincidence! Certainly hope they didn’t feel “pressured” to help his great-great-grand seniors in the competition.. =P

After completing our tasks, we met our 3rd angel! We bumped into this young Malay man at West Coast Park, who on hearing that we needed to head down to Yio Chu Kang area, without a single word - told us to hop onboard. Then there’s the 4th angel, who despite being on his way to a gym 5mins from his house, agreed to drive us from Yio Chu Kang all the way to East Coast Park and forgo his gym session!

A lady on her way to a conference at Orchard Road on a Sunday morning, who detoured to Vivocity to send us on our way; a young man on his way to the Bird Park for a course, who sent us from Chinese Gardens to NUS swimming complex; a kind professor couple who braved the Sunday afternoon Orchard Road and City Hall area traffic snarfu to send us from NUS to City Hall MRT.. Their kindness certainly touched me deeply.

These individuals went out of their way, not expecting anything in return, to lend us a helping hand (or a set of wheels in this case). 4 random individuals (although wearing the same event shirt) knocking on their windows, asking for a ride to somewhere really inconvenient - and they agreed. I myself would even think twice before letting 4 complete strangers into my car, let alone drive them halfway across the island! Caught up in this rat race, we as Catholic doctors must never forget to show the kindness and charity to the patients and people around us!

Would you offer me a lift?

I still remember asking all my new medics on the first day when they came in, who smoked and who didn’t. Seemed promising - 2 smokers. I had rather lofty ambitions of getting them to cut down and eventually quit smoking. My new medical centre building doesn’t even have a designated smoking area. On hindsight, was I blinded by trust? Should it have been 2 truthful people back then? I made my anti-smoking stand clearly, and dutifully reminded the rest not to pick up smoking from their counterparts, while trying to encourage the smokers to cut down and quit.

4 months down the road - 2 regular smokers, with 3 new / closet / social smokers. I think he tried to hide it from me - the gum chewing, the deodorant. Please. Its like trying to hide an elephant in an open field of lalang. Nothing can hide the smell of cigarette smoke.

As I sit in front of the computer with fingers to the keyboard, the emotions wash over me one by one…

Anger - anger at the smoker medics who offered cigarettes to the non-smokers. Anger at the non-smokers who didn’t heed my advice and warnings not to pick up smoking. Anger at myself for not policing them more stringently.

Disappointment - Really, I initially had higher hopes for some of them. Smoking is like a one-way path. Its hard to find that elusive U-turn.

Regret - parents send their sons into NS to defend their nation. Now I have 3 people who have “picked” up smoking in my Medical Centre. How am I, as a doctor, and their direct superior, going to answer to their parents as to why their sons picked up smoking?

Vexed - smoking, at the end of the day is an individual decision. I cannot simply force a smoker to quit smoking by fear of rank / punishment. He has to want to stop smoking himself. There is no point giving a top-down order to ask them to stop smoking, or tell them to knock it down 20 for every cigarette that they smoke. Yet as a guardian of healthcare, how can I go around telling people to stop smoking when my own medical centre personnel are smoking away???

What should be my next step? Is there an easy answer to this?

Why should I be so unsettled? Many will just tell me to let it go - they won’t want to quit; they’re just here to finish their time and leave; and after all, they are just a temporarily 1.5 year part of my life. Well, the answer is that even though they may just want to come here, serve their time and leave - but I just simply can’t let them do that. I answer for them. These boys are my charges. I want the best for them. Even though I may just be a transient 1.5 years to them, I want this 1.5 years to be a positive impact on them too.

And now as anger gives way to disappointment and resignation, with only ashes left behind…

What’s next?

Yours truly has taken a lovely 2 month siesta! Now, my writer’s pen has been itching to be put to use, but with Holy Week and Good Friday in April, I had to apply those restraints and tie down my hands which were desperately trying to pen something acerbic down - in light of the Holy month, I certainly didn’t want to be smote by divine lightning!

Ah yes, where did I left off? I think since the last time, the dressing decorum of church-goers seemed to have improved, no? Guess the social media has really become influential in many aspects - matters ranging from religion, to politics, to social issues.. Its no wonder that so many people are plugged into the internet today!

And speaking of internet, people are no longer restricted to desk computers and laptops. With 3G and WIFI, loads of people are accessing the net on their telephones - with facebook and twitter leading the way, no less.

It was precisely during one of those weekend services in March, that this writer was sitting behind a well-dressed young lady. Granted that the sermon could have been slightly more engaging, this lady subsequently proceeded to whip out her sleek iPhone4 ensconced safely in her pink hello-kitty cover, and started opening her Mousehunt page on facebook to sound her horn!

For the uninitiated, Mousehunt is this game on facebook that lets you well, hunt for mice, by clicking a button every 15 minutes. The more mice you catch, the higher you progress up the digital hierarchy ladder, and the more electronic gold you get. The graphics are cute, and the game ever simple, its no wonder that many people are hooked on it. STILL, that is surely not something that you would do in the middle of a church service, would you?

And it ain’t just the mice that’s getting everyone all up and about. Their amphibious cousin, the frog, seems to have garnered quite a following too. Entitled “Cut the thread”, this game requires the player to cut several threads holding a lollipop, such that the candy is fed to this kitschy kermit-looking frog. Oooo.. its soo… cute!!! Even this writer’s bought over by the lovable cretin!!

You’ve seen the land mice and the sea frogs - the global conquests continues up in the skies, as the squadron of angry birds take on the evil green pigs who have stolen their eggs! Angry and angsty, these birds will spare no feathers or toe nails in their bid to destroy the pigs hiding in their straw, wooden and brick (how appropriate) houses! It has spawned such a following that sales of those vengeful birds and their videos have gone viral!

Now, don’t get me wrong - I’m no technophobe, and certainly not a digital dinosaur. Just because I don’t own an iPhone - which almost everyone in the streets, including possibly the kitchen sink, flaunts one - doesn’t mean I’m about to go the way of the Dodo bird.

Moi thinks that with great power, comes great responsibility.

Ah, touche. Yes, my own hair stood on its end as I wrote that ever-so-cheesy line from Spidey’s debut film flick. What was I thinking?

But true to its words, technology has opened up new possibilities and and boundaries. It creates jobs, simplifies jobs, entertains people - why even the 3 year old kid I saw in a clinic was busy playing with his mother’s iPhone (and that was after his own iPad’s battery lifespan expired). But there is a time and place for everything. We have to stress to our children (and the people around us) the correct principles: that we have to respect our religion, and our God; that there is a time and place to use the phone - and during a church service definitely does NOT qualify here.

For at the end of the day, it is not just about doing the right things. It is all about character, and showing the world that we as Catholics, respect our religion and our God; and that we are able to conduct ourselves to a high standard of bearing on a daily basis.

So if you ever catch anyone in church using the phone for non-emergency purposes, you know what to do. No no, don’t take a photo of them with your own phone and upload onto stomp aka the inconsiderate commuters who sleep with those eye-shades. Tell them to either stop the noise pollution, or stop flaunting their internet capabilities on their iPad/phone.

Now if you’ll excuse me, yours truly has some mice to catch..

Till next time!

Signing off,

~ The Resident Muse ~