#withdrawing

I am withdrawing from sugar.

It was my flatmate's graduation this weekend and instead of being ripped off by the various restaurants around town (on the night of graduation, all the nice restaurants in town will make you pay for a set menu - and while I can appreciate the sheer logistics of cooking for the masses of people, I also see that it is a very profitable night when people are forced to pay at least $60 a head), he decided on a pot luck. He arrived before the rest of his family on Thursday night to prepare for the potluck and so, baking ensued.

Four hours later, our fridge literally had no more room for anything because it was occupied up by two cheesecakes, a chocolate mousse log and a dessert that we loving call a glandular mandibular.

Fuck me, they were so so tasty.

We still had tonnes of leftovers on Sunday and so I spent the whole of Sunday eating. Like every two hours, I would reach into the fridge and take out a slice of whatever dessert we had. I felt disgusting, but my taste buds were like waaaaheeeey party. ... and I figured I'd just be good from now till when E. comes down in two weeks, because from experience, two weeks is generally enough for me to regain my normal body proportions if I have been gorging myself.

Which brings me to Monday morning and I actually felt like I had a hangover from all the sugar I had consumed. Also, my stomach was protruding like I had ascites or something. I was so tired and had a raging headache. And also, my stomach was weighing me down like an anchor when I tried to do my usual daily push ups.

And tonight, I've spent the entire evening browsing dessert recipes whilst my stomach makes wistful noises. And I know there is still left over glandular mandibular in the fridge.

I am going to brush my teeth before it's too late. My name is *****. And I am addicted to sugar.

#blah

Frustration. This is the general consensus. Or perhaps because I am currently in the midst of a six month state of perpetual PMS. I think my mother would almost prefer me to be actually pregnant, because then at least she would know the cause of my amenorrhoea. 

Yes, three sentences in and I've already decided to discuss my menstrual cycle. But hey, this is the place for such things, no?

Personally, I'm rather stoked to be exempt from the tidings of the monthly red tide because I save so much money. And also, who actually enjoys getting their period? My mother however, has decided that I have starved myself into state of secondary amenorrhoea. Or something is horribly wrong with being a pseudo-vegetarian. Personally, where is the logic in this? Vegetarians do not suffer from secondary amenorrhoea.

Blaarrrgh.

Also, fingertipsssssy close. Yes, so close - yet so far away. One could wonder why I even bother. Truth be told, I don't know. Perhaps obsessing over things is a hereditary thing - my mother obsesses over my lack of menses. I obsess over other trivial things which shouldn't matter anymore. And yet, I find myself almost enjoying winding myself up. I am a masochist of my own heart.

Note to self: must rant about the dying profession of pharmacy when I can be bothered. Because pharmacy is a broken profession. At least, in the community it is.

More pleasant things to think about... 

- fourth year beckons! yesyesyesyes. Except slightly disappointed with the PD no-show this year. And if I find out (which we will in December) that if clinical skills was responsible for this, I will hold Dr. G. accountable for the fact that he cheated me out of $750

- two weeks of bliss with E. in January

- only eight more weeks left in Neverland (where it rains perpetually, even during the summer... I shit you not, pretty sure the vampires of Stephanie Meyer's imagination would find this place just as suitable as Forks as a place to settle in).

#amusement

As E. is coming down on Friday, I went and bought some cider in preparation (because drinking cider whenever we see each other is a thing we like to do - although, I have a feeling that this will probably change to wine).

Anyway, after I had gone through check-out and was wheeling my groceries to my car that I suddenly realised that I had not been asked for ID - which normally occurs because one of the curses (blessings) of being Asian is the fact that I look perpetually ten years younger than my actual age. It was the oddest feeling in the world because I felt both happy and sad: happy that I finally looked like I wasn't still in high school, but then this was quickly followed by disappointment because I have reached an age where I would actually like to still look juuust a smidge younger than my actual age. 

I relayed this all to E:

Me: "I just bought some cider for us when you get here, but I didn't get asked for ID. Must be looking particularly mature today"

E: "MILF looking"

I had to lol at that.

#onemoretogo

That was a highly unsatisfying exam experience because I did not get to showcase all my hard work. In the end, I was being assessed on how well I could bullshit my way through an entire case built of HIC questions and bioethics. If I had known, I would not have bothered to learn all the branches of the damn trigeminal nerve. Nor would I have bothered to learn the main branches of the aorta and at what level they branch off. In fact, I probably would have spent less time studying than I already did - and that compared to last year was already quite pitiful because I spent the majority of my time on Pinterest.

fdjksdfkjsdffdjdsfkjsdf medschool. You suck.

#jinx

Thanks med school - really appreciate the curve ball you threw. I was pretty much asking for it though, wasn't I? I think my most of my guesses were actually correct and so I'm not crying - like some people were half way through the exam.

The feeling I got when I saw the five pages of CT and MRI scans (of the parts of body which we learnt about last year) was similar to the panic that I had bubbling inside of me during last year's OSPE. Except this time it was fortunate that I finished the rest of the exam early and so had an hour to calm myself down and actually look at the damn images. After a whispered prayer/silent cry for help, I actually saw that the vertebral body was damaged, which then made everything a whole lot more easier to interpret. And the CT of the brain actually wasn't too awful - even though at first, I was like wtf... the only thing I can definitely see are the lateral ventricles and about fifty shades of grey surrounding it.

At least the renal question was pretty decent (Professor W, you have my never ending gratitude - except, please don't be my OSCE marker again), as was the other CNS question.

Well, I can safely now say that:
- Maori health
- cancer
- Reproduction, development and Ageing
- falls
will definitely be coming up in Friday's exam. But I think I'm going to take this afternoon off and relax for a bit.

#motivation

Where is it? I am so complacent... the first two exams have been pretty kind to me and now I'm just like waaaaaaheeeey, I don't need to study.

Who am I kidding.

WE WOULD LIKE A DISTINCTION AGAIN, PLEASE AND THANK YOU.
Now go and study.

#letsdothisshit

Let's ace this shit.

Also, because my memory is currently occupied with a thousand things (I haven't had this pregnant feeling in my head for a long, long time... don't know if that is a good or bad thing), imma write a list of things that I am going to do as soon it hits 5pm on the 28th of October:

- catch up on the newest season of Grey's Anatomy

- get Taylor Swift's new album

- read Anne Lee Huber's newest installment

- drink the new cider (with lime bitters)

- make an asparagus frittata (I love how asparagus is finally in season! and ever so grateful that I don't have whatever allele it is that allows me to detect the smell of it in my urine)

- make tofu feta

#hiatusemilunaris

I had to quickly look that up. The word popped into my mind but it came with it no attached reference or context.

I probably am not as confident as I was for exams last year - like this time last year, I was so pumped for the first exam. This time around, I think I am 75% ready with two weeks to go, which is ample time to cover what I feel slightly lacking in.

But there's just so much to look forward to after exams. And I finally get to leave this place! Snow in October was the last straw, thank you very much.

#clucky

A teensy weenie premie got to visit our class today. I got so clucky that I had tears in my eyes.

What. The. Fuck.

Attempt to regain my dignity: I was struggling with study in general. Then we hit the brain stem nuclei. And then I remembered why I love medicine.

#ihateexams

Please wife me already. I just want to give up on this whole enterprise.


WHERE ON EARTH IS MY MOTIVATION?!

#burn

Everything hurts.

And it's only been a mere half an hour since I exercised.

You're not meant to feel this sore until the following day... sometimes, I honestly think it's not worth it eating junk food (in large quantities). Exercise reminds you that being a pig is a bitch. But you don't think about it as you scoff your face full, and scoffing my face full for these last two weeks has been most enjoyable (cronuts, durian puffs, yum cha, chocolate cake, Scopa hot chocolates, Strawberry Fare desserts, degustation, hot pot, salmon, steak... half a red velvet cake... possibly a weeeee bit excessive). But now as we approach impending exams and time constraints, I figure I should start living healthily again because soon I will be chained to a desk, rote learning the whole of third year.

I came back from my holidays feeling a wee bit azure over coming back to Neverland. Because Neverland sucks. Well, it just sucks in comparison to home and Christchurch. And I was expecting the flat to be a mess because of my two week absence. So I was sitting on the plane feeling fairly sorry for myself. And I missed my family, friends and E. (because I had only seen him for a day, despite me being in his flat for three days because he was rostered for weekend work). Oh, and my pants were feeling rather tight.

Got off the plane and in typical Neverland style, the airport lights flickered and turned off. And so we marched across the tarmac in pitch black darkness. That amused me greatly. At the baggage carousel, I met a fellow student (actually, she had been sitting next to me the entire flight, but I had nodded off to sleep because I am pretty senile these days). Turns out she was a fellow medical student and we had a good chat while we grabbed our bags and sat in the shuttle into town. Two things eventuated from this conversation. Actually three things did:

1. She asked me why I chose to do medicine. And truth be told... I don't actually know any more. Sure, I could've spun some tale about wanting to help people and blah blah blah. But it sounds so contrived and I know it wasn't the primary reason for me. Does it sound awful to say that it was a matter of pride - I applied for medicine just so I knew I could get in? Which is ironic because E. told me this exactly when he was said, "You really should've stayed with pharmacy" (in the context of starting a family etc etcetc) - and I had hotly denied this.

2. I could honestly tell straight away that she was a Christian. She didn't have to say anything related to God and I could just tell that she was a Christian. Which leads me onto my third point.

