Learning From The World.

One of the things that bring me real joy, and is officially now a favourite past time, is watching international or foreign movies.

If you think about it, by the time you hear or know about it, these movies have already undergone a trial by public opinion in their native countries so that you don't have to sift through the rubbish movies in order to get to the good ones. Time saved!

I am not so much interested in being specialised and watching films that no one else would have heard about. What I am interested is in the stories that unite us, and those that set us apart, and the lessons that we all have to teach each other that transcends race, religion or creed. Stories like Roberto Bognini's Life is Beautiful and Jeunet's quirky Amelie comes to mind.

Thanks to the beauty of some of these movies being available on Youtube, I have recently seen two really high quality Indian movies - Kahaani and 3 Idiots. (All subtitled of course. Mere (My) Hindi is very rusty.)

Talk about Indian movies and all you have is the stereotype of 3 hours of catchy music, gaudy costumes and trees galore for the multitudes of Indians who somehow spontaneously break into song and dance several times a day.

Kahaani was a classy departure from that stereotype - an Indian thriller featuring an assured pregnant heroine (played by a classy Vidya Balan) and a gripping storyline which keeps you guessing till the end. The mood and the cinematography was of the highest quality for this movie, despite being made on a shoestring budget.

3 Idiots is still fresh in my mind right now - one of the highest-grossing Hindi movies of all time, both in India and abroad - it follows the life of two guys who enter an engineering college carrying all the hopes and pressures of their respective families, and have their lives changed by a remarkable friend they make in college. Kind of like Dead Poet's Society, but better, and with song-and-dance sequences thrown in for good measure.

The writing was of the highest quality and you just kept being delivered life lesson after life lesson without being preachy in a very entertaining comedy. The casting was perfect and I just can't recommend it enough if you have, oh about 2 hours and 44 minutes to kill. Absolutely worth it.

So in my quest for more excellent foreign films, have you guys seen anything lately that you can recommend?

Chinese, Korean, Indonesian, Japanese, European, South American to name a few - the world has so much to say, and I would like to see it for myself.

Thy Kingdom Come.

It’s been four days here in Ballarat, and I must say that it has been a really pleasant sea change from the city. One hour and fifteen minutes through some of God’s breathtaking flatlands brings you into this old gold-mining town. It is really nice when people who don’t know you catch your eye as they pass you in corridors, offer you a smile and help you with directions if you look sufficiently lost (which I do, very often).

This week has allowed me to travel back to the city to share in a really precious moment with a lovely couple back home in Melbourne. We had all taken time off work and travelled to bid farewell to their 20-week-old twin daughters who were born prematurely and did not survive. Words cannot describe how beautiful the occasion was, how touching the speeches, how apt the celebration of their brief lives and how moved we were collectively as a family, as friends and as a church.

All of us milled around at the start, trying to remember the last time we attended a funeral here in Melbourne. For many of us, it was our first time. As my brother aptly pointed out, we are so much more adept at congratulations than condolences.  

Watching the strength and brave good-natured humour of the parents in these difficult times was an encouragement and testimony to all of us present at the funeral. Our tears flowed freely in our collective grief, the hugs long and sustained. I absolutely lost it when they brought the delicate white boxes carrying the girls out of the room. It was just so final.

It was at moments like these when I have to remind myself that we have a God that is good, but He is not safe. That we are not exempt from the trials that face us all, but carry a hope that this is not the end of the story. 

I looked around at the people gathered there that day and I am reminded that church, despite all its flaws and failings, can be an amazing community that rallies in the time of need, both to multiply your happiness in times of celebration, and to lighten grief by shouldering it with you in times of sorrow.

Like many others there that day, I know our lives were touched and would never be the same. How do we live today in the shadow of the very real power of Death, the final enemy that God has yet to overcome?

The Lord’s Prayer says ‘Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.’ Pity us as Christians if all the good we do here is to earn some buddy points with Jesus so that our mansion in heaven one day will be bigger than our neighbour’s. We are the bringers of God’s Kingdom here, today, on earth, as it should be in heaven.

Let us live lives of joy, of encouragement, of generosity, of forgiveness. Let us laugh together freely, weep without reservation, live gratefully. Let us choose community over individualism, trust over worry, meaning over purposelessness, love over intolerance. I can personally say it is easier said than done, but I must try.    

Let us bring life where we can, and usher in God’s Kingdom. 

Your Own Company.

The other day I fetched Karen to the nearest Bunning's Warehouse so she could pick up a shovel to bury the dead bodies with erm, I mean, because Karen has taken an interest in erm, *nervous cough*gardening. Yup, gardening.

