Sunday, October 21, 2012
Life is a Roller Coaster
I recall receiving a BBM that compared life to a roller coaster. I zoned-out after reading the first line which stated what anyone might have guessed; that life has ups & downs. (Aside: Blackberry users will agree - this derailment is an unavoidable side-effect after use of BBM longer than a year). Sure enough life has its ups & downs, the upward times that at first seem to drag along.The spectacular view when you eventually reach the peak and have courage enough to open your eyes. To see, not just look. Quickly, else you'll miss it. The thrilling moments that subjectively are only just that, moments. The times you're still catching your breath and wondering if such a tachycardia is compatible with life...and there you go again whoooooop. The fact the ride only lasts for a specified time-period. You need to enjoy all you can before it expires. 'Have your money's worth' they said. Spectators admire you, and wonder how you do it, smiling, sometimes shrieking. But you are secured with a safety belt -your Salaah- the ultimate protector. The guards checked you had it secure before starting. You feel safe regardless of whether its up or down. Nothing can throw you off-track. And besides, you are, with both hands tightly clutching the handlebar - the Qur'an - what more do you need for support?
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Youth Day
So yesterday (Sat 16th June) I was invited to join the 'Muslim Women's Group' (lol, I'm not sure they call themselves as such) to a children's shelter to help hand out Soup and bread and Blankets.
There were more children than I expected - probably since it was a public holiday, other kids also decided to be part of the shelter for the day.
First they performed a few songs for us, most of em in Sotho so we understood little. I enjoyed observing the expressions of the Muslim children; the older ones seemed to stare in pity, the younger ones looked on with a mixture of curiosity, fear and wonder. One of them commented that the children seemed well dressed, to which I agreed. But I am certain they were told to were their best clothes for the "Youth Day celebrations"
We need to see more people whose needs of the day include finding food and shoes that fit. Guilty feelings enveloped me when I looked down at my own branded jeans and matching scarf, and added up the approximate cost of all I was wearing.
If I've got it right, most of these children are abandoned, or orphaned or their parents are too sick or too drunk or too poor to take care of them. Sigh. The injustices of the human race.
I felt an urge to pick each one up. Cuddle them. Each one is special. Each one deserves to be hugged.
Our youth are still suffering, They are still being shot and killed. The only difference is the killer is not the Apartheid police. Youth Day cannot be a celebration.
There were more children than I expected - probably since it was a public holiday, other kids also decided to be part of the shelter for the day.
First they performed a few songs for us, most of em in Sotho so we understood little. I enjoyed observing the expressions of the Muslim children; the older ones seemed to stare in pity, the younger ones looked on with a mixture of curiosity, fear and wonder. One of them commented that the children seemed well dressed, to which I agreed. But I am certain they were told to were their best clothes for the "Youth Day celebrations"
We need to see more people whose needs of the day include finding food and shoes that fit. Guilty feelings enveloped me when I looked down at my own branded jeans and matching scarf, and added up the approximate cost of all I was wearing.
If I've got it right, most of these children are abandoned, or orphaned or their parents are too sick or too drunk or too poor to take care of them. Sigh. The injustices of the human race.
I felt an urge to pick each one up. Cuddle them. Each one is special. Each one deserves to be hugged.
Our youth are still suffering, They are still being shot and killed. The only difference is the killer is not the Apartheid police. Youth Day cannot be a celebration.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Hadith
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device"Whoever believes in Allah and the Last Day should talk what is good or keep quiet, and whoever believes in Allah and the Last Day should not hurt (or insult) his neighbor; and whoever believes in Allah and the Last Day, should entertain his guest generously." [Bukhari Vol 8 Book 76 No 482]
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Refections on Internal Medicine
Internal
Medicine is over. For this year at least. 8 weeks plus 1week exam. Khalaas.
This post is
also rather old but I promised Fadiosis a post on Internal Med so here goes.
Pelonomi
Hospital – General medicine.