3. I felt much better after talking to her - a mere stranger in a shuttle. Sure, we had medicine as a common thing, but I think it was just her warmth and friendliness that made me feel much better. And I think maybe, I'd like to stop being a weeeee bit of a heartless bitch and spread that warmth around.

After I had dragged my suitcase down the flight of rickety stairs, it was comforting to see the corridor light on, which made it much easier to open my front door. And the flat was clean! and tidy! and the rubbish had been taken out! and all my flatmates were home (all five of us - cackle). The flat was warm, I was enveloped in a massive hug from A. and I had a good chat to M. And everything my mum gave me fit into the freezer (which is a miracle in itself because we have a tiny freezer between the four of us).

And suddenly, Neverland didn't seem so Neverlandish in that instant.

#faith

I'm going to back to university tomorrow and I'm glad for the first time that it will be the last time that I will need to say goodbye to my parents for another few months because their home will be my home once more. And while I can't deny the benefits of staying at home again, such as warmth, food and unlimited use of the espresso maker (which is what my classmates think), I know the real reason for me is the fact that I'll be able to be around, if they need me.

Every time I come back home, it gets harder for me to leave them. I feel like they've been cheated out of their golden years and I see how hard life is for them and sometimes, I am surprised that they are able to handle what life has allotted to them - and then I know, it is only possible through the grace of God. I feel so helpless in the face of it all - my mere presence is not going to solve the problem of my mother's clotting disorder, nor is it going to help the fact that my brother is getting increasingly hard to handle as he grows older and stronger. It is only through the knowledge that I am so little, so weak that I know that I need God - that I need him to be, why I need to believe. To have that knowledge that everything is within His hands and that as much as I may worry over my family with much futility, that He is in control.

I am such a little shit - and I take both God and my parents for granted. I will admit that I am not a model Christian and I do not spend nearly enough time on daily devotions. But a little example of how He works, despite us being the most ungrateful wretches to walk this earth:

So, my sister and I returned from university for the holidays but we only crossover at home for three days because I start the second half of my semester much sooner. Dad had taken leave from work for two of those days because it would be nice to go out and have a meal together, seeing as it was such a rare opportunity to have both of us home at the same time. So we had planned to go somewhere nice on Tuesday to eat out. Alas, Monday night, Mum started getting a temperature and bony aches, which meant that Tuesday's excursion was off the cards with what looked like to be the onset of the flu. I was concerned because:
a) when Mum gets sick, she generally takes it harder than most people because she is already weaker and she's just so busy running around all of us
b) I'm a selfish shit and I had been looking forwards to eating out (naturally, Mum was like "Oh you should go out without me with your father", but obviously that would be rude, so I was trying to be the bigger person and was like "Oh, no - we'll stay at home with you" whilst trying to hide my disappointment)
c) again, because I am a selfish shit, I did not want to get sick right before seeing E. on Thursday

I said that we were all selfish wretches. I am definitely not exempt from this.

Anyway, Monday night - Mum took two tablets of paracetamol and slept. I prayed earnestly and admitted that while yes, lunch out would be nice, ultimately I really wanted Mum to be well because she's already got enough to deal with.
I woke Tuesday morning not really hoping for much, but to my surprise, Mum was fine. She had no temperature and was her usual self. Now, I know that the paracetamol helped (given my background, of course I love my medicines) - but it was a single dose that she took at 9pm the night before. And I honestly thought it was going to be the flu because she had all the herald symptoms. But no flu. No temperature. And yes to lunch out with my family.

It's these little things that God does, that reminds me that He's still looking out for my family.

#somethingsneverchange

it's like dark period in my life and try as i might (and regardless of how happy i may be), i simply cannot move past it. it takes a lot of energy to hold onto such anger and resentment and sometimes, i just want to let go. or go in the complete opposite direction. but there's always a part of me thinking "what if?" - what if i let it go and before you know it, it'll happen again? 

#twentyfour

I am twenty four. And despite saying it over and over again, it doesn't seem like I am twenty four. I still feel like my seventeen year old self but that being said, I definitely realise the difference that four years makes when it comes to my peers. I say this with much harrumph and the full knowledge that I too, was once as frightened and shy as they were.

Let me explain.

So, we just finished a four day community placement and pretty much had free rein over various interactions and interviews with agencies around the community. Being a control freak and anally retentive, I had prepared for the week before leaving by researching each agency we were visiting and also planned my bus route because we were told that internet access was not a given. NO ONE ELSE HAD DONE SO. Which meant that I had several panicky undergrads who were too frightened to catch a bus in a foreign city and would rather walk for forty five minutes instead of catching a ten minute bus. A FORTY FIVE MINUTE walk. I also had undergrads falling asleep in community visits which I found unbelievably rude. Amongst other things which I will refrain from mentioning.

I finally understand why
a) undergrads find mature students so annoying
b) why post grads look down on undergrads so much
I would much rather my life experience than being a graduated doctor now. I look back and realise how much I appreciate my background because I know that I would've been just like them and it isn't their fault that they lack that maturity and life experience because they haven't had the (mis)fortune of well, life. I also discovered that I would much rather hang out by myself than be stuck talking about inane things - sometimes, being alone amongst one's thoughts is much preferable. And while I make no claim to wanting intellectual conversation (because I am pretty apathetic when it comes to things like politics), I think I've moved on from the days where we're all dying to talk about the different things we're wanting to experiment with. And I don't really give a shit if my conservative ways seem uncool to you all because frankly, I don't actually care what you think.

So I spent my twenty fourth birthday with my parents in a pretty low key manner. But low key is good for me because let's face it - turns out I'm embracing my old age pretty wholeheartedly.

#fiveandahalf

And darling, I will be loving you 'til we're 70,
and baby, my heart could still fall as hard at 23.

E: "So since we're going to be together forever, I'm thinking we should start celebrating every five years instead."

Typical E.

#patientman

E. is a patient man and I am lucky that he so chill that nothing seems to perturb him, while I have the tendency to get worked up over the slightest things. If he was as highly strung *coughanallyretentive as I am, we would probably go down in a spectacular ball of flames - but probably after we achieved something great together because our productivity would be through the roof. But fortunately, he just seems to ooze calmness.

I spent the majority of this weekend away eating until I felt physically ill and being irritated that I couldn't achieve the things that I wanted to - namely, see places in Auckland that I had heard about. Given that we were only up for two days - and we had an engagement party to go to (which was the reason why we were visiting), I thought that it would be okay to leave things unplanned and do things ad lib. Wrong. Turns out I get distressed fairly easily when I am unable to foresee everything because I am anal. If I had a super power, it would be meticulous planning. To-do-lists are my best friend and I plan everything - from the meals that I eat to what I am going to do, down to the minute. While that makes me efficient at using my time, it also means that uncertainty makes me incredibly irritated. This combined with hunger (well, cravings for all the food around me) and a lack of sleep made me the worst travel companion of all time. But fortunately for me, E. seems to find this all very amusing.

This weekend wasn't horrible though - as much as I make it out to be. It was still a lovely weekend with E. and his parents - I just feel slightly guilty in the aftermath that I did not make it as pleasant as it could have been. Things to check out for next time:
- Clooney
- Moustache cookie bar
- Food court (on Queen St on the street behind the department store)
- Auckland museum
- meatballs at Baduzzi (their Restaurant month deal was slightly disappointing, tbh)

#feelingblessed

Oh, E. You are the bee's knees. I am so blessed to have you in my life.

#yeahanatomy

Felt a bit nauseated today - but it was probably due to me ingesting laxsol because I decided that two days was long enough without passing a bowel motion. And while it was fairly successful as it always is at evacuating my colon, I'm pretty sure I emptied the entirety of my colon. So when I got to the dissection room, I felt rather faint and didn't really feel like dissection. But our cadaver provided such an interesting experience that I perked up immensely.

Lungs are amazing structures. And the lungs of someone with emphysema feel quite different to the lungs of a healthy individual. Also, we felt masses in the lungs of our cadaver, and when we got to divide the lungs, we saw a mass that had a different consistency and colour to the rest of the tissue.

Tomorrow we get to open up the mediastinum and expose the heart. Excitement!

#we'reeven

I think E. and I are fairly even now. Over the course of our relationship, he has brushed my teeth and washed my hair. On Saturday night, I had the pleasure of cleaning up his vomit and then spoon fed him over Sunday because he was too weak.

I don't really have a tolerance for vomit - I remember on car rides as a kid, my sister used to puke and I would literally have to curl up into a ball in the corner and mouth breathe because the smell used to make me gag. Except I was surprisingly okay dealing with the contents of E.'s stomach - which he had managed to get in the sink and not the toilet. So it meant bailing it out of the sink and into the toilet bowl.

But hey, that's true love - being able to stomach the contents of my other half's stomach.

Before he hurled, we had a rather good day. I look forward to the day when we can wind down together with a corgi in my lap, a wine glass in one hand and a book in the other, while listening to Andrea Bocelli. Actually, we are totes going to do that in the summer - it sounds like such a relaxing end to the day.

So while this visit seemed rather short even though he actually stayed an extra night, I have learnt that I can tolerate vomit (which is an important skill to have in life if one plans to have children). And that once again, E.'s generosity knows no limits.

Sorry ladies, but you were idiots for turning this one down before I came along coughstolehim. But hey, no backsies.

#future

So it looks like I am definitely heading back home next year - not that there was much doubt over that anyway given that the clinical school I picked has a reputation for having substandard teaching compared to the other clinical schools, hence the low popularity amongst the third year medical students. But I think learning has more to do with your own attitude and motivation to learn - and if I stay motivated, my learning should hopefully not be affected by whatever clinical school I choose to attend.