As I was pulling up to the parking lot and offering to stay in the car while she went shovel-hunting (what kind of a husband are you? I hear you ask. Yup, Karen's picked a winner, all right!), I realised to my horror that I had forgotten to bring my phone out. How on earth was I going to pass the time now?

While I sat alone in the car listening to the CD that was playing, my thumbs flicked nervously across a phantom screen that wasn't there and pressed imaginary buttons. The fingers played with the air-conditioning and radio like a chain-smoker trying to ignore his cigarette-less hand. The seconds dragged on into minutes and no matter how I adjusted my seating position, I could never get comfortable.

Five or six minutes of wrestling later and I finally surrendered to the presence of the only friend I had when I was alone - me.

My life changed forever when I first got my smartphone. Instant gratification of news updates came in the form of Facebook status updates or Instagram photos. With 3G, I could catch up on the news in Australia and Malaysia. And once I have exhausted all my craving for new information, I could beat up some poor character on Street Fighter IV (or have them beat me up, which is usually the case).

It was a beautiful distraction.

And so there I was in my car, and the first thing I notice was the music coming through the CD player. I remembered a time when I could remember lyrics to entire songs within four or five listens. I have lost that ability now, and I have always put it down to mid-life onset Alzheimer's.

Karen has another explanation though - she remembers a time when we were younger, when all we did was sit in front of our cassette players and listened. No TV going on in the background, no party to pump up the volume to, no smooth easy listening on your drive home. We just literally sat in front of our radios, hugging our knees, and listened.

Our imaginations would put the microphone in our hands, the stage lights in our eyes, that boy/girl of our dreams in the only chair in that empty concert hall. And we would sing. Over and over and over until the wrong words became right, until each inflection of the original singer was mimicked, until the concert hall overflowed with girls screaming our names, holding up placards like 'MaRRY Me!' and 'I'm PrEgnaNt! IT's YoUrs!'

What I realised as well in that quietness was that I was no longer being invaded by someone else's idea, someone else's opinion, and I could perhaps even form an independent opinion of my own. (Who would have thought?)

Too often we keep too busy and forget to enjoy our own company. We should get lost in our own thoughts once in awhile and see where the path leads us. We should have time to take stock of our days and think about how to make things better. We should have enough quiet to let our inner child run free, and paint the walls of our dark mind with colourful new ideas and thoughts.

We should give ourselves the chance to create, rather than consume; to reflect, rather than react; to process, rather than push aside our problems.

It may start by us leaving our phones at home more often.

The Karen vs Heng Khuen Cookie Bake-Off

I remember it was the Champion's League final of 2005 and we had gathered in our pastor's house to watch Liverpool stage an improbable comeback to be the champions of Europe for a fifth time. We were all gathered there - a group of boys enjoying a moment of camraderie over what was a Malaysian's and Singaporean's favorite past time - watching some one else's nation play soccer.

Apart from that stirring match, what I remembered distinctly was his lovely wife wanting to make us feel at home, and effortlessly baking us cookies and scones to eat while we watched the match. Nothing parallels the smell of freshly baked pastry wafting through the house. Absolutely nothing.

I was remarking to Karen the other day, after she had slaved in the kitchen to make us a wonderful dinner, my memories of that night, and how 'easy it was to bake cookies'.

[Public Service Announcement: How to Have A Happy Marriage: A Guide for Aspiring Husbands Wanting a Long and Happy Marriage.] 

1. Surprise her with flowers, for no particular reason. If ever money was to buy happiness, this would be it.

2. Apologise first, and apologise often. Find out later what it is you've actually done wrong.

3. Never ever say how easy it is do anything. Not cooking. Not cleaning. Not giving birth. Ever.]

The gauntlet was thrown. I believe the exact words were 'You think it's so easy to bake, you bake lah!'

So tonight, was the official Karen vs Heng Khuen bake-off.

Since this was my first time, I was given the handicap of using a pre-mix while Karen, being the Domestic Goddess(tm) that she is, makes hers from scratch.

Well, I'll let the pictures do the talking:

And we're off! That's my pre-mix in the bowl with egg and butter
ready to go while Tortoise Karen is still measuring her ingredients slowly....*yawn*

Left: Heng Khuen the Hare springs into action, about to show the cookie mix who's boss.
Right: Heng Khuen the Hare realises that he should perhaps listen to instructions and soften the butter first.
An early setback! D'ough!

