Jakarta, Indonesia: November 8-13

The team fell in love with 2-year-old Mohmmed Fikri.

We are happy to announce the completion of the first Operation Smile mission to Jakarta, Indonesia, held Nov. 8-13.

This mission was held at a very well equipped and modern hospital in Jakarta – the Gading Pluit Hospital. We worked closely with a very supportive group of Indonesian organizers, including the Jakarta Provincial Government and the Indonesian Navy.

The Navy helped us with sourcing patients from Jakarta and the surrounding areas. They also supported us by providing dormitories (converted from Army barracks) for the children. The International team consisted volunteers from Bangladesh, Canada, China, India, Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, United Kingdom and Uzbekistan.

Talisman Energy Indonesia, an oil and gas company based in Jakarta was our primary sponsor. They also sent plenty of volunteers to help as translators and Patient Imaging Technicians (PITs).

We screened 94 patients and provided surgery for 79, mostly cleft lip and palate. We all fell in love with 2-year-old Mohmmed Fikri. He has big soulful eyes and a cheery personality which brought sunshine to our hearts. His young mother said that she was very worried that they would not make it to Jakarta and had travelled 80 km on motorbike to the City Centre only to arrive on Day 2 of surgery.

We fixed his smile the next day. We also repaired smiles for 3 siblings out of a family of 4 boys, all with cleft lips. The eldest had TB and was very sad that he couldn’t get surgery. However, we are making plans for him to be seen next year or by other cleft organizations in the city.

All of us established great bonds with the local Indonesian team and hope to return again next year, with more excitement in our hearts, and to reach out to more children in Indonesia suffering from facial deformities.

Best regards,

Rachel Woon,
Program Coordinator,Operation Smile Singapore

I’ve been asked to blog about many things. Nurses’ Day Celebration @ TTSH, MOH Nurses’ Merit Award @ Mandarin, Neuroscience ICU Promotion Party, National Day Parade, my exposure @ The Alfred ICU (Melbourne), etc. I’ve drafted a few, deleted most, decided on one that conjoins all, which was and will be the core of it all. Food. I’d like to think that I eat to live, but many of my compatriots would beg to defer. ‘David super kuat makan’, most would say. Where the Chinese would translate my name to ‘Da Wei’, which absolutely coincidentally means ‘big appetite’. None of you will disagree that we are big on food, and calories are always calling out to us each time we lay our eyes on them. The initiation of the cephalic phase, then comes the salivation, increase in gastric motility, chicken wings turning into little dancing queens, chanting our names to sink our teeth into their juicy, tender, succulent meat. It’s finger lickin’ good… 62226111. ‘KFC Delivery, How may I help you..?’

As I was saying (3 hours ago), food is pertinent for survival. It’s the basic of all necessities, our best friend. What happens when it becomes our enemy?

I miss her, really. Life goes on, I know. But it’s hard to comprehend that with the advancement of medical technology today, nothing can be done. This is what happens when life gets the best of us, and when what we as nurses have to offer for our patients depletes. Our body degenerates, spirits battered. We are biological beings too. We are vulnerable to the same bugs that gives you the flu. We are susceptible to those Met-Resistant-Sickening-Arses. We are too at danger of hitting cars-in-oma street. We are after all, humans.

Humans - of or characteristic of people as opposed to God or machines, especially in being susceptible to weaknesses.

“My dearest Vijaya, you are an inspiration to me. Not only as a nurse, but also as a person. How you persevere in your care of your patients during your times of sickness unknowingly, held on to your end of the bargain fulfilling your duties. It has always been a pleasure working with you and knowing you. I’ll miss the times we used to chat during our night spongings.”

It causes me to think, of the value that we place on each other. On the importance and meaning we weigh on our actions. Is it worth it? Is it worth it to say that one is working too slow? To laugh and scorn at people’s mistakes? To nibble on a person’s past? Is it worth it to make enemies? Life is definitely short. It’s shorter for some.

