An Interview With An Empire

Tuesday’s coming.

I’m all jittery.

Like jelly on the Osim igallop.

I dislike interviews. It’s just like begging for something, just done sublimely. It’s akin to making a stranger trust your character in a matter of minutes. Frankly, I find it quite hard to sell myself to strangers just sitting across a wide table. They might as well be aliens on holiday.

I’m nice. Really.

You need to tell them positive aspects of your personality, your achievements and even your weaknesses. At the same time, you have to come across likable and sincere. It’s like asking me to stand naked in Taka Square peddling those stainless steel pots.

Rub that nauseating thought off your mammary memory.

Most people lie in interviews. I churn stories.

Ever think about what goes on in the interviewers’ mind during the interviews? What are they really thinking about once you walk through the door? They sit there, watching your every move, eying you like a lab rat in a those little plastic boxes.

Hmm…. Fresh blood….

They give you the once over.
You stretch your lips to form a tense, lame excuse of a smile.
They offer their hand for a shake.
Then invite you to sit down.
And you start praying their blardy 8 characters click damn, damn well with yours.

You carefully rest on your thighs, trying to look as defenseless open as possible.
You feel the beads of sweat gather into large wads then merge to form rivers.
And you wish for armpits to stay dry.

Begone stains! NO! NOT TODAY! BEGONE!!

Else you had better just die and be forever christened ‘the person who died’, rather that then ‘that one with the wet pits’.

Wah lao.

Tell me about yourself…
sell yourself, make me like you

What are your strengths and weaknesses?
you stupid enough to dig a hole…?! Or can you think on your feet and turn this trap around?

Where do you see yourself in 10 years?
How driven are you?

How are you an asset to the company?
What can we expect to fleece off you?

Normally, I rate how well the interview is going by the amount of eye contact, and read a relaxed or forward leaning posture as ideal. Another optimistic sign is the flow of communication. Engaging in conversation is much better then one-way Q&A. Often, I try to make and maintain a healthy amount of eye contact to acknowledge their presence. On and off scribbles when you’re emphasizing key areas of strengths is also another good sign.

The main thing in my mind is remembering why the hell I was willing to put myself through such scrutiny in the first place, bite my tongue and grin and bear it. That and whisper prayers so I don’t crash and burn.

Just smile and wave boys. Smile and wave….

I need to psyche myself up with positive energy. Karma chameleon.

Sharon’s always great at interviews. She has the gift of ticking chins and can make you believe she can turn water into wine. She possesses something special =)

Then again, that woman can make anyone give up their liver if she really wanted to.

My appointment’s in the late afternoon. Hopefully, a heavy meal will shunt most of the blood away from the brain and towards the GI (gastrointestinal) system, rendering the interviewers relaxed and content. Either that or houseman canteen should serve them pot that day.

Lotsa, lotsa pot.

And I hope all they see is Jimmy Hendericks and psychedelic swirls of happy, happy, happy colors.

Your Eyes, They Tell A Story

I decided to visit my teachers in school some days back. Calling a few friends along, we all made our way down to campus, dizzy with anticipation of both catching up with the teachers who made a difference in our lives and the peers who will be vividly remembered.

My transgender friend, D joined in. She too, excited to revisit old times and reminisce about days gone by. As usual, our glam princess kept us waiting for her distinguished arrival. But, yes, she wasn't the only culprit. There were many others that kept different time zones.

Reset your watches people…

Still, I must admit, that it was pretty good reliving old times. We hugged every teacher we met. We talked, and joked. We conversed about an array of subjects, from blogs to bitches.

From past to present.

Some teachers were more receptive to D's change. Tactfully, they asked what she preferred to be called, and how her life was in general. Sadly, reality also brings people who are steadfast in their principles and choose not to accept certain happenings.

One teacher said that D's change was 'rubbish' and insisted on calling her by her former name. I swear I could see the tears start to well up in D's large, expressive eyes.

Am I angry at my teacher?

