Marathon training and attaining nirwana

Now that we have completed the longest run before the tapering prior to the KL Marathon, I have come to discover the apparent similarities between praying and training for a marathon.
In the zest to be in the elite group of the 1% of human population who have completed a marathon, the wannabes obtain obtain advice from the achievers who go out of their way to give their 2 cents' worth of views on how training for marathon should be done. These gurus have come up training programmes, training manuals, multiples gadgets to aid and enhance training and performances. Gadgets in the form of GPS installed watches fully equipped with facilities to monitor your heart rate, pace, speed, location which will help you to your way back just in you are lost! Not to forget the various performance enhancing power gels, bars, hydration salts and even cramp busting tablets. Sometimes you wonder how much you need all of the above. The compression garments were initially made to be worn during the recovery phase of training to prevent soreness. Later, people started wearing it during training and now the gurus are even advising runners to wear it before a run! Now, you start to wonder whether there is a business element is attached to this advice! (to get more gears sold)
We, the novice, are left wondering which to follow with the flurry of information to choose from,hoping against hope that the path of success would be laid open for us to savour.
Just like everybody from the group of the learned on matters of divinity would tell us this and that so as ensure our path of success (nirvana) of our soul. We, the helpless souls, follow aimlessly without questioning their instruction in the hope that we can find peace on earth and have the coping mechanism to withstand the nudges of daily life.
At the end of the day as long as the mission is accomplished, everybody is happy! Till then, we try!

RRF to PPSP: Ep.6: Some memorable teachers

We had a good set of teachers. To prove a point to the rest of the world who were mocking at the third Malaysian medical school for straying from the traditional teaching, the powers that be decided to equip the school with lecturers of high stature and calibre. To train some of the local lecturers, overseas dropped-out government scholars medical students were designated as trainee lecturers were excellent in making easy subjects more difficult to comprehend -and I guess they got a kick out it. Since they bungled up in med school, deep-seated psychological envy logically would drive anyone in their shoes (mortarboard) to do the same.

Anyway, only a few of them remain in memory. The process of natural selection and natural body defence of engulfing distorted glial cells must have wiped off these painful, traumatic moments!

Bacteriophage T4

Let me perambulate some of the lecturers that still linger in the memory bank. I guess they must have a permanent imprint on the cerebral cortex that they cannot be erased.
In year one, learning anatomy with its plethora of Latin terms were Greek to us. Thanks to NBR, we managed to make sense of this mumbo-jumbo. Speaking with a thick Indian accent and maybe not so much of head gyrating movements, we would get lost in some of his words. Discouraging us to read the Anatomy by R.J. Last, he would say, "Don't read Last, you would be lost and get last in class!". The problem was that his 'last' and 'lost' sounded the same and the joke was lost in translation. An excellent teacher he was.

Among the panel of lecturers were world standard scientists and researches who were obviously somewhat overqualified to be hanging around PPSP teaching nimble minded fools like us. There was a guy who was doing sleep pattern research in NASA astronauts (L) and another in WHO setting up virology laboratories (M).

The professor in microbiology (OKH) looked like an opium-smoking thick moustachioed pencil-thin man who never failed to create laughs when he demonstrated the action the T4 bacteriophage infusing its DNA into its host by crouching and flexing his elbows! (see pic).

The Professor (Gilligan's Island)

Then one day walked a Rajnikanth-Vijayakanth look alike lecturer (DCA) who taught us the more delicate things of internal medicine! And a very hirsute physiology lecturer swaying all his hands like tentacles of a squid while trying to explain the sodium pump mechanism in squids (which he worked on in his PhD paper!). One particular biochemistry lecturer (KTS) only appeared to deliver his lectures to the front rows of students who by chance happened to be all girls, thus earning him the nickname of BBDOM (busybody dirty old man).

A short nerdy professor of Pathology (NF) with his crowning glory of thick straight white hair and a nerdy black thick plastic rimmed aphakic (after cataract surgery) glasses to match his pristine white lab-coat and intellect. Obviously overqualified to be hanging around PPSP, his brand of intellectual jokes spoken in full Ceylonese slanged sing-song English, just did not tickle the ribs of an average PPSPian! His classic joke was, 'Don't you know the sad story of a doctor? It is always a clean shirt but empty pockets!' Looks like I remember his jokes more than his teachings!
PKD was working in world standard labs the world over till he finally landed in PPSP. He fell in love with Penang and is still residing there after his retirement. In spite of his monotonous deep accented voice, he commanded a lot of respect as an excellent lecturer. I wonder why after being away from his native state of Bengal for so many years, he still pronounced iron as 'ai-ren' (as in I RUN), Japan as 'Jah-paan' and example as 'act-jump-pearl' as how a typical Bengali would do!

The pathology department was teaming with so many brainiacs in their own fields that many intra-departmental politics excited bored students like us.
DrB, a lecturer in Obstetrics and Gynaecology would introduce the subject to newbies with the opening statement like this 'Pregnancy is not a problem unless you are not married'. We soon realised that marriage is just a public declaration of a caveat much like the branding of cattle in the Wild West. Sex has nothing to do it. Sometimes love comes in the equation; Pregnancy, the punishment for the lackadaisical.