Left: Hand mixing the cookie dough melts the butter quicker! He's back in it to win it!
Right: Karen's cookie dough, looking all perfect and stuff. Hmmph! No matter!
The oven will be kind to me! (or I will leave a horse's head in its bed)

Top left: My cookie dough looks like tumors. Delicious cookie cancers.
Top right: Well, look who's all Famous Amos now.
Bottom row: The battle lines are drawn! 

Top: Here we go, oven! Be kind! (I have your family hostage....)
Bottom: The finished products. Time for...

The taste test!
Top left: Victory has never tasted so sweet!
Top right: A trip to the dentist has never tasted so sweet!
Bottom: Winners are grinners! (as are cheaters. you with your Domestic Goddess(tm) powers!)

Ah well. In all spirit of good kitchen sportsmanship, congratulations on beating me, Karen Yuting Poh.

Next time. I will replace your chocolate chips with pebbles.

A Life Less Miserables.

Les Miserables was my last film in a cinema for the year 2012, and there could not have been a better choice. One of the 'most important novels of the 19th century' and one of the longest running musicals in West End (since 1985), this magnificent musical has been masterfully adapted to the cinema by Tom Hooper (The King's Speech) with standout performances from Hugh Jackman and Anne Hathaway and an unlikely Master of the House in Sacha Baron Cohen and the talented Helena Bonham Carter.

When we first caught it on West End in 2009, I must admit, I didn't understand the plot completely. It is distracting enough with a musical to see people burst out into song throughout everyday scenarios, much less try to follow the plot.

I think these musicals need repeat watching in order to catch the story and shift the mind from 'Oh, wow, she sang that song really well, erm, whoever that girl was meant to be' to 'Oh, so that's what this story's about.'

Watching the movie really helped me understand the flow of the story better, and the multiple complex themes underlying - of class warfare, love in the time of Revolution, of unrequited and sacrificial love.

Although I didn't completely get the story the first time, one thing remained with me from the musical - the theme of Law and Grace.

Jean Valjean was a man who was imprisoned for 19 years for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his sister's son. Having served his time, he is released back into the world - first, filled with hope afresh which is then quickly crushed by the world's treatment of ex-convicts. It is in this state of desperation that he is invited in to the house of the Bishop, who feeds and houses the destitute Jean.

But survival instincts kick in and Jean loots the Bishop's house of his silver, before being caught by police and returned - beaten and bruised - to grovel before the Bishop. It is at this moment that the Bishop performs an act that will change Jean Valjean's life forever - he states to the police that the silver was not stolen from him, but actually a gift to Jean, and he proceeds to give him two more expensive silver candlesticks from the dining table, which he says Jean had forgotten to take.

It is this moment of mind-bending grace that Jean begins to realise that he must start afresh

'Take an eye for an eye
Turn your heart into stone
This is all I have lived for
This is all I have known
One word from him and I'd be back,
Beneath the lash, upon the rack,
Instead
He offers me my freedom
I feel my shame inside me like a knife
He told me that I have a soul, how does he know,
What spirit came to move my life?'                                                 Valjean's soliloquy

and he lives no longer in his old ways but becomes an honest man who will one day be the factory owner and mayor of the township of Montreuil-sur-Mer. He will later also find further salvation in the child Cossette, who will open his hardened heart further to love.


Contrast this to Javert, the policeman who pursues the criminal Jean Valjean through the years, in trying to uphold the Law as he has always done. He is a prisoner of his own beliefs - that crime must be punished and pursued and never forgiven because criminals are less than humans and beyond salvation.

Suffice to say, Javert himself is shown mind-bending grace in the climax of the show when Jean Valjean has the opportunity to kill him but lets him live instead. Javert, with a heart and mind long hardened by the Law, cannot comprehend this act of mercy, and struggles with this grace -

How can I now allow this man
To hold dominion over me?
This desperate man that I have hunted
He gave me my life.
He gave me my freedom.
I should have perished by his hand
It was his right.
It was my right to die as well,
Instead I live, but live in hell.                                                                Javert's soliloquy

According to the movie, those who live by Law will end up only in one way - a bone-crunching thud into the raging rivers of the Seine.

I think this movie resonates with all of us. Sometimes we are like Jean Valjean, having committed a sin in the past and finding very little forgiveness or grace from the world. We are judged for our choices, our way of living, our beliefs, for not living up to expectations.

Sometimes we are like Javert, with a very strong moral sense that every wrong cannot go unpunished and only good people will prosper. We hold grudges against our families, we envy our friends and hang on to old hurts from previous relationships or friendships.

Sometimes we are our very own Javerts, and we continue to be prisoners of our own guilt, living in hell for all the mistakes and indiscretions of our past.

