Phew, another long tiring day on acute medical call.  Weekends should really be for resting.  Looking at how things go now, it'd probably be the end of the week before I will finally be paying off my sleep deficits.  Not gymmed since Saturday.  That's bad.  Need to pen in for PT tomorrow.

Another crazy hedonistic weekend

I haven't blogged in a long while for a few reasons.  Soon after my last post, I went through a very nasty break-up that seemed to consume all the emotions within me.  Subsequent to that, I pursued my gap year plan and did some proper travelling, spending a couple of months in Argentina where I picked up a little bit of Spanish (and a few seriously cute and gorgeous boys) and where I was humbled by the wonders of nature. From the menacing Iguazu falls in the north to the freezing beauty of the glaciers in the south. Breathtaking.  Then, I came back to London to sort out my tedious job applications, and thanks (or not) to one of them being successful, I am now back into full-time training which means extremely little time to myself.

But that doesn't exclude me from participating in the occasional wild weekend in the Vauxhall clubs drowning in dirty progressive house music which I really have taken too much of a liking to.  Yesterday was my new record.  20 hours of continuous limb-shaking, punctuated by short intervals to rest and mingle in the smoking area.  It is a nice atmosphere in some sense.  Sure, many people are high.  Some don't know where they are.  Some think they are in Mars.  A few think that aliens from Mars are hunting them down.  But still, it does provide a venue for people who share the same interests (not only limited to boys and sex) to come together and be free and to discover that there are more common grounds to us all than it may first appear on the surface (should one wish to engage with others beyond all the hip-grinding and what else not that occurs on the dance floor).

I don't know what prompted me to write on here again.  I think it is partly because I tend to be very introspective after coming down on a big night out.  It's probably propelled mainly by a feeling of regret.  Yes, it was fun.  But is it worth feeling as shitty as this?  Probably not.  But well, today's a Monday.  Ask me again on Friday.  And partly, there are some memorable incidents and quotes that happened yesterday that I thought were quite amusing.  But I am tired now, I'll write again tomorrow, maybe.  Maybe not since I will be working 14 hours.  But whenever, since I don't think anyone is reading this now, and it probably suits me as well since I just feel like mumbling to myself sometimes.  Chau.

Encounter with a very straight police officer

Policeman:  What was in the bag? Any valuables?
Me:  A stethoscope, worth about £100 quid.
Policeman:  Anything else in it?
Me:  Nothing else worth mentioning.
Policeman:  OK, I'll put down an estimated loss of £100 then.  Oh wait, don't think the bag cost much?
Me:  Well, it actually did.  It was about £850.
Policeman:  £850???  What kind of bag costs £850?  What is it made of?  How come? (continued to stutter)
Me:  Well it's LV.
Policeman: (very blankly) LV?  What's that?
Me:  Louis Vuitton.  (Seeing that he is still not registering, I proceded to explain that it was a brand.)
Policeman:  Can you spell that please?
Me:  L-O-U-I (interrupted by him to slow down)-S  V-U-I-(interrupted again)-T-T-O-N.
Policeman:  What shape was it?
Me:  Rectangular.
Policeman:  So, essentially a laptop bag then.
Me:  Might look like one, to the untrained.

the damage.....fucker

That was part of the conversation that I had with a police officer at Kennington police station as I was reporting a crime committed against my car and my bag.  Some bastard smashed my car window and slung his filthy arm into my coupe and took away with it my black Taiga leather work bag containing the one tool I heavily depended on to do my job.  You bastard, you had better not end up overdosed with cocaine bought with the cash you got from flogging my belongings.  You may end up in A n E and come to face to face with a stethoscope-less doctor!  Or worse, you may not even get there in time.

Rejuvenated interests

I am not sure whether it is a knee-jerk reaction to the threat of loss, but in a strange twist of events which I do not even comprehend fully, I have since rediscovered my affection for my boyfriend, big-time.  It is almost as if we were back to when we first started going out; the fluttery anticipation of seeing him, the sweet nothings, the intimacy plus the added bonus of better understanding and appreciation of each other that grew from the adversities that had presented themselves in the past months.  I certainly hope this feeling is going to be sustained, and not merely a childish reaction to nearly losing a 'toy'.

On my career front, I am now more certain than I have ever been that I will not want to leave clinical medicine.  It is something that has been in contention in the back of my mind.  Clinical medicine is stressful, and I had been unsure whether I would want to dedicate what remained of my youth to toiling for NHS and getting paid meagre salary.  However, since working PRN (drug prescription term for 'as when required') in the past couple of months in acute medicine, it suddenly descended upon me that I actually enjoyed what I was doing.  Although sure there had been times when I looked up at the patients' arrival board and sighed at the sight of more 'chest pains' or 'confusion, ?cause' cases to be seen, I realised that whilst I had seen countless of them (and secretly wished for 'something' more exciting to come through), the patient's (and their family's) take on the experience was wholly individual.  I am happy that I am able to somewhat make the frightening process a bit less daunting and easier for them (that is if I'm not stressed out by the constant barging of grumpy, obese sisters trying to hurry me through the list), and in that whole process hopefully get the right treatment started! 

