Deep breaths.

Funny how I used to do this for relaxation class at cardiac rehab but whenever I’m stressed out, I forget entirely to take my own deep breaths.

I’m currently blogging at the moment due to intense guilt as I’ve not blogged for a while and one reader has been commenting on the lack of input. A bit like writing clinical notes, really. You’ve got to be up to speed with it or else everyone goes ballistic. Not to say you’re going ballistic, Dory. +D

But so far, so good at the moment. Work has been immensely busy and I think I’ve been pushed to the edge and beyond but I stay there just because I want to get some quality work in. Sure, I’m slow and I take time to do my stuff but by golly, I want to be able to do it.

This weekend is, as much as it is a break, is also a busy one. In a way, I look forward to the dance routine that I’m going to learn. Its been a long time since I started doing routines again especially for a performance and this is a completely different thing for me so I want to keep things going and I want to keep learning. However, I’m not particularly looking forward to the part where I tend to drift off at work the following week. But I guess that’s where I need to make sure I sleep enough, I eat enough and hopefully, I’ll be motivated to work out enough as well. Heh.

As much as I want to turn this into my own personal food and exercise blog, I think the readers are more keen on my personal work struggles rather than reading through my workouts and eating regimes. Isn’t that right, boys and girls? *silence*

That’s okay. I’m completely half assed blogging anyway and I can’t really give a damn anymore. Nights, people.

Introverted/stressed/drenched.

So I guess its picture time again.

Pharmacist M asked about how I survived in good ole’ Wangavegas for a good year or so with things being the way they are and I kind of shrugged my shoulders and said, “I enjoy my own company. I like hanging out on my own.”

And she immediately quipped, “Introvert.”

This got me thinking. Am I really an introvert? Or am I just…a person who likes to hang out on my own? I’m not particularly sure.  I’ve always been one of those kind of people who can keep themselves entertained no matter what the situation. Even if it meant sitting down on a bench and reading for hours or walking around a city for hours on end, I’m the man you can count on to do just that.

It takes a while to get used to your own company. Especially if all you have is your thoughts to keep you entertained and the little voices in your head to maintain conversation. You get used to it after a while. Doesn’t take much to keep me entertained. Or amused, for that matter. I can find the littlest thing hilarious.

So I went for a bike ride one morning and the weather was looking a little iffy but I thought to myself, “Nah, it’ll be fine.”

And then the angels started spitting on me and when I got to work, I was well and truly soaked from head to toe. The dry spots are where my shorts were wrinkled up and weren’t exposed to the rain. Meh. Oh well, that’s what you get when you try and keep yourself healthy. The gods themselves make sure that you get well and truly drenched for it.

And I realised that I tend to be a little stressed when I finish a pack of chips and a 2.25lt bottle of Sprite in a period of half an hour. Watching youtube and mindlessly snacking, it did nothing for my waistline and bugger all for my state of mind. Apparently, sugar in high amounts does nothing for stress levels. My lack of coffee throughout the day apparently doesn’t do much good either. I still end up as stressed when I drink the last drop.

Makes me wonder what a cigarette tastes like sometimes.

Into the Light.

"Carol Anne - listen to me. Do NOT go into the light. Stop where you are. Turn away from it. Don't even look at it."

- Diane, The Poltergeist.

I was just commenting to the French Lady that sometimes, you meet people that can make you feel incompetent in a span of half an hour. In half an hour, they can make you question everything you have ever learnt and everything you have ever done because, oh dear lord, you weren't as good as student as she was. You weren't as brilliant as she was. You weren't good. No, you ain't good enough.

Sigh.

But apart from that and moving on to perhaps happier thoughts and things, the French Lady and I have decided to meet up on a weekly basis for lunch. We hang out for about 15 minutes, not particularly a long time and we just talk about the little stuff. Nothing deep and mind boggling, mind you, especially not after I've had to deal with a morning of crap from work, I'm not ready to have a deep and meaningful just yet. We do have the odd deep and meaningful which is interesting to a certain extent. But anyway.

So we meet up in the middle of the day at the nearby fast food restaurant and I'll order first since she's usually dropping off Surfer Boy at creche and I'm closest by about 3 minutes walk. 

Midday is blistering hot and we would end up sitting as close to the air conditioning as possible (well, me, anyway, since I get pretty warm walking in the midday sun) and drink and eat and just hang out together, which is something we don't get to do very often throughout the week unless we go to salsa class or she's scheduled to be free during the week. 

And this is where THIS came in. She wanted a hot chocolate, I ordered and she noticed.

Warning: Yes, I'm hot. 