I am excited by the people who are coming with me. At first I had some reservations about leaving my most of my friends behind - but it turns out that a large majority of people who I really get along with in my tute groups and labs are coming too.

Everything has just sort of gone downhill from neuro. I really enjoyed neuro - like reaaaally enjoyed it and so everything just seems kind of boring in comparison. Why did I start on this tangent? Oh, yes - so anyway, our timetable so far has been full of public health lectures and short labs, so I've had a lot of down time to daydream (or rather, plan - which makes it sound slightly more productive). Ever since M. told me that she's moving in with J. next year, it makes me more excited about moving in with E. in a year's time. I am slightly envious, given the fact that I still have to wait another year and well, E. and I have been in a relationship for five years (whineeeee). But at the same time, I can see why it makes sense for them to move in together and she practically lives here - sometimes I wish that she would move in permanently because she helps keep the place clean because sometimes, cleaning up after two boys by myself can get rather tiresome. And she leaves the toilet seat down like it is supposed to be.

Anyway! I digress. Downtime means that I've been looking at rental properties for E. and I in a year's time and yesterday, we got talking about it briefly. E. was like, well - as much as I have the money for us to live in a nice place, it'd make more sense not to live like kings because I'd rather save the money for us to buy a house.

A house! I cannot describe what kind of thrill ran down my spine. I suppose it's because for half of our relationship, we didn't really dare or rather, there was no point in planning anything beyond two years. The thrill of actually being able to do so clearly has not worn off yet.

#1200

a page of numbers everyday,
everything is a sum to make
the perfect number one two.
three sets of numbers a day
to make a perfect sum to take
and two ones make a two.
if my own numbers add up
to those perfect digits then
why am i still unhappy for you?

#sixteendollars

I wasted $16 today. $8 because I broke it. And then another $8 because I simply had to know, even though I was 95% sure that I probably didn't need to spend $8.

That's four coffees. F O U R.

gdfkjdjkdfgkjldfg

Also, my parents sent me another care package with avocado. Which tasted awesome when diced with some tomato, hummus and tuna. And I couldn't resist thinking as I was noming it down that if I had told my seven year old self that one day I would enjoy eating tomato and avocado, I would have told my twenty three year old self to sod off. Also, tofu and durian (just like custard. But fruity and perhaps slightly healthier. Just a whole lot more smelly). And fish. And asparagus. But only if the latter is steamed slightly and served with a teensy bit of butter.

And finally managed to do a full workout today after being invalided for a week and it feels so good having sore muscles again.

#mymumisawesome

Why my mum dominates yours: she sent me soup in the mail! Kumara, carrot and onion soup.

Exactly what I've been craving in my sickness induced stupor.

#flu

Ughhhh I hate viral infections. My limbs feel like lead and my brain is brain fogged. And worst of all, I can't exercise.

dfgkfgkjldfgsjkfgjkdfgsjkl.

And I'm not that much of an idiot to deprive myself of food because not getting pneumonia currently ranks higher on the list of priorities.

I'm going vitamin C the shit out of it. And then commence exercise again. I kinda feel like going for a run or something for a change. Except probably five minutes in, I'll get super bored and wish that I had stuck to tabata. It feels so abnormal not doing exercise.

Come on CD8+ cells and do your shiz so I can go back and exercise.

#pharmacylove

Working full time for these past two weeks has been a refreshing break from study. While I complain that pharmacy can have a tendency to become rather monotonous, it is the patients that make it entirely worthwhile. It's so nice being able to have a genuine interaction with them, as opposed to highly structured OSCEs or awkward encounters in HIC where we try and understand how their illness affects their life and blahblahblah *coughfakeempathy*. It's a nice change being able to joke with them and to see how much they appreciate it when you go the extra mile. While work life has its own downsides such as needing to wake up every morning at 7am to fit in exercise and getting back home at 6:30pm, and then having only enough time to shower and cook dinner before it is time to sleep, I can also see the benefits. Well, mainly the money. And the feeling of knowing that I don't need to study.

Maybe I wasn't ready for work life two years ago or maybe I just needed a break because I felt a bit burnt out from semester one. Whatever it is, I've really appreciated working again. And now I almost don't want to give up my APC for next year. Except $1000 to keep practicing makes being a pharmacist a rather expensive hobby.

#zzzworkinglife

My arse hurts from standing all day. Except, that's kind of a good thing because it means that I did work my gluts out properly when I did my squats this morning. I really hope I have the self discipline to get out of bed again tomorrow at 7am...

Also, I made this delicious couscous stuffed eggplant for dinner. Got back home at 6:30pm, took me half an hour to make it and then half an hour for it to bake - during which I showered. Efficient use of time. And then I had this to enjoy afterwards:

Ingredients:

- 1x eggplant

- 3 sundried tomatoes

- 1/3 cup of sliced olives

- 90g of feta cheese, reduced fat

- handful of baby spinach

- 1/3 cup of couscous

- Moroccan spice, cumin and paprika

1. Preheat oven to 180 degrees Celsius. 

2. Cook couscous as per directions - but add Moroccan spice and cumin to the water for flavour.

3. While this is cooking, slice the eggplant lengthwise and using a spoon or knife, dig out the flesh to make two eggplant boats.

4. Dice the feta and add to the olives, tomatoes (sliced) and spinach leaves (roughly chopped) and mix in a large bowl.

5. In a pan, cook the flesh of the eggplant that you've dug out and add cumin and paprika (plus salt to taste).

6. Add this to the feta, olives, tomatoes and spinach leaves. Add couscous to this mixture and mix well.

7. Spoon mixture into the eggplant boats that you've made and put into the oven and bake for 25 to 30 minutes/until eggplant is tender. 

I put a few spoonfuls of hummus on top and it was divine. The couscous that was sitting on the top was crunchy and just added a wee bit of texture. The only thing I'd say that needed improvement was that it was perhaps a bit dry - so maybe when I cook the couscous, I'll add a bit more water than the normal 1:1 ratio so it's just a bit more moist when I put it into the eggplant boats. But it was pretty bloody damn good the way it was today. And so healthy! Only 387 calories. Hollah.

#onemoresemestertogo

Actually, the thought that was floating through my head right after the renal essay was "Less than six months left in this place."

I cannot wait to leave. 

I finally understand why people eventually go crazy and desperately want to leave this place. My friends who left at the end of third year were so willing to leave and I had always thought it slightly strange because this city is built for people like us - everything within walking distance, a free gym and reasonable prices for food and living. But I think I get it now.

This place reeks of stagnation. Of life, I mean.

It was great for seven years because of

a) the aforementioned reasons

b) being able to escape the clutches of parental control

but there's just a sense of time lost, spent meandering around going no where - rather like the Israelites in the desert for 40 years. I can only imagine how maddening it would be if you had no partner - it is nearly impossible for young professionals to find a decent/suitable match here because this place is crawling with university students who just look so bloody young. 

Imagine Neverland. This city is exactly like that (except like ten times colder and less magical). You're stuck in this vortex where things don't change. Don't get me wrong - it'd be a nice place to raise your family or even grow old in (if your arthritis is able to stand the cold temperatures), but for a twenty-something year old - I just need change. Something different to happen or even things to happen. 

That's the great thing about being able to pick a different city to do your clinical years in. You finally get a sense (albeit a rather artificial sense) of being a proper adult as a fourth year clinical student and being able to leave this place is quite a symbolic way of doing so. 

I cannot wait to leave. I cannot wait for life to begin. 

#onemoreday

Just a renal essay standing in between me and freedom. And when I say freedom, I mean two weeks of me earning a decent wage. Yussssss. But that is all hopefully going towards my savings so I don't have to beggar myself next year. Although - given that fact that I am living at home once more, it probably means that I won't be able to purchase nearly as many clothes as I normally would do.

However I am wondering when I can fit exercise in because I don't get back home till 6:30pm and I will be pretty ravenous then and if I leave exercise till after dinner, this means that I'll be starting at 8pm, by that point, I kinda just want to curl up and drink tea. Which only leaves two possibilities:
- I don't exercise at all (and get fat, and not to mention - when I do start up again in two weeks time, I will have to restart from zero again).
- I wake up at 7:10am every morning to exercise. A fifty minute workout starting at 7:20am-ish means that I will be done by 8:10am and will have enough time for a quick shower. sdjkdsfjkldsfjkl.

Also, spent this evening watching an inguinal hernia repair while studying the kidneys. Ah, medicine. Don't you just love it?
Speaking of study, let's face it. Prof. W. pretty much just wants to hear how awesome ACE inhibitors/angiotensin receptor blockers are at minimising the progression of hypertension, chronic kidney failure and diabetic nephropathy. Oh, and proteinuria is bad. And the kidneys are the single most important organ in the body.

And I am immensely grateful for the hot water bottle my parents sent me. I am going to utilise this everyday now, thank you very much.

#win

Ah, frantically checking my bank account today was totally worth it because that tax return looks bloody good in my account right now. AND I managed to pick up a Huffer dress (new and unworn) for $31.

Hollah.

If only my renal essay on Friday would go as smoothly.

Postscript: it's finally happened... I think it's time to graduate from the soy flat white and move onto greater things. Except that this move may have been precipitated by the sub-par soy flat whites that I have been receiving of late. Another reason why I cannot wait to go back home.

#worthasecondpost

So... this just happened:

Pause.