This New Year's, may you find it in your heart to live, not by the Law, but by Grace - to forgive yourself and others.

The Fear Of Being (Seen) Alone.

I am going to duck off soon to watch my twentieth movie in a cinema this year. Alone.

It wasn't always like this.

I used to have friends.

No, what I mean is, I used to never be able to do anything in public by myself. I would never be comfortable going to watch a movie alone and I would never be caught dead eating in a restaurant by myself.

If friends wouldn't join me, I would rather wait for another time to watch a movie. If I have no one to eat with, I take away to eat in the quiet of my home, even if it means having to wash up later.

I think upon reflection I was probably quite insecure when I was younger. I didn't want to be seen alone because I was afraid of what strangers would think of me. 'Oh look, what a loser. Eating by himself in a restaurant. No friends, eh?' or 'Gee, lone guy by himself in a cinema. Freak alert.' Why their opinions should even ever matter, I see the errors of my youthful thinking now.

The older I grow the more I realise this truth - strangers really don't give a damn. They may see you, maybe make a five second opinion which does not matter about you, and ultimately forget about you. Everyone is ultimately caught up in themselves.

I think the older we get, the less we care about other people's opinions of us. We stand to be our own judges, secure in our own identities and choose whose opinions we listen to. I think being in a safe and secure relationship has served to underline my confidence as well.

It was not always easy, though. This ability to be alone in public requires a brave first step. Mine was taken when I had free tickets to Something's Gotta Give about five or six years ago, which were about to expire, and my Asian practicalities overwhelmed my self-imposed embarrassment of going to the movies alone. It was a Sunday evening, the cinema was almost empty apart from a few couples, and so I watched a chick flick. All on my own. It was a little awkward but I survived.

The boldness slowly grew, and now I comfortably watch movies alone. I join the ranks of the retirees who fill the Nova cinema whenever I have Mondays off, and I have laughed out loud alone at The Diary of a Wimpy Kid while the groups of schoolkids around me try and remember my face in case they need to give a descriptive sketch to the police later.

I am unafraid to be seen alone enjoying my brunch in a Melbourne cafe on a Saturday morning. I must admit that like most people who are at restaurants by themselves, I still feel the need to reach for my phone and look busy, and I hope to overcome that one day.

Learning to love and accept your own company are part of the beautiful perks of growing older.

Hug Your Emergency Doctor.

We had a really interesting day at clinical teaching on Thursday - we had a MOCA session, or a Management of Clinical Aggression session which I thought was invaluable. We were taught how to deal with patients who were aggressive and to recognise and defuse potentially dangerous situations that we may come across in our day-to-day work.

The Emergency Department can sometimes be a very dangerous place. We are not your typical desk job, surrounded by sterile cubicles, flickering computers and personalised mugs, exchanging pleasantries with work mates to find out how their weekend was (okay, we do have that too).

We are, instead, an organised chaos of needles, cannulas, drain tubes, blood, scalpels, stitches, sputum, faeces and urine, medications coming out of glass bottles and enough paperwork to give you potentially fatal paper-cuts.

Add to that mix the agitated drug and alcohol affected patient, the psychotic patient who is terrified and screaming, the scared demented elderly patients who dig their nails into you, some downright abrasive and almost criminal personalities, families or patients who have waited for hours to be seen - their patience wearing thin from the rate things are happening - and you have a rough sketch of what it looks like in our office space.

We somehow manage to work in this environment and keep it civilised most days, but you can see how things can quickly escalate in this pressure-cooker environment, and how important communication and risk management becomes. We do everything we can to ensure the patient's well-being and make sure that the workplace is safe once more.

Unfortunately medical school does not prepare you for this.  It does not tell you how to deal with a patient who is yelling at you or to stand two arms' length away from an aggressive patient who might just grab your neck and hold you up against the wall. It does not teach you to talk in an even tone, or to assert yourself by repeating your requests calmly.

Medical school does not tell you that a simple act like offering a patient food and drink and apologising for the wait can quickly defuse a lot of the pent-up frustration in the emergency department. It does not teach you how to manage five patients at the same time, ensuring that patient and family members are updated on their progress. There are no training sessions on how not to take racial slurs personally, or how to keep calm in the face of ongoing verbal abuse.

Maybe medical school doesn't want to talk about it, in case you changed your mind.

All we have at the start of our careers is our instinct, and our personalities in handling these tricky situations. Which is why I think we needed sessions like Thursday's to be taught in our medical schools, or at least to our fledgling interns and residents, who like myself, quickly lose any illusions that we deal with perfect people who will always be grateful for all the help and good that we thought we were doing as doctors (and nurses, and paramedics).

