In Loving Memory Of

It was a beautiful Saturday morning. Except for the fact that we will be having an oral test three days later, and following that a consecutive 4 weeks of exams, it was a perfect day for a weekend outing (with that amount of pressure it would take a nerd to agree to an outing).
And then, out of the silence in anatomy hall, my Malaysian classmate shouted from behind. "Sim Jun Yi! Prof. Tsai just passed away."
Like in the movies, I shuddered at the sudden news. I tilted my head forwards for a split second before turning backwards. I wished it could be as simple as me shouting back "s**t!" like when I accidentally transected a nerve or vessel during dissection, but I lost my breath and became absolutely speechless.
Regaining my breath, I stood up and paced towards Khai Jing. I wanted to pat her shoulder to comfort her but I find myself needing something to lean to, too. I asked "when?" "In Malaysia. He went back already, and he passed yesterday."
I try to recall the last time I see Prof. Tsai. It was before the beginning of the semester. During summer break I caught news of him being diagnosed with bronchioalveolar carcinoma (BAC) when I was working in France. It was hard for me, and everybody else to accept it because before that my last memory of Prof. Tsai was him chasing his less-than-1-year-old boy at school. He was robust, pink and full of life.
Prof. Tsai was more than a teacher. A Malaysian too, he was the advisor for the ISC and an assistant professor in the faculty of human development. For everything he was, he is the guardian of all international students in school. News go to him very quickly, and the next time he sees you you'll wonder how he had so many eyes and ears around him - "hey! great job on psychology!" (I scored a full during mid-sem, quite by accident); "you need to brush up on your Chinese," (when I insisted on writing English for a Chinese-oriented subject).
For the rest of the day, I found myself constantly out of breath - filled with sadness and demanding for answers - "why him?"; "his son is just about a year-old." I wished I could cry it all out, but I couldn't.
It was up till then that I realized for almost 20 years of my life death has chose to avoid me - to announce a close relative's time is up when I am far away. My great uncle passed a day after the tragic South-Asian tsunami, extremely sudden and unexpected. And I was in Kuala Lumpur holidaying with my cousin; my babysitter's son-in-law (sounds very distant I know, but we were quite close-knit) passed earlier this year, and I was busy preparing the choir's trip to Taipei.
I studied a lot on death last semester, in which I wrote for a paper presentation:

As a doctor knowledge about death is compulsory. How do we teach terminal patients to face death when we ourselves have never experienced it before? Do you say "not to worry, it will be painless," or "one short sleep past, and we wake eternally." What qualifications do you have? What will death leave my family?
The million-dollar question is how do we prepare patients, and ultimately ourselves, in face of death?

On one hand I was glad I escaped the entire emotional meltdown during a sudden death. Once triggered my tears will just drop and I will be gray for weeks. On the other hand I am sad about not being able to lend a helping hand or a leaning shoulder to those in need of comfort.
And needless to say, I am sad I missed out the opportunity to learn more about death with each passing.
Prof. Tsai, my great uncle and my babysitter's son-in-law will soon become fond memories. No matter how much we say we'll miss them they will dissipate like morning dew with the passage of time. However, the lessons we learn from each and every one of them is to be cherished, and I think those are among the most valuable things they would like us to remember too.
So the next time I mention I am a TCU student, I will remember it was Prof. Tsai who pursuaded and recommended the school's admissions board to accept me.

My Life In Pictures

Nothing very interesting from yours truly recently as my life has been a constant routine of study, movies and sleeping. Here's something from the very routine life. You might fall asleep well before the end of this post.

Lectures - taken during a break - break for the teachers, catching-up for us

Class dismissed - when life really begins - studying is for your own good
A girl sitting very close to me, who likes sipping jasmine tea while studying

Work usually ends around 10pm, when I'm tired enough and felt good enough to return to the dorm...for more studying. A brief run-up for the following day's pre-test.

Sounds something like sixth form or SPM? H'm, I really missed the good old days

p/s: if you're observant enough you'd noticed most of us wear the same gray elephant skin during and after class. No, we're not ruled by the communist party, but something similar called Tzu Chi University.