Well, yes, to a certain extent. I was angry at her lack of sensitivity in handling the situation. But then again, everyone is entitled to their own opinions. Just as D has the right to her transformation, that teacher has the right to not accept it.

Your way is never the only way.

We can never expect everyone to live the way we want them to. They have to recognize their choices come with consequences. And not all consequences end up with fairytale endings.

I spent a little 'alone time' with D after the reunion, and encouraged her to share her feelings over the matter. Visibly upset, she poured out her grievances, stating that this type of shit perpetuates her life in almost every aspect.

I get this all the time Cheryl. Why must it always be me?

Truthfully, she creates a mini storm wherever she goes, attracting stares and gasps from curious onlookers. And seriously, it's hard to ignore her. She possesses a lanky body, always dressed to the nines in her colorful dresses and immaculate makeup.

The females eye her, trying to register how she pulls her look together, and the men, I don't know what the hell they want.

From my perspective, the people on their own, are quite content on just doing a double take. It's the people in groups that brew this innate need to ridicule and shout sarcastic comments with their falsified sense of 'courage'.

'look at the bapok'

I say – FUCK YOU.

Why don't you go take a good look at yourself?!

You want a piece of me?!
I'll give you something to look at!

It hurts my friend. And my friend has feelings. I simply can't help feeling defensive.

Then again, I also went through this phase too, didn't I?
If you can't accept it, walk away.

There is no justification for such atrocious behavior.

D went through a lot to get to where she is now. She handles discrimination every single day of her life – it's an indescribable torture. She's not allowed to change to her female clothes near her workplace. She has to undergo mandatory blood tests on a regular basis, as though she is some kind of perverse whore.

She endures and takes all the crap in stride. She dried her tears a long time ago. Like every one else, she's just trying to live her life the best way she knows how.

She supports her parents.
She supports herself.

She works as hard as she can.
She's there for her friends.

And how proud I am for her.

Are you even half as good as her?

I believe civilized people in today's society, don't go around pointing and bitching about physically or intellectually disabled people anymore right? We should extend this to every other person. I certainly hope we've grown from dark times. Or at the very least, be a little more discreet.

I can only hope they can learn as I have.

When you say that looks don’t matter : Prove it.

CLOSURE

I've been in nursing for a grand total of 6 years. And what a wonderful ride it has been. Coloring my life with vibrant hues of friendship, quirky characters and adventures some may never get the opportunity to experience.

Each chapter brings forth surges of ambivalence that is really hard to describe.

Mould my destiny Lord.

I completed my PRCP in one piece. I survived the workplace politics, the irritable patients, the endless paperwork, the mind boggling array of tubes, the smells and the bedpans. And I've moved on from the people that have made a difference in my life, the smiles, the hand holding, the tears.

My absence will be short and sweet.

The most important lesson I'm holding on to, can be summed up in :
LIVE ONCE. LIVE WELL. LIVE STRONG.

I'm grateful to have stumbled into nursing. For it showed me death, so I could learn to appreciate life. I call it one of life's little ironies.

I've witnessed how some can cling on to their last breath.
I've seen those crippled with disease.
I've watched miracles happen.
And I've realized how fragile and unexpected life can be.

I'd rather live a life that's worth living.

For now, I'm fueling a passion, with utmost conviction and I've promised myself to not get jaded. I know where I want to go and the type of person I want to be. If wrong turns in life helped led me to this revelation, then I must admit, it's been bloody worth it.

I thank all the people who have crossed paths in my life's journey.

i'm carrying all the memories in my pocket, to accompany me down more roads.

FINAL DESTINATION

I've survived my first week of PRCP.

Technically, I've only worked 2 days in my new ward, with the first 3 days being an 8am-4.30pm shift, consisting of a solid orientation program from the hospital.

Jerryl got quite a lot of shit from some other students during the orientation. Without a doubt, he will always be part-attention seeking-part-obnoxious, but at least he's not afraid to be himself and doesn't vilify others in the process. The same cannot be said about other people.