I told the French Lady that she could wear it like bling on a gold chain 'cos you know, she's so hot, yo. She just giggled and kissed me instead.

Sometimes, I think my break during the week is wayy too short. I should probably for 1 hour lunches just because I don't think I get enough time out on my own. Or away from work, anyway.

Looking up into the evening sky in Palmy after dinner several days ago, the French Lady asked for this photo to be taken. Apparently, she wanted to have picture evidence of what resembles testicles hanging from a tree. I must admit, though, the silhouette part of the whole thing is pretty cool. 

Tonight is also probably the first night that I've actually willingly taken work home to do. I need to write F-S-I plans. So dear Singaporean Rambo, if you really like FSI plans, rehab is the way to go. You go right back to 2nd year when we analyse gait and sit-to-stands and sitting balance and standing balance and do outcome measures all over again. For fsck's sake, I feel like I'm doing a clinical placement all over again! Flip. Or maybe its just in this hospital in this rehab ward.

***

At times, I count the days.

At times, I don't want to count them. 

At times, it feels as though it will take forever to happen. 

At times, I'm back to where I started. And sometimes, I'm not sure if that is a bad thing or not. 

You know how human beings used to be so afraid of the unknown? People used to think that the world was flat and that if you sailed into the horizon, you would drop off the edges of the earth and disappear. Yeah, sometimes, I feel like I'm on the edge. I'm a tightrope walker, hung high beyond the earth. I walk this line that suspends me, that holds me, that keeps me afloat. Or whatever.

It seems so much easier to just drop the balancing act, close my eyes and fall....fall...fall.

Amen. Night night people.

Cheat. Cheat. Cheat.

So I’ve been online. For the last few days. Although my Facebook status proudly announces that I’m going to try and be off the internet for as long as I can, the continuing sucky days do not help my mood.

Yesterday, I came home depressed enough that I contemplated NOT going for social salsa. I eventually gave up and thought that I needed some much sweating to take the edge off the day. Oh, as well as a hug.

Last night, had a conversation with Pharmacist M who discussed future career options with me and basically made me see that whatever was happening to me was really my fault. There were no two ways about it, it was purely and really my fault. I could change my circumstances but because of my lazy fat ass, I decide to just tough things out and here I am. All at my own doing. Sure, some things happen for a reason but its mainly my fault. Cool, eh?

And I’ve been online too, I must say. I’ve been online sometimes almost to the point of compulsiveness because of the way things have been happening with the job.

For those of you who haven’t heard, I’ve switched wards. And this ward, man, this is a bitch.

I’m trying to keep out of my head the thought that this job is a specialist position and suddenly, I’ve been asked to treat people at a rehab specialist point of view. I don’t think I’m doing enough study because honestly? I don’t like it and when I’m done with work, I want to be done with work. I don’t want to stay and do anything more when the clock strikes 4.30p.m. But due to my lack of knowledge in this field and the consistent feeling that I need to pull myself up by my bootstraps, its kind of suffocating.

Sorry for the rant. But I think its going to be like this for the next few months or so. So much for writing lovely little stories and posts, eh?

There’s exciting things coming up though. But I don’t feel the thrill of it anymore. I don’t feel the rush of excitement that I used to feel whenever things like this come up. Its more of a “oh, okay. yeah sure” kinda thing.

Weather is crap and I feel like pulling a sickie. Seriously.

Oh. Flip.

I’ve sworn before on this blog, I’m sure of it. Try typing in the F word and I’m sure you can come up with something. But bleh.

Today, this morning, when I was writing notes, I couldn’t quite see the page properly. The paper looked too bright, my handwriting a blur of squiggles and I couldn’t quite figure out what on earth I was writing. I’m pretty sure I was coherent as what I was writing was my “function-strategy-impairment” and treatment plan and I was going to hand it over to my mentor to study and then plan for the following day. Well, I hoped it made sense. I couldn’t give a damn, to be perfectly honest.

So I blinked a few times and decided that I was going to keep going.

And then the headache started.

It started pounding just slightly behind my eyes and then spread out to encompass slightly above and beyond the level that my glasses perch on my face. And then it radiated throughout.

Brill. Absolutely brill.

And then the nausea decided to have a party in my cranium.

Abso-f*scking-lutely brilliant.

So here I was, clutching my head, breaking out in a light sweat and praying that oh man, please do not let me faint/pass out/puke dramatically and just let me have the dignity to go say that I do not feel well and I want to go home.

But I thought, “I’ll tough it out. Panadol is good stuff.”

And unfortunately, the feeling that I was going to spew on someone caught up with me.

No…I didn’t spew on someone. I went home.