Integration

It may not be disputed that 'integration' is the most powerful(-est) word in the field of knowledge, and as we have came a long way to realize, social harmony as well. Integration - to bring together; the act of bringing people of different backgrounds together. The keyword - together.
When we are forcefully fed with knowledge and information by hundreds of pages for every single subject - no prize for guessing - anatomy, histology, neuroanatomy and embryology - there are two ways to remember all of them in place - you either have a brain of Einstein's or you integrate everything together.
An example to quote would bring stares from readers of non-medical origin, so I will spare my efforts. What I wish to emphasis is that everything, though uncommon they may seem by nature, has something in common - which is good for us when it comes to exams.
I'd haven't have my exams yet (which comes in 4 'waves' for 4 consecutive weeks starting next Friday), so I couldn't tell you the outcome of my self-assumed-wise-and-yet-ordinary method of digesting lectures. You'd just have to wait and see.

Readers' grumble: I want a more meaningful post next time or we're deserting you!

One Simple Message

Even through tough times, courage, determination, and a lot of love can give us wings to fly

See: Petronas Deepavali greeting

Here's To Another Weekend

"How your day ends depends on how it begins."
Noticed how sleek the wau is less than a decade ago? I second guess their proclamation of being 5-star nowadays. But I guess coming from a nation where hospitality is common nature, it's harsh to judge on the wau when flying isn't as nice as it is in Malaysia.
Anyway, happy weekend! And have a nice one.

Sacrifice

On better days we would follow the book fairly quickly and have the prize seen before the lab session ends. On not-so-good days we would stumble with every variation - blood vessel, nerve or lymph node - sometimes concealed in fat and connective tissue, and we would be lagging behind.
On this not-so-good day we were scheduled to saw through the backbone. Our aim - to see the spinal cord bedded within it. Tired, agitated and yearning for a recess, I was impatiently and blindly separating the deep back muscles - instead of separating the jumble of fibers into three portions, the mass got divided into two. The softness and tenderness of the muscle mass doesn't help in identifying the three muscles.
Then, of course, came the lambasting. It lasted for approximately 5 minutes, where I just stared blindly on my work of art. Fatigue overpowering me, I did not say anything in my defense but followed everything the teacher said.
At times the small muscles of the body are a mere pea hidden in between the grooves and folds. It takes just two look at it to snap it off. However, losing these muscles would be catastrophic for the living - breathing, rotating the body, lateral rotation (as in the motion of swifting left and right when you shoulder each other and sing "would all acquaintance be forgot...").
The worse came when we were to saw off the backbone. It was a motion requiring force, in other words, a barbaric act. My teammate hammer the chisel through and through while I swing the bones, held together by thick ligaments, until it splits with a crack. The triumphant feeling of moving from step 1 to step 2 is not as overwhelming as seeing the rugged and sawed off backbone strewn at the corner. The sacrifice our silent mentor made was well beyond my initial expectations - they were too great to be credited by words or even prayers alone.
As the lab session progresses I became slowly acquainted with Mdm. Lee. Her conus medullaris ends at vertebral level L2; she had a beautiful palm; her palmaris brevis is just barely visible but it was as tough as a seashell; her lungs - the primary site of her cancer, had been infiltrated with the invasive cells - all the way from the hilum to the inferior lobe, as well as the superficial lymph plexus overlying it (pardon me for the medical terms). It is through her bodily features that we slowly get to know her. Things that distinguish her from others which we would spend time finding out on what caused her exclusivity. Just an interesting note - Mdm. Lee's suprascapular artery runs together with the suprascapular nerve under the superior transverse scapular ligament - the textbook dictates the artery running above the ligament.
It is unimaginable how much others sacrificed for the education of an MD. It isn't the best job in the world but it has to be the most expensive and extensive to train - because it deals with life and death; because these are human beings. The list of thank-yous would stretch on and on, but it must begin with my parents, all the teachers at school, and this very special mentor who contributed more than anatomical knowledge.

And finally, just for the fun of knowing...

Trivial Nothings

And October is already here...how time flies.