Actually, you need to hear the back story. For the last month, our flat has been plagued by a rodent problem. For awhile, it was okay because it just ran around the kitchen and left a few droppings. But then it discovered the pantry and got into my oats. And since then, it has been pillaging the pantry every night. Eventually, we got sick of it and put traps down last Sunday.

This is where the majority of my drunken peanut butter brownie went. Note the use of the word 'majority'. These mice were ninja ++ because for five successive nights, they were able to stealth away the brownie without setting off the traps, even when we formed the food into a bolus around the spring platform. In fact, they were getting so brazen that we noticed food disappearing from the traps during late afternoon/early evening. We despaired and bought warfarin (despite our initial misgivings - because if you use rat poison, they don't die instantly and eventually you will find a dead mouse somewhere that you don't expect to) because we were getting that desperate. But the mice didn't take a bar of it.

This brings us to today, five days later.

I walked into the kitchen thinking, 'Oh, I might as well put the dishes away for the night,' when I shit you not, there was a rattle and I was like 'Oh snap, that sounded like the mouse trap,' and then stupidly decided to look. Or rather, my superior colliculus decided that it would make my eyes foveate because it saw movement in the corner of my visual field. And oh so fortunately, I was just in time to see the mouse do its whole death twitch/squirm.

Cue screams of blue murder.

A. was out at a band gig, and so I was so very lucky that M. was over because I'm pretty sure J. would not have been nearly as obliging in
a) picking up the mouse (plus trap)
b) putting it into a plastic bag
c) throwing contents of bag into a public trash bin at the bottom of the street
In fact, he was all for leaving it there (right beside the fridge door - how on earth was I going to access my milk for my coffee?!) until morning for A. to get rid of. But like I said, so lucky that M. was over.

I then proceeded to bleach the kitchen floor thoroughly because J. had dragged the mouse around the floor for a bit. Gross. But pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease let that be the end of the rodent problem.

#recovery

So, last weekend my flatmate plied me with sake and got me drunk (sidenote: I have discovered that I prefer sake as my vehicle to inebriation, as opposed to drinking icebreaker simply because sake is warm). As you know, drunk people lose their inhibitions and either get really chatty or emotional or flirty. As it turns out, when I get drunk, I lose all my inhibitions and eat everything in sight. And while we were drunk, we thought it would be a fantastic idea to drunk bake. So we made peanut butter brownie (which was actually really decent) and I proceeded to eat a fifth of said brownie (note: this was after I had demolished a self saucing pudding and half a tub of ice cream) before I sobered up and decided to remove myself it.

People wake up with a drunken one night stand. I woke up the next morning feeling bloated and ab-less. And almost preferred to have woken up with an STD because at least you know you can treat chlamydia with some azithromycin... whereas it took me a week of eating extremely cleanly and exercising to get my abs back.

But then this happened last night:

And now I just want to eat all the cheesecake. Stupid flatmate and his extremely persuasive manner. But honestly, that cheesecake was beautiful, with a blind baked base, middle baked layers of cream cheese and vanilla, with a separately baked layer of sour cream and sugar - all topped with a boysenberry coulis. 

Comfort eating sounds very enticing to me right now because I got completely outgunned in Renal Day today. Renal Day for those who don't know, is a day where we sit through five back-to-back half hour sessions on various clinical renal cases. Each session is taken by a hospital consultant/registrar and obviously, they rather like the Socratic method of teaching (having been used to terrorising ALM students with this style). But, if you know your shit, this is a prime opportunity to shout answers while your peers are sitting paralysed in fear. Unfortunately, there was a fellow gunner in my group who stole the thunder. And now I feel like a rather useless medical student. I may have to have another slice of cheesecake. 

Except tomorrow is MECA and there is free food aplenty... 

#iheartmedicine

It took a few days and three hours worth of writing up lectures given by Prof. W, but I'm over moping because kidneys are just so interesting. This module has been well organised and as much as I hate writing up Prof. W's 100 odd slide lectures, the way he uses cases to illustrate pathophysiology is just tops. So yeah, kinda over mooning over E. because I have kidneys to study and think about. I think I may like them more than studying the brain, which was pretty awesome too. In fact, I'm going to read some past year renal essay questions for fun.

Note to self: onesies are a lifesaver here. I am so snug in my onesie that E. kindly purchased for me when I visited him last weekend. Combined with socks and I am honestly so happy and warm. Still recovering from eating a fuckload though - I can feel the bloatedness... it's going to take me another week, methinks.

#footinmouth

Today, our normal HIC tutor was away and so we had a substitute one. Our HIC group is normally quite outspoken in general and we've gotten to the point where we're able to be quite honest about the shortcomings of HIC to our tutor (who I think may actually be just a bit frightened of us all). Anyway, the substitute (who we had no clue about his background) asked us a few questions while we were on the subject of orthopaedics. This was the conversation:
Tutor: "So, how can you tell when someone is an orthopaedic surgeon?"
S: "Oh, you can tell by the way they talk about their Porsche and how their job allows them to pay for the petrol for their Porsche."
Tutor: "It'd be funny to say at this point that I'm an orthopaedic surgeon - but I'm not."
J: "Yeah, because otherwise, why would you be taking HIC? You probably have better things to do."

Strike one... as we soon found out.

Tutor: "So if you can tell what specialties doctors are in by their demeanour, what about GPs?"
Me: "I'd imagine them to wear jeans. Actually no, sneans."

Strike two: the tutor turned out to be a GP. 

Tutor: "So what did you guys think about the health check day?"
Basically, this question led into a ten minute bitch fest about how everyone found it an absolute waste of time.

Strike three: the tutor turned out to be the HIC convenor. 

Oops.

#mope

I hate coming back here. I honestly hate it here. The overwhelming sense of loneliness and the fact that a mouse went all rogue and ate my food. And the fact that half a week is enough to send me into withdrawal from. E. A weekend is okay because it's only two nights and my brain can deal with that. Throw in an extra day and I'm just all melancholy and shit.

#creation

My new favourite cells are the umbrella cells of the urothelium. They are actually the most awesome thing ever. Their apical surface has specialised structures
- inflexible plaques
- folded bits of floppy membrane
Soooo when your bladder is not full, the inflexible plaques are able to fold the floppy bits of membrane away, just like an umbrella. But when your bladder is full, these folded bits are able to unfurl - allowing your bladder (and ureters) to stretch without tearing the cell membrane, and thus compromise the barrier function of the urothelium. Honestly, one of the coolest cell types ever.

... two hours later

I give you the fruits of my sugar high - instead of being crazy and shit, I decided that it was more sane to sit down and map the trigeminal nerve and write down everything that it innervates. Well, most of the things that it innervates.

Perhaps I should indulge in sugar more often. 

Ha. No. There has to be some middle ground between diabetes and doing well... 

#cold

We don't seem to get the nice fluffy snow that you see in movies. No - we seem to only get hail. Except it comes in such copious amounts that it's able to settle, so first years are able to pretend that they've finally experienced a famed snowfall while at university. It's funny actually because I remember my Facebook feed exploding with statuses about snowfall when I was in my first degree but clearly, we've all become quite jaded as we've aged and I hardly had any notifications about snow this time around (which sort of sucked because I wanted to know if it was going to be a dangerous walk to class today without opening my curtains and letting heat escape).

Also, had to put this in: ughhhh A.'s status is a cry for "Please applaud me and bow down in awe and worship". I cannot believe I had a crush on him for seven years.

And M. and I just made a double batch of white chocolate and macadamia cookies... we've had like three biscuits each (plus copious amounts of cookie dough) and I feel so disgusting right now even though they tasted like heaven in my mouth (sooooo good). I've been having comfort cravings for three days now and I didn't have the courage to act on them, so I'm glad she did and it's now completely out of my system. But now my abs are also completely out of my system... fsdjsdfljksdf. It took me a week to work off that banoffee pie... another week's worth of hard work will be required to burn off these sons of bitches.

#medstudenthyperchrondriacroundtwo

Bleeding. Thoughts instantly leap to "Oh, shit - I'm miscarrying a child which I never knew I was carrying."

Two things now come to mind:
1. Oh for fuck's sake, pleaaaase can I not have my period AGAIN (and insanely early) when I'm seeing E.?
2. Pleasepleaseplsplspls don't let me be stuck in the house with no sanitary products.

#comeatmesnow

I am happy. I went grocery shopping yesterday (in preparation for the supposed snow arriving tomorrow) and treated myself to some hummus and yoghurt. And the aforementioned almond milk. I had much skepticism at first, but I assure you - soooo good.

Seeing as my carrot cake baked oatmeal was a resounding success, I thought I'd change up the recipe and make baked apple oatmeal with dried figs. I could not stop nomming on it when it came out of the oven. I look forward to breakfast for the next week: warm oatmeal with a generous dollop of yoghurt.
And tomorrow, I try my hand at making pumpkin lasagna, with zucchini replacing the pasta sheets. Fingers crossed that doesn't just turn into a mush of orange and green.

And J. fixed the vacuum cleaner and finally after three long weeks, I have been able to vacuum the house and now no longer fear walking outside my room without my slippers on.

So. Come at me, snow. I am so ready for you (except, the last time I challenged nature, we had a power cut for a day and it was pretty awful, even though we had gas heating so we could still cook and keep warm... so you know, the snow can uh, come at me... within reason).

Also, just realised how fifties-housewifeish I sound. I spend my evenings browsing for recipes and am ecstatic when I can clean the house. Oh, and I have a perm. All I need is one of those small aprons and away we go.

