tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-237905542024-03-08T09:05:23.656+08:00From ashes to beauty †<br>Reflections of a child of God, son, husband, father, and surgeon.Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.comBlogger224125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-42260208078329371942019-09-08T22:07:00.000+08:002019-09-17T22:18:47.484+08:00Everything will be alright once I start running<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: 85%;">75km in 3 days over breathtaking trails in Sweden. I signed up for it without a second thought. What a way to kickstart my 6-week of time off from work! To prepare for it, I ran a total of 3 x 10km trails in MacRitchie reservoir (one time even when I was post-call!). <br />
<br />
I packed light for my trip as usual, bringing just 1 running vest, running shorts, dri-fit t-shirt (in case it got cold), arm warmers, gloves, full length compression tights and my Vibram Fivefingers shoes. I will discover how grossly inadequate my packing list was in the days to come...<br />
<br />
Friday: Stage 1 (24km)<br />
Everyone was decked in their hydration vests and had windbreakers stashed away. There I was in my 2-Iayers, arm warmers, compressor tights and shorts. I felt sorely under-dressed for the cold and what lay ahead. <br />
<br />
The run started off well with my Vibram gripping onto every surface with ease. I felt like a mountain goat skipping across the terrain. Trail running works your mind in a way conventional city running does not. One has to at all times plan one's footing, watch for danger and continuously reassess one's plan of advance. Furthermore, trail running utilises more muscle groups compared to city running and this somehow makes it less tiring (maybe it is just the exposure to nature that excites and invigorates me).<br />
<br />
At the finish of stage 1, my feet were so sore that walking was almost unbearable. It was then that I realised I did not have enough mileage on my Vibrams prior to this event; my feet were unprepared for the punishment that was metted out. In order to survive stage 2, I decided against the old adage of not wearing a pair of untested shoes on race day - I borrowed a pair of Icebug Acceleritas 7.<br />
<br />
Saturday: Stage 2 (29km)<br />
Sleep does wonders. I woke the next day with renewed vigour and less sore legs. The first 10km was amazing, my legs were firing and the shoes provided excellent grip on various surfaces which made running carefree. Things went downhill after that though. However perfect those shoes were, the fact was that I had never broken them in before; my feet ended up broken by them instead. At the 24km mark, I was in so much pain that I decided to walk the last 5km bearing in mind that there was another day of running in stage 3 the next day. <br />
<br />
Sunday: Stage 3 (22km)<br />
I woke to a rude shock that ALL my running paraphernalia was soaked from the rain overnight. I left them out to air, using the same attire for all 3 days (I know, I can be digusting). It was 3hrs to the start, there was still time. I wrung my clothing and started to look for tips online for quick drying. To my surprise, there were many lifehacks available! Placing my semi-dry clothing into a dry towel, i wrapped it up and stepped on it to remove excess moisture. I then left them out to air dry. <br />
<br />
By the time it was to get dressed, my clothes were damp but almost fully dried. It is an experience to wear damp clothing and socks on a cold day prior to a race. I was at my lowest in terms of morale. My foot was taped up a various pressure points to prevent blistering in a shoe that I was not used to. It was the worst possible way to start a race.<br />
<br />
Once we started running though, all my concerns went out the window. Which brings me to my point: everything will be alright once I start running.<br />
<br />
1. The cold sorted itself out once I ran and generated heat.<br />
<br />
2. My tired legs went into motion after 4-5km once my muscles warmed up.<br />
<br />
3. Blisters and pain somehow disappeared when I ran possibly secondary to the release of endorphins or the scenery that was around me.<br />
<br />
I played back the last 3 days of running as I was dragging myself to the finish line. Life parallels trail running: you never know what to expect, and have to adapt to the situation and terrain as needed. Furthermore, there are times when you are too tired to go on, but somehow find it deep within yourself to eke out just that little more, placing one foot before another. Repeatedly. You will get there as long as you keep moving. I find this deeply sobering when extrapolated to life.<br />
<br />
I will get there as long as I keep at it and persevere. Until then, keep running as everything will be alright once I start running.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /></div>
Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-72281758820573351522019-06-09T16:19:00.001+08:002019-06-09T16:20:28.632+08:006-monthly reflection 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: 85%;">This week long annual leave came at a rather apt time.
This was my first break in 2019 (not counting the 5 days taken for the exit
MCQs). Among the many things jostling for my attention, one stood out the most
- my journey in becoming a surgeon.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">As to when exactly did I begin to become numb to my work
I cannot remember, but I would place the period sometime after my KTPH posting.
It was only recently that I realised I do not recognise this person I have
become. I was just going through the motion of work, the flame was gone; I was
just an outer shell, not unlike a machine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 85%;">WHO has now defined burnout in its latest edition of the
ICD-11 as “a syndrome conceptualised as resulting from chronic workplace stress
that has not been successfully managed.” The syndrome was characterised by:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Feelings of energy depletion or exhaustion<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Increased mental distance from one’s job, or
feelings of negativism or cynicism related to one’s job<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Reduced professional efficacy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 85%;">I came across the above while reading some articles about
depersonalisation. Reading it felt like I was reading about myself, every word
rang true and it was scary. I have always been a very private person, choosing
to sort things out on my own rather than seek help. Understandably, I do not
believe in counselling - that process was for people who are weak. I cannot be
more wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">This time away from work, albeit short, has kickstarted
in me a process. I have sought help from a Christian counsellor, met up with a
lifecoach and very roughly made plans for the next 6-months of 2019. I believe
when you are at your lowest point, the only way is up. I have to alter my trajectory
if I wish to continue on my journey to become a surgeon. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">“Do you still want to become a surgeon?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">I recently read Atul Gawande’s Complications, the chapter
‘when good doctors go bad’ stood out especially to me. I am sure that if I do
not do something about my situation, I might end up harming patients like Dr
Hank Goodman. I appreciate that there is a system in place to address this
behaviour before it spirals out of control or before someone gets harmed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 85%;">The answer to the question above is: “YES”, and I will
and must bring about change that is sustainable which will see me through the
rest of my career. I am looking forward with fear of the unknown but filled
with hope that something good will come out of this. That I am sure of, in the
end, it will be OK. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /></div>
Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-51802918931708054692018-07-09T21:57:00.000+08:002019-06-09T16:17:31.252+08:006-monthly reflection 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Hearing the news felt surreal. I was not surprised as I
had already prepared for the worst. It was also the only obvious outcome when I
found out that my meeting was scheduled forward. In that instant, I felt an
immense sense of injustice. I had completed all the milestones required for
progression but I was held back by those 4-months in KTPH.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 85%;">That posting coincided with the darkest days in my short
life thus far. I only managed to trawl myself out of it a few months after. I
did not feel a need to share this with anybody and perhaps that was why it
seemed like I was ‘out of sorts’ by many during that period. I am not trying to
find myself any excuses to pin all of this to, but perhaps the only shortcoming
I had was the way I handled it all. I feel that the assessment that I am
perhaps still a little too immature for progression is probably not too far
off. I am just disappointed in myself, and this feeling had made me a little
sore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 85%;">For the next few weeks, I allowed myself to let the gravity
of being retained sink in. I refused to reflect on the situation and pondered
alternative outcomes based on the various choices I could make. It did not help
that one of my fellow colleague shared that he was quitting. I allowed myself
to entertain the idea of leaving all this behind and just call it quits. I
harboured the thought of taking an extended break from work to ‘rejuvenate’
myself and coming back stronger. I told myself I was jaded from work; I was
burnt out. I told myself that I could not push on, not in such circumstance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 85%;">One thing that any endurance athlete can tell you is
‘mind over body’. I have had personal experiences participating in Ironman
Triathlons to know that it is when you reach a nadir in the race that you
experience your second wind. You get into a sort of trance state where just a
moment ago you wished you were relaxing on your couch. Your body goes into
auto-pilot and you just carry on like you were possessed. The thing is, you
have to reach that state of absolute suffering in order to experience such
liberation. The mind is a powerful thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Thinking back, I was acting like a spoilt brat. My mind
was weak and it ended up telling me that it was not possible; that this
retention was the end. I allowed myself to believe that this was pervasive and
permanent. I just cannot deal with failure. My life up until that moment has
been pretty smooth sailing. I do not think that I have ever learnt to fail, to
pick myself up and go again, to become stronger. I have been blessed and it has
made me take many things for granted. This was my wake up call. This is God
giving me a life lesson to learn from. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 85%;">1 Corinthians 10:13 says: ‘No temptation/testing has
overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will
not let you be tempted/tested beyond what you can bear. But when you are
tempted/tested, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 85%;">I now take this in my stride. I will use this opportunity
to build myself from the ground up, to gain more experience, to become a better
person, doctor, surgeon, son, husband, and father. The one thing that has
