I was lying down on the bed in the Doc's room.
The doctor, with his back to me and typing away at the computer, was explaining my condition to me.
All the while I was really just thinking about how good it felt to lie down after 2 hours sitting upright at the waiting area. I must have drifted off some because I really, for the life of me, cannot recall what he was talking about.
And then suddenly, he said a word that brought me back to reality with a sharp thud.
"... I'll give you an injection. That's pretty much all we can do for you today. We're not going to operate on you right now."
With my eyes wide and eyebrows disappearing into the top of my scarf, I asked,
"Operate?"
"Maybe it might come to that but right now what I can give you is a conventional treatment, meaning, therapy and painkillers, " he replied. He gave a quick glance at me from the computer screen and registered the startled expression on my face.
He rolled in his chair towards me and explained almost verbatim to what the orthopaedic doctor had said about my knee 3 years ago. Lifetime therapy and painkillers or surgery.
I stared hard at the white-washed ceiling, losing the interest of looking at the doctor's handsome masked face. (Oh did I mention the doctor was cute? )
With a resigned sigh, I asked, "There really isn't any other choice, is there?"
I could tell he was thinking hard about the question because he was silent for a moment, then hmm-ing and ah-ing and then finally said, "No, there really isn't any other way. There is no in between for this."
He resumed typing at the computer screen and I resumed staring at the ceiling.
And I thought my younger sister was being awfully quiet standing in the corner of the doctor's room. After a quick glance, I confirmed that yes, she was still in the room and hadn't run away screaming when the doctor had told me I'd be getting an injection.
Waiting for the injection, I felt a sense of impending doom. I've had many many injections before. I've even had a few IVs go wrong and had to be poked several times. So I wasn't really afraid of the injection, I think.
But something just didn't fit right.
I was thinking, injection... would it be in the arm? But it's my back hurting. Surely my arm had nothing to do with it.
And then, I thought they would be giving me some kind of epidural in the small of my back. I've heard enough stories to know that that can hurt like a bitch.
So I asked, "The injection ... where's it gonna be?"
The doctor turned to look me in the face and said, "Oh. Your backside." with an amused expression on his face. And I could just tell he was grinning under the mask.
"Oh," was all I said but my mind was racing a thousand thoughts a second.
To say it was an uneasy situation is a gross understatement. The thought of baring my butt to a random stranger even if the stranger happened to be a cute orthopaedic doctor was enough to make me fearful and nervous.
The impending sense of doom that I was already feeling multiplied tenfold.
A nurse came in, carrying a conspicuous looking red tray. And my heart rate surged faster. She drew the curtain, trapping me, on the bed, in an even smaller space with her and the doctor.
She turned to look at me, smiled, and said, "I'll be administering your injection for you."
And waves of relief flooded me.
I turned to face the wall and unbuttoned my pants as the nurse instructed. But just for the record, no, the injection was not even on my butt, more like on the other side of the hip bone. And I had worried needlessly.
The injection itself was nothing. Probably not even among my list of painful injections of all time. (The worse has got to be the one on the knee, followed closely by the wrongly inserted IV on the back of my hand)
When I turned back to lie on my back, I noticed that the doctor had tactfully returned his gaze to the computer, typing away my report. Not that it had mattered since my butt stayed safely in my pants and my dignity pretty much escaped unscathed, but I appreciated the consideration.
Of course, he had lied when he said there would be no problems for me to drive home.
I didn't realise but the injection and the oral medication I was given in the room numbed my senses so much that it was pretty lucky I escaped the many near-misses on the drive back.
And I'm not looking forward to starting (or should it be resuming?) physiotherapy.
>1:15 AM
Yes, it's a Honda Civic type R and yes, I know, it's a drool-worthy car for many guys. But it really did not matter to me and it reaaaally wasn't the car I set out to rent.
>1:21 AM
I sometimes laugh when I think of how preposterous the situation is.
Y'all would probably scream at me in frustration, because I just about proved how stubborn I really am.
Or rather how deluded I am.
I always thought it won't happen to me. But here I am, limping around the house, pretending to burst into laughter when all I really want t do is cry in pain. And my grandmother is zooming around the house, spinning some soup with a ladle or hanging out the laundry to dry while bouncing her great-grandson on her hip.
Now who's the old lady?
Well, whatever.
I dug my own grave, so to speak.
I'm just really thankful that I actually felt well enough to endure last weekend.
Which was great, don't get me wrong. I had a fine time visiting relatives with my family. And the only times I spent in heels were actually from the car up to whoever's house and then back again. And yes, I even felt well enough for that!
Though I compensated a little and wore a slightly less steep one for the second day out.
And I really regretted missing Deena's open house on Sunday. But hopefully we'll get a day to jalan raya together soon.
