This was a colossal undertaking - perhaps the most challenging of any post I've written to date. I sifted through 99 individual blog posts, taking one or two sentences from each. I then organized these independent phrases into some kind of consistent narrative. What exactly is the result when you take sentences from 99 entries and string them together? You get a wildly schizophrenic story about drugs, vaguely homosexual encounters with Brent Spiner, examinations on politics, fishing cute prizes out of cereal boxes for my girlfriend, and rampant nudity.
Like a bad trip, not everything makes perfect sense, so you'll need to read carefully. Sentences remain exactly as they appeared originally on my blog with the exception of punctuation, which has occasionally been amended. In a few cases, I also made one or two point deletions of words. I've also added six underlined section headings, to make the story easier to follow.
Keep an eye out for familiar faces like Evey, Mello, Yuffie, Max, Kushima, Stewie, and Kon.
“Holy rusted metal, Batman!” Take 60 seconds to get caught up and be amused simultaneously! You may want to consider wearing an apron…
Saturday – The party
Saturday began in a flurry of frustration. Melon is not a flavour. “Maybe it’s a new drug,” suggested Stewie, “One twice as strong as Speed.” At the time, I did not take it very seriously…
…I shook Brent Spiner’s hand! That was enough to unleash my inner geek. I couldn’t help but break out into dance with abandon. I’m sleep deprived, my throat is hurting, and I’m loving it. But I have to admit, I was quickly distracted from the similarity of all the group members and towards the neck region. Somehow, we eventually made it past vital signs and over to respiratory exam, which is a chest exam. Oh… my… goodness… This ate my entire night. I felt like a complete rookie again. Please don’t get the wrong idea, I’m not in the habit of passing on venereal diseases to other dudes. The next big challenge of the night was finding my way home again… well… I can’t really.
So what’s the problem? Hollywood continues to spit on East Asians, treating them merely as side-shows and objects of amusement. First, they bundle us together – Chinese/Korean/Japanese. That is something that Westerners may find shocking, many of whom are smitten with Japan-o-philia. I bet my prof’s intimidating British wrath would set them straight. Only time will tell how far it gets and how it pans out. But I digress - back to the story.
Sunday – The aftermath
Well I woke up at eleven today. You might be wondering where I got the time to do this from, and I can only say that I took it away from another activity that starts with an “S” and rhymes with “buddy”. It’s a vicious cycle from there.
It’s hard to imagine, at this point in my education, ever transforming into one of those knowledgeable and adept creatures we call doctors. It still haunts my waking life that somehow I might walk into that exam room and know nothing. At the end of this program, there is no more school, there is only our profession. Good thing this isn’t a math test.
To drown our sorrows regarding our still developing clinical skills and appease our growling tummies, we decided to go eat. Our band of brothers consisted of myself, Maximus, Stewie, Kushima, and [Kon]. We each got our own little fishy made of mango pudding. “Pig blood jello with vegetable”. Don’t buy into the lies. They’re tasty and unhealthy, but explosive they are not.
Our shopping trip also served as a pungent reminder of what retarded drivers people are. This included a whole line of cars parked in spots that were not actually parking spots (despite there being plenty of spaces just one row down). One time, when all the cars were stopped at a red light, Mello even walked up to a car and stared into it very indiscreetly. “You drivers are as dumb as a bag of nails to be trying something like this.” So in conclusion… cabs are stupid. Viva le subway! “Um… could I have my token back?”
Mello is a guy? Men and women share identical genetic makeup save for two sex chromosomes. Is he silky smooth and indestructible? Hardly.
Monday – The calm before the storm
Today, several of my friends were with me at my locker as I was getting ready to proceed to the library. My friend, “Yuffie” (after the enthusiastic ninja girl from Final Fantasy VII), formerly referred to just as “T”, arrived at school today to find her locker jammed shut. I hate ninjas – the ones you imagined would flunk out of school, end up on the street, overdose on cocaine, and get run over by a truck as they crossed the street in a drunken stupor… Of course, maybe this is just jealousy talking. They are in many ways the unsung heroes, with little of the prestige of their specialized peers. That’s all I have to say about that.