prevented me from taking the easy way out of this situation is my son. Having
grown up without a father, I am still grappling with learning how to be a man,
a father. I cannot fathom a day where my son comes to me for advice in life and
I would be none the wiser. Passing up this chance for growth will then become a
life-long regret.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: 85%;">The race is long and 6-months is nothing much compared to
the grand scheme of things. I will focus on the bigger picture and continue on
even when it seems so tough and that I cannot possibly go on. Then and only
then will I experience my second wind, my breakthrough and see the light at the
end of the finish line. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /></div>
Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-65308803907529235862014-02-23T12:57:00.000+08:002014-02-25T12:59:03.744+08:00Conversations in the dark<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">"Thank you for giving me the opportunity to love you."<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">"I'm glad I did."</span></div>
</div>
Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-8569174371214157312014-02-05T21:03:00.001+08:002014-02-05T21:04:40.117+08:00Building Bridges<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Destiny is the bridge you
build to the one you love. – Old man in My Sassy Girl<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-80411345857919017012014-02-04T23:47:00.000+08:002014-02-05T21:01:41.629+08:00Hope, Courage & Faith<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><u>
3rd February 2014 </u></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Are you coming back tomorrow?' asked one patient as we made our way towards the entrance of the hospital at the end of a long day. Around her, many other patients lie waiting expectantly in their beds for their operation. Some have been waiting since 30th January 2014. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Nil by mouth, wait, feed; nil by mouth, wait, feed. The demoralising cycle repeated for some patients. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;">'Yes we are', I replied with a smile. 'We will be here tomorrow first thing in the morning.' A wave of relief swept across her face. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;">'Thank you so much.' Mustering whatever energy she had left against the weight of her goitre, she flashed a megawatt smile. Hope. A very dangerous concept, but what more can these patients do apart from that. It pains me to even imagine... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;">It was the end of Day 4 of our time here at the surgical mission. Many were extremely exhausted by now; the 8am-1am routine was not readily tolerated. Furthermore, due to many complicated cases, operations took longer than planned and many scheduled cases were postponed. The list looks much more insurmountable than ever before. Surgeons, anaesthetists and scrubs nurses were functioning from their reserves. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><u>4th February 2014 - Last day</u></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">The inevitable happened. The list was truncated. Patients who came from afar were given priority, the rest were turned away to wait for the next mission. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;">'Please swallow.' I proceeded to examine a patient's goitre before he was being put to sleep. Putting myself in his shoes, I was amazed at the amount of courage and faith he needed to have to be here. For some stranger to put you to sleep, to oblivion; for another stranger to explore your neck, where the great vessels lie, in order to remove a lump that has been with you for the greater part of your life. Trust. That is what patients do with their lives, placing it in our hands. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Today, standing over that patient, I was reminded of the sacredness of our profession. Many times, a patient gets reduced to his or her diagnosis. Sebaceous cyst, lipoma, goitre. We zoom in on the problem and miss the big picture. I am guilty of that sometimes. I find this especially important in the field of Surgery where proficiency is often sought after by performing yet another sebaceous cyst, lipoma or goitre. We become fixated on the diagnosis than the patient. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Perfection. The art of Surgery is the constant repetition of a skill until that is attained. You owe it to your patients to be perfect, to be the best version of yourself - that is a constant process. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 85%;">To be able to put one's hands to work where they are sorely needed is a blessing. You succinctly brought across what I felt. Indeed, it is a blessing to be able to bless others. I am blessed by the patients I encountered through this surgical mission. I just hope that those patients who were turned away this time do not lose hope...</span></div>
Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-72702858032543573242013-12-27T14:51:00.003+08:002013-12-29T17:52:37.852+08:00Mount Batur<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: 85%;">2:23am. The crescent moon hung lazily in a sky littered by lights invisible back home. There was a certain clarity in that moment, a certain knowing that this was how things were supposed to be. Singapore might have transformed itself from a sleepy fishing village to a cosmopolitan metropolis but not without relinquishing its identity and romantic charm so often documented by travellers in the 70s. Those graphic depictions of the city state can never be conceived by its citizens in this day and age.<br />
<br />
The van meandered along skinny roads lighted only by its powerful headlights. Around it, the landscape was bathed in darkness. Over the horizon, it seemed like I was staring out to sea. Houses like lighted ships dot the vast sea of darkness, rudely interrupting its homogeneity. I knew then that I made the right decision to wake up at this godforsaken hour. I was in for something special.<br />
<br />
The van pulled up amongst other similar looking vehicles. Around me, like-minded people gathered presumably to make the climb. No words were needed as we smiled at each other. I was introduced to our guide, Made. Conversation came effortlessly. He is a day older than me and works as a full-time trekking guide. Soon, we were joined by Kesti, an 11-year-old girl on school holiday earning a living transporting soft drinks up the mountain for sale. Decked in fashionable Nike sneakers and jeans, she ambled up the terrain effortlessly.<br />
<br />
I made it a point to take in everything by engaging all my senses on this climb instead of just focusing on the terrain. I stopped momentarily at various intervals to soak in the experience. Above me laid the mountain, the full 1,717m. The starlight surrounding it served as a spotlight of sorts, lending it some form of stardom. After all, every morning, groups of people made this journey to its peak. Surely Mount Batur enjoyed celebrity status. Behind and below me were fireflies lining the trail like a landing strip albeit a crooked one; the other climbers were spread out comfortably. I looked ahead and stared into darkness; surely there must be groups ahead of us. It was then that I was reminded of what a friend said while we were watching planes one night - light travels in a straight line. Human beings do require constant reminders of seemingly obvious truths for we tend to get lost amongst the cacophony of day to day activities. Soon, I saw the fireflies ahead as the trail zigzagged up the mountain.<br />
<br />
Being a Hindu, our guide stopped midway at an altar erected somewhat randomly along the trail to make offerings. Out in the wild and stillness of twilight with only the crickets interrupting the silence, his deliberate act only seemed more deliberate, more pure. I watched on from a distance, not wanting to disrupt his ritual. Taking in all that my lungs allowed, I felt privileged to be breathing this clean, unpolluted air.<br />
<br />
We continued heavenward after the short break. 'Sun not wait for you, you wait for sun. You reach top and knock on door of sunrise', Made joked. Another reminder that time and tide waits for no soul. Our party of 5 reached the peak at 5:34am, just as the first sign of dawn pierced through the darkness. Many climbers positioned themselves for that National Geographic worthy shot, braving the cold winds. Others huddled inside a makeshift shelter, a refuge from the elements, in keen anticipation for the much-vaunted sunrise.<br />
<br />
I decided to descend onto an outgrowth of lava rock for an unobstructed view. Having severely underestimated the weather, in T-shirt and shorts, I could not feel my fingers after awhile. Deciding to focus on what is before me took away much of my 'suffering'. Ethereal clouds streamed in with the winds and they caressed the mountains ever so gently. God is indeed amazing. Before long, sunlight peeked from behind Mount Abang and Mount Agung like a shy child. Being alone out there on the outgrowth rock allowed me a certain stillness, a sort of serenity. I guess I can understand why the ancients retreat to the mountains to find themselves and to meditate. Nothing else matters somehow when one is up there. The hustle and bustle going on down below is merely ant-like activity; there was a form of dissociation, a beautiful one no less.<br />
<br />
I felt that I was meant to be exactly where I was, where stars aligned and made me being there possible. I have never seen a sunrise before in all my 26 years on Mother Earth. It was a disgrace. To defend myself, I did on 3 occasions placed myself in sunrise situations but it was either the weather or clouds that thwarted my experience. Made explained on the way up that the group yesterday was left disappointed by thick clouds but he believes that today will be a success. I somehow knew even from the night before, with quiet confidence deep down inside, that I was going to witness my first sunrise. His assurance confirmed my confidence.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglDnyPTpVRo4DPx0sUknj9DoZ8nLIaL7YDqWur-EsbNmuIAoU9w0p3pxGNzs00CkyVbLGb4_JwYEbmsVKFQud_-UFc96XwhuKb_j79wDqYejz4OtzTRl9m5xoHS87Pyd69PDIi/s1600/Mount+Batur.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglDnyPTpVRo4DPx0sUknj9DoZ8nLIaL7YDqWur-EsbNmuIAoU9w0p3pxGNzs00CkyVbLGb4_JwYEbmsVKFQud_-UFc96XwhuKb_j79wDqYejz4OtzTRl9m5xoHS87Pyd69PDIi/s320/Mount+Batur.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">
Seeing the ball of fire popping from behind the mountains blinded me. I put on my sunglasses to better visualise the fiery globe of life. Darkness was banished, the cold lost its sting; life begins with a new day.<br />
</span></div>
Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-85991941840701394252011-05-23T22:42:00.004+08:002013-12-27T14:58:43.772+08:00A train ride to remember<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: 85%;">The highlight this week was definitely the travelling to and fro via railway to Ooty. We arrived at the railway station on Thursday at 10pm to catch our 7-hour train ride to Mettupalayam. Throngs of local families laid all around the station waiting for their trains to arrive. We were fortunate to get tickets for our trip having been on the waiting list right up to the moment we left the hostel for the railway station.</span><span style="font-size: 85%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6CsHSDUvXOQbibIzYLZOyScoST2KdcdoiYIoWOCbeO8Fp-P22ihsCmpPk1tTOh7h74DiSm5SZ5v0ZP50Bc3bjklGRjaB4LJjc45plnYTZkPrOp0mpCOddgmBCxOpIGdKXmya/s1600/1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6CsHSDUvXOQbibIzYLZOyScoST2KdcdoiYIoWOCbeO8Fp-P22ihsCmpPk1tTOh7h74DiSm5SZ5v0ZP50Bc3bjklGRjaB4LJjc45plnYTZkPrOp0mpCOddgmBCxOpIGdKXmya/s320/1.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">After an uneventful train ride through the night, we arrived at our destination the next morning. </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-zaninwQftHrpNIGCWykH1chuJS_HYbBl8MTWGgisi_-cBsC3hDcscWyN0cRTR56x1UbuY4qcf679kS6uEjLuTASci2e8n9Dbv5UGH4NuzqAL9eJdxRlP1WhTMW4Z3vb1GYS/s1600/2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-zaninwQftHrpNIGCWykH1chuJS_HYbBl8MTWGgisi_-cBsC3hDcscWyN0cRTR56x1UbuY4qcf679kS6uEjLuTASci2e8n9Dbv5UGH4NuzqAL9eJdxRlP1WhTMW4Z3vb1GYS/s320/2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