Anyway, as is wont when you have four cars and three of which don't know the way, we had a sort of convoy. 3 Hondas and a Toyota.
Personally, I found it a stressful experience. And the second sister cleverly vowed not to drive in such a convoy ever. But we'll see how next year.
But seriously, I was the only inexperienced (relatively, anyway) driver as compared to 3 speed demons.
I was the only one who only drove once in a very blue moon.
And. I had only been driving the car 2 days.
And did I mention my poor night vision?
No matter what the others said about it being a powerful car or a racing car or a rally car. Whatever. Makes no difference if your makcik passengers flinch everytime you drive by a bus or a truck! Or shriek at you to slow down everytime you hit 80kmh.
And to make matters worse, the lead car, or rather, the BIL, as the lead driver was a pain in the arse.
At roads that are empty, he would go pain in the arse slow. And when it was an expressway, he would weave in and out of traffic like he damn well pleased. He rarely signalled before turning, changed lanes when he didn't need to, tailgated other vehicles. Well, anyway, that's how it seemed when you're trying to follow him.
At one point of time, I totally lost sight of the blue lead car amongst all the traffic and could only see my cousin's black civic. And he suddenly decided to catch up with the car in front by way of weaving in and out like a freaking nascar racer. And by god, if I lost sight of him, I would be lost.
It was almost comical. The second I decided to follow the speed demon cousin, and pumped the accelerator, my grandmother and my mother started shrieking at me to slow down. I went from about 60 to 100 in about 4 seconds on the expressway before my second sister joined in the shrieking of the 2 makciks.
But she wasn't shouting at me to slow down. Instead she shouted, "Speed camera!!"
As I passed by several suspicious looking silver boxes, I slowed down. But it was a good thing that I had managed to keep up with the cousin and the rest of the cars before then but that is not to say that I hadn't been the least worried. I had a death grip on the steering wheel and my shoulders were tense. I was furiously thinking, "surely 80 would be acceptable on a road with a 60 limit?" and "was that first box the camera or the second one? Because I passed the first one at 100."
We reached our destination safely, and by some twist of fate (or rather, road condition) I'd secured the lead position near the intended destination which happened to be my former hometown of Bishan.
When we reached the uncle's house physically unharmed, (I couldn't say much for my emotional well-being though effing pissed doesn't seem to quite cover it), we joked about how funny it must have been and the BIL claimed that he had allegedly slowed down so we all could catch up.
The younger sister told me later that in the car he had been complaining about how slow I was driving and how he would have sooo pumped the acc if he was driving such a car.
For some reason, that pissed me off quite a bit.
Because firstly, he hadn't realised that he's been diving like a bitch.
And secondly, I had my 2 elders screaming at me as it is.
And lastly, unlike some people, I was trying to accommodate to the other drivers following me behind him.
And before we had started out the journey, my mother had called out to him not to drive too fast. And he had retorted, "then, don't drive too slow!"
Make of this what you will but he's not high among my list of favourite people in the world right now.
I'm being petty and <>, but I need some time to calm down.
He is, after all, family.
And somehow, I really miss J.eremy because the above story is one he'd love to hear and comment on.
>12:26 AM
These days, I'm in so much pain, I think I can cry.
Self-pity sucks, I know from experience but I just can't help feeling sorry for myself when my back burns in pain just from bending over to pick up something on the floor.
And and and, one of the worst experiences in life these days is getting up from the toilet bowl.
Mother-hell-of-a-pain, okay!
And I know, I KNOW, I mean, I really really do know that carrying my 6kg nephew around is just asking for trouble. But he's so cute and adorable and so squashable and moldable and so irresistible that sometimes, (make that most of the time) I just can't resist the temptation of picking him up.
And when he screams for attention, and nobody is around. Well then, I really have no choice but to pick up that wailing sack of rice.
But I don't want to spend the rest of my life in a back brace! It limits my clothing options by about 80%! And for goodness' sake, I am only twenty! Why the hell is my body deteriorating at the rate of an eighty year old?
People just don't understand sometimes, that walking can give me so much pain.
I try not to complain because they'll just say I'm trying to give excuses to get out of doing chores.
And and and I still haven't gotten Pedro out for his inaugural walk.
>9:56 PM
One day, I realized that a friend's name had a very interesting riddle to it.
Although she probably knew it already..
But guess who is "in between DNA"?
>4:29 AM
I’ll tell you a secret,
I’ll tell you what I see when I look in a mirror, well, metaphorically speaking, at least.
I see someone who’s below average, uncreative, ordinary, lazy, untalented, and these days, to a large extent, someone stupid.
I flip through my process journal and I see someone who can barely draw trying to make up for it with writing words.
And I’ll even tell you what I do not see.