Begging my apologies to everyone (I tend to do that, often too, whenever I have to go home sick) I headed home, closed the curtains, curled up in bed and died and went to dream land for 5 hours during the day.

Woke up and the headache was a slightly recessed nightmare and the nausea? Gone. Phew. After the previous bowel clearing episode where all evacuation orifices were utilized, I’d rather not have to go through it again.

Managed to get two pieces of buttered toast and a chicken sausage into me at about 7ish so hoping that I’ll be able to stomach a bit more food soon-ish.

Its now past 12 midnight and I’ve managed to cook lunch for tomorrow as well as ingest two lamb chops. The headache has been banished to the realms of never-again. For now.

And so while I’m feeling better than I was before, some pictures are in order.

Scarily enough, someone came in with the same surname as me. I can just imagine myself in that hospital bed. Word on the street ward is that he’s the owner of a a supermarket franchise and he’s reportedly given each of his three sons one supermarket each.

I can safely say that I can claim to be a long lost relative. Papa!

Heading to the RSA (the equivalent of your average nightclub/bar with dance floor except its in good ole’ WangaVegas) where there was a rocking quartet of singers. They were really good and I was aching to get some dancing in but dang, the floor was packed and I could hardly get a step in. So I stood at this exact spot where I took this picture and waited for about 45 minutes before I thought that I would rather go to bed than wait for the floor to clear.

Took this at none other than Lone Star where I got bored and decided to take a picture of this quote. Truly madly deeply.

And sorry for lying to y’all but the impressive inking I had on my arm was only temporary. As much as I would have liked to say that I grit my teeth and bore on with the pain, I was also too chicken to have to deal with something permanent. Granted, I read at least 5 different websites regarding laser tattoo removal before I made the agreement that unless I’m really REALLY sure of what I want, I’ll stick to spray ons. Oh yeah, this was a spray on. As real as it looked, all it took was a dab of white talcum-ish powder, a sticker outline and a quick spray with an air brush. And for the duration that the tattoo was on, I was the baddest big boy on the block.

I should be in bed. Work calls and truth to tell, it really sucks donkey c0ck right now.

Baking bothers.

It's 3p.m. ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to another addition of Harry Connick Junior on the French lady's CD player!


*polite applause*

Now before we proceed, Monkey Girl, stop climbing the doorpost and Surfer Boy, stop dismembering the dolls. Thank you.


And now, everyone, its Harry on the ivory with the song, "Just Like Me."

***

Having spent a good portion of the day with the French Lady & Co., I honestly don't see how I can ever have kids.

Perhaps kids are for those awesome people with infinite love and patience capabilities who want to love them forever and take care of them and although sometimes the crying and the yelling and the fighting never really seems to end, you just get on with it.

Feeding Surfer Boy bits and pieces of a noodle stirfry that I wok-ed up this afternoon and looking at how he only wanted to eat the fried ham bits while he would pretty much spit out everything else, I get the odd sensation that perhaps I've never seen myself doing anything like this but now, yes, I'm doing it.

And looking into his brown eyes partially occluded by his blond surfer dude hair and how he makes the "mum mum" sound as he's chewing on ham bits and I'm picking up little chewed up bits of carrot and peas and corn as apparently, he doesn't like them, its hard to ignore the wonder that is a child.

Its amazing how the little kid opens his mouth in response to a fried ham piece as I aim it in his general direction on a fork. Its cool how he chews and wriggle around in his chair as I try and feed him another bit. And how he bites down on something he doesn't like and opens his mouth and points at the plate and spits it out.

And all the while, I'm sitting there, wiping his mouth, making sure the food goes in his mouth and not around and not onto his chest or lap or anywhere else but his pie hole, sifting through the noodles and mixed veges to find another ham bit.

Amazing.

And it just reminds me how I'm not made for kids. Entertain, yes. Babysit on occasion, yes. But to nurture and bring up?

Thanks but no thanks.

Sun is out in full force this afternoon and Harry's on the player while there's some sort of guitar riff going on in the background. Hello, I asked for jazz?!?!

French Lady and her friend are washing and drying dishes while I'm doing the usual hog-the-computer-and-blog and the kids are entertaining themselves dismembering toys in the living room and playing mummy-and-daddy with the soft toys.

I'm thankfully in the shade where the sun can't touch me but yet, I'm still getting some heat and the cool breeze.

My thighs are slightly achy from the crazy workout I did the day before. Finishing with 100 squats ain't exactly the best idea in the world sometimes. But hopefully, fingers crossed, we'll be getting some results one way or another.

*yawn*

This day would be perfect with a hammock in the shade and ice cold sweet yet sour lemonade with the French Lady.