The reality
of the HIV/AIDS struck me here. We get really excited when our patients
actually test negative. It’s true. And it’s sad. The biggest need is to get rid
of the stigma attached to the disease. If people start accepting Aids like they
accept diabetes and come for tests earlier, then we can use ARVs as Allah has
provided us. Which (just like diabetes), doesn’t cure but controls the course
of the disease. Ok, let me get this
clear – I am in no way condoning promiscuity – it’s just frustrating to see so
many people discarded for palliative care. And often patients are
victims of their circumstances. Sigh.
Anyway, the
three weeks at PH were long and tiring. Pelonomi is hot and sweaty, devoid of
purposeful air-cooling systems and lacks stock. Get used to making do. This is
Africa. Also it seems to be constantly under construction so you have to
quickly learn the labyrinthine ways of getting around. At night we have a security guard that escorts
the girls around because of previous ugly incidents.
But all’s not
bad – the consultants & regs & interns are really cool and I learnt a
lot.
Endocrine (Univeritas Academic Hospital)
You never
want to get fat after rotating there!
Geriatrics (UAH)
It happened
to be my birthday again during my rotation at geriatrics. (On a side note, one
of the birthday messages I received said I should count years by the number of
friends I have. Bleh. By that calculation, I should be dead already.) One of my
patients was quite excited about it being my 21st birthday. I smiled
fakely at her - my thoughts were contrary to this big smile. As a child, I always
yearned to be older.*rolls eyes. And to reach a super-old age like my grannies
(86 and 90years)(May Allah grant them Jannah). I associated old-age with
wisdom, experience and big families. With being retired and having free time to
recite pages of Qur’an. True, it is an opportunity to be forgiven. Naively, I
associated it with being without responsibility. I didn’t think that loss of
elasticity meant more than wrinkles. It means being blind and deaf and
incontinent and demented. It means being dependant on other people’s good
nature and values to not laugh at you when you say something silly, to be
patient when you can’t hear. To walk you to the bathroom in case you fall and
get a death-sentence-hip-fracture. To speak for you coz most people can’t understand
what you’re saying after that stroke. You are stiff all over. Your hands are
tied coz the nurses complain about you pulling out the drip. The problem list
fills the page. Somehow, you seem in the way.
I don’t want
to get old.
View from Geriatric ward, Universitas Hospital. Lol, I can see my flat in this pic!
Haematology (UAH)
The haematologists
seem to be the happiest people around (and the cleverest IMO.)(All the internal
people are too clever. I could never specialise in Internal Med – its too
clever). Shame, the dr that assessed us at the end of the week kept asking us
if we were satisfied with the mark he gave us. He really felt bad about the
possibility of under-assessing us. J
Imagine me saying: “I don’t like this mark.”
:D
Neurology (UAH)
I think I
could probably write a separate blog-post for each one of the patients that we
saw in our two-week rotation here. Neurological disease always seems to touch
some softer part in me – I really pity most of them. Or indeed, I more admire
their resilience and strong coping mechanisms. Neurology is very interesting but
the frustrating thing for me is the most you can do for your patients is
diagnose their condition and identify the lesion. Not many treatment options,
many of the available treatment options have such horrid side-effects.
The OSCE
The most
stressful thing ever. Read the question, enter the room, examine the patient
with a commentary, say what you find and think the possible diagnosis and get
out. Total of 6minutes. 9 patients (plus
7 rest stations).
Station9
This was my
first one and I’m glad coz it was the easiest give-away BMI & blood
pressure measurement. Wow, they even
have a stethoscope with two ear pieces so the examiner can also hear those
korottkoff sounds!
Station1
In
retrospect I feel like quite an idiot for not identifying the mitral stenosis.
The dr was trying to give so many clues and I still didn’t figure it out.
Whatever.
Station2
COPD – this station was fun enough. I had episode of blankness – not knowing what to do
next. Then it all came back in time so Alhamdulillah, went wellJ
Station3
I thought I
would have failed this station (surprisingly I didn’t). I’m not sure what I was
doing or what was wrong with the patient L
Station4
Our
instructions asked us to complete another respiratory exam – and apparently the
patient had SLE. I didn’t get that far. Lol, the dr had his eyebrow raised
throughout my examination –not a good sign.