Ooty was a 3-hour bus ride up from Mettupalayam and the further we went up, the cooler it became. What a refuge from the heat wave back in Vellore!</div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb9mxikadcm3_9-pgED-5dlCPF-5LA1vAeNeJTSpkgZgUZqGlClvXhXWTLjhLZ44smYUm5gj5acLafoQL86iVI3UUo-QieqSXlTfq-v1-01hH0dNKMANhhFMp8G-yQji2xQB4g/s1600/3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb9mxikadcm3_9-pgED-5dlCPF-5LA1vAeNeJTSpkgZgUZqGlClvXhXWTLjhLZ44smYUm5gj5acLafoQL86iVI3UUo-QieqSXlTfq-v1-01hH0dNKMANhhFMp8G-yQji2xQB4g/s320/3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on">We spent most of our time in Ooty sightseeing and enjoying the weather.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHTqZxTOfGsSzqA4-NMGGtA-m7FyU8KxluCKJGfV8Aa_4QxwRwrlfEt-n5qakH4PidgABsiuwVdrSsLGgt5WjsNDsERxZdESjifecXwUo-O-9TF9aW8SUgn6TDycg_-I_Yng8C/s1600/4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHTqZxTOfGsSzqA4-NMGGtA-m7FyU8KxluCKJGfV8Aa_4QxwRwrlfEt-n5qakH4PidgABsiuwVdrSsLGgt5WjsNDsERxZdESjifecXwUo-O-9TF9aW8SUgn6TDycg_-I_Yng8C/s320/4.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
Chocolate shop</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE16w1ZAe1wGC8QDhjdKo5coUKsdlk-4pKTfM2Odvhd2N1ENHokShaKGxqnsIKNQImBYdvCcjyQ3AindYxy1rkoBh0VbzhYExMBa1E71QGvc3M_6qFwi_JC4j0B2vzDng5MJed/s1600/5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE16w1ZAe1wGC8QDhjdKo5coUKsdlk-4pKTfM2Odvhd2N1ENHokShaKGxqnsIKNQImBYdvCcjyQ3AindYxy1rkoBh0VbzhYExMBa1E71QGvc3M_6qFwi_JC4j0B2vzDng5MJed/s320/5.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
115th Flower Festival</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN8f66Cmej8u6LKEw4-QLqtZyW0o1Qzx0KhIGFyvmkMH0LPc8BM494TGmrNLxmgZ09rU7gbSRww15ryidLsRkGViWpRdyikVogdRz98Eu75T8XW3bTbJztPCcfPfFZgWSsa6WI/s1600/6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN8f66Cmej8u6LKEw4-QLqtZyW0o1Qzx0KhIGFyvmkMH0LPc8BM494TGmrNLxmgZ09rU7gbSRww15ryidLsRkGViWpRdyikVogdRz98Eu75T8XW3bTbJztPCcfPfFZgWSsa6WI/s320/6.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
'New Zealand' looking place</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiU-rT0xKMY6h8YbNrecjtz6L-JsYz29qRRgM1gfCVT63tKT638DJxQ96yrDLmMcvCUjNLeblMu7MzsxEt65GZ2wDKz8I9xnsrmLBPm0rfyjS7iilmPyAI1iePkX_kjHBE4QE9/s1600/7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiU-rT0xKMY6h8YbNrecjtz6L-JsYz29qRRgM1gfCVT63tKT638DJxQ96yrDLmMcvCUjNLeblMu7MzsxEt65GZ2wDKz8I9xnsrmLBPm0rfyjS7iilmPyAI1iePkX_kjHBE4QE9/s320/7.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
Check out the litter on the ground!</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmaxB2G4lK69FNNDOtYmIOiSaiMFxKSowShBjN1JJ9SQzo92c5qqgCPHsOJuz0OipU9oVJHD0F-MYKMloGRoOVeh6zgu1WNG8N63emAYtIRWih_MvqIhpnrzihTS9qHEULHNBO/s1600/8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmaxB2G4lK69FNNDOtYmIOiSaiMFxKSowShBjN1JJ9SQzo92c5qqgCPHsOJuz0OipU9oVJHD0F-MYKMloGRoOVeh6zgu1WNG8N63emAYtIRWih_MvqIhpnrzihTS9qHEULHNBO/s320/8.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
Meditation gives you wings...</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFW0Ki4KEh16kuP7_TbyovTRbAOZfQX6Sr7ZMDrXZQtRReg2LmvlBPLTFtg5IQXpNLcq5-dkMfDc1APgynFExTEnxNZmGIZRIEjg22S6hyqPOiufLH7A5pfPhI7KxizH6Gon4V/s1600/9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFW0Ki4KEh16kuP7_TbyovTRbAOZfQX6Sr7ZMDrXZQtRReg2LmvlBPLTFtg5IQXpNLcq5-dkMfDc1APgynFExTEnxNZmGIZRIEjg22S6hyqPOiufLH7A5pfPhI7KxizH6Gon4V/s320/9.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
My Havaianas snapped but I got it fixed with some rafia =]</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNHtpj7gfQVYu1pE2f6F-YUpBTeYuCtR0L5lUCi3XL8MbEEd8Q9wQ-gfXtvqJpTxyDw0ydNgzXmvOdpY1tGx1oN7DAOtcUGcj-kP-8hUqiQiQ3RKecyX87T3fdh8FdZw8_FI25/s1600/10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNHtpj7gfQVYu1pE2f6F-YUpBTeYuCtR0L5lUCi3XL8MbEEd8Q9wQ-gfXtvqJpTxyDw0ydNgzXmvOdpY1tGx1oN7DAOtcUGcj-kP-8hUqiQiQ3RKecyX87T3fdh8FdZw8_FI25/s320/10.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
Rose Garden</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
Before long, we are on our way back to Vellore. This time, only 2 tickets were confirmed and having no choice but to return for posting the next day, we bought 4 general class tickets. Travelling in general class is strongly discouraged by many online websites and travel books, and we are about to find out why.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
At the second stop, the 2 girls went over to the guys who had the 2 tickets in third class, leaving the 2 of us to rough it out for the next 6-hours. It is really amazing to see how the locals manage to find even the tiniest of spaces to sit or lie down. Some even improvised a hammock from their saris to coo their babies to sleep. It was really an eye-opening experience =]</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
</div><div class="separator" dir="ltr" style="clear: both; text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGYddWpD3hI6nr5VvrKDTTJJg12HAg7eBn6BOeGehWmKgOyzHBMh2q8ew1UON-e4qFd8MsYhb8XvqLMgaa2EGR7fkHcVPa_RlT2tdaabQlESqVtNJnWP3C1Hu2Yyjy1CIE_wJ5/s1600/11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGYddWpD3hI6nr5VvrKDTTJJg12HAg7eBn6BOeGehWmKgOyzHBMh2q8ew1UON-e4qFd8MsYhb8XvqLMgaa2EGR7fkHcVPa_RlT2tdaabQlESqVtNJnWP3C1Hu2Yyjy1CIE_wJ5/s320/11.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
Public humiliation at its best</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;" trbidi="on"><br />
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</div>Time seems to fly by and soon we arrived at our destination; we survived the train ride and are proud of it!</span></div>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-68148812758909021492011-05-18T21:21:00.002+08:002011-05-19T00:40:19.963+08:00The Heart<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><span style="font-size: 85%;">Heart: A hollow muscular organ which by contracting rhythmically keeps up the circulation of the blood; the seat of the affections or sensibilities, collectively or separately; the inmost or most central part of a thing; the most important or vital part.<br />
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The heart is a very mysterious thing. Being attached to Cardiothoracic Surgery this week, I came face to face with it beating inside a human chest for the very first time. That moment, everything around me seemed less important compared to the perfect synchrony of the dual pulsation made by that muscular machine. The heart is an engineering marvel; it promises you what no other thing can – beating for every single second of your life from the moment you were born till the moment you breathe your last. The heart never fails to amaze me in that it NEVER rests!<br />
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However, this loyalty comes at a price. The heart can take years of insult without flinching because it was engineered with reserves. It learns to deal and cope with the numerous atrocities we commit against it until it is too late. I have seen patients with hearts encased in fats and wonder how do us humans treat our bodies? It boils down to one simple truth: we took it for granted.<br />
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As with many things, once you start taking something for granted, you stop working at it. When that happens, everything goes downhill from then. Is it any wonder then that matters of the heart also suffer the same fate when we take the relationships we have for granted?<br />
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I have learnt something today. Whether be it the heart as an organ or the heart as the other definitions stated above, one must never take it for granted.<br />
</span></div>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-11814139818665981052011-05-16T20:06:00.006+08:002013-12-27T15:05:36.050+08:00My virgin local railway experience<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: 85%;">I set off by foot from my hotel at Chennai to Egmore railway station on the suggestion of the counter staff when I asked how do I get to Chennai airport other than by auto-rickshaw.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Before long, I was at the station. The walk there took about 5mins as estimated by my information provider. However, chaos ensued as I was the only Chinese person in the ticketing queue. Every local acted like I did not exist, even the ticketing agent! Even though it was my turn to purchase a ticket, everyone else leapfrogged me and got their tickets. I was seriously pissed. I pushed and shoved the locals to get out of that hell hole and after asking around, realized that I was in the wrong queue!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_FG_dFCag5HcPcrMqdbu0uFhjKAcYRecolUXjllEaiKga2qpkjFTErm3Zg1UOl-_CifOW-pFjisI3fjMz8OQeI4u5m-i4lHVLcd4f9uHFjEH6DSqhyphenhyphenfOcOR8dc60J8AzV07Oo/s1600/1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_FG_dFCag5HcPcrMqdbu0uFhjKAcYRecolUXjllEaiKga2qpkjFTErm3Zg1UOl-_CifOW-pFjisI3fjMz8OQeI4u5m-i4lHVLcd4f9uHFjEH6DSqhyphenhyphenfOcOR8dc60J8AzV07Oo/s320/1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">Ticketing hell hole</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKYiSWnb9I2bkaeOpA969s8Gc0dZTTEl-uQLhmoSEOd1vmpLzjzLFjRwRpQIHNfAFSA1ov7_Gjf9so_r03OPDRMHNlWaas5kGt9XRyd4fEk_eVfrenmo35Ojnervu4DoTbIXs0/s1600/2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKYiSWnb9I2bkaeOpA969s8Gc0dZTTEl-uQLhmoSEOd1vmpLzjzLFjRwRpQIHNfAFSA1ov7_Gjf9so_r03OPDRMHNlWaas5kGt9XRyd4fEk_eVfrenmo35Ojnervu4DoTbIXs0/s320/2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 85%;">The railway system is similar to Singapore's MRT</span><span style="font-size: 85%;"></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">Gosh. I then made my way in search of the right ticketing counter. That was when I met Prabu, a friendly local who was going to the beach with his girlfriend/wife. We both needed tickets for the same platform albeit our trains travel opposite to one another. He brought me to the counter and even helped me foot the extra 1 Rupee for my 6 Rupees ticket as I only had 5 Rupees spare change with me. He told me to ask around for help in Chennai as the locals are very helpful. This was very true! After spending a week here in India, I have come to realize that as long as you ask, there will be someone who will help you. Everyone here is very friendly and helpful (except for those buying railway tickets!)<br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">For the brief 10 stations journey on my virgin railway ride, I felt like I somehow got the stamp of approval from the locals in the same cabin as I was. I was living India.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL-OOjAL50ulWlJDv5Pe8_jQpzKOepYUjY02NVwc-VJR7J9h1KX3cxXl_YlR8ts2GYortvEKT4sIE75JddU24_l_ajrgCJekXVAB4F5XRFfGh4tba4iAiikMeL3D7Y1akuZD0j/s1600/3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL-OOjAL50ulWlJDv5Pe8_jQpzKOepYUjY02NVwc-VJR7J9h1KX3cxXl_YlR8ts2GYortvEKT4sIE75JddU24_l_ajrgCJekXVAB4F5XRFfGh4tba4iAiikMeL3D7Y1akuZD0j/s320/3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: 85%;">I have made it to my destination!</span></div></div>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-3412283333038674562011-05-14T19:31:00.001+08:002011-05-16T19:38:00.343+08:00Things in context<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div><span style="font-size: 85%;"> I love ice-cream. All kinds of them…Today, after a hot day of travelling, I bought a popsicle while waiting for the bus to arrive. A little local boy saw me and started pestering me. I thought he was begging, hence I passed him whatever coins I had with me. This did not satisfy him; he kept at it, refusing to let me enjoy my popsicle. I chose to ignore him at first, but afterwards, I realized he was pointing to my popsicle and the ice-cream stand.<br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Therefore, to test my hypothesis that he was like me, an ice-cream fanatic, I took him to the ice-cream stand and got him a popsicle at S$0.30. He was finally satisfied.<br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">I</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">t is so ironic that the same S$0.30 that some people would die trying to save could make the day a little better for that little boy. I have no idea whether it made his day, but if I could just make him happy during the time he ate his popsicle, I think that it is a good thing…<br />
