Alright, to nitpick, the toilets were somewhat dirty and the nights were freeezing, but the atmosphere was totally vibrant, the people were amazing and the culture was so rich!

We had a fantastic weekend camping three days and two nights at the Barunga Sports and Culture Festival. To be able to participate in one of the most significant celebrations of Aboriginal culture, art, music and sports is such a privilege – it is something I will remember (for a while).

Two days later, at least three of the eight of us came down with a head-cold (yes, I am one of them). Sore throat and runny nose. Good times.

Here are some photos:

1. The events

Spear throwing competition

Trying to hit this poor fake kangaroo

Basket weaving

Making dye

Story telling about some bird who accidentally killed his girlfriend, and then went into hiding forevermore

A small casual game of basketball in between the serious competitions

Hip hop dancing and the 'circle of confidence' (or 'circle of shame', depending on where you stand in the pessimism-optimism spectrum)

2. The people

One nation

Gotta get a smoke

3. The camping

Got there at night and set our tents up in the dark -- good fun!

Chilly the next morning

Jen sizzling some snags

The egg I was trying to fry -- dropped and splattered from one metre above (because the flames were too hot)

A campfire in a chilly night feels sooo comfortable
-- the only problem is that it gets cold again immediately once you put it off!

And... what should we do next!!?

(p.s. for those of you not familiar with the culture, “deadly” is Aboriginal slang for excellent / awesome )

Sunrise over Yellow Water Billabong

A UNESCO World Heritage Site for a reason! We had an absolute blast visiting Kakadu.

Perhaps I’ll tell the stories next time, but if I learned anything from my trip to Africa, it is that it may take a few years before I actually get around putting them into words!

Here are but a small selection of photos, wallpaper-size – a humbling attempt to capture the awesomeness out there…

Water lillies waking up to the sunrise

They open up as the day progresses. Pretty, like many things in life.

The jacanas are also called the 'Jesus Bird' because they walk on water.

I almost rammed my face into a few of these spiders while climbing through the rocks. They hang in the middle of nowhere and are incredibly difficult to notice until you are really close!
They scare the crap out of me.

The word osteoderm is stuck in my head now! -_-

They gave a big shout when they pulled out the big barramundi!

The edge of the world it feels like, on top of the massive Gunlom falls.

We're a crazy bunch, obviously.

—–

Pretty sad when the trip came to an end!
Oh well.

( I really need to set up a proper gallery, because dumping photos here is such a sub-par presentation. )

(It makes a good cover photo.)

Next camping trip was to Katherine Gorge in Nitmiluk National Park for 3 days, 2 nights, 35km of walking, and amazing sights. The photos have much better effect when viewed larger.

We were like little ants in this place

The concept that 'these rocks are so old that they don't even have fossils' still blows my mind.

A field of termite mounds

Hello! Wallabies are so tame!!

This pool was pretty challenging to get to, honestly

Aboriginal rock art is awesome

Knackered, midway a 20km track in the 2pm sun

—–
And ladies and gentlemen, this is how tanned I have got after only 2 weeks in outback Australia!!

Thank you.

Katherine, a 5.8k population town in the outback setting of the Northern Territory of Australia:

Sun, sweat, insects and tropical plants – it is so different from Melbourne! I will be here for about another two months working with Wurli Wurlinjang, the local Aboriginal health clinic.

Together with two other medical students, we went camping to Edith Falls over the ANZAC long weekend for lots of walking, swimming and sunburns. I’ll let the photos tell the tale.

1. The sights

Bush fire!

2. The trek

Crossing small streams

... and stepping stones

3. The camping

Pasta for two nights

A speed limit sign on the way back. The Northern Territory has the highest speed limits in Australia...

... but our 4WD land cruiser was wayyy faster!

One last look at my pager today -
I’m dropping you off at the switchboard now
This is where we part ways
Say bye, pager

Oh how much grief and frustration have you brought me!
All the interrupted lunches and the broken sleeps
I have hated you so many times

Yet without you, you know I lose my identity
Together we’ve toughed it out through ups and downs
I have come to know your shape, weight and your beep
And your number has become my second name

I’m dropping you off forever now, pager
It is like tearing a part of me away

Here goes my reason to be needed in this hospital
I won’t see you again

Click for larger image

Lately I’ve been playing with some grunge patterns. I think this looks a tad bit better than the original version (I was shamefully imagining it as a poster when making the changes, heh)…

When I have the time I would really want to re-draw the whole concept. I think some of my drawing styles have changed.

I only found out then that in New Zealand (and in some other countries too), doctors are among a group of professions legally allowed to witness statutory declarations.

She has had enough of the years of his abuse, she said, flatly. I would hate to be the person completing the last part of the legal paperwork allowing the breaking up of what was supposed to be a cherished and sacred matrimony (and how those words ring hollow in today’s society), but I signed my name almost too trustingly.

At that time, I just felt doing anything else would be like preaching cold ideals to a hurting world in need of something much warmer. Perhaps I can start somewhere else if I wanted to make a difference.

I was reminded of Matthew 19 too. But I still wonder if what I did was right.
I don’t know, what do you think?

There was already talk about her even before I met her, as the first most important patient of the morning. Severe bilateral community-acquired pneumonia with a fast downward spiral.