So, screw the £2500/month pay (though I'm hoping it'll get better), at least I do good to the society (this is for all the filthy rich bankers out there).  Screw not being able to party like crazy every night, at least my brain won't shrivel into nothingness (for all the drug-fuelled clubbers in Vauxhall).  Screw the greek gods in the gym, it will never last.  Ok, I'm sounding bitter, but on the whole, I am at peace.

Interests rejuvenated.  I am happy.  For now.

Deception

Nothing is worse than catching your boyfriend's mischief red-handed.  Firstly the explosion of anger.  Then the repulsion.  Followed by the sinking feeling that the person whom you had so trusted had cheated on you.  Not just one random horny fuck.  Two proper fucks.  Numerous texts.  Daily calls.  Same person.  In my fucking apartment.  All whilst I am out of town hard at work.

The irony of it all is that I should be happy.  I should have been happy that he had made it so easy for me to call the shot that I had wanted for a long while now.  This afternoon, before all the drama, I was actually talking to a close friend of mine whether I should bring the 10-month long relationship to an end.  My feelings for him had been steadily diminishing.  The initial physical attraction could not prevail over the impracticalities of dating a 23-year old college student.  Our future paths could not have appeared more  divergent.

He was astonished by my reaction upon the accidental revelation.  He said he did not think I would so much to care a fuck.  He accused me of being icy cold for the past couple of months.  Fine, guilty as charged.  But that still does not give him the right to be so indignant under such circumstances.  I asked him to get out of my sight STAT.  But just as he was doing so, it just hit me how crap I felt.  In those few moments, I realised how much I actually cared for him.  I was in tears (nearly), and realising that he actually meant something to me, he crumbled too.

A long talk ensued, and I cannot believe that I am doing this, but we are actually giving each other another chance.  For me, it is a waking up call.  Never take anyone for granted.  I had thought that he loved me so much that even when I did not reciprocate fully, he would always be on my side.  It is so true that only when you are threatened with the loss of someone that you realise how much you value him.

I am not sure if it is the wise decision, but I will stick to it for now.  I hope this cock-up (pun intended) would serve to better our relationship rather than be the start of a downward spiral into the world of deception.

Dr. Christian Jessen

Many of us will have heard of Dr. Christian Jessen.  The celebrity doctor co-hosting Embarrassing Bodies and Supersize vs Superskinny whom most British housewives want a piece of.  He is also Attitude's in-house health expert and recently flashed his chiselled body on Attitude Active's cover.

I envy him for a few reasons:

1.  He graduated from UCL in the year 2000 and took the unconventional career route of spending two years in Kenya and Uganda where his main focus was on HIV and malaria. Taking a year out of training as I am doing now is already considered precarious in this current NHS climate.  He, I believe, then trained as a GP and now has a clinic in Harley Street which he runs in addition to all the media work.  To have taken the road less travelled and become as successful as he is now is what I find  inspiring.

2.  He managed to sculpt a body worthy to be splashed across Attitude (not that I think that highly of this mag =p) despite all his commitments.

3.  He is always seen at the coolest parties.

4.  He is probably very rich.

On a more negative tone, critics of Embarrassing Bodies may say that the programme serves no higher purpose than entertaining the audience.  As much as I would like to think that it is a creative public health measure to promote the health of the population, I have to agree with that.  So whether it is a 'meaningful' medical career, I am not so sure, but I am going to carve one that will be and yet not compromise my fabulous gay lifestyle!  =)

Massage @ Agua Spa, Sanderson's

I love a bit of luxury in life.  A bit of pampering from time to time.  Massage is one of my favourite indulgence. For general well-being, I justify to my conscience.  And no, it needn't be a hunky masseur, although that is always a bonus =).  

I visited the Agua Spa at the chic Sanderson's hotel for the first time last week having heard about it from someone I dated a long time back.  I had been to their Malaysian restaurant for dinner once and I absolutely adored the hotel's ambience (more than the food).  Stylish.  Chic.  Trendy.  Cool.  You get the idea.

the communal lounge

The spa did not disappoint.  The place was really an oasis in central London (Oxford Circus) as it claimed to be.  High ceilings with white silky curtains as partitions gave it a very dreamy, out-of-the-world feeling (not the kind that mephedrone gives you but still...).  I opted for the aromatherapy massage, only slightly disappointed that it would be with a female masseur.  I was like "I really want someone strong with firm pressure" but that did not work.

The massage was awesome, no happy ending thank god.  Definitely much more skilled than some of the self-professed masseurs on Gaydar's commercial profiles who regarded smearing baby oil all over your body as a professional therapy.

All in all, a blissful, relaxing experience, perfect for recovering from a week of hard work at the hospital, or after a hard night out.