An overworked physician from Malaysia who imbibes caffeine ( though slowing down some ), drives dangerously ( same as prev. ) and writes bedtime stories about guys into other guys to indulge in wicked unfulfilled fantasies...
You'd all guess by now that most physicians are just a tad anal-retentive. Usually when the day starts I've already outlined a general plan for the day - with a couple ( hundred? ) of contingency plans ready to suit almost every eventuality. Short of an unexpected quake. With a pretty flexible schedule that changes by the minute, it's hard to predict what's going to happen - and yet I always have something prepared right up my sleeve.
Don't like to be caught unawares - so ask me at any given moment what I'm gonna be doing later - and usually I'll have some vague idea.
Not that I'll ever tell.
Usually when asked for a general opinion on my next move amongst my group of friends, I usually remain uncharacteristically silent. Even plead some degree of himbo-like indecision rather than speak what's on my mind. Friend : What do you wanna do? Paul : Uhh.. don't know. Friend : Where do you wanna go? Paul : Uhh.. not sure. Friend : Who do you wanna see? Paul : Uhh.. don't know.
Surprised? Don't be.
Indecision!
Of course sometimes I really have to bite my tongue when the rest of the group remains maddeningly indecisive. You'll see it often enough! Friend : We don't know what to do either. Friend 2 : Should we have lunch first? Or take in a movie? Friend : Don't know. Maybe have drinks? Friend 2 : Maybe. Karaoke? What lunch? Paul : FUCK! Make up yor mind dammit before I take off your heads!
It's self preservation honestly. I know better than to decide. If I had to make all the decisions, I'd be worst than a steamroller. Just give me an inch and I'd probably roll all over you - and probably make all the decisions thereafter! Yes, I'm a monstrous control freak. Love holding the reins unfortunately!
We like to say that the relationship between a surgeon and an anaesthetist is akin to a marriage of convenience. No matter their marital troubles, the unfortunate pair are irrevocably tied to each other by virtue of their jobs - despite the fact that the surgeon and the anaesthetist can be distinctly different in character and nature!
Usually the more subdued and passive of the pair, the anaesthetist learns to handle his cases with more tact than his rowdy, aggressive surgical colleagues who are far more eager to throw down the gauntlet. But of course, that's plain stereotyping since you do find the occasional mavericks here and there :)
Surgeons come in all shapes and sizes after all. From the benign powers of good to the demonic ones who wield their jedi-like strength for evil like the Scalpel Sith. Though I didn't think I'd ever meet one who'd leave me gaping.
Jedi Jampi himself!
Does this actually work?!
Despite the modernization sweeping the country, not all of its inhabitants have seen fit to lose the old ways. Hence the ancient practice of alternative medical therapy ( what else would you call bomohpathy? ) are still very much in vogue. As a practitioner of Western medicine, I'm obliged to abhor such unlicensed work. Not that I don't believe in their patchy successes but I do wish the work's scientifically documented as a retrospective study in the Asian Journal of Arcane Bomohpathy at the very least.
Rather than to have it leak out in hearsay as an urban legend of the healing wise man in the hills. Let's not even talk about the infamous sinsehs who go around fooling naive ladies into giving up their hard-earned savings - and occasionally more.
But some relatives are awfully persistent so I find myself - if not condoning - at least not barring them from trying their luck. As long as they don't forcefeed my patients dubious-looking miracle cures or douse them in bacteria-laden drainwater, I'm quite agreeable. Since it usually involves a few chants, some songs, perhaps a rain dance or two.
But of course I never quite expected spiritual surgery being done by our very own Jedi Jampi. Seriously. You have never seen the like! Sure I've heard the local legends but I've never seen tumours being shrunken by faith healing before. I almost wondered whether he'd want help decontaminating the surgical area but I was informed by the Jedi that the area had been cleansed with prayer.
Hell, what are we autoclaving for! Might as well scare the bugs away by breaking out the Bible!
Still... nice unassuming fella, this Jedi Jampi. No knives. No flashing blades. No magic wands. Just a tense, controlled muttering and brief waving of hands. Without the benefit of anaesthesia even!