****************************** (not shuriken stars)

One of the interesting things we did during the session was a practical class on how to break away from arm grabs, choke-holds, hair pulls and bites. We laughed and had a bit of fun as we practised with each other on some basic self-defense moves and how to safely restrain a patient who is aggressive and a threat to themselves and others.

Don't get me wrong - we do not enjoy these situations. No one goes to work and hopes for a day of being yelled at or physically handled or threatened. I am not saying it happens all the time. It does happen, and we need to be trained to deal with it in a safe manner.

****************************** (not shuriken stars)

Although the MOCA session was really useful, I know that sometimes simulation is just that - simulation. Who knows whether you will have the clarity to remember what you were taught in training when faced with a real-life dangerous situation. Some knowledge and a little training, however, is better than having no idea at all about what to do in scenarios like this.

I remember a story from a friend of mine who was a classmate during my university years in Malaysia. She recounted how the night before, as she was getting into the lift, a guy nervously followed her in.

As she pressed her floor, he anxiously pressed the number to the second floor, his fingers trembling. That was when he turned around and flashed her. All her years of training of taekwondo up to the level of a black belt, and all she could do was scream, and scream, and scream. He ran out when the doors opened, leaving her alone in the lift, pressing the close button repeatedly. She had to shower several times that night as she recalled how she felt 'dirty' from that harrowing encounter.

I remember that story, and all I can think about is how simulation is different from reality, and we can only hope for the good grace of God to protect us and to give us clarity of what to do if we are ever caught up in these terrible situations.

So do spare a thought for us Emergency doctors next time. Yes, we chose our professions because we do enjoy (dare I say, love) it, but man, it can be pretty hard sometimes.

So give us a hug the next time you see us, but not too hard, alright, just in case our training kicks into action and you find yourself on the floor, wondering how you ended up there.

********************* (actually shuriken stars, haha!)

Of Weddings and Wondering.

I have just returned from a short trip back to Malaysia last weekend, and it was wonderful to be back in the mother land, if only for a few days. Just a quick thank you and I-love-yous to my sister and all my friends who took time off work just to catch up and hang out with this prodigal son.

In that short period of time that I returned, I managed to attend two weddings on two consecutive nights, one a boisterous Indian wedding on a Saturday night and the other a classy Chinese affair on a Sunday night.

Having prepared for my own wedding myself last year, I know how stressful organising wedding dinners can be. Amidst all the worries about the catering, and the decorations, and the venue hire - and the other million things that you wished you hired a wedding planner for - there are subtler, even more sinister things to consider - the wedding seating arrangement.

This auntie doesn't get along with that uncle, so they shouldn't be seated together. This friend slept with the other guy's girlfriend a long time ago - separate tables. This church member has asked not to be seated next to this other church member due to an incident a long time ago which neither has forgiven the other for yet.

All this rubbish and long standing ill-feeling start to surface during the seating planning for weddings. We tread carefully because we want everyone to have a good time and fond memories of what is meant to be the happiest day of our life.

Which I think is a load of bullshit, excuse the language. Why can't we all be adults and lay down our stupid guns, and for one day make peace and rise above our petty selves, and celebrate the day for what it is - the joyful union of two loving individuals who are our friends, and family.

***************************

Weddings are also interesting milestones in our lives. I say this not only because weddings are important events in themselves, but also because they are a chance to take stock of our lives. Drawing up the wedding invitation list can be quite a confronting and anxiety-inducing experience as you soon come to the realisation that you are no longer the popular person that you once thought yourself to be.

As we accelerate through this life, our circle of friends grow tighter. We no longer have the community of a school to draw a hundred friends from, we have moved on beyond the cliques of college years, and we no longer belong to a large Scout troop or a soccer team.

We keep a professional distance at work and a personal distance at church as we become more and more selective of which friends we truly keep through the years as our time becomes scarcer with the realities of work, and distance, especially for those who have moved overseas.  

We sometimes struggle to think how many friends we truly have in the end as invitation after invitation seemingly gets rejected as we prepare for the wedding. Where were all these bravado promises of the youth that we would be friends forever, we would take a bullet for the other person, when now we can't even take time off work to be there during the most important day of their lives?

The more idealistic among us will begin to question friendships that were supposedly lifelong when a friend tells us that they are not able to make it to our wedding. The more realistic and easygoing among us will know that our friendship has evolved over distance and time, and that, in the end, it is okay, c'est la vie, our friendship will survive the blips of forgotten birthdays and broken childhood promises and unattended weddings.