Food. What happens when food becomes our enemy? We refuse to see it, taste it, chew it, nor swallow it. Our basic requirements of carbohydrates, fibres and proteins diminishes. Thus, leading to death. So we must eat. We must not make enemies. We must have a clear conscience. Forgive.

It’s when we work so hard that we forget to eat, no? Day by day, it goes by and somehow we suddenly realize that we are tired. Tired of all the complaints that comes from relatives, the long hours that we put in completing our tasks. Just so tired of the constant changes in protocols and the introduction of new ones, which most times we doubt it’s applicability. So tired of the relentless discussion about hospital acquired infections caused by healthcare providers’ ignorance. So enervated of unfulfilled promises, of feeling unappreciated from within and about. Was there something that could have been done differently?

Well, life is full of surprises. Yet some surprises surprises us of how unsurprising it is. I’d like to be stupefied, to be bewildered. And i’d like to know that we’re not forgotten.

To my classmates with love…

I’m sure there’s always something that is memorable. Something that sticks in your mind, subconsciously interacting and influencing every move in your gregarious life. How we use terms like ‘Don’t prey prey ah’ in our commonest of conversations, or the unduly way we incorporate dressing styles of the casts in Grey’s Anatomy in our work places. Yet, what engraved itself on me most is none other than the heroic metal clunks of Optimus Prime.

When my childhood craze of Superman gradually lost its momentous cape, I religiously converted to those shining alloy autobots. Strong and sturdy, fast and chunky, rugged and rusty, zest and zippy. How I dreamed I owned Bumble Bee. The angel who never fails risking his life for the one he’s charged to protect, and he looks way cool in that Camero disguise. It’s embarrassing how I regressed myself to when I was a boy, excitedly clenching my teeth on every bend and punch they take in Transformers 2. I felt like a kid again.

When I was 5 (which wasn’t too long ago mind you), my dad bought an off yellow-orangey Volvo 240GL. It was huge, tough and boxed. I still remember how the engine raved and sped ahead all the other feeble weaklings on the road, brightly shinning it’s armor on all my scrawny little primary school friend’s faces. Darn, it was glitzy and gaudy! With much conceit and pride, I’d boast about how my mom looks so hip driving in that metal slug or how astounding it is to see my dad behind the wheels.
2 years later, it failed me.

My dad was driving down a narrow curvy slope some 500 meters away from home, while a bus came speeding up the same slope slammed right into him, both vehicles crashing head on. Splinters of broken glass filled the air like vapor, bursting in kinetic energy they flew directly into his eyes. Coupled with the fact that he had glaucoma, he lost his sight on his left eye. During those days when ophthalmological technology is still a chasm from what it is presently, any hope of cure for such a condition was bleak. Where was Optimus Prime when my dad needed him most? Why didn’t the Volvo 240GL transform into an autobot shielding him from those splinters? A deceptocon would’ve been alright too!

It is when events like these, changes lives forever. Recently, I had a patient who passed away after a month in the ICU. He had a bad heart, a bad lung, and bad blood supply to the brain. But it’s his daughter that I recall so clearly. She witnessed how we resuscitated her father, dialyzed him, sponged, cleaned, fed, repositioned, counseled, encouraged, reassured, advised families, educated, listened to, cared for. She got a good glimpse of what nursing was all about. And one day she said, ‘I want to be a nurse, just like all of you’. We were her Optimus Prime, we were her Bumble Bee.

So again, I managed to relish another movie or a childhood past to something nursing worthy. Little things we do, or the routines we dread each day we drag our heavy heads to work, is noticed. We change lives, we are catalysts of influence. It is events like these, that makes me feel proud being a nurse.

My dad completely lost his sight. From narrowing visual fields to only identifying day and night, glaucoma got the best out of him. 10 years on and I realize that he had his own personal metal clunks. It was my mom, my 2 brothers and me. We are his eyes.

We are his heroes. He is my hero.