</span></div>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-36190974911491768382011-05-14T12:27:00.000+08:002011-05-16T19:30:29.733+08:00Ugly tourist<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: 85%;">Since when did travelling become an activity like visiting a zoo where the tourist pays and expects to ‘experience’ something? The tourist adopts a condescending attitude in his interaction with the locals, often oblivious to the numerous insults spoken behind his back (or into his face) in their native tongues. He sees travelling as a service industry – I pay for it, I deserve it.<br />
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Since when did saving S$0.30 become of utmost importance that people make enemies out of possible friends? In my opinion, the art of bargaining entails a clause stating that both parties should benefit from the deal. S$0.30 might not mean much to us, but it straddles between the ‘hungry’ and ‘full’ line for some locals. More often than not, the ugly tourist benefits, and the local, in order to minimize his losses, strikes a disadvantageous deal. He has no choice, and the ugly tourist often forces this hand. I like the way Bernard views this issue, “I don’t mind paying that extra bit because it doesn’t amount to much when you convert it back and you make the provider of services happy, adding further to the global positive experience of the whole trip.”</span></div><span style="font-size: 85%;"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
No doubt, tourism has evolved over the years into a sort of service industry. People will do all sorts of things to never experience hunger ever again. Hence if they know that ignorant fools from abroad are coming to throw money at them for something they wish to ‘experience’, they will lap at it. There is however a substantial population of backpackers who have managed to preserve the loss art of travelling. They do not pay for experiences, but often get them via communication, genuinity in interaction and love.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
I strive to hold myself to the higher standard of a traveler. The traveler knows that he is but a passer-by in a native land and views the locals as fellow human beings; as equals. He immerses himself into the heartbeat of the native land and connects with its life source. The tourist, high up in his ivory tower, often misses out on this aspect. Even if he claims to have experienced some semblance of an immersion, it might not be as authentic as the cash he paid to ‘experience’ it. Hence, the tourist usually returns back home thinking that the trip was ‘nothing much’. The traveler’s experience can never be bought with any currency in the world. He has with him the arsenal of human interactions and connections. He often returns home a humbled person...</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">"There are no strangers, just friends we haven't met" - Professor Low Cheng Hock<br />
</div></span><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"></div></div>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-42218956249715718142011-05-13T17:06:00.000+08:002011-05-16T19:06:45.657+08:00Unexpected...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="ecxMsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 85%;">Riding to the hospital is becoming more and more of a routine for me nowadays. However, this morning was something different. I came across a road block on the route I usually travel on. It was a no go. I then asked the officer which way I could take to get to the hospital, he mumbled something in a language I did not understand (thankfully he gestured too). I figured that there must be a detour from the other side and hence decided to explore a new route to get to CMC from Modale. I turned my bicycle around and rode off in the opposite direction, praying hard that I will eventually arrive at CMC somehow.<br />
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The new route has less traffic and the road was smoother. It was like a small winding lane where stallholders are busy setting up their businesses flanking the lane. I rode until I saw something familiar then took a turn unto the main road. I had successfully detoured the road block after about 10-15mins of ‘gut instinct’ navigation. It was a wonderful experience having learnt a new route.<br />
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I joined my team at the wards where we completed rounds and proceeded to the clinics. All I wanted to do today was to leave after the morning clinics as I wanted to rest before travelling to Chennai later in the day. Somehow, whenever you wish for time to pass faster it slows down; whenever you wish for time to slow down it passes faster. Time seems to be our eternal enemy…<br />
<br />
I thank God that I stayed until the end of morning clinics for I had on several occasion felt like leaving halfway. I left today a humbled person for the patients that came in taught me so much and impacted me in so many ways…<br />
<br />
The first case was this man who has bladder exstrophy. Prior to today, I have never heard of such a condition before! Apparently, it is quite rare. There is reading up to do tonight…<br />
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The next case was this 12 year-old boy suffering from end-stage renal failure awaiting renal transplant. He looked jaded and frail in his dirty clothes, but his eyes and actions told a different story. He was a fighter. He is fighting to live. I later learnt that Dr Ravi has put that boy’s medication on the department’s tab because he is too poor to afford medication. At that moment, it occurred to me that this boy could very well have been fighting all his life – he has got the survival instinct.<br />
<br />
I have always felt that modern human beings have lost the edge. We have lost our animal instincts; the most basic primordial instinct needed for survival. Throw a businessman into the middle of a jungle and I bet you he will not survive. We have been too accustomed to the comforts of life – air conditioners, computers, television, mobile phones, cars and the list goes on. Without these inventions, I firmly believe that many of us find it hard to ‘survive’. However, think about it, are all these necessary for survival? I like what Tyler Durden says about such things in Fight Club,<br />
<br />
“The things you own end up owning you.” <br />
<br />
“It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.” <br />
<br />
Human beings are being caught in this viscous cycle of consumerism. We are always on the prowl for the latest, the best. We feel that owning such things define who we are, but do they? Society defines a man to be beautiful when he has status, possessions, and achievements. Now, strip him of all his statuses, possessions, and achievements, is he still beautiful? Does his nakedness, his core still reflect that beauty? Many times the answer is a resounding no, because more often than not we focus too much on the outer man. We heap tons and tons of resources building thick walls on the outside and neglect fortifying the inside. At the end of the day, everyone is just an actor involved in a play called life; everyone is living a double life; everyone has a façade. Are we truly living then?<br />
<br />
The next patient who came in presented with a recurrence of his Hodgkin’s lymphoma. When his mother was told the news, she fought hard to hold back her tears, appearing strong for her son who seems to have given up the fight. He appeared nonchalant. <br />
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How many of us fail to give thanks for the greatest gift of all every day? The gift of life. We let ourselves be caught up in the rat race, often pushing our bodies beyond what they were created for. Even robots and machines need rest! I find myself to have also at times taken this gift for granted. It is time to cherish what is important and see things with an eternal perspective.<br />
<br />
Lastly, there was this 14 year-old boy with a new presentation of a left scrotal mass that has been there for 10 years. I was told to examine him, and I carried out the inguinal hernia CEX. I have never successfully reduced and occluded the deep ring preventing the hernia from re-forming. Today, it worked like what was described in the textbooks! When I removed my finger and told him to cough, the hernia re-emerged confirming my diagnosis of an indirect hernia probably secondary to a patent processus vaginalis. He was listed for a herniotomy =]<br />
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Learning here in CMC is a new adventure every day for me. Like a child receiving a Kinder Surprise egg, I find myself not knowing what I will get in a day at the hospital, and I like that feeling…<br />
