Does it always have to be this hard?

The hospital is not a fun place.

Another weekend spent in the hospital. I think I spend 16 hours in the hospital everyday. I wonder if other medical students spend as much time as me in the hospital. I wonder if this is what I want to do for the rest of my life. I really enjoyed talking to patients, identifying their health problems and see how they recover. I want to understand the disease process and the wonders of medicine. But I do not like the people who work at the institution. I will not blog about the nasty attitudes of some people who work in the hospital. I practice work ethics and professionalism.

I still hold on to the idea that as people go higher in the medical field, they become more cuckoo. You can see too many of them in the hospital. Some are cuckoo and nice. Some are cuckoo and nasty. I’m trying to hold on to some semblance of sanity in this sea of cuckoo geniuses.

I have friends who graduated from medical school overseas and came back to serve the country as housemen. They were really put off by the working conditions here and left to work abroad. Many were willing to contribute but just one week of working in a local hospital is enough to change their minds.

The hospital can be a complicated place sometimes. I have been approached by bisexual lecturers and doctors. They asked me out for lunch and dinner. I thought it was just harmless, friendly gestures. The moment I was offered personal tuition, I knew something was not quite right.

I wonder if doctors get harassed by patients. In a normal routine, doctors would have to ask patients some questions before proceeding to do a physical examination. I was innocently standing beside a female patient’s bed when she called out to me aloud, “Doctor, do you want to ask me questions?” followed by a wink and smile.

Mom has asked me to stop collecting sugar mummies. I already have two. Not something I am proud of. One with a successful paediatrics clinic and another general physician with a busy clinic. They offered to be my godmother, and I did not know what to say. I have not asked anything from them. “They must include you in their will and inheritance when they pass away,” mom reminds me sometimes. My mom thinks I am an expensive child to feed.

I remember having a profile when I was first exposed to online personals. I was offered RM250 just to be sucked and do nothing else. Offers of romantic relationships came from people who don’t even know me. When I refused offers to be a callboy, I was offered a room exclusively at KL Hilton for nights of mutual pleasure. The reasoning was that a hotel room in exchange for money if money made me feel dirty. I refused and a final offer of a sum triple the price that normal money boy charges for sex was made. Another one offered me to be his toyboy with monthly allowance as long as I fulfill his kinky sexual requests. A room at KL Hilton, is that all I am worth?

Dear God, please deliver me from temptation.

Looks will fade with time. A gay man’s value decreases as he gets older. I think bottoms have it worse than tops. You can not be a cute bottom when you are a wrinkly 40-year-old. Where do all the twinky bottoms go when they are in their fifties? Have they retreated into the darkness? They are heaps of them on the streets and yet you don’t see any of them anymore when they are old.

I make it a point to work harder than other people. Sometimes, people do not take me seriously because of the way I look. I am a late bloomer. I only learned to use my looks to my advantage at 21. The hospital can be a very hostile place. It’s survival of the fittest. It helps to smile sweetly so the fierce premenopausal ward sister would not scold you (some scold you for no reason). It helps to look pleasant when you know the grumpy consultant is going to start her day by scolding every doctor. It helps have a hush puppy face when the long-staying patient is already agitated for staying too long in the ward and you have to examine her for an important exam.

I am afraid of starting my training as a houseman in the hospital. I have spent enough time in the hospital to understand its politics and mechanics. I think with a little bit of charm, some wit, mountains of patience and lots of hard work, I will pull through. I am ready now.

The hospital is not a fun place. Not only for the sick patients, but also for the healthy doctors and nurses working inside. I am still interested in medicine despite all the setbacks.

Life is not easy because some people will make it hard for you, but I will cope. Sit down and rest when I am tired. Get up and continue when I am ready again.