#almondmilk

Almond milk, where have you been all my life? Soooo good.

#kindergartenvisit

The unofficial things that I got from my kindergarten visit which will not feature on my report:

- I want a maximum of two kids

- I want to send my children to a place where they will not come home with stuff smeared all over their face and hands

- children are dirty creatures and I need to carry hand sanitiser at all times

- I am definitely not going to specialise in paediatrics because while I like children, I only like them in very small and controlled doses

- I will love my own children because I did get a tad clucky, but any extended period of time spent with a large group of children (who are not my own) would make me crazy

- my child will always be sent to kindergarten with a thick coat because I will not have them playing outside in the cold without one

- I am not spending copious amounts of money on branded clothing for them until they can appreciate them/other children will not smear their dirty hands over my child's Country Road tops

- I prefer old people to little humans

- germsgermsgermsgermsgerms. That is all. 

Also, I am shattered. In the light of my full 9 till 6pm day, I decided that I would wake up at 7am to exercise. I was surprised that this was actually successful and it gives me hope that I will be able to repeat the feat next week. But I am sooo exhausted. 

#feelingdomesticated

Couldn't resist it... had to upload a photo of my bibimbap with cauliflower rice. 100% carbfree and utterly delicious. It would have been a very virtuous meal had I not gotten the munchies halfway through preparing it (there was a lot of slicing and julienning of vegetables involved) and attacked the leftover banoffee pie in the fridge.

Oh well.

I told J. about the banoffee pie and I hope he finishes it all tonight so I don't have to stare longingly at it every time I open the fridge.

Also, cannot wait for breakfast tomorrow. Made baked carrot cake oatmeal. Mmmm. The only thing that would make it sublime would be the teensiest bit of Greek yoghurt - but alas, I am too poor for that this week. 

#arseburnage

I remember scoffing at Jennifer Aniston's claims that she could no longer tolerate junk food - that her body was allergic to it in fact. I will now agree to some extent because I just spent the majority of this morning on the crapper. And while I finally don't feel so bloated, my arse burns with the fire of the raging sun/a woman scorned.

My flatmate returned from the UK (and brought me back the coolest t-shirt of all time) and drove back down with his mother, who is honestly such a talented chef. Anyway, his return meant that we had a get together at the flat and I ate so much because I love his mother's cooking. Sooooo much. And L. brought his famed banoffee pie (which was delicious), which meant more scoffing of food.  

Which is why I am detoxing because if you did an x-ray, loops of bowel would be dilated. Except, dilated bowel = bowel obstruction and clearly, my bowels are not obstructed given the performance they gave this morning. But you get the gist. 

#neveragain

I have learnt my lesson: I am never ever
a) consuming alcohol on an empty stomach
b) going to continue drinking despite the clear effects on my gait (I had full on ataxia, yo. I was however still able to spell 'world' backwards)
c) scoffing carbs galore because I am so bloated - I feel like my body just doesn't tolerate carbohydrates like it used to. Or simply my body is unused to feeling full

We held a surprise birthday party for one of my friends last night at one of the more nicer eateries in the city. I will say for $27 - it was a pretty decent feed in terms of quantity and at the risk of sounding like a complete food snob, while it was no degustation course, my palate was sufficiently pleased. Or rather, I was just stoked as fuck to eat pizza and garlic bread after denying myself such lovely carbohydrate filled foods for suuuuuch a long time. I did refrain from using the parmesan cheese because I figured I was probably going to exceed my entire caloric intake for the last three days in the space of a single evening. Anyway - this was all done while my friend plied my glass with wine, which immediately went straight to my brain because I hadn't eaten for four hours. It certainly made the evening enjoyable because I was just like, "Eh fuck it - I'm just going to eat all the things" and then followed it up with dessert. At this point, a few of us decided to go for a quiet drink. I had begun to sober up during dessert as dinner kicked in (belatedly) and thought another drink probably would be okay seeing as it was only 9pm.

I could not have been more wrong.

We found this charming lounge bar (might I mention, down the end of this incredibly dodgy looking alleyway), complete with a roaring fireplace and the plushiest couches I had seen in a long time. While the other upmarket bar in the city centre that we normally visit has an air of refined exclusiveness, this one had a more intimate feel to it, while still maintaining that upmarket feel. And the cocktail menu! So many choices - but my eye fell on the Turkish Delight martini, complete with a glace cherry. So anyway, out my drink came and I took a sip and my uncultured mouth was not used to the alcoholic taste. Normally, I can quite comfortably scull (ahem, I am rather ashamed of this) wine, but this drink I had to drink very slowly because it was just that strong - but oh so delicious. It was like a liquid turkish delight. So anyway, I managed to finish that drink and then got dropped off home, thinking that I'd be okay to sleep off any residual effects because I wasn't actually tipsy at that point - just rather tired.

Wrong.

My heart was pounding the entire night. I have never been so aware of my heartbeat before and fuck me, it was the most uncomfortable feeling in the world. Imagine after going for a run and feeling that constant rhythm on your chest - except this is like 3am in the morning and you haven't been out for a run (because at least that's a legitimate reason to have a pounding heart) and regardless of what position you lie in, you can still feel your heart. After a rather restless night of pretty much null sleep, I eventually worked up the courage to google this phenomenon (just in case it did warrant waking up my doctor flatmate and seeking medical attention - because I am a hypochondriac) and apparently, it is quite common. Also M. gets this too when she drinks - so while it all rather seems benign and self limiting, I think I'd rather not repeat this experience again.

So it's going to be two weeks of detoxing from all that. And catching up on sleep because I am shatteredddddddd

#planning

I am thoroughly addicted to Pinterest. And it's not a good idea when I'm hungry and trawling through the pages and pages of recipes. Anyway, it's made the whole prospect of cooking much more enjoyable, so I'm going to plan my meals for the following week. Also it looks like another (typical) miserable week filled with rain and temperatures that do not exceed twelve degrees celsius, so I'm going to look through my Pinterest for warm (comfort) food:

Breakfast: carrot cake oatmeal bake
- rolled oats
- carrots
- two eggs
- one cup of walnuts
- 3/4 cup of seeds of my choice

Lunch:
- apples (as per usual)
- edamame beans: one packet
- one mushroom and one egg

Dinner: cauliflower rice. Yeeeeeup. That shit is amazing AND versatile - not to mention, incredibly cheap and healthy. One cauliflower head is enough to fill me for four nights.
- Monday and Tuesday: chickpea curry? - need coriander, onion
- Wednesday and Thursday: Bibimbap: will need zucchini, mushrooms, carrot, spring onion and mung bean spouts/spinach, three eggs?, kimchi heheh
- Friday and Saturday: maybe I should get another cauliflower head...

#iwanttobeatrophywifeexceptnotreally

Another weekend with E. has made me realise that
a) I am spoilt prodigiously
b) I do actually accomplish a lot in my weekends in terms of study and so I am now behind (but it's okay because I had yet another wonderful weekend)
c) I should not take any more 6:50am flights back because they are always delayed
d) I don't want to leave his side ever and even if this possibly means being a stay-at-home mother... but then also (my rational side kicks in):
e) I don't want to be identified by my appearance alone

Let me quantify each one:
a) I fucking love my perm and I would do it again in a heartbeat when I have the means to pay for it myself because I don't want E. forking out for it again. Also, we had yet another lovely degustation experience - this time at Roots. Let me just say now that this place positively enchanted me and took the whole experience of degustation to the next level. I think it might even be better than Pescatore... and that's saying something. Anyway, degustation revolves around having multiple miniature dishes, each one skilfully prepared and consisting of an explosion of flavours and textures. You're not meant to chomp your way through them (like the scrubs in the table next to us who started after us and ended up overtaking us) because you will be sorely disappointed; you're not paying for quantity - you're paying for quality.
Roots was amazing. We weren't sure what we signed up for when we booked ourselves in for an eight course meal (in reality, ten course)... with no menu. So it was a massive surprise as the waitress brought out each dish because we had no idea what to expect and good heavens, it was worth the trust. In fact, E. was so taken by the place that he asked a barrage of questions when we went to pay.
(1) Cheddar cheese bread puff: one word describes this. Heaven. Honestly, imagine bread the consistency of mochi, but is fluffy at the same time with a molten core of delightfully aged cheddar. My stomach rumbles at the thought.
(2) Pickled tomato and gherkins with edible flowers and parsley oil: I will admit to thinking initially 'Oh, damn it - what have we gotten ourselves into? Is this just a hippie style degustation menu?' but this was a light way of starting the meal and I could not have been more wrong about the whole experience. And I didn't know that gherkins could taste that good.
(3) Pumpkin with egg yolk sauce served with sourdough bread and olive oil: I don't normally like pumpkin, and neither does E. But this dish made pumpkin into delightful bites of joy. In fact, we spent a veeeeery long time over this dish because each mouthful was beautiful. This might've been my favourite dish.
(4) Paua served with oatmeal, salsa verde and garlic chips: I refrained raising an eyebrow when the waitress said oatmeal. But fuck me, did that oatmeal go beautifully with everything else.
(5) Fish with leek, sauce and salmon crackers: Normally, I'm only a fan of fish that has been pan-fried or is served sashimi style. But this fish (I have not the foggiest idea how it was prepared but I can tell you that it was neither) was honestly so flavoured packed that I also laboured over each bite because I didn't want to finish it.
(6) Jerusalem artichoke, sauerkraut, smoked eel and soil baked potato: you had to eat everything all together in order to experience the bite of the the sauerkraut, the crispy texture of the artichoke, the saltiness of the eel and the earthy smoked flavour of the potato in perfect matrimony.
(7) Quail with barley and egg (baked in the oven for 45 minutes at 60 odd degrees) with sundried seaweed: At this point, my heart was torn between lingering over each bite because we were approaching the end and excitement over the next dish.
(8) Venison with barley, caramelised onion and onion ash: Venison has that rather musty taste to it if not prepared properly, especially if it's served rare. Nope - still amazing. My only complaint was that the onion was just on the raw side, so I got that stingy taste when I ate it.
(9) White chocolate coated pork crackling. Sounded weird as but honestly, amazing. When you bite into it initially, you get the sweetness of the chocolate, but then as that dissolved, you were left with the saltiness (and crunchiness) of the crackling. You know how people combine salty and sweet food together like salted caramel to make something taste from good to brilliant? Same principle here but on steroids.
(10) White chocolate cream with fejoa and berry ice cream: Oh yes... a perfect end, a perfect 10, the home run to a 10 out of 10 dinner.