Of course I gotta see his results before I give my nod of approval. Who knows, we might yet call Jedi back for a surgical consult. Maybe I could learn how to sedate patients by whispering a few magic words. Imagine the things I could do! Chris Evans won't see it coming! Paul : Could I buy you a drink? Chris Evans : Get lost, creep. What are you bothering me for? Paul : Aren't you feeling sleepy already? Chris Evans : No, I'm not! I'm just... *yawn* Paul : Lullaby and good night.
Seriously. I don't know how the tone of our conversation descended into such lurid degeneracy but during the circuitous drive back home - after a spate of comparing recent television dramas - we suddenly stumbled onto this gem.
We - as in Big Bicep Barry and me. Just back from another diving expedition, he looked as gloriously tanned as the surfer bum I always imagined him to be. Seemed like he'd closed up his beach shack for the night ( seeing that all the superstitious folks are hiding at home this Hungry Ghost Month! ) which gave us an opportunity to hit the spanking new cineplex in town to catch the Mummy : Tomb of the Dragon Emperor.
What the fuck am I doing here!
Certainly says something that I got more of a rise from riding Barry's car after than during the entire two hours of the latest Mummy instalment :) Sure Brendan Fraser was watchable as he reprised his role of Rick O'Connell but that's about it. The plot was so-so, poor Jet Li was ludicrous as the two-dimensional baddie and even the fabulous sight of post-war Shanghai couldn't save the show.
Hell, even the brewskis we smuggled in didn't make the movie any better.
Which is how we ended up talking about television instead.
So many guys to choose from! How can I only pick five!
Surprisingly it took me a while to come up with an answer. Five fine fellas on the small screen I'd rather be doing? Now, how am I going to confine myself to only five! Well ... that and the fact that Big Bicep Barry was staring at me with raised eyebrow might have distracted me from replying as well.
Nathaniel Archibald from Gossip Girl Sure, he's broody, faithless and given over to fits of dejection but hell, I'd still do him. Especially in his preppy St Judes uniform! Don't you just wanna tear it off?
Kirby Atwood from Lipstick Jungle
For obvious reasons - golden six-pack, toothpaste smile and all. And also for the fact that he stood by the resident bitch Nico Reilly even though she rejected him in a thousand painfully emasculating ways.
Eli Stone from... well it's self explanatory Actually sweet Eli's more a guy I'd bring home to mama. Successful, handsome lawyer with a wicked sense of humour? Now, isn't that perfect husband material? Well, he does have a brain aneursym but that has been operated on!
And these two guys from more obscure sources - French and German television series in fact.
Kevin Laporte from Les Bleus Sweet, sincere, intelligent - at least from what I gathered off the subtitles - and the adorable man's also a buff french copper. And did I tell ya he's out and proud as well?
Christian Mann from Verboten Liebe And this one from a German soap called Verboten Liebe. A tough amateur boxer who's just starting to feel his way out of the closet. Now wouldn't you want to get into the ring with such a guy? Go look at those yummy lips.
All subject to change of course.
When I turned the question around on Barry, he smiled enigmatically while keeping an eye on the road ahead. Thought he was obviously not going to make a reply as usual. Then yet again, this fella surprised me. Barry : Trust me, I'm so horny these days I could fuck a goat. Paul : Well I'm available for a fuck. Barry : Not while I'm driving. Paul : At a measly 50 kmph. I saw a granny hobbling past on a cane. Barry : I'm a good boy. Sex in a moving car? I don't do such things. Paul : You're obviously not drunk enough. Stop by the sundry store and I'll get another six-pack. Barry : That might help!
Fortunately I wasn't the designated driver or I'd have swerved into a ditch. Yeah, I talk a good game ... but after all this time, if he'd said yes I'd probably have leapt out of the car in hysterics.
That's not my real estate agent speaking. That's Charming Calvin.
Seems like our nomadic Beijing expat has decided to sink his hard-earned disposable yuan into real estate. Blew a sigh of relief hearing that since I figure it's time for him to finally buy instead of rent. Especially when he's been blowing his cash renting an entire apartment here for an entire year - only to spend a measly four weeks in the place.
I call it his storage apartment.
Of course buying an apartment in the city isn't quite as simple as I imagined. When I bought my own place, all I did was drive by the show unit, scope out the area and sign the agreement. Of course I'll admit I was swayed by the fact that the house lay only a stone's throw from the place I grew up in. :) Certainly a selling point for me.