There was this bastard who sat behind me who kept bitching about Jerryl and seriously pissed me off. That lame fucker asked me not to saboh him when I shouted to Jerryl in the front, informing him that the lame prick had some issues with him.

You got the guts to chirp like a bird behind but no guts to say to his face meh? Fucker.

Don't ask me what possessed me. It just ignited this sense of injustice. My motherly instincts just went into overdrive. Maybe I'm part of some justice league or whatever. I also don’t know.

Jerryl may be a bastard, but he was my classmate, so that makes him MY (in the utmost non sexual context) bastard. What right do you have to pick on him? You're neither perfect or empowered with that right ok?

I think the educators did a pretty good job with the orientation. The hard work they put in was almost blinding. Unfortunately, some students had mile high expectations.

So to each their own lah.

That aside, Fad and I did manage to snag a couple of treats each during the Q&As. And meals with Chicken and Fad were great fun. The laughs came in bucket loads. Chicken, in particular loves the wall with the ‘puffer fish’ picture. It sends her chuckling everytime.

I know you like that, dontcha?! *raises eyebrow*

I'm proud to be part of my hospital - it's attained more merits then most hospitals and has many options to further education. The director of nursing dropped by, exuding a humility beyond ordinary. She didn't need to put the nurses in other institutions down. She ranted on about their own success stories. She spoke of how much of an asset we would be in the wards. It was a good feeling.

She possessed a quite strength deficient in others. And it fired the spark that will (hopefully) burn through another 5 long weeks.

Currently, I'm posted to a Haemato (blood) ward. It's a small ward with an attached clinic. In the beginning, I was horrified to find myself posted to Central. Again?!

*vehement convulsions -> physical contortions*

You see, I have issues with Central units.

Fortuitously, God read me like a book and answered my howls =)

My unit is in charge of taking care of post stem cell transplant patients. With a max load of 3 patients, there's a deceptive appearance of being able to slack. Well, you couldn't be more wrong. There's a shit load of work to be done, and only 1 SN there with me.

The upside to this is independence. And that the SN HAS no choice but to teach me something (anything) to enable me to function in a positive manner to help ease her load.

Everybody there needs multiple blood transfusions per day, toileting needs to be met, strict isolation precautions to adhere to, endless questions from relatives to address etc etc.

To date, I have helped to (all under supervision though)
1. Check the blood products awaiting infusion
2. Labeled and dispatched forms
3. Withdrawn blood from central catheters
4. Balanced shift IOs
5. Served medications
6. (Memorized by heart) how to use the portering service and trace online results

Not too bad for 2 days, I presume.

The SN could even feel at ease to leave me alone on Friday while she went on her break. It was a little scary even though the NC was just a stone's throw away. A patient developed a transfusion reaction and I had to summon the doctor and notify the NC. Luckily, a good dose of IV antihistamines rectified matters and the patient stabilized.

The staff here are really great. Thus far, I've not experienced any haughty contempt from them at all. I realize politics will always be present, nonetheless, I'm steering clear of any uncalled for drama.

We don't have the luxury of having a preceptor or CI around, but the ward NCs are always available on hand to offer guidance. One of them even stressed the importance of prioritizing family before work.

“You put family first and the rest falls into place”

Even the student from the other shift at my side is really willing to share. We exchange notes and stuff that we've learnt everyday. Cheers to her!

The patients in my ward are mostly ambulant to a certain extent. The challenge is winning them over, since they're mostly long-stayers and know what needs to be done and how to go about about doing it. Whatever you do has to be done with confidence and speed, else they tell you not to return.

And common drugs used there differ greatly from the norm DM-antihypertensive combo found at other wards. Over here, we mainly use antifungals, antibacterials, antivirals, antihistamines etc. And everything through the central line. So there's a lot of getting used to here. One slip and you may induce a prompt backflow of blood into the catheter and clog the damned line or introduce an infection.

I've learnt a good lot thus far.

Just 5 more weeks and my friends and I will be graduating into the ranks of becoming a SN. It's a dream I’m envisioning already.