• Third years basically eat, sleep, and study all their time away in Anatomy Hall, a cozy, air-conditioned and quiet place perfect for all the aforementioned purposes - except that being the trademark of TCU it is very prone to visitors. On more than one occasion we have to endure crowds of Tzu Chi volunteers peering at us like zoo animals on display when they're taking a tour around the Dept. of Anatomy facility. Last Saturday, the chancellor, accompanied by a very distinguished guest I do not recognize, came directly into the 'cage', with half a dozen 'animals' staring back, bewildered.
• I am starting to get the hit on dissecting - it's basically an enjoyable and educational process should you know all the facts beforehand and have a good rapport with the tutor of your group. Unlike other more unfortunate groups, we were never scolded or nagged in public (the teachers here can be rather...high school-ish). This morning the group beside us were ordered out of the lab - "Get out!". So you can imagine how bad things can go, and how fortunate we are.
• We were also fortunate in the sense that our silent mentor was treated with a new formula - a neutral (as in pH7.0) fixative which doesn't sting as much. It also made the cadaver seem fresher - softer and wetter, making dissections easier. However, the downside is that the softness makes separating structures from each other i.e. muscles from tissues a tortuous task.
• In Taiwan they make you feel guilty of buying China-made goods now - thanks to the new milk powder scandal.
• I am neutral (as in not siding both parties) for China-made goods. When the nation has the ability to produce spacecrafts and Louis Vuitton, not everything from them are rotten and murderous.
• We had a sticky session of neurobiology this afternoon - other medical students would agree that everything with a 'neuro-' prefix will bring sighs and head shakes. "Oh God, why doesn't our brain function as straightforward like ABC?" - in which Prof. Wang will tell you "This is simple - nothing is simple in life!"
• "Do I have to memorize all this?" my classmate asked pointing to a figure of horizontal section of the spinal nerve. "It's just that simple. Are you sure you will have time for this when we hit on more next week?" Prof. Wang replied.
• I seem to talk too much academically.
• I hope the people at Malaysia Airlines can quickly finalize their wide-body aircraft order soon - so as to give me some excitement as well as to desperately replace their ancient fuel-consuming fleet.
• I wish Mr. Abdullah happy retiring and hoped he was happy being the Prime Minister of Malaysia who brought democracy to the people. And overempowering his son in-law whose abilities and propaganda are widely disputed among Malaysians.
  

Rain and Penang

The Gift Of Rain by Tan Twan Eng - I was shopping with Mum, Dad, my sister, who took a liking to leaving comments on my blog recently, as well as my cousin in Ikano when I bumped into this book. Browsing a bookstore with Mum and Dad means buying books for free (that is, if you're still 4-years old and yakking "Mum I want this coloring book! Mum I want the Calvin and Hobbes comic book! I want I want I want!")
It wasn't until when I'm back to Taiwan when I have time and motivation to start the read (a very bad habit, many of my books were bought and put away, totally unread).

The story was set in Penang in 1939. Young Philip Hutton was seventeen years old and detached from his family, for being a Chinese-English in a complete English family. He met Endo-san, a Japanese who rented his father's island, and they forged a teacher-student relationship - a sequel to their relationship forged lifetimes ago - which destined them to suffer. Philip was the rain-bringer - his life will be full of wealth (water is wealth for the Chinese), but too much water brings disaster - the eternal identity seeking (his half-Chinese, half-English background) and recognition challenges.


December 1941, the Japanese landed in Penang. By February of the following year Singapore surrended, and the Japanese occupation begun. Unwilling to see his father suffer for losing their company, when both his brothers had became victims of the war, Philip offered himself to the Japanese government as their interpreter, with Endo-san as his superior. He is now the 'running dog' to Penang and its people, but do they know how much he sacrificed and how he struggled to keep himself sane?
Placing himself in between Penang and the Japs, he mellowed the Japanese exploitation and subdued the locals, though without consequences. The relationship between him and Endo-san was constantly placed on the balance as Penang continue to bleed in the war.

Tan Twan Eng was a Penangnite, who described Penang to such intricate detail even a Penangnite finds it flawless - Weld Quay, Pulau Tikus market, the coast along Tanjung Tokong, Beach Street etc. I liked the book for its straightforwardness, compact emotional descriptions and the fact that it is based on a real-life yet almost forgotten part of Malaysian history.
Just as Tan himself explained: "Malaysians are a forgetful (or forgiving) lot. They quickly forget bad things about others. Unlike foreigners who return to Malaysia and produce writings about the war, we see very little remembrances of the war and its devastating effects - and the lessons it bring - from the locals."