</span></div></div>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-90181123667608357852011-05-12T21:21:00.000+08:002011-05-16T09:58:32.804+08:00Paediatric Surgery<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: 85%;">I realised something interesting this morning...that I took as fast as the local bus on my bicycle to the hospital. Perhaps it was the early morning traffic where the number of vehicles on the road was significantly lesser compared to the afternoons and evenings. Maybe it could be due to the fact that the bus has to stop at every stop while I rode on. Well...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">As I reached the ward, Dr Ravi told me to grab a chair from the nurse counter. I pulled one and was unaware that a computer wire was around one of its legs; the CPU crashed onto the ground and the screen turned hazy. I was at a loss for words. There I was standing stunned in the middle of my team with the senior doctors present. I am so screwed, or so I thought. What came next was a reaction that totally took me by surprise. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">"Nice work Norman, I always wanted to do that, seems like you did it for me."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">"Great! Now we can get a new computer!"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">There was a buzz and soon the attention was taken off me and diverted to the computer. It was really a funny experience I must say. Everyone here is super friendly and willing to teach. Ward rounds are a joy as the doctors explain each case and you really learn a lot from them. One thing I realised today at rounds was that sometimes in life when there is no one the patients can place their hope on, including the doctors, they turn to God (as this is Christian Medical College hospital). I see bibles on beds, people praying in the Chapel and I come to the conclusion that at one's most desperate hour, one will seek a higher power or being for hope.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">After rounds, I went to the Operating Theatre where I spent the next 8hrs of my day. As there was only two doctors present in my team today, I was 'hired' for the day. The most memorable surgery I encountered today was this 14 year-old girl who presented with a pancreatic pseudocyst from pancreatitis secondary to gallstones. She was scheduled for a cholecystectomy and pseudocystojejunostomy. I had no idea what the latter was and hence was pretty excited to see it. Apparently, Dr Ravi was going to surgically connect the pancreatic pseudocyst to the jejunum so that the contents of the pseudocyst can drain into the bowel. A Roux-en-Y anastomosis was performed. I was particularly impressed with the skills of the surgeons here. They operate with confidence and have very sleek handling of their equipment. The best part of the surgery was witnessing the two anastomoses being sutured to perfection (such a procedure is usually done using high-tech staple guns in Singapore). One of the main reasons why I chose to do an elective here in India is because I wanted to see how Medicine is being practised in its most fundamental form - no frills. After that operation today, I knew I was in the right place. I always leave the OT learning something new =]</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">After leaving the OT, I had an early dinner, went to the Chapel and then cycled back to the hostel to settle my laundry before I leave for Chennai tomorrow. The weekend beckons and so the fun begins!</span></div>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-84536369351877311352011-05-11T23:42:00.001+08:002011-05-12T01:16:13.775+08:00Coincidence? I don't think so...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: 85%;">I am barely into the Preface of Fearfully and Wonderfully Made but I know without a shadow of a doubt that it is by no mere coincidence that I have brought this book up to read in India.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">3 years ago, Jesselyn bought me In His Image and after reading it, I was on the prowl for its prequel - Fearfully and Wonderfully Made. The search for that book took quite a while as major bookstores in Singapore did not have stock. I managed to acquire a copy after about a year of persistent trying. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">It might come as a surprise to many why I am only reading the book now and not back then when I bought it. I do not know the reasons too, but I can be pretty certain that schoolwork played a major factor. As the months and years pass by, it laid in the midst of my ever increasing 'to read' section of my bookshelf. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Last week, while packing for my trip, I decided to clear some books from that section, and Fearfully and Wonderfully Made caught my eye. It was like the other 20-odd books were not even there. My eyes were only focused on it. Little did I know, the series of events that unfolded would sweep me off my feet...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">On Monday, during the welcome speech, I caught a glimpse of a familiar name in the background, Paul Brand. He was the co-author of both Fearfully and Wonderfully Made and In His Image!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE7Aiv8psz8y49T80eryxdukkwUwAgUwqcYEPRWLI7bZORbiTK5jHM6iwyzqin8CKJxJPoeFV-C3Sd-7qPZuEPZjyDJUkT51vZEmog6umWFjUqtJhN6CzaxNyn6VXTs1iRzHY9/s1600/P1020622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE7Aiv8psz8y49T80eryxdukkwUwAgUwqcYEPRWLI7bZORbiTK5jHM6iwyzqin8CKJxJPoeFV-C3Sd-7qPZuEPZjyDJUkT51vZEmog6umWFjUqtJhN6CzaxNyn6VXTs1iRzHY9/s320/P1020622.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Paul Brand's Medal in Orthopaedics</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">It was then that I realised that I could very well be doing an elective in the very hospital that Paul Brand worked in and served. It was as if I was tracing his steps in history. Prior to making it here, the word Vellore was just another name of a city to me. It was just a word. However, reading it in a book and being here at the moment of reading somehow gave me an invisble connection to Vellore. I felt like I had all along been destined to be here some point in my life - now. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">A few pages more revealed that in India where less than 3% of the population claims to be Christian, nearly a fifth of all medical work is performed by Christian doctors and nurses. This is the ideal place for me to experience first hand about missions! This tied in perfectly to what happened on Sunday...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">After my practical paper, Weihao and my discipleship group met at my place for our monthly session. If given the choice, I will very much not like to have the session and just have some down time before my evening flight. However, a commitment was made to one another at the very start that attendance for each session was imperative. Therefore, I denied the flesh as it was the right thing to do. During the session, we discussed about spiritual gifts and uncovering them. At the end of the session, we also shared about how we are going to make use of the 1-month before the next session to better identify our individual gifts and areas of ministry. My specific task is to share the gospel with someone in India, preferably through the healthcare system.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">As I flipped through the pages, the words that I read resonated so strongly with ideals and beliefs that I have held on to for the longest time. The words rekindled the ember that was almost extinguished in my heart into a raging fire that is burning brighter than ever. It reminded me the reason why I chose Medicine - to uncover the greatness of God through the study of His greatest work, the human body. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Paul Brand wrote, "I have come to realize that every patient of mine, every newborn baby, in every cell of its body, has a basic knowledge of how to survive and how to heal, that exceeds anything that I shall ever know. That knowledge is the gift of God, who has made our bodies more perfectly than we could ever have devised."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">When one coincidence occurs, you can label it as such; when two coincidences occur, you can attribute it to good fortune; when three or more coincidences occur, you must be severely devoid of spiritual belief if you are still adamant on it being down to 'good luck'! Therefore, here I am believing firmly that whatever reasons I have being here, God has plans intended for me to grow and mature in faith. Coincidence? I don't think so...</span></div></div>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-80627531120622777092011-05-11T20:24:00.006+08:002011-05-12T01:53:21.637+08:00Cycling in Vellore, India<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: 85%;">Today, I cycled to the hospital on my rented bicycle. The journey was nothing short of amazing as I find myself falling more and more in love with 'Incredible India'. The lack of orderliness, numerous pot-holes in the road, pedestrians walking like they have a stake in the road's ownership and the unceasing beeping, clinking and honking all culminated in my authentic experience of what it was like to travel like a local.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Throughout my journey, I got responses as varied as weird stares, amused smiles, delightful waving and approving nods from the locals. Many people think I am pretty crazy getting a bicycle (or two-wheeler as they term it here) to travel over here in Vellore but some are quite supportive like Ms Sheela from the Dean's Office. My mother was pretty indifferent, probably due to the numerous things I have done over the years that have numbed her fears, all she said was "be careful". </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Cycling here is very enjoyable for me as the traffic flowed like fluid; it moves around you, but never at you. I felt like a fish back in the ocean weaving in and out of traffic, meandering around other two-wheelers and pedestrians; I was in my element.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Another reason why I wanted to travel on the bicycle is so that I can better recognise the roads and places. I always believe that there is no better way to travel and discover a place then walking the ground personally. It is through such first-hand experiences that you connect with the people and become incorporated into their way of life. It is only through such means that one can truly be immersed in culture - you eat, shop, travel and do everything like the locals. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">After the ride in the morning, I was even more convinced that I needed to buy a bicycle. Therefore, I rode to the rental shop to meet the boss during lunchtime. He was pleasantly surprised at my offer to buy a bicycle and quoted me 1500 Rupees for a very decent secondhand bicycle. That bicycle looked pretty new compared to the one I rented before and I immediately agreed. I took the bicycle for a spin to make sure that the chain did not keep falling out like what happened on the previous bicycle. It was a smooth criminal; each stroke of the pedal felt as smooth as butter between tongue and palate. I went back, borrowed some tools to true the handlebar to the front wheel as it was pretty off and paid the boss. I was the proud owner of a two-wheeler! Words could not adequately describe how happy I was as I made my way back to the hospital for lunch. I intend to donate the two-wheeler to Modale International Student Hostel when I leave so that if future batches of students ever need a bicycle, it is available! =]</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">I had the same thing as yesterday, Chicken Briyani, as I wanted to spend some time in the Chapel after lunch.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAd4D2NJ3kpwYjAD-1iRCAefyu9FPwkh3coRhobQnpn4Q2lY5pBeAcTsK-VS4kOBnNLs_adzCI0jCAAjskBeotsmXH7Hb8YpGhQpnvPszUVnqfrQl7ozmsgDCKUP9UIi1Elxel/s1600/P1020663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAd4D2NJ3kpwYjAD-1iRCAefyu9FPwkh3coRhobQnpn4Q2lY5pBeAcTsK-VS4kOBnNLs_adzCI0jCAAjskBeotsmXH7Hb8YpGhQpnvPszUVnqfrQl7ozmsgDCKUP9UIi1Elxel/s320/P1020663.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">I found an empty seat in the packed restaurant and asked for permission to occupy it. The man then asked where I was from and we started a lunchtime conversation. His name was Daal and he used to work as a non-medical researcher in Cardiothoracic Surgery. He also shared that he graduated with a degree in English Literature and was currently teaching English. This explains why his English was so fluent and why we managed to even go beyond the superficial formalities of a brief conversation. Daal left after his meal and I went to get another Pepsi and 1L bottle of water as I was seriously dehydrated from the heat. Cool Pepsi never tasted so good! The weather here is so hot that even if you refrigerate drinks, they will never be ice-cold...