Put on BiPAP, 10/4 setting. A femoral artery stab for blood gases, because her radial pulses were already too weak. Another 18G cannula into her veins. 1 litre of 0.9% sodium chloride solution, stat. The glucometer read 2.0 mmol/L — give her 20mL bolus of 50% dextrose intravenously, now. And an indwelling urinary catheter. Two doctors and three senior nurses danced around her.

Her husband sat beside, in the corner of the room, silent.

And I realized how used to all of this I am already – even joking sometimes as we flashed needles around, shamefully forgetting how scary, and confusing, it must have been for him.

She had a good pre-morbid status, so she would be a candidate for the Intensive Care Unit. We spoke to the ICU consultant. He was a staunch man with a deep voice and a strict face, who hasn’t slept for more than 24 hours. It had been an absolutely crazy Friday night and Saturday morning that we walked ourselves into. He promised an ICU bed for her — but then a child was wheeled into the Emergency Department very sick, and priority was given to the child for the ICU bed, as less would disagree with. The bed was taken. She was now at the ceiling of her care. No more escalation.

We told her husband about this. It was difficult.

And I wondered… how did he think, to know that his wife was terribly ill, and the one thing that would sustain her if she deteriorated — a mechanical ventilator in the Intensive Care Unit — was just not accessible, as the Intensive Care Unit was already full?

What would you think – when you are helplessly slipping towards crossing the moment between having a life partner and no longer having one?

Is this it?? But yesterday she was still fine! I’ve only just done grocery shopping with her yesterday!! Am I not going to see her again, for ever??

What would you say to your life partner during his or her last moments?
Recount all the good times?
Recount all the regrets and mistakes?
Say the things you never could say? Does it still matter?

She continued to deteriorate. Type 2 respiratory failure with worsening hypoxia and hypercapnia over the hours of the day, despite us adjusting the EEPV and EIPV settings with all the hope we gave.

And then, at about 10pm at night, I got called by the nurses. They just wanted a doctor to be there beside her. But I have no magic wand; I am but a mere human.

She was apnoeic. She stopped breathing. And then she struggled with a big gasp.

Her husband and son were there, one on each of her side by the bed, in the dimly lit room. Agitated. Panicked.

The nurse pushed me from behind into the room. “Have a listen to her heart and say something,” she whispered like a little sister. So futile. But what people would want in desperate situations.

I listened with my stethoscope, and there was no heart beat. But wait, there was one radial pulse… and then, one duplet of heart sounds after five seconds… and then another one after another four or five seconds. I’m sure if we did a rhythm strip then, it would have shown ventricular fibrillation or an agonal rhythm with the occasional sinus complex. It was terminal.

I raised my head up — and I can still remember so clearly, even now — the husband and the son looking at me in absolute desperation.

“Is her heart still beating?? Is she still around??” they asked.

“These are the last few minutes,” I stuttered. Not loud enough. Not clear enough.

“Huh??”

“These are her last few minutes…,” I said, louder. And I didn’t know what else to add. That was probably all they needed to know.

I left. And as I turned my back to them, I heard them cry.

“I love you. You know I love you,” her husband sobbed.

Her son was a big guy but he was drenched in tears. He had his arms around his father and dying mother. “You’re the best mom in the world,” he said, his voice trembling.

I stopped just outside the curtains. I didn’t expect this to have affected me so much. I paused a moment to recollect myself. I hate people who call doctors “cold-hearted” without even knowing what we go through.

And she passed away seconds later.

I still wonder what I would have said if I was the husband, and what I would have said if I was the son. And then I realize those are the exact words that I may very well have said too, from my heart. They resonate deeply within me.

And then I got sick with a cold (again), and in the following weekend, at church, there was an announcement of her passing away to meet the Lord. So she was the wife of a deacon in one of the other churches, I didn’t know. They recounted how loving she was, and the kindness she showed to the ones who were often neglected by others.

The events of my shift played back in my mind as I listened to them sharing. Unbeknownst to the people around me, I was right there when she died. I was directly involved in her fifteen-hour admission to hospital — I was there when the needles were put in, I was there when she drew her last breath, and I was the one who felt the last beats of her heart.

Everything played back — and I asked, but what could I have done? Could I have done anything differently? Was I respectful enough (a lesson from this experience)?

Well, I could have (and definitely should have) spoken clearer to her husband and son during her final minutes.

I suppose, in a way, it is a privilege to be so deeply involved in someone’s care, but it is not heroic at all. We are all just fellow humans who are lost without God.

Time to start writing.

Update 11 March 10: Okay I definitely think this black and white version is better.

I realized I’ve been traveling, packing and moving from one place to another yet, all by myself, for a surprisingly fair bit now. It all seemed to start in my Trainee Intern year in 2007; and it is amazing to think that this time, arriving in a completely strange new city, with virtually nil social contacts but a trusty map in hand, can actually start to feel familiar.

But it has been very enriching I must say – as I look back to the places I have stopped over, remember the things I have encountered, and think about the times I have spent alone, and with God. Maybe I’ll write more about some of the life things I’ve learned, next time, hah.

Day 0

Day 3

Day 14

Day 21 - but I'd like to think that my room's not usually this messy

Sorry about the lack of updates here – I was without access to the Internet for a few weeks.

I hope to get back to updating more often now!!