The express bus from Penang to KB

SKMK (Syarikat Kenderaan Melayu
Kelantan) - acronym fondly 
remembered as Sampai Kelantan
Mahu Kahwin by mates after
looking at awek Kelante!

(Kelantan girls)

SL, another lecturer in Ob-Gyn, related to us how he, a shy doctor early in his career, found that field to give him confidence in mixing with the fairer sex. In his own cheeky way, he said that it was the only profession where a lady would tell him all her intimate problems that she would never dream of telling another man and would allow him to look into restricted areas without raising an eyebrow but thank him instead and return for more!
A psychiatrist (SU) express his gripe that people in his profession do not get introduced or acknowledged in parties, unlike gynaecologists. He feels that somehow, ladies find joy in introducing their gynaes but not so comfortable even to look at the direction of their psychiatrists in public!

Then there was a youthful looking paediatrician (JA) who was quite vocal with his comments. Medical students, being Malaysians and kiasu, felt compelled to write in verbatim all words uttered by all lecturers. JA, irritated with this act of talking to scribbling journalists, would rattle off' "I am not telling something quite profound or divine, whatever I am telling is found in any standard textbook!"

Being an experimental curriculum in this side of the world with a motley crew of students with diverse academic achievements, many lecturers found their funny bone while lecturing. A lecturer in Paediatrics once quipped, "Why is USM offering MD (instead of MBBS) for its degree in medicine? Is it because you are mentally deficient?" And she went on a hyena-like hysterics interposed with a laboured asthmatic attack much to our amusement. I guess we had the last laugh at her peculiarly comical antics!

For the love of America!

Deliverance (1972)

Reynolds with trademark mustache

The existence of this 1972 multiple award nominated film came to my knowledge during a long and tedious royal function when my friend and I  were talking about movies and he placed 'Deliverance' as his all time favourite. And here I am, writing about it after downloading it on line.
It is a story of four town buddies who go on canoeing trip in place of their usual golf weekend. The river with its undisturbed beauty and rapids was to give way for development soon, so our friends were there to savour its view in its dying days. Burt Reynolds is Lewis (seen here before his trademark macho mustache and had more hair than his pre-Smokey and Bandits as well Cannonball Run days), Jon Voight is Ed, Ned Beatty is Bobby and Ronny Cox is Drew. Lewis is the most experienced one of the gang, followed by Ed whilst Bobby and Drew were novices.
The movie builds up showing the urban rich boys sneering at the mountain people who seem withdrawn and probably retarded due to in-breeding. They start their journey happily till the next day when the four friends in two canoes separate.Along came two bullies who appear from nowhere when one of the two canoes stop by the banks. They sexually abuse two of the buddies at gunpoint.
Lewis comes in the nick of time to harpoon down one of the assailants while the other scoots off. After an emotional soul searching the friends (with 3 to 1 majority) decide to bury the body in the area soon to be a lake rather than get the law involved.
The four hurry to continue their journey. The canoe capsizes when Drew suddenly collapses and falls overboard and they all drift along the river. Lewis fractures his femur, Drew goes missing, probably shot by the victim's accomplice. Ed overcomes his fear and kills the other assailant after a cat and mouse psychological thriller.
Against the backdrop of a growling Louis, Bobby and Ed become instant white water rafters and reach still waters and safety. They stick on their pre-planned story, managed to dodge their police interrogations and make it home in one piece.
An average movie with nice outdoor scenery and soothing musical score.

Some more nostalgic pix found floating around!

Thank you to the owners of the following pictures! Your photographs made my day, reminding me where I came from so that I can reach what I am reaching for!

Now everybody can afford a car or two!

The dreaded lift! SELALU ROSAK!

Our playground

Somebody's place of eternal rest, for RRB it is a quiet place to study (Batu Gantung cemetery)

My as well, Jump! Van Halen; Jump for my love, Pointer Sisters

'Should I stay or should I go?". The suicidal cat in one of his 9 lives!

Indah khabar dari rupa! Looks can be deceptive!

Reference: rifle range flats, in retrospect

Another swipe at the man with the robe

The trial (1962)