I personally like pigs, though I don’t have one as a pet. My colleagues seem to have deep fondness over them too. ‘David the Pig’, a label on my water bottle I use at work, unduly awarded to me by my senior. A sign of affection I suppose, or defection. No doubt Pauline, with more than a dozen pig-gurines in her office stands tall as the ‘Swine-Idol-Enthusiast Champion’. And now, the whole world is talking about pigs. Or rather, ‘Zhu’ in Chinese. WHO is having bi-daily updates on them, Channel News Asia has hourly articles about all pigs around the world, and there’s even a website tributed to them (Check out www.swineflu.sg). So let’s talk about pigs.

I love pigs pork. I love to eat pork. It’s succulent to it’s core in Bak Kut Teh, exceptionally tasty in Balestier (freaking overcharged those buggers). I cannot imagine should Singapore stop imports of pork! The Malaysian Government recently froze the approval of permits on porky-product imports, Egypt is on a killing spree (bloody Martyrs), and Singaporeans are going for buffets. Buffets of all sorts, Chocolate buffets, Vegetarian buffets, Porridge buffets, Pork buffets? I can never stand buffets, people eat and binge, drink and pee. I guess the idea of having an NG tube and a urinary catheter doesn’t seem too appealing as a source for continuous feeding and eliminating. No, i’m not making sense. However, there is a point to what i’m saying and i’m getting to it. I just need time to think what i’m trying to say.

With the advent increase in Pandemic Alert level here has caused many inconveniences. But it never fails to amaze me how accomodating people can be. Hong Kong shuts a hotel with more than 300 people in it, and they say they’re enjoying Australian liqour and chocolates. Travellers are on house arrest and they seem to be happy of the forced leave. But if it was me, i’d go crazy! I cannot be controlled nor can I allow my life be dictated. I have choices to make and I tend to make them wisely. By far, I have not regretted on most decisions made. Though I do hate myself for being enticed into buying a facial cream that promises perfect complexion and flawless cheeks. Pig brain.

We make decisions everyday in our line of work. And we’re trained to do so promptly, accurately, and assertively. The decisions we make involve lives, lives of others in our hands. Critical Thinking Skills, if I recall correctly, is what they call it in Nursing School. How we assess situations and identify needed interventions in emergencies, carrying out required and immediate actions in reviving an asystole. Sounds interesting, no? It’s not, it’s stressful. But we need to do it, no matter what.

Decisions are hard to make. It’s even harder when the decision you make affects others. Your family, your colleagues, the society at large. Yet, most times the decision our superiors make are meant for the benefit of all. The Republic quarantines all 300 of them to curtail imminent transmissions of the flu, the Egyptians foresees the likelihood of pig-to-human infections justifying  the slaughter. So there must be a reason for everything you decide, a reason that proves benefits outweighing limitations.

This reason, should and must be communicated well.

So to all pig lovers out there. Choose wisely, should you or should you not have Bak Kut Teh for dinner tonight.

Updated - I stress again, I will eat Bak Kut Teh if I want to even if there’s a pig-flu outbreak. I’m no pre-schooler.

Animals. They get hungry, they feed. Tired, they sleep. Angry, they fight. Bored, they play. Survival drive. What makes us different? Emotion, comprehension, religion, believes, restrain, family planning, aspirations, desires, motivation, wants, lusts… Survival drive. Eh? Same like animals what!

Before anyone commits me to psychiatric doomsday, let me prove a point. I’m always trying to prove myself. That’s what most of us do! In a Halloween party during my pre-school days, I dressed up as Superman. He’s my all time favourite, the man of steel, faster than a speeding bullet, it’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s…*humming the theme song, gazing*. Well, here’s the thing. A classmate of mine came as Spiderman, and that worked me up quite a bit. We’d bicker at each other telling great heroic stories of the legends, stomping our feet insisting that our own is the master of the universe. My mom stopped buying me Superman merchandise after we gave each other a few pinch-mark-dark-circles, and clearly I wasn’t made of steel. Consequences of childish stubbornness.