b) OSPE is in three weeks and I feel so unprepared. The timing sucks because I go to see E. again the weekend before OSPE and so this limits the time I have panicking over Ping's lectures.

c) My flight out was cancelled this morning. Bonus: Air New Zealand gave me $12 to spend for breakfast (I wish I had seen the muesli and yoghurt before I had spied the scone). Downside: Missed out on two lectures this morning and so spent this evening playing catch up instead of studying.

d) Sunday was Mother's Day and so it meant that it was literally impossible to get into any place for lunch without a reservation. In hindsight, we were idiots for not booking but we had an even better experience just having fish and chips in the car while overlooking the port, and listening to Michael Buble. Also, dug into some divine slow cooked lamb with scalloped potatoes, washed down with cider later that night. And I enjoy raiding his closet and being with him means being able to take full advantage of the fact that we are the same size. I stole his cardigan and brought it back home with me - and received three compliments for it. I think it's worth mentioning at this point that I had picked out the cardigan. I'm honestly so content when I'm with E., regardless of the surroundings. I used to think that when you love somebody that you just sort of reached an endpoint - like that was the maximum you could ever feel for another human being. But in actual reality, the best thing is that love is sort of infinite - it just keeps going and that makes me happy because I know that what I feel now might possibly be nothing in comparison to what I might feel say, ten years from now. Ick. That's rather disgustingly cheesy.

e) We ran into one of E.'s registrars in a cafe - who addressed me as a 'fashionista'. Now, don't get me wrong, I like having my sense of style acknowledged, but I also realised at that point that I'd rather be known for other sensibilities, such as intelligence. So, it's odd having spent a weekend being as content as a cloud and wanting to just settle down and forget my studies because it's juxtaposed with this drive, or rather need, to prove myself.

#medstudenthyperchondriac

Another poo story - I seem to have plenty of these recently. Anyway, my bowel motions of late have been like a type 6 on the Bristol Stool Chart - mainly due to the fact that I don't eat a lot of gluten in my diet (and that usually does a really good job at binding your bowel motions together). So watery shits don't really disturb me because they disappear when I eat carbohydrates. 

I digress. 

This morning I was on the crapper and when I wiped, I saw blood. My thoughts immediately leapt to "Oh shit, oh shit, I have bowel cancer" - not even like, "Oh, maybe haemorrhoids".

Then I realised I had my period. There was an audible sigh of relief. 

#perm

So in a wee bit of a conundrum: my perm looks so much better when I'm naked. I shit you not. It goes from mediocre to being "heeeeeey that shit is niceee" (you have to imagine a sleazy man saying it whilst winking).

postscript

Man, I'm stupid. Had the unfortunate experience of going to the toilet (and taking a dump) just after someone else had recently used the loo. Our toilet is so crappy that even with normal flushes, it doesn't do a good job. Anyway, obviously two flushes right after each other is too much for the toilet to handle and it just gave up. So here I am, sitting on the loo, waiting for the toilet bowl to refill so I could flush my shit away.

It took me five minutes to realise that I could simply lock the door and wait for the toilet to refill in the comfort of my own room instead of standing awkwardly, staring into the toilet and smelling my own shit.

#bevelingup

Sooo, did my first venepuncture today in class. To be honest, given the fact that I hardly trust myself to take someone else's blood, I was pretty reluctant to give up my arm - but as it was, it turns out that another girl and I were the only girls in which decent veins could be found, while the poor boys got stuck twice, so I'm sort of okay with sacrificing my arm. Also, it didn't hurt that badly.

The hardest part is not actually finding the vein or even poking the needle in. It is trying to keep the needle still, while trying to fit the vacu-tainer onto the needle and undoing the tourniquet. So anyway, in true fashion (which E. was cracking up about last night when I was asking him for tips - he was literally like, the worst case scenario is if you go through the vein - and then he doubled up with laughter), I ended up shoving the needle through the vein when I was trying to push the vacu-tainer onto the needle and so had to gently manoeuvre the needle slightly out before blood rushed into the tube like it was supposed to. Then I pretty much felt honour bound to offer my arm up to my poor partner because I had transfixed her vein. She did a pretty decent job (I think) because it wasn't too uncomfortable and I have just a wee bit of bruising at the site.
I'm glad I didn't go first - the boys who went first demonstrated the importance of:
a) knowing how to undo the tourniquet with your non-dominant hand
b) undoing the tourniquet before withdrawing the needle - because blood went a wee bit all over the place. Actually, it was slightly amusing because the poor boy who was the first guinea pig is a tall sporty sort of bloke, and he went a tinge of ivory and had to lie down for a bit

I wish we had an abundance of arms and equipment to practice on before our clinical years. But at least it's some comfort knowing that we can use butterflies in the hospital, which removes the problem of trying to fit on a vacu-tainer with your non-dominant hand, while trying to minimise any movement.

Tomorrow: getting my hair permed/air waved. Here's hoping that I don't end up looking like a sheep.

#purge

Just a side note - maybe not half a can of corn... seeing as it passes through the bowel virtually undigested. I woke up and it was like I had taken Pico-Prep the night before. Great feeling because I felt like I had emptied my bowels entirely and done a thorough colon cleanse, but not so great for my flatmates who had to deal with the fact that I had demolished the toilet and it was virtually out of action for the following hour.

#iwanttoeatallthethings

Watching Masterchef was not a good idea because now I am craving chocolate trifle like something crazy. Also because it's cold, my body has just decided that it is flinging all self control out the window and is craving anything warm and fatty - which I think is what it's supposed to do as a survival mechanism. But luckily today, I tried my hand at a new recipe - cauliflower fried rice.

I kid you not - that massive bowl has no more than 250 calories at the most (and most of it came from the scrambled egg). But how on earth did you manage that (I hear you say in an astonished voice). Because it has absolutely no rice - it just has cauliflower that has been attacked by the grater. I was pretty skeptical at first because I was like, whatever... cauliflower + grater does not = rice. But I shit you not - it was pretty much as good as a bowl of actual fried rice, which was perfect on a cold evening like tonight. M. agreed that it was pretty awesome too, so there - two endorsements for this smashing recipe.

I give you: Cauliflower fried rice. 

Ingredients (serves one)

• half a head of cauliflower (you could probably even use a third of a head, but I was like hey, I'm cold and I want to feel full)
• half a carrot
• handful of green beans
• one egg
• two mushrooms
• half an onion
• one teaspoon of minced garlic
• half a can of sweet corn kernels 
• soy sauce 
• salt
• a wee bit of coriander

1. Cut up the carrots, green beans, mushrooms and onion (p.s. if you want to be a bit lazy, you could probably achieve exactly the same results using frozen mixed vegetables, but hey - I wanted to use fresh ingredients. Also, there isn't enough room in our flat's freezer to toss a bag of frozen vegetables in there).

2. Cut cauliflower into florets and grate (I used the larger hole). Just a warning - it will be quite messy. Otherwise you can use a food processor, but I'm a student and I don't have one lying around in the flat.

3. Scramble the egg and fry into a flat omelette shape. Remove from pan and cut into squares.

4. Add a dash of olive oil and add onion and garlic to frying pan.

5. When onions have become translucent, add the carrots. You have to stir for a bit because carrots take a while to cook and you don't want to bite into undercooked crunchy carrot bits because you don't get that shit normally when you get fried rice (if you want to be doubly sure that this doesn't happen, you could probably pre-boil the carrot bits). 

6. Add green beans and cook for a bit before adding the mushroom. At this point, add some soy sauce and salt, to taste

7. Add corn kernels and stir the mixture for a bit. Remove from pan and set aside.

8. Add grated cauliflower to the frying pan. I added a wee bit of olive oil and then stirred the cauliflower around until it was juuuust cooked.

9. Add your vegetable mix and scrambled egg pieces to the pan and mix together. Add more soy sauce and salt to taste. 

10. When you're about done, add the coriander and serve.

I was pretty pleased with myself. The best part is the fact that I can jazz it up and change the recipe a bit to get different sorts of rice, like Moroccan or Mexican, depending on what additional vegetables/condiments I add to the cauliflower rice base. I don't know about you, but I don't think I'm going to get sick of this for some time. Looking forward to dinner already tomorrow!

#frozen

This is great - we seemed to have skipped over autumn entirely and proceeded straight to winter. The daily temperature does not exceed ten degrees celsius. It is insane - but at least it's not actually raining any more - but in saying that, I would much rather wet and warm than just plain cold. My toes are constantly numb and wearing warm woollen socks have been a saving grace.

