Quentino, Quentino, why do you rant?

It’s finally Friday. I have spent the whole week at home. It has been so boring. My schedule would revolve around the following: get up, eat, watch tv, eat, pray, watch tv, eat, pray, watch tv, short nap, wait for hubby. Watch tv some more. *sigh*

So I was supposed to write on Wednesday, and I though I’ll do it at night. But then when it was night-time, I realised that there was the CSI season finale on tv. Hubby and I had to watch that. It was after all directed by Quentin Tarantino. Or Quentino, as my mom calls him. So we watched the two-hour finale. By then it was time to sleep.

Yesterday, I logged in sometime in the afternoon, but it was too hot to write. The pc in this room faces a window, and the sun was just too much for me. Made me feel so drowsy. But of course this didn’t deter me from watching loads of banal shows on tv. Some shows I actually wanted to watch, believe it or not. I watched Angel, One Tree Hill, Oprah….

Oh then there was this show on MTV called Rich Girls. It featured Hilfiger’s daughter. She and her friend have this reality show which follows them… err, I don’t know… from here to there. Boring…. What is it with these wealthy kids? Aren’t they supposed to lead interesting lives? Why do they all have to jump on the reality-show bandwagon? I’m sure they do more than just criticise and shop?

Ah well, that must be the curse then. When you’re a rich kid, you don’t have anything to do other than criticise others, spend your dad’s money, make funny faces and act like dimwits in a store. Yeah, you don’t have to worry about your career, or where all the moolah comes from, or the need to pay bills, or that leak in your roof. Nope, you just have to concentrate on your acting/modelling/artistic/singing/hosting career. Then you make sure you marry some other rich kid so that you can spend his money (which is technically his dad’s money) and live happily ever after for the rest of your life. The end.

Hah! I might be a sour cousin of the raisin family, but I think that my life – with all its ups and downs and climbing uphill and tumbling downhill and pains and fears and joys and happiness – is definitely more interesting than that. When I’m not sick and stuck at home that is….

Cheers!

You think I like cleaning tables?

It’s confirmed. We Malaysians are a lazy lot. General sweeping statement, I agree, but let me give you one example of how this really bothers me. This really takes the cake as the situation that irks me the most.

Hubby and I go to our neighbourhood McD’s. We order our meal, pay and get a place to sit and enjoy our food. I look at all the smiley faces of kids running around the place with straws in their hands. Never mind they can poke their eyes out. As long as they’re happy. I see young couples on their dates and smile to myself. Never mind they don’t look old enough to be 13. As long as they’re happy. I glance at the mother who is trying her best to make her four kids and a baby sit and eat with civility. Never mind that two of them are eating fries off the floor. As long as they’re happy. I look over at the table next to me and… ack!!!! I see a tray littered with wrappers and leftovers and paper napkins everywhere. Along comes another couple and what do they do? They take the tray and without so much as flinching, they nonchalantly place the tray at another not-so-desired-but-perfectly-clean table. And why in heaven’s name…. why? Why do people do that? It really disgusts me.

Why can’t people clean up after themselves in self-serve restaurants? Is it really too much to ask? Ten seconds of your oh-so-precious time just to clean your table (and your mess, might I add) and put the rubbish in the bins and place the trays on top. Most of the time it’s the mat sallehs who clean up after themselves. I bet you, if you were overseas and saw people cleaning up after themselves, you would follow suit and you wouldn’t even give it a second thought. So how come foreigners can do it but we can’t even be bothered to keep clean? Is it considered degrading to do that? Is it beneath your station? Does it put you behind your schedule, which I’m sure is more important than anyone else’s on this planet? Or is it that you just wanna get your 17 sen worth of service tax? Do we still pay this? And even if we do, what’s the big deal? Clean up your mess!

If you’ve noticed, there’s a sign in Ikea’s restaurant that states why you should clear up your own table. Does it work? Well, truthfully, I’ve seen more people try to clear up their own tables in Ikea’s than I have in McD’s. Is it because you don’t know that you have to do so? If you didn’t, well newsflash to you. I don’t appreciate going to some eating place and not being able to find a clean table, or worse, having to clear up other people’s leftovers. I’m sure you don’t either. Be a little bit more considerate okay. That’s all I ask.

Present and accounted for

I have finally been released from the hospital. Wait a minute, that didn’t sound right. I’ve been discharged… yes that’s the word. I went to the hospital on Friday and was admitted. Had a Doppler done. Is that what it’s called? My surgeon came and took a look and said, the good news was that I didn’t have any clots or blocks anywhere. The bad news was that my platelets were still high. About a million. So what did the good doctor ordered? Rest. Yup, that’s it, rest. So I was to stay in the hospital for the weekend and do nothing. How’s that for a great weekend? The worst part out of all that was that it was hubby’s birthday on Saturday. Poor thing, he had to spend his 28th in the hospital with me. Thanks to his sister, we had some choc mud cake and choc banana cake that evening.