Station5
Thyroid exam
– honestly wasn’t all that bad. I could have given a better differential though.
Station6
Examination
of lower limbs – patient had spastic motor paralysis. And hyper-reflexia. Also
wasn’t all that bad.
Station7
This patient
had the most awesome lymph nodes ever. I never felt such large ones before!
Missed the epitrochlear one though.
Station 8
The epic
fail station. Abdominal exam. There was no way I was going to know what was
going on that obese patient in less than 5minutes. I had no clue what I was
palpating there. I got nervous. And I failed L.
I heard afterwards that saying the examination is difficult would have got you
some decent marks. Abdominal exam and I scarred for life.
We had to
get over 60% and fail only a max of two stations in order to promote. Alhamdulillah!
I promoted so I don’t have to go through that torture again. Well... at least for Internal
Medicine. JJJJ
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Hijab and stethoscope
So being a health-care professional requires you to be neat and also to have access to your ears for a stethoscope. (Ha-ha, some doctors [rigid in their belief that a stethoscope has very limited uses] would probably cringe at my juxtaposition of health-care and stethoscopes)
Unfortunately I’m not willing to make ear-holes in all my scarves so we have to come up with other options.
The orni/khimaar
Having a long scarf held together with a pin might be an option but may become a little overwhelming when you start concentrating on preventing your scarf from touching the patient.
The Kuwaiti style is an option. I’m not sure of its correct name and come to think of it, I’m not even sure why we refer to it as the Kuwaiti style :o It reminds me of an adaptation of the MMSG (Maritzburg Muslim School for Girls) scarf. Essentially a sort of tube with a long end that can be draped over your head. Works great.
The Ameera
This is the most useful option especially with a recent flood of their availability in South Africa. The Ameera (small burqa as some prefer calling it) can be neatly tucked away inside the white coat and obediently stretches when you require your stethoscope. No problems J
You could also spice up your ameera-look by adding a Spanish-style atop it. This doesn’t interfere with your ear access. Just make sure you secure it well with some sewing pins lest it slips off.
Or else try wrapping a long scarf loosely over the ameera, and again securing it with pins
Shukran to Sabeehah for style tips and comments. And to Hamada for the mannequin head.
Apology for the hasty photos, obviously not my speciality :p
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Update
I too seemed to have without warning, disappeared from the blogging world. I actually had to remove the word “blogger” from my Twitter bio – I can’t be keeping the title when I only force out a post once a month. I felt a little relieved to find that many of the blogs I follow are also somewhat slack on posting. Glad I’m not the only one wrestling with time.
Twitter is one of the problems – it is a micro-blogging site after all, and it just seems so much easier to tweet if I need to vent. Also, I’m exposed to soooo many (too many) opinions on twitter that sometimes I feel I need not create more. We should start living by what’s already beensaid tweeted and facebooked.
The other big change is that I’ve got wheels :) I’ve finally mastered parking my Toyota Aygo (thanks to my friend) so my worst nightmare is over and I hardly ever switch off anymore. So of course the Waterfront and Mimosa Malls are becoming accustomed to my presence, or if I’m fed up of shopping then I go visit some Muslim families out here. (Strange how one clings onto anything remotely similar to home). It’s weird having a petrol expense to account for now, but I’m loving the independence. I no longer have to ask anyone to take me on a termly grocery shopping expedition, where I would buy everything in excess just so it lasts until another trip. I hate constantly asking people for favours – our family always maintains “ask from Allah, not from people” so I’m terribly grateful I don’t have to anymore. (a Big shout out to all my friends for never making me feel like a burden – may you be rewarded for your kindness).
May Allah keep me safe in my Nura.
And then the other thing is that, we are now academically forth year students. Allahu Akbar. It’s almost frightening to say forth year, I feel I know so little. Anyway, so we’ve began our clinical phase and now I’m convinced I love what I’m studying. It’s amazing to actually see patients, to see the signs and symptoms we’ve tried to by-heart. We’re currently doing our 10weeks through Internal Medicine =very chilled compared to the surgical rotation. Though I must admit, I often experience “that stupid moment in combo with the dumb-look”, coz we don’t know that much and have to guess our way through the drs questions. So we have to keep our Tally (insert Dr N’s accent) in easy access.