Competition. It’s everywhere. From the queues at Donut Factory, to school sporting events, to expressways, and of course in our work places. I remember telling my brother how it’s so different for us nurses compared to the corporate world. How we don’t immerse ourselves with ‘Fashion Screenings’, ‘Brand Scans’, or ECG’s:- ‘ElectronicCashGrams’. Yet, we nurses drive at are equivocal. Recognition, appreciation, promotion. Ooh, how our eyes glow green in envy now as this thought hits hard as we think of the people who were recognised, appreciated, and promoted. The ones whom we ickily disagree of their raved esteem. I have come to realise that in nursing, it’s not as simple as just  subtracting an ’I’ from your title (i.e. SN II to SN I), or adding an ass ‘S’ to it (SN to SSN). What irks me most, is that we nurses do think it is as simple as that. See it this way,  subtracting an ‘I’ means there should be less of yourself but more of others. Disregarding the need to satisfy self and being able to look into the needs of others (SN I  I ). Or being an ass-set to the entire team in teaching, mentoring, and auditing (SSN).

The large number of nurses in one organisation makes it difficult for anyone to be promoted with automacity. Hence I fully understand if it does take a little more time for my turn. Yet I know of colleagues who were denied of any form of recompense, nor tangible accolades. Colleagues who look beyond themselves and proved to be an asset. This has to be looked at with deep consideration, thus resolving attrition due to organisational dissatisfaction.

I like to think that we nurses are all about ‘Making A Difference’. Here’s something I spewed during our last Nurses’ Day Celebration here at TTSH.

I chose to be a nurse for the smiles on the elder’s faces,
for the appreciation of the cared,
and the joy in lives restored.
For a dose of sleepless nights sponging patients,
an injection of adrenaline resuscitating,
and an infusion of fulfillment when one discharges home.
For the love we share for our patients which surpasses mere human understanding,
for the sacrifices we make to reach and achieve goals aspired.
For we are strong and committed,
willful and spirited,
caring and compassionate.
I chose to be a nurse,
because of nurses.

It’s also for the fulfillment in being a role model to juniors and being an encouragement to seniors.

So I contradict myself again, we are nothing like corporate animals. Because we do Make A Difference.

There are many things that are dear to us. For me, it’s my MacBook. My first ever self-supported gimmick that has been with me for a year now. To others, it could be their cars, iPods, teddybears, blankies, dentures…Yes, my Mac is more important than my car.

Dentures. They’re like your contact lenses if you can’t see, or your hearing aids if you can’t hear. Now dentures are really important.

‘I’m sorry we lost your dentures. Must have got lost in transition. Entirely unintentional.’ Try telling that to an eighty year old lady who feels bare and naked orally.

So how do you keep your dentures secured? Use Polident.

P/S: That’s my mom. And no, I didn’t lose her dentures. Won’t even wanna touch it! It’s her precious…

Ever thought of being famous? Honestly. Come on…Don’t look away! Yes, you did! So did I.

8 years in the running and still I dream of being on stage in that Kodak Theatre singing my heart guts out. No, i don’t have that Kelly Clarkson voice, neither do I have Archuleta’s goodlooks (Can’t say David cause the last 2 finalists were Davids, and who else’s name is David too? *Hint*Hint*Points at self with little dignity). Yet, I think to myself rather spontaneously often, I can do it anyhow. Well to all the ‘I-think-I-can-do-it’ people, just hear out what I have to say/type.

American Idol is as such, hundreds if not thousands of people queue and wait for the chance to meet the awesome four, whom some query their abilities to perform. Idolatas claim that they were ‘born to do this’ and some seek ‘a change in their lives for a better future’. Who knows who or what they’ll become when they were born? No one, only God knows.

Somehow I feel, Nursing has become just like American Idol. Minus the fame, the glamor, the money, the popularity, the… Okay, it’s nothing like American Idol. I just needed a reason to tie this in to something ‘Nursing Worthy’. But wait up, don’t move on to Shefaly’s blog just yet (she’s gonna kill me). I will make sense, i think.