</span></div>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-80926830410865018642011-05-10T22:28:00.001+08:002013-12-27T15:20:56.194+08:00Incredible India<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: 85%;">10:15pm India time. I am finally here. </span><span style="font-size: 85%;">I was hit by a wave of warm breeze </span><span style="font-size: 85%;">when I stepped out onto the Indian tarmac.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Modale International Student Hostel was a good 3-hour drive out of Chennai, we looked for our driver and was on the road in a matter of minutes. India has its own sense of rustic charm. On the plane looking down, I noticed that the amount of lighted areas were few and far apart compared to the intensely bright skyline of Singapore; I was living in a country of excesses...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Time seems to pass by faster when you are enjoying every moment of it, and before I knew it I have arrived at my accomodation for the next 1-month. I was pleasantly surprised at its level of cleanliness and safety. In my opinion, it is a 3-star accomodation. I proceeded to unpack my backpack and got ready for bed as it was almost 2am!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2si_HeeWZy_JGmyDrWSydwmelbQACDTEAm_f6BYoOf7gN1yU43TLwCocrKplId6Mcq1MKbI1fbvR9jgF8KSfXHupzPosQuDN_02vzeQeuxJ5izdKpuU47f5gHoXIDZLXoNrP2/s1600/1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2si_HeeWZy_JGmyDrWSydwmelbQACDTEAm_f6BYoOf7gN1yU43TLwCocrKplId6Mcq1MKbI1fbvR9jgF8KSfXHupzPosQuDN_02vzeQeuxJ5izdKpuU47f5gHoXIDZLXoNrP2/s320/1.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Army standard layout =] </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">I woke up at 5.30am and the sun was already peeking through the clouds. A new day beckons and my medical experience in Vellore, India is about to begin. We took breakfast at the nearby canteen and then a short tour around the vicinity before heading to meet Ms Sheela for my posting throughout the 1-month here.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLruW50CxSXYLicZxrEf-w7CasC9wgXuqaPX4R8npvEA52jF5DBw434QVElgnbalLApOBHTXzgWwOF298PXlcIDNy-hf4lXI53fjWk1Qr3xf9zQjhNw0FLAFHAY-DsRc4NiE9c/s1600/2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLruW50CxSXYLicZxrEf-w7CasC9wgXuqaPX4R8npvEA52jF5DBw434QVElgnbalLApOBHTXzgWwOF298PXlcIDNy-hf4lXI53fjWk1Qr3xf9zQjhNw0FLAFHAY-DsRc4NiE9c/s320/2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Al-fresco dining at the canteen</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiORVqCn-7ZQUsXkR869m0YbtlwrPEFCU6XS4hpB7CH87F9rNplU_oPhZsS2IC09HD3Cf06G68kR82KJ5oLag-TxfMHX8mOProoVU5_cHS9_fQRzxdBEyclSk68s2SdyAlPkOX9/s1600/3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiORVqCn-7ZQUsXkR869m0YbtlwrPEFCU6XS4hpB7CH87F9rNplU_oPhZsS2IC09HD3Cf06G68kR82KJ5oLag-TxfMHX8mOProoVU5_cHS9_fQRzxdBEyclSk68s2SdyAlPkOX9/s320/3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Free shuttle bus to Christian Medical College from our accomodation area </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">I decided that I should learn how to take the public transport to the hospital, hence we hopped onto bus 2. By some strange stroke of fortune, we managed to get seats on the local bus, something which she claims as being very rare. The ride was around 15-20mins and cost less than S$0.30!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">On board the local bus </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">After arriving at the hospital, I was orientated to the grounds and attached to my team in Paediatric Surgery. Monday was clinics day and so I spent the morning in clinics. The clinic had a spartan set up and it resonated with me. I simply love the unassuming-ness of it all. It was basic. It was sufficient.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Dr Ravi, the person I was attached to, was very friendly and always tries to make every case a learning experience. I learnt so much in the brief 2-hours I was in his clinic. Before long, it was lunch time. I decided to explore the surrounding area around the hospital since we had almost 3-hours of free time before exit rounds. After walking through various lanes and streets, we stumbled upon a local food place. Seeing that many locals were eating there, I figured that the food must be pretty good. We entered, ordered and ate. It was delicious! What a benchmark to set on my very first proper Indian meal (breakfast was omelette). Gastroenteritis was a concern no doubt, but I personally believe that every food-seller has a moral and social obligation to uphold and I was contented with this. So far, I have not been proven wrong =]</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">My first Indian meal</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">After lunch, we continued our exploration of the area until we could not take the heat any longer, retreating to the chapel inside the hospital to cool down before exit rounds. Exit rounds was concise and every case was an eye-opening learning experience for me. After 45-minutes, my first day in the hospital ended. It was a relaxed pace, enriching learning experience which has whetted my appetite for what is going to happen in the next few days.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Seeing that the hospital was pretty near our accomodation, I decided to purchase a secondhand bicycle to commute between the two. This set the stage for our quest for the old bicycle. Getting around in Vellore is the same as everywhere else - you ask for directions. </span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><em>Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. - Matthew 7:7</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">After a long search, we finally found our shop and I rented the old bicycle pending a possible purchase when the boss returns from his business trip. We then got onto the bicycle and made our way back to Modale. Cycling in Vellore is an absolute pleasure. There is a sense of ordered chaos about how things flow and operate; people somehow can read one anothers' minds and everything moves with the precision of a highly-complexed timepiece.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Orderliness in chaos</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">After washing up, we went to Darling restaurant for dinner. It was situated on a roof-top with a pretty city view to enjoy with the food. The meal was nothing short of delicious and we were both pretty stoned after the meal, reclining back into our seats and enjoying the warm breeze of India typical in this time of the year. Relaxation was the theme of the night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Pasta and Naan with butter chicken gravy</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">My old bicycle</span></div>
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Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-54273948277749633412011-05-07T11:42:00.000+08:002011-05-07T11:42:04.348+08:00Like candles that guide my path...<span style="font-size: 85%;"> I guess this academic year has finally taken its toll on me; I am feeling pretty restless and quite jaded before my final paper tomorrow, I just wish it to be over as soon as possible. There are so many thoughts wrestling for dominance in my mind that I find it hard to carry out my final revision for tomorrow. The only thing that I am looking forward to is my trip to India, but even that is filled with its own set of issues. Perhaps I am thinking too much, only time will tell.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">It is important to surround yourself with friends who resonate and connect with you as Coach David always say. I find that to be very true. They are like the candles that light up my path in this dark world; the guiding lights that I use to orientate myself whenever I am lost. Thank you for your call; thank you for making the effort to come down and catch up; thank you for your love, care and concern; thank you brother. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Aal izz well (all is well), aal izz well.</span>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-64554614091103977372011-04-26T23:43:00.000+08:002011-04-27T00:03:53.794+08:00To love.<span style="font-size: 85%;">To love is a beautiful, mysterious event; do not miss it. <br />
Be neither too cautious nor too absorbed. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Too many of us reason with our hearts and experience with our heads. <br />
It cannot be so. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">The heart knows no logic beyond need and desire; </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">the head has no senses except the common and the pragmatic. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Neither, frankly, is useful in love anyway. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Rely on your sixth sense, that little voice within.<br />
There is no preparation for or protection from the joy and pain of relationships. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">They are inseparable twins. One follows another. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">And make no mistake, love is not gay abandon; <br />
it is to be courageous, to take risks and be disciplined. - Author Unknown</span>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-60845744949625936372011-04-19T09:00:00.001+08:002011-04-19T09:01:38.770+08:00C. S. Lewis: Love your neighbour...<span style="font-size: 85%;">It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare...There are no ordinary people. You have never met a mere mortal...But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendours...Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbour is the holiest object presented to your senses.</span>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-82395997936163885012011-04-17T22:31:00.001+08:002011-04-17T22:32:56.500+08:00Haruki Murakami: On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning<span style="font-size: 85%;">One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo's fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl. </span><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Tell you the truth, she's not that good-looking. She doesn't stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn't young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a "girl," properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She's the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there's a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl - one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers, or you're drawn for no good reason to girls who take their time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course. Sometimes in a restaurant I'll catch myself staring at the girl at the next table to mine because I like the shape of her nose. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">But no one can insist that his 100% perfect girl correspond to some preconceived type. Much as I like noses, I can't recall the shape of hers - or even if she had one. All I can remember for sure is that she was no great beauty. It's weird. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">"Yesterday on the street I passed the 100% girl," I tell someone. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">"Yeah?" he says. "Good-looking?" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">"Not really." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">"Your favorite type, then?" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">"I don't know. I can't seem to remember anything about her - the shape of her eyes or the size of her breasts." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">"Strange." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">"Yeah. Strange." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">"So anyhow," he says, already bored, "what did you do? Talk to her? Follow her?" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">"Nah. Just passed her on the street." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">She's walking east to west, and I west to east. It's a really nice April morning. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Wish I could talk to her. Half an hour would be plenty: just ask her about herself, tell her about myself, and - what I'd really like to do - explain to her the complexities of fate that have led to our passing each other on a side street in Harajuku on a beautiful April morning in 1981. This was something sure to be crammed full of warm secrets, like an antique clock build when peace filled the world. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">After talking, we'd have lunch somewhere, maybe see a Woody Allen movie, stop by a hotel bar for cocktails. With any kind of luck, we might end up in bed. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">Now the distance between us has narrowed to fifteen yards. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">How can I approach her? What should I say? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">"Good morning, miss. Do you think you could spare half an hour for a little conversation?" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">Ridiculous. I'd sound like an insurance salesman. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">"Pardon me, but would you happen to know if there is an all-night cleaners in the neighborhood?" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">No, this is just as ridiculous. I'm not carrying any laundry, for one thing. Who's going to buy a line like that? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">Maybe the simple truth would do. "Good morning. You are the 100% perfect girl for me." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">No, she wouldn't believe it. Or even if she did, she might not want to talk to me. Sorry, she could say, I might be the 100% perfect girl for you, but you're not the 100% boy for me. It could happen. And if I found myself in that situation, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">I'd probably go to pieces. I'd never recover from the shock. I'm thirty-two, and that's what growing older is all about. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">We pass in front of a flower shop. A small, warm air mass touches my skin. The asphalt is damp, and I catch the scent of roses. I can't bring myself to speak to her. She wears a white sweater, and in her right hand she holds a crisp white envelope lacking only a stamp. So: She's written somebody a letter, maybe spent the whole night writing, to judge from the sleepy look in her eyes. The envelope could contain every secret she's ever had. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">I take a few more strides and turn: She's lost in the crowd. <br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">Now, of course, I know exactly what I should have said to her. It would have been a long speech, though, far too long for me to have delivered it properly. The ideas I come up with are never very practical. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">Oh, well. It would have started "Once upon a time" and ended "A sad story, don't you think?" <br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">Once upon a time, there lived a boy and a girl. The boy was eighteen and the girl sixteen. He was not unusually handsome, and she was not especially beautiful. They were just an ordinary lonely boy and an ordinary lonely girl, like all the others. But they believed with their whole hearts that somewhere in the world there lived the 100% perfect boy and the 100% perfect girl for them. Yes, they believed in a miracle. And that miracle actually happened. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">One day the two came upon each other on the corner of a street. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">"This is amazing," he said. "I've been looking for you all my life. You may not believe this, but you're the 100% perfect girl for me." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">"And you," she said to him, "are the 100% perfect boy for me, exactly as I'd pictured you in every detail. It's like a dream." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">They sat on a park bench, held hands, and told each other their stories hour after hour. They were not lonely anymore. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">They had found and been found by their 100% perfect other. What a wonderful thing it is to find and be found by your 100% perfect other. It's a miracle, a cosmic miracle. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">As they sat and talked, however, a tiny, tiny sliver of doubt took root in their hearts: Was it really all right for one's dreams to come true so easily? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">And so, when there came a momentary lull in their conversation, the boy said to the girl, "Let's test ourselves - just once. If we really are each other's 100% perfect lovers, then sometime, somewhere, we will meet again without fail. And when that happens, and we know that we are the 100% perfect ones, we'll marry then and there. What do you think?" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">"Yes," she said, "that is exactly what we should do." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">And so they parted, she to the east, and he to the west. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">The test they had agreed upon, however, was utterly unnecessary. They should never have undertaken it, because they really and truly were each other's 100% perfect lovers, and it was a miracle that they had ever met. But it was impossible for them to know this, young as they were. The cold, indifferent waves of fate proceeded to toss them unmercifully. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">One winter, both the boy and the girl came down with the season's terrible inluenza, and after drifting for weeks between life and death they lost all memory of their earlier years. When they awoke, their heads were as empty as the young D. H. Lawrence's piggy bank. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">They were two bright, determined young people, however, and through their unremitting efforts they were able to acquire once again the knowledge and feeling that qualified them to return as full-fledged members of society. Heaven be praised, they became truly upstanding citizens who knew how to transfer from one subway line to another, who were fully capable of sending a special-delivery letter at the post office. Indeed, they even experienced love again, sometimes as much as 75% or even 85% love. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">Time passed with shocking swiftness, and soon the boy was thirty-two, the girl thirty. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">One beautiful April morning, in search of a cup of coffee to start the day, the boy was walking from west to east, while the girl, intending to send a special-delivery letter, was walking from east to west, but along the same narrow street in the Harajuku neighborhood of Tokyo. They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each felt a rumbling in their chest. And they knew: </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">She is the 100% perfect girl for me. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">He is the 100% perfect boy for me. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">But the glow of their memories was far too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of fouteen years earlier. Without a word, they passed each other, disappearing into the crowd. Forever. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">A sad story, don't you think? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">Yes, that's it, that is what I should have said to her. </span>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-60951649596359899852011-04-14T07:57:00.012+08:002011-04-14T15:08:12.001+08:00Rush not, young one...<div><div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 85%;">One reason why I enjoy running so much, or doing endurance sports for that matter, is because it attunes me to that still small voice of God. This morning, I learnt something new.</span><br />
<div><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 85%;">In the past few weeks, I have been struggling with the issue of impatience. I found great difficulty in fully surrendering this issue to God even though I chose to believe I have done so. This was not something new to me, I have been a pretty impatient chap all my life. Whatever I set out to do, I will get it done as soon as possible. Many times at the end, I question myself whether what I did was right. I went ahead doing things before thinking about the consequences and inevitably it led to many bad decisions. It is not right to say that I had not at least gleaned some lessons from all my past experiences, but I think I still have a long way to go and God is still moulding me.</span></div><div><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 85%;">I set out to do 16km this morning with a background of 3 10km runs 2 weeks ago and a 12km run a month ago. I thought I was able to handle the distance, but I thought wrong. At the 8km U-turn point, I was feeling really good. I was truly surprised at my level of fitness! However, it was not meant to be when at the 11km mark my right knee started to hurt. I have not experienced such pain before and attributed it to my right ilio-tibial band (ITB). Throughout my years of running, I have never strained my ITB before; when it acted up this morning, I decided to take it easy for the remaining 5km. The first thing that came into my mind then was 'learn to walk before you run'.</span></div><div><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 85%;">How apt. I have been trying to 'run' in my day to day life before I had fully mastered how to 'walk'! I stopped to stretch my ITB and tried to continue albeit at a slower pace. After 1km, it acted up again. This time I decided to walk instead. During that short walk, many thoughts jostled for attention in my mind. However, I was only interested with what God was trying to teach me. I finished the 16km run with a slow jog in the last 2km.</span></div><div><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 85%;">My conclusion at the end is that His plans are always greater and better than what we think is best for us. Therefore, is it not better if we left everything in His hands and let Him map out everything for us in due time?