Seeing patients is also a source of reflection for me.
Our Geriatric patients remind me of where we might be heading if we reach a similar age. Value youth before old-age.
Our Paeds patients (&their parents) remind me of the trouble my own mother must have experienced with my numerous Sicknesses I used to have as a child. And do not even say uff to them.
And then the 22-year old neuro patient - I recall being bleek after seeing him with his severe cerebellar signs (which he suddenly acquired within three months). Without going into too much detail – he had total loss of coordination and balance. His speech was incomprehensible, he had severe dyskinetic movements on intention. In other words whenever he tried to do something, he would be unable to due to additional movements. He cannot sit-up nor walk. I can only try to imagine his frustration as he can perfectly understand everything we say or ask him to do. Imagine being unable to touch your nose…because you just can’t! Value health before sickness.
My awesome pink stethoscope (sorry for the krappy pic) that my dear sister bought for me. It attracts a lot of attention though. Also not the best thing to have around when I don’t want to be remembered by those doctors. “small girl with the scarf and pink stethoscope”. Whatever.
Until the next post, Ma'salaam
Twitter is one of the problems – it is a micro-blogging site after all, and it just seems so much easier to tweet if I need to vent. Also, I’m exposed to soooo many (too many) opinions on twitter that sometimes I feel I need not create more. We should start living by what’s already been
The other big change is that I’ve got wheels :) I’ve finally mastered parking my Toyota Aygo (thanks to my friend) so my worst nightmare is over and I hardly ever switch off anymore. So of course the Waterfront and Mimosa Malls are becoming accustomed to my presence, or if I’m fed up of shopping then I go visit some Muslim families out here. (Strange how one clings onto anything remotely similar to home). It’s weird having a petrol expense to account for now, but I’m loving the independence. I no longer have to ask anyone to take me on a termly grocery shopping expedition, where I would buy everything in excess just so it lasts until another trip. I hate constantly asking people for favours – our family always maintains “ask from Allah, not from people” so I’m terribly grateful I don’t have to anymore. (a Big shout out to all my friends for never making me feel like a burden – may you be rewarded for your kindness).
May Allah keep me safe in my Nura.
And then the other thing is that, we are now academically forth year students. Allahu Akbar. It’s almost frightening to say forth year, I feel I know so little. Anyway, so we’ve began our clinical phase and now I’m convinced I love what I’m studying. It’s amazing to actually see patients, to see the signs and symptoms we’ve tried to by-heart. We’re currently doing our 10weeks through Internal Medicine =very chilled compared to the surgical rotation. Though I must admit, I often experience “that stupid moment in combo with the dumb-look”, coz we don’t know that much and have to guess our way through the drs questions. So we have to keep our Tally (insert Dr N’s accent) in easy access.
Seeing patients is also a source of reflection for me.
Our Geriatric patients remind me of where we might be heading if we reach a similar age. Value youth before old-age.
Our Paeds patients (&their parents) remind me of the trouble my own mother must have experienced with my numerous Sicknesses I used to have as a child. And do not even say uff to them.
And then the 22-year old neuro patient - I recall being bleek after seeing him with his severe cerebellar signs (which he suddenly acquired within three months). Without going into too much detail – he had total loss of coordination and balance. His speech was incomprehensible, he had severe dyskinetic movements on intention. In other words whenever he tried to do something, he would be unable to due to additional movements. He cannot sit-up nor walk. I can only try to imagine his frustration as he can perfectly understand everything we say or ask him to do. Imagine being unable to touch your nose…because you just can’t! Value health before sickness.
My awesome pink stethoscope (sorry for the krappy pic) that my dear sister bought for me. It attracts a lot of attention though. Also not the best thing to have around when I don’t want to be remembered by those doctors. “small girl with the scarf and pink stethoscope”. Whatever.
Until the next post, Ma'salaam
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