So thankfully I got to come home yesterday. I’m still on medical leave though. Will be till this Friday. That kinda made up for my lost weekend. As of this minute, I’m click-clacking away at hubby’s pc coz I told him I just had to blog something. I just had to write, I don’t know, a sentence at least. I need to tell the people who take the time to read my blog that I’m okay. I reckon there would be about 2 or 3 people out there who reads me.

Being in the hospital really sucked big time. I didn’t have anything to do except sleep, watch TV, read and err.. sleep. Was pretty restless at times. Thanks to hubby who put up with me and my crazy blabbering about nothing in particular.

I finally managed to finish that book I was reading, Mercy by Julie Garwood. It was quite okay. Easy enough reading. Then I read two short stories from Zadie Smith called Martha, Martha and Hanwell in Hell. The book was a Penguin’s special edition to commemorate 70 years of publishing. It was one in a series of many other little books that were selling for about RM9.90 at the MPH. If you walked into MPH MidValley from the main entrance (near Delifrance) the books would be on your right. I don’t know if the promo is still on though. Which reminds me, I have nothing to read at the moment. Hmmmph!

Oh well, at least there’s Astro and Desperate Housewives.

Doctor doctor help me please

My aching calf…. *sigh* Perhaps I should begin at the very beginning, as it’s a very good place to start. Okay. All doctors and med students, pay attention, lest I make an error. Okay, when I was about two years of age, I was diagnosed with beta thalassemia intermedia. Thalassemia is a genetic blood disorder. People with Thalassemia are not able to make enough haemoglobin, which causes severe anaemia.

Anyway, I was dependent on blood transfusions which started when I was seven year sold. My mum held out as long as she could, coz she knew that once you start with transfusions, there’s no stopping. But thankfully I don’t need to go for transfusions anymore. To cut a (very) long story short (which I might tell one of these days), suffice to say that I had to remove my spleen last December. The op went ok. I went home but a week after that I developed these terrible pains in my chest area. I couldn’t eat. Threw up most of the time. Was in such excruciating pain! Went back to my surgeon (a very kind man, I might add) and he had me undergo an ultrasound and guess what? After the removal of my spleen, it was the expected reaction for my platelets to shoot up to a million. But the blood clot or thrombosis was not expected. Not in such a major vein anyway. Portal vein thrombosis, it’s called. Hmmm, such a mouthful that caused so much pain.

Back to my story, because my blood was clotting, they had to give me medication. During my stay in the hospital, I was strapped to an IV all the time and was given painkillers to deal with the pain. After three weeks, I was finally allowed to go home with my prescribed warfarin pills that would ‘even out the effects’ of the blood clotting. My happy pills….

A few days ago, I developed a terrible pain in my left knee and calf. Called my haematologist, who said I actually needed to talk to my surgeon, coz it could probably mean that there are clots there. I was so terrified after hearing that. He said not to worry and suggested I talk to my surgeon. Maybe the dosage needed to be increased.

I am so worried…. I don’t wanna be admitted to the hospital again. Hopefully I only need to see him and get his advice and there will be no need for me to be detained in the wards.

Guess I better stop now and see what else needs to be done, since I told my boss that I will be away from the office tomorrow. And the pain is really really ugh….

Non-writer who's a pain in the err.. knee

Went to that meeting yesterday, and sure enough, we were ‘asked’ to help write a draft of a speech. The opening and welcoming remarks included phrases like “need to write” “gathered our powerhouses” “English master” yadda yadda yadda. Utter crap. Bottom line was: just do it.

But will not let that bring me down. It’s just another writing assignment. Would you believe it? They want me to write? I know for the past three years I’ve been writing the foreword for the chancellor in all our convo booklets, but gimme a break! I’m sure there are other people who are more ‘write-worthy’ than I am. See, who uses words like ‘write-worthy’? It’s probably not even a real word. And another thing, I couldn’t even remember how to spell the word ‘vision’ yesterday. What kind of a writer is that?

My left knee and calf are still hurting. It’s swollen a little and I cannot walk properly because of this. I’m limping all around the office. Of course I don’t go anywhere unnecessary but I still need to go to the loo sometime, right? Which reminds me, I need to call my doctor today.

I need to go do some minor changes to the power point presentation for my boss’ appointment with the big guy. It’s scheduled next week, but again, I have outdone myself. I gave myself the 21st as the deadline and have stuck to the 21st. Hurrah for me!

Will be back….