Because my girlfriend, Evey, is out of town for school, we often find ourselves using Windows Live’s video conferencing features to keep in touch. I suppose this leaves me time to do the many things that I want to or ought to be doing. You know how cereal boxes often have a little prize buried in them for the kiddies? Cute, collectible items seemed right up her alley.
Providing me with a much needed dose of British, Doctor Who always kept me going with just the right combination of lighthearted wit and suspenseful danger. His dissection is so fast and incredible that it makes the rest of us look like
I tell you, Evey and I watched 15 minutes of this movie before she got bored – I had to watch the remainder later that night on my own. The show did raise a lot of questions for me… for instance, is it really possible to perform concurrent lung and liver transplants on a nine-year old child with a piggy-back procedure that leaves two hearts in the chest cavity? Maybe I’ve just logged a few too many hours being eviscerated by zombies. Later in the evening, I pondered aloud whether Onoscatopoeia was a real word.
Tuesday – Exam day
Tuesday morning, I rolled into class in an even more lethargic state than usual. Today marked my one and only December exam – “You’re late. Get out.” I almost dropped off my chair laughing. Got not only a foosh, but I looked like a tool.
“I’m serious. This is not a joke.” It was a bold ultimatum. At this point, a number of kind students in the first couple rows spoke up to say that indeed the subway was not running, at which point the professor indicated for me to take a seat, grumbling something about us torturing ourselves.
Here are your tasks: “If you were prime minister now, what would you have done about the economy and this crisis that Mr. Harper has not done?” The question falls to you now.
It’s always exciting for me when someone pays attention so Canada – “Me! Me! Pick me!” This can lead to miscommunication and dissatisfaction on the patient’s part. So I blurted the first thing that popped into my head: “Five and a half.” The response came smooth and naturally, with not a shred of awkwardness, and with all the congeniality in tone of a stranger responding to the friendly overtures of another stranger. “I’d like to conclude, democracy fails. If this was the Olympics, I think Harper would be disqualified for making a false start. Dion is squeaky clean. I’m so sorry – politics is now drawing the type of crowd that flocks to car races. They say they are there for the speed, but a lot of them are there for the crash. Yet Canadians remain ignorant and apathetic, and in doing so they undermine the very spirit of this great country… You’d probably cough up your spleen or something too.”
“Hey good job!” I could tell from their voice that they were a little bit impressed that I knew the term “tibia” and I couldn’t decide how I felt about that. Still, I can’t help but pause and ponder. Actually I pause and ponder quite a lot, and that’s really the problem. I wanted to know, then, did the group member that had not participated in our “gaming” of the system still believe that the question was fair? Perhaps this is not the best time to discuss my plans to name my first-born son Cha Siu Baau… That said, the exam is over now.
We made our way down to Century Club on King Street, which is where our class has arranged for us to party the night away. “You’re supposed to be a bit slutty for clubbing!!” Something [I learned] today (other than about patients) is not to underestimate Zellers. Thongs, 3 for $5. While I’ll admit, my costume and those of my friends were hardly of Grade A calibre, I think we injected a fair bit of effort and originality. We had sunk quite a number of hours into preparing, so we were elated with the evaluation by our tutors, who were extremely nice to us.
Kate Mulgrew paused her Q&A session to point out, “Wait a minute, that man is naked!” There were even a few people taking camera-phone photographs of us. I have no idea where the button went either. Honestly, people, size is not everything. I think I didn’t really look that worse for wear though, since people didn’t really seem to think I was actually that sick. So in the end, [my] world was not shaken, and I can return to going about my life in an overly smiley way. “I just need to scratch myself.......... okay!”
If you’re nice enough... I’d love it if you would leave some comments. I’ve [changed] the settings so that anyone can post a comment. If this type of digital revision seems a bit like cheating… well, it kind of is.