In other news, I have purchased a $5 yoga mat and it has saved my sacrum from being repeatedly bruised from my ab exercises - which are going well, especially given the fact that my daily workouts now suck an hour of my time. The reason why I'm able to keep to it is also probably due to the fact that metabolism bores the shit out of me (ironically enough - because I'm pretty sure I'd learn something that might help with losing weight and gaining lean muscle) so I'm really not that motivated to study, unlike the nervous system module.

And the annual progress test reared its ugly head again. Weirdly enough, I wasn't really stoked by the 72%... it was more a sense of relief that I did get above 70%. I really did peak too soon... what the fuck was I thinking when I got 70% in second year? It's not like I'm going to be able to get 90% by my fifth year...

Also, it still amazes me when I get irrationally shitty at E. that he actually apologises (even though it's not his fault). Poor boy. He has a lifetime of irrationality to deal with. Or perhaps he's just making up for the first two shitty years of our relationship. I mean shitty in comparison to now. Funnily enough, I remember thinking that those two years were wonderful and yeah, they were. But he got away with a lot of shit back then which I probably wouldn't simply sit back and accept now. That's why they were shitty.
Also, he wouldn't let me dress him and he insisted on wearing hoodies and skater shoes. Ew.

#detox

As much as I love being home (as soon as I stepped foot into my cold flat, I missed home even more terribly). But what I do enjoy about living away from home is independence over what I can eat and basically, the ability to hermit in my room and do my own shit. And this means that I can detox from this week of eating sooooo much everyday. Granted - most of it was healthy, but even huge amounts of salmon and avocado cannot be good for you.

So a two weeks of vegetables and ab exercises here we come...

#lifedecisions

Ah, retail therapy. Life is good.
- striped top: tick
- ankle strap wedges: tick
- tea: tick (multiple)
- glasses: tick

Honestly, these holidays have only further highlighted how shit in comparison life is back down south. I'm just gonna say it: I'm 80% sure that I want to come back here for my clinical years. What is weird is the fact that I've made a life decision that affects someone else - namely E. But I think I've made the right decision - being closer to my family is a definite bonus, especially with my mother's health and disabled brother turning into a surly teenager. I mean that literally - he actually ignores you if you try and talk to him, which is funny because I'd expect a normal seventeen year old boy to be sullen and shit, except he looks like he's eight or something.
Another example: when I got back from the airport and was putting my suitcase into the boot of the car (our car is a hatchback, so the back is connected with the boot), he was sitting in his booster seat and mum was like "Say hi," and my kid (sorry, teenage) brother simply stuck his hand up in the air and was like "Hi," without even turning around. I lol'd a wee bit internally because it's like a seventeen year old stuck in the body of an eight year old.
But I think my parents have been genuinely quite happy to have both my sister and I home for the holidays - even my normally emotionally reserved father has deigned to change his Facebook status, which is a bit cute. Except I obviously didn't tell him that.

What is even more weird is the fact that my parents are okay with the fact that I would like to flat with E. in my fifth year. They are also okay with me travelling with him. It was cute finding my mum trying to teach my brother how to say E.'s name and it just scared me slightly - like, this is it: you've made a decision for the rest of your life because your family has accepted him now too. Not that it's a bad thing - it was just like, whoa. Life decision made.

#fat

need. to. stop. eating. so. much.

i need to feel the hunger. my body is like wheeeeewarmfuzziestoomuchglucose

#home

I am happy (and warm - so, so warm). The contrast could not be greater. That is all.

#Easter

Ick. I feel so disgusting from all the sugar that I've consumed in the last six hours. M. and I had a pretty successful baking session - we made red velvet caramel brownies (which we were rather skeptical about because it involved blind baking a red velvet base, and then adding molten caramel - from melted caramels on top, before adding a final layer of red velvet which sort of melded in with the caramel), and of course because it's Easter - hot cross buns.

The brownie turned out well - but the only thing was the fact that recipe called for a box of red velvet cake mixture, which always is a bit average compared to making red velvet from scratch. The highlight was actually melting the caramels because we ended up with this molten golden goodness, which tasted amazing with frozen berries - a fondue of sorts, if you will. In fact, we probably ate more of the caramel than of the finished brownie product.

The hot cross buns were pretty good - a bit dense, but nothing a good blast from the microwave won't cure tomorrow morning. The recipe we used had major issues with liquid because the dough we ended up with was as dry as straw, so we ended up adding at least an extra half cup of milk. The dough still rose though - which was good, especially as the temperature outside was probably around 6 degrees celsius and I didn't have much faith in the heat pump warming up the ambient temperature inside the flat.
I had such a fun time with M. though and it was definitely worth the self discipline throughout the entire week.

On another note, I think it's still important to remember the reason why we get a day off on Good Friday.

#delayedgratification

Today's the day that M. and I make chocolate hot cross buns! I am excited. I've been fending off junk food this entire week in hopes that my binge-fest today will not bloat me like a hippopotamus.

Also, I went and bound my notes for the nervous system module and my inner nerd is like wheeeeeeeeeiwantstostudyallthetime

Also note to self: I double socked today and my feet were so toasty, even though it currently feels like 6 degrees celsius outside. 

#selfdisciplinegoodbyeeeee

Cold weather means that all I want to do is eat fatty carb-y meals and drink hot chocolates. It almost means that I am more reluctant to strip down to my gym gear and do my daily exercises. Except, I do derive some joy out of exercising in that I actually get warm because my room is the coldest out of the four in the flat - my Raynaud's is a bitch. I actually cannot feel my feet sometimes. 

But I will not be tempted to increase my intake because it will be a slippery s l o    p      e. I gained about a kilo this weekend from the amount of food that I ate with E. and it's taken me a day to get rid of it and go back to where I was, which makes me think that most of the weight gain was from being bloated/fluid retention. So thereeeee, junk food is bad for you. Also, I felt pretty icky for a day or so. A little part of me is slightly glad that we're probably doing long distance for another year because I swear, the moment we start living together in the same city, my waistline will expand again.

I'm actually quite surprised that given the amount that I ate and the lack of exercise that I was only six kilos heavier 

I take that back. That is a lot... I refuse to get to those proportions again. 

#published

So uh, if you google my name, you may eventually find an paper that I co-authored. It's funny because I don't derive that much joy from it, given that most of the work wasn't actually done by us in the end (we did the initial study, but most of the analysis was done in the follow-up). But hey, not everyone can claim that they've published a paper. So it's pretty neat.

postscript

To try when I get back from holidays:

• carrot oatmeal breakfast bake - http://www.greenkitchenstories.com/baked-carrot-cake-oatmeal/
• cauliflower rice pilaf - http://www.doctoroz.com/videos/cauliflower-rice-pilaf
• salmon cake/patties on a bed of either cousous OR cauliflower rice

I am so excited! This week, I'm going to make March soup again (given that the high is apparently not going to exceed 12 degrees celsius this entire week) and my zucchini pasta with creamy marinara sauce.

#contentlikeacat

Even though E. was only down for two days, we still managed to make the most of it - and typically, this fair city decided to make it sub 10 degrees celsius for the entire weekend (can I just say here and now that I cannot wait till I leave this place). He arrived (looking rather sleep deprived because he had finished work at 11:30pm the night before) on Saturday morning and off we went to lunch - hoping to make it to a Taiwanese eatery that we had often frequented for bubble tea, but never actually ate at. On the way down, we noticed students decked in costumes carrying Scrumpy bottles. Charming - I simply rolled my eyes. It wasn't until we drove to the restaurant that we noticed the road block of the street right next door to it that we realised that it was the annual student-dress-as-your-inner-whore-drunken-fest, which pretty much killed our prospects of eating there because there were hordes of inebriated eighteen and nineteen year olds right beside it. I interject again here to say that I cannot wait to leave this place. So instead, we hightailed into town and got some udon noodles, which in hindsight was actually almost as satisfying, given that temperatures had dropped another degree or so.

E. then got a haircut - and I have to say, he did look rather dashing. I don't really like to use the word, but it is an apt adjective, given the fact that the hairdresser who was cutting his hair and the other one present at the hair studio stopped to ooh and ahh over the finished product. The hairdresser is probably the one thing that I will miss about this place (oh, now that I think about it - the indie cafe with the fabulously seasoned french fries as well).
We then got coffees at a newly opened hipster cafe and bar and shared a pain au chocolat - the coffee was probably rather meh, but the pain au chocolat was pretty stellar. A spot of shopping later (p.s. Hallensteins - big ups for stocking clothes for smaller men and I have to say, your style is improving), it was pretty much dinner time. We had plans to visit the restaurant on the main street that had won awards for its red meat, but had eschewed in the past because... actually, I'm not sure why. I think it's partly my fault because it's engrained in my head that the fancy restaurants in town are all in the suburbs - i.e. to get five star food, you have to drive out of the city centre. I am a food snob. Anyway, we got there and it turned out that it was all booked out for a private function (and luckily, we had decided to drive there from my house, even though it is literally a five minute walk from my place because it had started to rain and the wind had picked up). So on we drove to the seaside suburb for hopes of getting the five star food that we were hoping for. Unfortunately it was all booked out and by this point, we were cold and rather hungry. So we called Plato and lo and behold, they had just one table left so we pretty much dashed there (and later, the maitre d' told us that he received five calls right after we had called).