Be it ever so humble!
Landed properties are of course preferable - but in the city, the price of purchase for a minuscule lot barely the size of a jockstrap would cost more than a king's ransom. Certainly not to be thought of - unless an excessive wealthy long-lost of uncle of mine ( or Calvin's ) succumbs to a mysterious illness clutching his last will and testament naming one of us his sole beneficiary.
Unfortunately crusty old nabobs are hard to find these days with money boys aplenty on the catch for them!
So it's an apartment Calvin's looking for - with a reasonably spacious area larger than the grotty bedsit I had all through university :) Hopefully a step up from his previous rented place with amenities such as a pool or a gym in the same building ( the better to ogle the hot guys! ) and guards to keep out the great unwashed. Preferably within walking distance of a sizeable train station.
And of course, it shouldn't be in the back of beyond. Being a small town boy, Calvin simply can't conceive of staying more than ten minutes away from the city centre.
So you can see how hard it is to find such a gem of an apartment for such a shockingly low price! Short of a local housing recession in the next few months, the only way we'd get such a place is to voraciously hunt through the obituaries! Getting rid of the blood stains on the carpets should be easy enough but I wouldn't know how to get my hands on a reputable bomoh to spiritually cleanse the place.
But let's not get too far ahead.
Have to admit the first thought that came to my mind was 'Ooh, what kinda interior design theme should we have?' Maybe a chic, modern Chinese interior as a nod to Calvin's traditional upbringing? Simple white Ming-style furniture with lattice frame screens and green accents? A little less fussy and understated than my own place - though with his predilection for making a mess, the minimalist look would soon turn into trashy Bohemian.
Wait a minute... didn't he mention that the company pays for luggage transport ( in a 4 X 4 ) when he comes back from Beijing?
I seriously doubt most of my colleagues can remember all their patients. With the sheer volume of patients passing through their doors on a daily basis, it's almost impossible to recall them all.
But there will always be a handful who will stand out throughout our careers. For me, it's the awful tragedies that always remain crystal clear in my memory - from the teenage boy who succumbed to dengue shock syndrome on my first month of work to the Vietnamese worker who lost his fingers in an industrial accident ( how I met Big Bicep Barry incidentally ).
And of course the man I met yesterday. Drew.
Rare indeed that I meet a self-confessed gay man - especially in the hospital setting! Last one I met had attempted suicide - and I wouldn't even have guessed if my nurses hadn't dropped a hint into my ear.
Drew was different though. Not only was his sexuality brazenly splashed all over the notes, Drew was also unabashedly out and proud, almost ferocious in his defence of his raging homosexuality. Guess he figured he obviously didn't have much more to lose - seeing as his once healthy body was already riddled with the dire hallmarks of AIDS. Reason enough for him to lash out bitterly at his loved ones even as he struggled to breathe his last.
Not the first time I've had patients with HIV but it's rare that I find them well enough to tell me a story ( much too late once they come through to intensive care! ). Yet once I shut the curtains, Drew - no doubt recognizing a kindred spirit - poured out the usual coming-out story of prejudice, intolerance and alienation. Then the endless partying with the sexual promiscuity so prevalent in certain niches of gay life.
As he spoke, what struck me was the thought that it could have been anyone of us afflicted with the same. Could be any one of my friends lying there in that cold nameless hospital cot with the half empty intravenous drip and the miserable hot water bottle.
You ain't tapping this ass, man, till you rubberize.
Gosh, this is gonna sound like a public service announcement. According to recent studies, HIV infection among gay men in Asia is rising - possibly due to a number of factors including less funding for programs that target men who have sex with men and the fact that there are new groups much less aware of the risks of unprotected sex.
Look, it certainly would be hypocritical of me to preach about safe sex methods when I know I've been regrettably lax a time or two in the past. Impossible to demur ( or to make that embarassing run to the pharmacy ) when the the lights are dimmed, the hormones are raging and the hunk's baring his sleekly muscled flesh in front of you. Foolish mistakes were made.
But this certainly acts as a stern reminder. Sexual promiscuity isn't wrong ( to a wicked fella like me at least ) but it does increase the chances of catching a sexually transmitted infection.