The current recession has shaken many people from different stratas and class. The rich became richer, the poor became poorer. The rich became poor, the poor became, poor-poor. And people scramble to find meets end. Job losses and pay cuts just ain’t the thing to be looking forward to these days. Hence, i purely understand the WDA’s movement in luring matured students and youngsters to take up healthcare positions. But then, it compromises one thing. Care.

‘I think I can do this’. ‘I was born to do this’. ‘It’s good money’. ‘I’ll have a secured job’. Job. I. Money. Got the drift?

Nursing is not a job, and it’s not about you. It’s a lifelong process. For the sake of our patients, the sick, and the future 80 year old me, please don’t join Nursing if you think it’s just a job. Don’t think you can do it, don’t say you were born to do this. And please don’t tell me it’s your passion. Passion, such a subjective word. If anyone knows anything about passion, it’s Abraham Lincoln who exorcised slavery. No one can be really passionate about something until he or she achieves something great. Florence Nightingale had passion, Mahatma Gandhi had passion, Jesus Christ had passion. I reckon you won’t equate yourself of such stature, no?

But be a nurse, a healthcare provider, if you know that you want to do it. And you’ll want to do it, because you would’ve done it anyway for the sake of doing it for the want and desire of doing it. Doing. Do. If you have that zest in your guts telling you that you’ll clean the patient in his diarrhea state, and you’ll dig deep into faeces to find out if a patient’s bleeding, knowing in all good will, that your life is your patients. I’ll let you nurse me when i’m 80. Pun intended.

I take back what I said about American Idol, it’s just like Nursing after all. It’s either you make it or break it (as Paula Abdul would say). Just do it if you know you’re not gonna break it.

Did I make sense? Or am I gonna lose my job as a blogger?

Choices. The good and the bad. Sometimes they bring us to our knees, at times they’ll brush us up like Vitamin C.

Life is full of choices. I mean, to every single detail, we need to decide. You pant on what color shirt you’d like wear to make a statement, or should I go for a swim&tan or just a swim will do. I think, I will not turn on the light this time while I play the PSP. Irregular. Passive.

Choices are like… lotions. There’s so many different purposes to which a certain can derive. There’s oil control, active moisturising, then there’s active sun-blocking. Heck, even skin tightening. You choose and decide on which lotion you’d like to use on days that are forthcoming. Confused. Sedate.

I take 250mg of Vitamin C daily. Something my mom and the entire healthcare profession advocates to boost the immune system. Besides, anything more will just be flushed down each time you visit the throne and leak. Then again, you’d choose if there’s a need for double dosage when you’re tired or feeling rather sickly. But will it make a difference? Tonic. Clonic.

Life uncertainties are completely out of my spectrum of impulsation, my comprehension. I salute those who make right choices daily. Yet i’m sure they’ve made a whole lot of bad ones before. Experimental. Decisive cloning.

It’s 3pm and on my only day off for the week i’ve made a choice. To stay at home and relax. Pump in the C’s and forego the E’s. The sun will wait, my health won’t. Work. Health. Sickening. Basket.

Still, I have not decided. I cannot imagine the entirety of this emaculation. I cannot stand still, I can’t choose. I need to. I’m hungry.

Should I have ice-cream for lunch?

Should I?

What do nurses do when it’s reaching Christmas and New Year seasons, but don’t have the luxury to celebrate? They have an in-hospital party!

First, they decorate the hospital.

Then, they decorate themselves. Wearing what they will never get to put on at work.

And their Nursing Directors and party planning committees

Then they dance

And dance

And dance…

Then they eat, eat, and eat…

What do they do when the party is coming to an end?

They take pictures

 Enjoy the least of all species in this profession

They glitter with pride of all their achievements

They accept one another

And accept more than the other

So what do they do when the party is over?

They eat again.