adelaidemedblog

Listen to this song or tell me if you like it:
Kings of Leon - The Runner

I haven’t watched as much TV this year as I did in the past two weeks.

This is not really a bad thing. I learnt about such things as what cow heart, rotten flesh, and some other decidedly unpalatable stuff tastes like. I learnt how smart small (and big) octopuses can be, about how the Aryan Brotherhood is the real organisation running America (from inside jail), and drooled at a list of the top ten pizza places in America. I learnt how fun soccer is to watch, even if the two countries playing consist of former or future terrorists/people I would be told to kill if I was in the army. I watched some crazy wildlife photographers get themselves into unbelievably perilous positions just for kicks and saw elephants charging, komodo dragons standing up 7 foot on their hind legs, buffalo doing serious damage to a car door, and sharks slicing people up in the water or in a boat. I watched Medium. I joined Bourdon on his travels in Vietnam, and accompanied that Taiwanese guy with a American-English accent travelling around China making an absolute fool of himself.

I discovered that having four laptops in the same room is the same as having one if no one wants to play a LAN game, that Acer laptops suck while Toshiba’s are fantastic. Apparently Apple isn’t too bad either, although I would appreciate it if mine would stop kernel panicking (crashing) on me.

I learnt how to cook goooood chicken curry, a very accomplished fish porridge, some nicely seasoned mince pork with matching vegetables, as well as shortbread on the side, and that a steel wok without a teflon coating and a stainless steel spatula-thing are irreplacable instruments of tastebud tantilisation in the kitchen. Sup-chow hor fan is only a lot of liquid, some kai lan and a cup of cornflour away, and of the newest taste sensations, chilli sauce bolognaise with rice is the most convenient. Oysters actually taste better when left in the fridge for a few days, and cooking a good oyster omelette requires you to put in the oysters last. Last but absolutely not least, Kalhua is a good ingredient to add to your cake that you are making to entertain friends (you can tell I didn’t learn that one).

IV accesses, laryngeal masks, airway clearance, guidelle (spelling?) airway insertions and even digital blocks were all learnt and performed on a variety of occasions, while the rest - epidurals, spinal blocks, intubations, general IV infusions, and eye blocks (and other blocks) were watched with great interest and fascination. Ok the eye blocks were pretty gruesome but otherwise, all is good. Endoscopys and colonoscopys (how do you plueralise these?) were perhaps initially the most fascinating procedures that I had a chance of knowing anything about from my study, toe and fingernail removals were the most cringe-worthy, and lap-choles (short for laproscopic cholecystectomy, or keyhole removal of the gallbladder) were a fascinating insight into a procedure with a lot of relevance to Case 7, Marlene Hall. Observations extended into the operating theatre on a good number of days. Perhaps the best was saved for last - a leg amputation, crisply showing one of the possible effects of smoking on the body (thoroughly calcified arteries), as well as a reminder that the anatomy of the sciatic nerve gives it great similarity to the thick tendons of the leg muscles (it took the surgeon and the registrar three guesses to get it right). Arthroscopies of the knee and shoulder, as well as total knee replacements were things certainly to get used to in time, although I suspect that being a carpenter/sculptor/power tool fanatic would help in this regard. I was surprised by the amount of blood spilt when a piece of ear was removed, owing to skin cancer, and was open-mouthed and gawky-eyed at the circumcision of a 19-year old patient who had hitherto been unable to maintain an erection due to the pain from an infection caused by an overly restrictive foreskin. The O and G list gave me a clearer (perhaps than necessary) understanding of prolapsed vaginal walls of women who had had multiple natural births.

And then there were the C-sections, and then the abortions, which shocked me more than I anticipated, but less than I feared. The C-sections were lovely, but surprisingly traumatic operations which had clearly progressed to a point of least trauma compared to any number of years ago, but which still likely had a way to go. I certainly learnt one thing that stuck in my mind - ladies in labour will empty their bowels at the same time, while vomiting into a pan and generally feeling very, very bad. I am aware, though, that symptoms vary greatly from person to person. There were two abortions, one of a 19-year old and one of a girl aged 16. Her boyfriend was brave enough to come to the hospital to sit with her in the waiting room. She made the trip to the operating theatre without incident, a smile on her lips and a giggle in her eyes. The 19-year old was crying as she was put to sleep. I hear that you remember youthful memories better than those you gain later, and at the moment I think this is a youthful memory-enough. I wondered what she was thinking, although I knew better than to ask anyone around me, not because they were robots operating on auto-pilot, but because I knew it was an unnecessary question. This was a question with a set number of answers.

And then there was Dad, and Susie. I think they might just catch this post, so I’ll refrain from embarrassing myself, suffice to say that it was nice. Not because of the things they taught me or the home they offered me, or the life they gave, either to me and G or to each other, but because I think I’ve learnt where I went wrong, and what went wrong. And when things went wrong, and why. It was really important this time, to understand that home really is where the heart is.

And:

Dear Mum,

It’s Jonathan. I’ve had a great time there, and I’m having a great time here, that’s what you need to know. I want you to know I’m learning things and growing up, that I’m trying my best. Your son is safe and sound, happy and contented, and interested in what the future holds. He cares about your health and wants to hear that you are safe and sound. He hopes you won’t forget about him (and D, and Dad) but even if you do, we won’t forget about you.

Seriously, don’t worry, I’m fine. If you worry, I’ll be worried about you. Just do what you want to do, and enjoy it. Don’t think about things too much, and don’t eat too much, and you still have many fruitful years ahead of you. If you can, find someone with whom you can share your dreams with; if you can, forgive. This is probably the main point. I will pray that you will be able to forgive, and move on. There’s no good reason to not do this, especially when the only life you ruin is your own. Perhaps you need to be more selfish, too. Be more selfish, but in the right ways.

I just hope that you’ll be fine.

Love from Jonathan