As a little girl dressed in a checked pink uniform and armed with a weak bladder, I fondly recall my teacher asking me to draw on a sheet of blank paper, what i want to be when i grow up.
Not giving it a second more to thought, I immediately grabbed the nearby crayons and started drawing my childhood ambition.
When my teacher started reviewing the drawings done by my fellow kindergardeners, I was delighted that my dream wasnt a replica of some other kids. In fact it stood out amougst the doctors,lawyers,policemen and of cuz, the teacher.
I drew a woman with her hands behind her back, wearing a spotless white dress complete with white shoes and socks. She had a odd-shaped white hat on her head. On the hat, i drew a red cross.
The nurse i drew grinned from ear to ear and had a rainbow and birds behind her to match her cheerful disposition.
The teacher gushed at my drawing and my pride and ego swelled. I told myself, this is definately what ill be when i grow up.
Following that, during my secondary 3 and 4 days, i worked at a hospital as part of a student attachment program. The closest ill ever get to being a nurse.
As students, we were assigned to the elderly wards and we worked in pairs under the nurses. Once we stepped into the wards, a wave of sickness and sadness swept through us. Everywhere we looked, our gaze was met by a dejected , lifeless and emotionless face. No matter how hard we smiled, the elders would just look away or ignore us.
The patients each had varying diseases, and this was some i still remember:
1) An elderly woman with a 3cm deep hole, a circumrance of a 20cent coin in her leg. It was so deep i could see the whiteness of her bones. I cringed when the nurse inserted the pinchers with the cotton to clean the wound. The old woman however, looked on emotionlessly.
2) An old lady recently admitted required the nurse to insert a drip through her nose to reach her stomach.(for feeding purposes) The old lady visibly irriated grabbed the long tube and with a great haul, pulled it out of her right nostril. Blood along with mucus splated on her pillow.
3) A young female teenager. Mentally retarded,she was bound to her bed. Her legs and hands were curiously covered in white bandages with small blotches of blood. When asked, the nurse said those wounds were all self-inflicted. Once, she had a violent seziure. I held on to her leg which would not stop kicking. Her eyes were bulging and she bit hard into the cloth tied around her mouth. Slowly and quietly, her strength went and she fell asleep. Now her bed stunk so bad due to her perspiration and her faeces. The nurses drew the curtains around the bed, turned the patient over and started changing her diapers. The smell was overpowering as the nurse opened up the diaper and i noticed above her anus, right about her lower back, there was a big red hollow circle about the size of a milo tin can cover. It was about 1cm deep and it was painful just looking at it. It was a bed sore due to lying too long on the bed.
During those few weeks, I grew to detest and re-think my childhood ambition.
Once, I entered the bathroom with a wheelchair-bound malay elderly lady. The young nurse started un-dressing the lady who was still groggy from sleep. Not knowing what to do, I stared. As i continue my staring, before me the malay lady sat on the toilet bowl in her sagging nakeness. Her breasts hung all the way till they were resting on her thighs. The young nurse lifted one of her breasts and started scrubbing underneath. I must have let a grasp, cause the nurse turned around and noted my presence.
She said, " Here, hold this for a while."
I couldnt believe my ears. Did she mean the breast in her right hand or the showerhead in her left? Being the pessimist that I am, my shakey hand started for the long and seemingly lifeless breast. That moment, the nurse laughed and indicated that i was to hold the showerhead for her.
Indeed, being a nurse certainly requires an individual whose personality resembles the rainbow.
Bright, colourful and gives hope to whoever sees it.
For ten straight years, me and my mates at plmgps and plmgss were deprived of long hair. Hair must be above the collar and hair must cover the ears were the golden rules we had to abide to. PL girls go with short hair like how cj girls goes with short shirts. We were of probably the only school whose discipline mistress moonlighted as a hairdresser during morning assemblies.
I did dream of having flowing, Rapunzel-like tresses but as i was going for a sleek funky look in secondary four i vowed to my classmates never would i wear contacts nor have long hair.
Look at me now. I live on disposable contacts and am the proud owner of long, limp straight lifeless hair.
worry 1: my dad's bald! Well, semi-bald to be exact. Save for the hairs on the side, he as bald as bald can be. Here's where i start to worry.
Due to the biological law, there will be the genetic transmission of certain unwanted characteristics from parent to the very unwilling offspring. I bet by the time im 30, ill be on the vip list of yun nan hair rebuilding centre.
worry 2: Hair is already dropping at alarming rates and im not even in my twenties. On my pillow, on the bathroom sink and floor, on every nook and corner of my room...its everywhere. I reckon if i were to collect every strand ive dropped, it could be rolled into balls and balls of hair which in turn could be knitted in to sweaters, very hairy sweaters.
well well. Life cant just be about worries can it?
Many many many thanks to *joel* who has helped me in more ways he'll ever know.
Lifting my spirits, sharing my burdens, tolerating my madness (mad freaks?!) and stood by me (and still standing beside me) through the dark ages of my student life.
So hamsum and macho
So huggable and cuddlable
So mature and reliable when needs be
So silly and cute as a button X)
Reckon this the 1st time im injecting a mild dosage of relationship mushy-ness in my blog.
hawhaw.
Bare with it my readers, cuz im in love : )