Ah, Plato. You never ever fail to disappoint me. The service was attentive and the food arrived so promptly - I've always been so happy each and every time I've been (also another reason why I don't branch out because I've always been perfectly satisfied by the food from Plato). We got our orders in before the large groups at the other tables and so out came our paua fritters in record time, which were sublime. Our mains appeared not ten minutes later. E. ordered lamb rump, while I had dukkah crusted tuna steak. E's lamb was delicious but I shit you not, my tuna steak was phenomenal (in fact, when I later burped at home, it still tasted delicious - or as E. said, it tasted good both on the way down and up). We eschewed dessert (their cappuccino creme brulee is not to be snobbed) in favour of our favourite ice cream that we ate while watching a concert of Michael Buble performing live at Madison Square Garden - washed down with cider.

Sunday morning, we went to church and then went out to brunch with M. and J. - bacon pancakes with maple syrup, where have you been my entire life?! I am in love.
E. and I then decided to go to the newly opened museum for coffee and a bit of exploring because it was again, bitterly cold. We spent nearly two hours wandering inside and were not even close to finishing. It was actually a pleasant surprise because given the fact that E. dislikes reading, I thought he wouldn't be interested in reading the placards of accompanying information beside each display, but he turned out to have a much longer attention span than me (so maybe, I'm not as cultured as I think I am).

I had long pooh poohed the museum because I didn't really hold much expectation for it, but it turned out to be quite an interesting and informative experience - and there's nothing really better than wandering inside a museum on a cold day, holding hands and reading the entire afternoon. After being booted out at 4pm, we figured we had an hour and a half to spare before dinner, but neither of us were particularly keen on returning back to a cold flat. So instead, we headed off to play indoor mini golf. The first hole offered a prize if you managed to get a hole-in-one. E. snorted and decided that he wasn't going to try. The golf ball then rolled - as if it was going to fall in after one shot, but then it bounced out. It was hilarious. I obviously lost resoundingly, but it was still a lot of fun. After that, we had dinner and then he drove back.

Also, he bought me creme brulee tea. I am so spoilt and spend half my time bitching about inconsequential things. Whyyyy can't you be around all the time? Ah, E. I feel so disgusting from the amount of food I've consumed this weekend, but you make me so incredibly happy.

#gutfeeling

Gonna put it out there: bitch is gonna come crawling.

#insomnia

Migraines suck like a bitch. Fortunately, today's one was not accompanied by any defects in my visual fields. But it certainly felt like someone was stabbing me above my eye. Paracetamol and sleep were fantastic - so much so, that I was able to do exercise (which was good because I totally splurged today for lunch and galomphed pizza and wedges - but faaaark, did it satisfying my cravings). Except now, I am wide awake because of my late afternoon nap.

Only a week and a half left of neuro. It makes me sad because I actually really enjoyed neuro. But I'm looking forward to binding all my notes (all one hundred and twenty pages) into a nice book that I can study to my heart's content. But yeah... this year's gone fast. It's already Easter break, which is nice because I am so excited about clinical years.

#inspiration

I can tell you quite definitely that I do not regret choosing medicine in the slightest. Pharmacy never made my eyes light up - but even just learning about the brainstem nuclei and the cranial nerves (tedious detail to most) brought an unconscious smile to my face when we went over neuroanatomy today in class. 

Also, discovering Jacques Loussier may have helped. Let me explain. So I quite like my jazz music. Mozart puts me in the mood to study, but I don't necessarily like studying still. Put Mozart together with jazz, and it makes me actually like studying. It's like a weird form of classical conditioning - which is ironic because we're currently studying the nervous system. 

I made some more paleo carrot cupcakes this weekend - all kudos to this recipe here:

http://www.cupcakeproject.com/2012/03/paleo-diet-carrot-cupcakes-gluten-free.html

These cupcakes taste even better once they've been in the fridge overnight - the texture becomes just a wee bit more dense and it's definitely more moist. I had some with some light Greek yoghurt this morning for breakfast and it made me quite happy to get out of bed. It was an ultra healthy and tasty start to the day. I'm looking forward to breakfast tomorrow already...

#howimetyourSTEPmother

I have to weigh in on the HIMYM series finale because it has taken us nine friggin years to get here.

So, here be spoilers... you have been warned.

Tbh, I wasn't entirely surprised to see the mother killed off just so Ted could be reunited with the love of his life. What I wasn't so impressed with was the fact that in the space of a single season, I had brought myself to like the mother (I mean let's face it... who didn't? She was perfect for Ted in every single way) and then, the producers took her away from us. It was like "Oh hey, we're going to make the mother perfect for Ted and then actually, no - Robin's the love of Ted's life". If I was a true romantic, I probably would've been quite stoked with the ending. But as it is, there was something with this ending that resonated with me personally, which left me a little unsettled.


... what if I'm the mother?

#airforcepilots

My bed smells like freshly laundered sheets because for the first time in like... a year... I've actually gone and cleaned my duvet sheets. Which is rather disgusting and also rather odd, given my anal retentive-ness about cleanliness. Anyhow, it's a nice feeling of my duvets plumped up because down feather duvets tend to get all the air squished out of them.

Today I had to go and talk to some post grad second year medical students about 'bridging the gap from health sci'. To be honest, I don't think that there's much of a gap because life experience and knowing the way you study is a clear advantage. Okay fine, my own background was pretty advantageous and the only two areas that I felt severely lacking compared to the health sci kids were public health (bloody HEAL192 haunts me even to this day) and genetics (which as I discovered come exams, did not assess me on the range of random shit that Dr. B taught in lectures). But if you simply keep on top of work and don't let yourself be swamped with the information that they're feeding you in class, then you won't be at any disadvantage, health sci or not. I didn't get to say much (or rather, I didn't want to say much because I didn't want to seem like a stuck up third year) and also, Dr. B (the cool one) commandeered the stage and basically gave a TED talk on how to not stress and die as a second year medical student. Honestly, I wish he was my GP.
The one awesome thing that came out of the session (apart from listening to Dr. B's TED talk about how he managed to juggle having kids while he AND his wife were in med school) was the fact that I got to talk to Dr. J, the babein' former-air-force-pilot-turned-anatomist-lecturer. Again I say, babe. Anyway, just as we were about to leave, Dr. J was saying something about how he was going to lecture us third years in renal this year when I decided to say "Oh, that reminds me. I have a small bone to pick with you." Dr. J quirks his eyebrows. "I painstakingly learnt all the branches off the aorta and I was disappointed that it did not appear in the OSPE."
Dr. J looks rather sheepish. "Well, ah, it would've come in helpful if you had sat specials."
"Ah..." I trail off. Dr. J gives us a nod of farewell and leaves.
I faint (mentally).

Then I came home and attempted to study for the wanky formative case SAQ test tomorrow. I probably overstudied the details which we're probably not going to be tested on. Grr.

#domesticsuccess

Paleo carrot cake cupcake: tick
Low fat quiche: tick

Honestly, my paleo carrot cake cupcake was a dream. Even better once refrigerated and with a layer of cream cheese icing (which probably contains more calories than the cupcake itself). There was not a hint of sugar or flour to be seen (I used almond meal as the flour replacement and pureed dates and honey as the sweetener) AND with a measly 25g of butter between 12 cupcakes, I think this recipe is pretty legit. Perhaps a lighter option in the future would be to serve it with some Greek yoghurt (which I maintain, is honestly the best thing since sliced bread). And it was like eating an actual real cupcake still, without sacrificing any of the taste. Mmm.

And this aforementioned miracle ingredient also went into my quiche - which took an hour to cook, and not the half an hour that my recipe was recommending. Worth the wait, but oh so sad when I saw how quickly it disappeared from my plate. But it was tempered by the fact that my accompanying salad was almost equally as delicious - I tell you, dukkah and Greek yoghurt are a match made in Moroccan heaven. If I had to pick two ingredients that could flow unceasingly from a magic tap and into my kitchen, those would actually be the two ingredients that I would pick. Or smoked salmon. But not nearly as versatile. And I'd be reduced to simply eating smoked salmon instead of doing something interesting.

And now, I am trying to figure out when I can eat everything coughhowtofiteverythingintomycurrentstateofdietcough - I believe try to believe in moderation. As much as I would like to nom everything down that I have made in a matter of days, it probably wouldn't be great for metabolism and the like to have a massive binge fest. I will eat it... it just will take immense levels of self control. And looking at the legs of models or maybe the twigs outside on the trees. I lol.

This weekend has been productive in the kitchen. Not so much with my studies - except for my breakthrough with the brainstem nuclei, which I think I can comfortably fire off. Let's revise for funsies (while my laptop recharges):

General Somatic Motor Efferents
- oculomotor: CNIII
- trochlear: CNIV
- abducens: CNVI
- hypoglossal: CNXII

Branchial Efferents
- trigeminal motor: CNV
- facial: CNVII
- nucleus ambiguus: CNIX, X and cranial root of XI
- spinal accessory: spinal root of CNXI

General Visceral Efferents
- Edinger Westphal: CNIII
- superior salivatory: CNVII
- inferior salivatory: CNIX
- dorsal motor of vagus: CNX

General Visceral Sensory Afferents
- nucleus of tractus solitarius: CN VI, IX, X and cranial root of XI

General Somatic Sensory Afferents
- sensory trigeminal nuclear complex: CNV, VII, IX and X

Special Somatic Afferent
- vestibulocochlear: CNVIII

yeeeeeaaaah boi. Except this took me a good few days before I actually fully understood what I was trying to learn.