I'm Not Asleep, My Eyes Are Just Closed

I was on a plane home and was making small talk with the lady who sat in the same row as me. I'm not one for chit-chatting but you know it's one of those things when you are on a plane: it would be rude and perak not to say a few words to your immediate neighbour. Especially since I had just climbed over the her lap to get the window seat. Neighbour: So, where do you live in KL? Moi: I live in Subang actually. I'm on leave from work, so I'm going home to see my parents. Neighbour: Oh, so you work in a factory here? Moi: (trying to keep a straight face) Uh, no. At this point, some would say that I should have puffed out my chest, turn up my nose and say in my haughtiest voice, "Hey, saya doktor tau!" Truthfully, it would be more embarrassing for me than her if I did say that. Not that there's anything wrong in being a factory worker, and I'm not so full of myself that I'd get offended if people don't lick my arse and say, "Ya Tuan Doktor...

Being in the operating theatre is like being in an oasis of calm. It's a blessed escape from the bustle of the wards where people shout from one end of the ward to the other. There are no visiting hours in theatre. It's infathomable to me why many people think that going to the hispital to visit sick loved ones is a good oppurunity for a fun day out with the family. God, I hate screaming kids. I can hate them but I hate the parents more for neglecting to teach their kids how to behave. Rolling around in a tantrum on the ward floor and playing with your grandma's cathether bag is NOT acceptable behaviour! If Scotland has made laws banning parents from smacking their kids, can there be a law allowing us to smack the parents instead? The other good thing about being in theatre is that you can pretend to be doing IMPORTANT things when you are actually swinging your feet having a cup of coffee waiting for the next patient to roll in. Ah, yes, everything is clean and orderly in t...