</span></div><div><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 85%;"><em>'For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts.' - Isaiah 55:8-9</em></span></div><div><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 85%;">Therefore, I am to focus on my 'walking' before thinking about 'running'. </span></div><div><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 85%;"><em>'But I say, <strong>walk</strong> by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.' - Galatians 5:16</em></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 85%;"><em>'...so as to <strong>walk</strong> in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to Him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God.' - Colossians 1:10</em></span></div><div><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 85%;"><em>'...holding fast to the Word of life, so that in the day of Christ I may be proud that I did not <strong>run</strong> in vain or labour in vain.' - Philippians 2:16</em></span></div><div><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 85%;">This summarises everything: <em>'but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall <strong>run</strong> and not be weary; they shall <strong>walk</strong> and not faint.' - Isaiah 40:31</em></span></div></div></div>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-17417566501806853432010-11-14T05:25:00.003+08:002010-11-14T11:53:05.694+08:00You reap what you sow..<span style="font-size:85%;">I did the toughest race of my life today..It was humbling and at the same time enlightening. Being in the youngest age-group in this event means that we are in the last wave. This also means that we have the most disadvantageous cut-off timing: 1hr for the swim and 3hrs for the bike.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">In the build up to the World Championships, I hardly spent any time in the pool. Bike and run trainings were also minimal. I went into the competition with the mentality of just completing it. However, I did set myself 5hr 45mins to complete it. This was the timing of my first ever 70.3 Half-Ironman in Singapore last year.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Having not done much swim training and this being a wetsuit swim in cold waters, I was quite worried about the swim leg. I made it a point to warm up in the cold waters before the wave start and my body slowly aclimatized. The gun went off and everyone made a dash for the waters. I stayed behind, knowing my limits. It was a very choppy swim and I struggled a lot. I am thankful for the canoeist who stayed by my side throughout almost half of the swim. The thought of taking more than 1hr in the swim caused me to push myself harder. I did not want my day to end before it had even started. I did not come all the way here to swim! I was last out of the waters in my group and managed 46mins for the swim leg.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The swim took a lot of out me and I struggled on the bike in the first few miles. I was alone and the headwind was insane. I had 3hrs 10mins to make it back before being disqualified. It was the most pressurizing bike ride I have ever done. I was averaging 28km/h in the first few miles and this was not good. I was not going to make the cut-off time for the bike at this rate. I grinded hard to put one leg ahead of another, churning the gears as my legs burned from the swim. After 20km into the bike leg, I managed to find my legs and I was averaging around 33-34km/h. I then bummed into Jocelyn 10km from the finish and we completed the bike leg together. I completed the bike leg in 2hrs 53mins.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Knowing that the cut-off time for the run is 3hrs, I knew that there was nothing between me and the finishing line. Jocelyn and I decided to run together. However, we lost each other in transition and I ended up waiting almost 15mins for her as I see Jon Ma charging down for his 2nd and final lap of the run. The temptation to go ahead alone and make my target time was great, but in the end I chose to wait. Seeing no sign of Jocelyn after all this time, I went ahead realising that there was no way I can complete the race in my target time of 5hr 45mins. </span><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Throughout the run, I kept my eyes peeled for Jocelyn, hoping that she is already on the course running. I finally spotted her 8km to the end. By then, she was already 3km from the finish. I was finally relieved. I increased my pace and completed the run in 2hr 14mins (including the waiting time).</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I do not regret the time wasted waiting for Jocelyn as I learnt that triathlon is more than just an individual sport. This was something that I was reminded again in this trip. Professionals like Julie Dibens and Michael Raelert chatted to us without airs. Everybody treated everybody like family. I did not want to sacrifice that for personal gain.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I do not deny that I am very disappointed with my showing at the World Championships, but I believe that the lessons learnt here will serve me well in the future races. You reap what you sow, and I have no excuses for that. This is the toughest race I have ever done and I hope never to feel like that again.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I am very thankful to everyone who has encouraged me and who have believed in me. Thank you so much for your love, care and concern. I will come back stronger. Promise.</span>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-32614195781575040192010-11-05T16:12:00.007+08:002010-11-05T17:04:02.025+08:00Getting it off my chest<span style="font-size:85%;">Clearwater, Florida. Ironman 70.3 World Championship. I never for once took this opportunity to participate in the above-mentioned race for granted. I never believed in going there just to complete the race. I even set targets for myself to smash at the event. It was to be a personal best, all out, flat out race for me...</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">However, things never turn out the way you want them to. 2 back-to-back bike incidents put me off running for 2 months. On top of that, ever since Ironman Switzerland, I have never really gotten back the feeling of what it means to swim, cycle and run. I could not find the reason to continue doing what I used to love most. There are times however that I battle this mindset and take myself out in the course of training. I was fighting both the body and the mind. It was tiring. There are occasions when I get a glimpse of <a href="http://killerconcept.blogspot.com/2010/10/closer-to-edge.html">what training is supposed to be like</a>, but those days are few and far between.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Words cannot describe the disappointment I feel when I go out for an intended 90km bike ride and stop short at 30km because I just simply cannot will myself to carry on. It is not out of physical exhaustion, but I was mentally dead. Each day that passes draws me nearer to the race; each day passes with me losing the meaning of this sport.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I cannot understand how people like Joshua Li or Jonathan Ma sustain that fire within to keep pressing forward to greater heights. What drives them? People like Ling Er who came back from a broken femur to win Ironman 70.3 Philippines and subsequently qualify for the Ironman 70.3 World Championship. What drove her?</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Perhaps the only reason why I am still trying so hard to train and race amidst all this shit going through my mind is this: ego. Ego can sustain your drive for a while, but in the long run you lose yourself and become someone you yourself cannot recognize.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I started to reflect on this recently and posed myself some hard questions. If I stop doing triathlons or stop training, will I still be me; will I still be Norman? Will my friends view me differently? Who am I, actually?</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">To be very honest, I have no answers to the questions myself. All I can do is to keep asking more questions and let time reveal the answers to me. I have no idea how I will perform at the race next Saturday. I have no idea how I want to race. I do not know what I will learn from this experience or how it will shape the way I decide about things in the future, but I guess for now I have to put my ego down and wake up to the fact that probably the best I can do there is to complete the race.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I am sorry to all who has put your faith in me.</span>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23790554.post-60467665574886131162010-11-03T21:44:00.000+08:002010-11-05T17:39:02.442+08:00Basic sciences for today!<span style="font-size:85%;"></span> <div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Here are more from </span><a href="http://fakescience.tumblr.com/"><span style="font-size:85%;">Fake Science</span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">. Enjoy!</span></div><div align="center"><br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 246px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535996267846708130" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlkBMnilfIjeonEvEnNgJ3yUexGVaPFYG0445pFOgMuVhCKDqx0MonQ2h1s9TogPdmLfZ2xSPJ_YFJ_nOQCBgkXrWsTR_6Xw3eScOIzMU7YGBM2KpqhSBmsiyV8ZkDBcG78IiZ/s320/dinosaur.jpg" /> <p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">How the dinosaurs died</span></p><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAGOMJgeMwI5eLLXgQm80mXKRSIY1Rw_eQlvCu5DPRkONszqvcjaaDT2PiW3czAwjE_iRYSPXvdjHh-T6j74jc2DPNHgC4_1By0VMuGa-kOyWGZLaqwSbMFIBncOD79MKzQk4L/s1600/electrolytes.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 247px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535996268326249058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAGOMJgeMwI5eLLXgQm80mXKRSIY1Rw_eQlvCu5DPRkONszqvcjaaDT2PiW3czAwjE_iRYSPXvdjHh-T6j74jc2DPNHgC4_1By0VMuGa-kOyWGZLaqwSbMFIBncOD79MKzQk4L/s320/electrolytes.bmp" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Inside your 100plus!<br /></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOm0QovBph9oIR2gtpdUh4MVZOXYrwSU-lZA9ZhvbpJkw7LXRJk0683KfqTih3tMP1kjaTRlLpisyVdfCy1XAV_RqqsUvyFk4BNxNum2NmfXEvbNJf7vk0jrF_BcYXH6oDpSm0/s1600/miners.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 247px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535996265424167122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOm0QovBph9oIR2gtpdUh4MVZOXYrwSU-lZA9ZhvbpJkw7LXRJk0683KfqTih3tMP1kjaTRlLpisyVdfCy1XAV_RqqsUvyFk4BNxNum2NmfXEvbNJf7vk0jrF_BcYXH6oDpSm0/s320/miners.bmp" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Demystifying solar power</span><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTj7EYbB73EeAzRzpDHP1OgqyjGBBdYnyYcew36p6sysrh3PFrA77zkxpvtUnk4OmpOnEUarijSRPz0wZQHrUEKvG1f3uev47eOqdIY_3Gh1BXWniIjCfHjoTg20FnKgM4hheO/s1600/oil.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 246px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535996258528264354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTj7EYbB73EeAzRzpDHP1OgqyjGBBdYnyYcew36p6sysrh3PFrA77zkxpvtUnk4OmpOnEUarijSRPz0wZQHrUEKvG1f3uev47eOqdIY_3Gh1BXWniIjCfHjoTg20FnKgM4hheO/s320/oil.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">The process of oil mining<br /></span><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF99f-z-M9fXQ8rg72E4yDE6ARO70r_F9uQLOoQ5H0LtI0Yxurn0Qar5zXAUWfw-sVHJ7WqgduFaxuRQsqb5yL6temibbGZc7dB7w0ztjvjjyPwpsPnlgsPJ9hwE9uWSmHr9AV/s1600/sun.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 246px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535996258218255330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF99f-z-M9fXQ8rg72E4yDE6ARO70r_F9uQLOoQ5H0LtI0Yxurn0Qar5zXAUWfw-sVHJ7WqgduFaxuRQsqb5yL6temibbGZc7dB7w0ztjvjjyPwpsPnlgsPJ9hwE9uWSmHr9AV/s320/sun.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> Composition of the sun</span></div></div></div>Norman Linhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09905170663951780284noreply@blogger.com0