I DO NOT see someone intelligent or talented, or a critically thinking individual with a fresh take on the world with the potential to be someone great.
That, I do not see.
And yet, THAT is what he tells me I am.
He goes on to say that I can be someone great if I push myself that little bit further.
He tells me the works that I happen to hate the most are the ones he finds great or brilliant.
Then he asked what I thought was a rhetorical question, “Do you want to be good, or fantastic?”
I was just staring at my nails, busy being uncomfortable, feeling intimidated by the blue grey eyes but stayed silent.
Strangely, so did he.
I peeked through my lashes and found the grey eyes boring into me and answered hastily, “ uh, fantastic?”
Despite verbalizing the words, no, I truly do NOT believe that I can be fantastic.
I see F and his fabulous designs on one side.
And then, on the other side, I see E with his fine-art-worthy illustrations.
And then, there’s B with his fantastic photographs.
And then, there’s J who just got top ten nationals for a design competition.
And then, I wonder…. How do I compete with all these people?
I do not believe my designs are fantastic. My photography skills are minimal, and my drawings look pathetic. There’s nothing in me that’s fantastic. At all!
But I guess I’m just going to have blind faith in what my lecturer tells me.
He tells me I could be great.
(Although, I believe he tells that to everybody)
He tells me I should push myself further.
(Although I believe I’m at the knife’s edge already)
He tells me to be critical of myself.
(Although, evidently, I am way too critical of myself as it is)
Friends like F, E, B and J are a great bunch of help. I will never see myself in the same league as them, but maybe one day, when they get world famous, I can boast to everyone that once, F, or B, or E, or J attended art school with me.
>12:14 AM
We walked until our feet became bloody stumps and yet, we walked still.
Thank god what planned out to be a 5 hour shoot only lasted 2.
When we stepped past the metal gates, Belle exclaimed, "Wow! This looks like paradise .... if only it wasn't so hot."
We saw some swans, click click some photos, walked, saw a sundial, click click, scratched a face, dressed a statue in maggie noodles, squeezed a tomato, click click, walk, click click, walk, walk walk walk walk and walk.
Oh, and did I mention the merciless sun?
This is one of those days when I wish that my period comes so I don't have to fast. Gosh.
At the end of the day, my throat was so parched, I could barely talk.
Belle gave me sound advice, "Don't faint okay! I don't know how to call 911. Eh, emergency is call 911, right?"
Hahaha, and I'd probably die shrivelled up on the road waiting for 911 to come.
Anyway, just some raw unedited photos to leave you with.
(because I'm too lazy to run them through PS)
Does this look like angry to you?
Because that's what it's supposed to be, haha!
Repetition
And come Sunday, I'd like to wish a Happy happy Eid to all Muslims out there.
In the mean time, enjoy baking cookies!
>10:40 PM
>10:51 PM
Life-changing decisions = lifelong headaches
>1:23 AM
Can you believe that I couldn't get to sleep the whole night because I was worrying about the photography assignment?
Haha, I can drink a buttload of coffee and still get to sleep.
But a simple thing such as an assignment keeps me up at night?
I'd say it's impossible if I didn't know it happened.
So fine, I've done all the shots save ONE.
ONE horrifying shot that keeps me up at night, literally.
Can anyone pleaaaaaaassse tell the guy up there to amplify the sunlight a little today?
The dark weather is totally fine if I didn't need to take a shot in intense morning sunlight.
I need a beam! A beam of sunlight because we're not allowed to take night shots nor indoor shots.
And Mr Sun was missing his glorious rays this morning, which renders the above task impossible.
Maybe I'll get desperate by tonight and sup in the rays with photo. shop.
>7:32 AM
There are times when I wish that money is not a problem.
And now is exactly the time.
I'm trying to live with half the amount of money I used to live on.
Impossible? Maybe, but I've succeeded for about a month.
It's also good that the timetable is such that I don't need to eat lunch in school for about 4 out of 5 days.
Saves a hell lot of bugs.
But now..
I need to buy ink cartridges.
Pens.
Gluesticks. ( I think I should go buy shares in UHU, if they have them. I've eaten my way through about 10 jumbo-sized sticks since this time last year. )
And I wish bugs would leave me the heck alone at night.
But anyway, pay no mind to my complaining because it's my own arrogance that's put me in this situation.
Let's just say I'm conducting an experiment, just to see how far my independence can stretch.
And I shall bury my atm card deep underneath the underwear drawer.
Just so I don't get itchy fingers everytime I see the machine.
Saving money can be such a bitch.
ON a totally random note that Belle would most likely say is not random at all;
How WRONG is it to know what underwear your lecturers are wearing??
and and and .
How much worse is it to see your lecturers' butt cracks??
Sesungguhnya aku berpuasa.
>2:04 AM