Based on novel by
 Franz Kafka

Orson Welles described 'The Trial' as the best film he made. Some critics, however, disagree and reiterate that 'they just don't get it'. I fall into the latter category - I get it but the artistic appreciation is beyond me!
Anthony Perkins (yes, Mr. Norman Bates himself), the star of the original 'Psycho', acts in this movie where he (Joseph K) is rudely awoken early one morning by a few men assumed to be from the police to tell in so many confusing way that he is under arrest for an unspecified charge. There are two other characters Mrs Grubach (the landlady) and Ms Burstner, a night club worker and neighbour speak in a confusing manner just to make things more mysterious. K is summoned to attend what is supposed to be a preliminary hearing but it appeared more like a court with cheering spectators! Chaos seem to be the word of the day with K giving a sermon to the cheer of the crowd of thousands.
He leaves the court when a man just manhandles a girl to the cheering of court attendees, just to harassed by the policemen who arrested him and whom he openly accuses of bribery in court.
Then back to his workplace which looks more like a big godown where the staff work robotically just typing away and leave in unison when it is time to go. You see, all the surveillance is done by a computer.
Even lengthy conversations are monitored. It is amazing that the whole set-up (court, office, advocates office etcetera) are all like a maze with series of doors open from one to another. And everywhere there are stacks of filth of files all over the place.
Then come Uncle Max (K's distant uncle) to his rescue after hearing that his nephew is in trouble with the law. He brings him to see his lawyer, Hastler, (Orson Welles). At the lawyer's office, K seem to be more interested in the lawyer's flirtious nurse (his mistress) who is supposed to taking care of the ailing lawyer. K's case seem to go nowhere with cascades of bizarre happenings like court clerk volunteering to adjust his case for sexual favours, Hastler's mistress also offering herself to adjust the case and so on....
Basically this movie is an abstract expression and mumbo jumbo of a satire of sorts about the legal system and prejudices in law.
Cases just delayed and delayed, clients are treated indifferently after they have committed themselves to the lawyers. The clients are kept coming back and coaxed to stay loyal to their advocates. The law is made to sound too complicated to them. And the advocates are made to look like indispensable and they demand a demi-god status. First, the advocate refuses to take his case due health reason then later refuses to allow the client to terminate his services.
Even the painter who paints for the judge, promises to help out in arranging the outcome of his case.
As he comes out of a building, he is appended by some policemen who dump in a man made hole and a bomb is thrown into it denoting the use of hoodlums in the justice system or amongst lawyers.
It is a classic but may not be everybody's idea of a movie to catch on a lonely evening.

Loss of Art of Medical Sciences

Two recent events made me think of the good old days, yet again.

Early in my training, I was awestruck by the excellent clinical acumen that some of the surgeons had acquired in the course of their training. A surgeon or even a registrar in training for surgical examinations would just roll the hand gently over the abdomen whilst looking into the patient's eyes and stirring up a conversation will point blank make an accurate diagnosis of acute appendicitis even when the clinical manifestations would be far from that described in most medical textbooks. Believe you me, most of the time, the would get full marks for their diagnoses without the need for sophisticated imaging techniques. In fact, the registrar used to tell his trainees that the mark of a good surgeon is the ability to correctly diagnose acute appendicitis clinically.
Two recent events queried the competence of surgeons these days.
#1. An anaesthesiologist friend of mine was fretting about his ever increasing work load of working early morning (starting late nights) to surgeries of 'white appendix'!
#2. A friend's 11year old son with painful abdomen was almost operated upon for appendicitis. Second opinion suggested that it was probably musculoskeletal related and the young boy escaped the knife.
Now, what is happening?
Is it that doctors nowadays have lost their clinical acumen? Or the drive for financial remunerations supersede their earlier oath to serve mankind etcetera etcetera? Or is that he is worried that somebody else would make their killing and steal his rice bowl? Or somebody else will diagnose correctly their patient? Remember the patient who shopped around 4 doctors in 3 days to sing praises of the last doctor after she was correctly diagnosed her to have dengue fever after a blood test?

Are the doctors' succumbing to client's express lane attitude in remedies to maladies in life? Has the plans of leaving market forces to decide on medical need led to doctors taking short cuts? Now that medical education is now is now a multi million industry, the good doctor may still be paying for his education! Maybe it is the system where doctors are not gatekeepers to the health system but are just pawns in the system controlled by businessmen and insurance companies.

Satyagraha and Thaipusam penance

Thich Quang Duc publicly set himself on fire in Vietnam in 1963

Reading through the excellent parallel biographies of Winston Churchill and Mahatma Gandhi, one can imagine  what went through his mind when Gandhi proposed 'passive resistance' as a mean for Swaraj (self rule). Devoid of artillery superiority, reliance to economic and financial and skewing of Indian thinking from society to own self (individual rights), leaders of that era could only manipulate their subjects' mind through past glory of ancient civilization and nature!
They said that Indian civilization had a much longer past than their invaders. So, the event of the intrusion of foreigners like the Mughals and the British were just but a drop in the ocean of India's very long civilization.
Having able to boost their own self image, the next step was not go on head long collision with the invaders but to win psychologically - by gaining sympathy through pity through self torture or passive resistance. You can hit a person once or twice. How do you keep on slapping the person who turns the other cheek repeatedly. When the aggressor stops, you win.
This type of soul force has penetrated deep into the Indian psyche. I think it had been there even before Gandhi proposed his satyagraha. From time immemorial, Hindus have been doing penance either through self imposed starvation, self flagellation, self piercing during temple ceremonies, fire walking and many other extra human feats to garner sympathy from the powers that be for private intents. At a society level, suicide and self immolation had been and is fairly rampant amongst the society to proves one's innocence and clarify the truth. Even a great Hindu sage once said, "To bear injury and bear insult is the highest sadhana (achievement)".