Rheumatoid Arthritis

Osteoarthritis and rheumatoid arthritis was the topic of our study group discussion tonight. After discussing just how severe the condition is, it made me wonder how anyone could have the strength the deal and bear with it. It made me recall a particularly interesting patient I met during my medical posting earlier in the year.

So a few months back, while waiting for our lecturer to arrive at the hospital, I sat at the waiting area infront of the specialist clinic. A 20y/o ++ lady sat a few seats away and was holding on to what looked like a research paper. I looked at her and smiled- to which she returned a warm one. Not planning to clerk her, I decided to just make small talk- and found out that she was studying and researching about Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA). When I inquired further, she was so excited to tell me all about RA and even questioned me about the signs and symptoms (to which I could barely stutter, after just entering IM).

She told me how she got sick. She told me how it was confused with rheumatic fever. She told me how the condition was so bad at one point and she had to use the wheelchair. Then after that she couldn't even walk anymore- she had to have a total hip replacement and it was one of the most difficult and trying times of her life. But she said she kept her thoughts positive (while saying it in a very chirpy and cheerful manner) !

A very interesting thing happened. When I asked her if she had any signs of subluxation- while demonstrating my fingers bending outwards (a sign of RA), she immediately covered her eyes and squealed, "No! Don't show me! I don't want to imagine it so that I won't think about it and I won't get it insyaAllah." She laughed after that and I smiled back in amazement. She said that now her condition has improved but it could still worsen.

I was truly marveled to meet such an amazing person. My lecturer arrived, we ended our conversation and we parted ways. Here is a young patient, whose condition had really affected the quality of her life. Where most people would despair, she somehow found strength and resilience and inspired me!

InsyaAllah, I hope wherever you are, you're successful in this life- and even in the Hereafter. I pray you're doing well and still inspiring other people- that even in challenging conditions, you can still keep your hopes up.

The night I lost motivation and found it again almost immediately when I realized I needed to give a tazkirah the next morning

It's a very long title because that was the first thing that came to mind when I wrote out the title.

Last night I somehow lost motivation to study. I mean, I know what topics I'm supposed to read up and to cover and to revise but somehow my mind ended up being very unfocused. In my unmotivated mood, my friend reminded me that it was my turn to deliver the tazkirah before class the next morning. I acknowledged it- but it must have been somehow stored at the very back of my mind because I only just remembered it again while I was getting ready for class this morning.

So this morning I slapped my forehead in frustration for having forgotten that I had to deliver a tazkirah. For one, I really value tazkirah time because everyone's mentally prepared for a reminder and secondly, when we're given the task to deliver a tazkirah, we should make the best of it and not waste other people's time. So I sat momentarily and racked my brains for the best possible topic. Normally the best and easiest topics are ones that come from the heart. And after having 'lost motivation' the night before, I tried to search for the best topic to talk about. And Alhamdulillah, the topic came to me. And while thinking about it, it made me reflect on a lot of things.

In our Family Medicine posting, we have a whole week where we are attached to a GP clinic. On the last day of our attachment, this was what the GP said to my friend and I. And it really made me reflect.

Before you enter medical school, you have to get high grades and compete with each other. But y'know, after you've entered med school, you don't have to compete anymore. You're not competing with anyone. What you have to do is just to study. And if you follow the syllabus and the curriculum set out for you in medical school, it's a guarantee that you'll pass.

Thinking about that, it made me reflect on several things:

1. How come I never realized this earlier? Here I didn't need to compete with anyone. I just needed to study for 'myself' because in the end, I'd need to use it to treat patients and help people in the future. If I didn't study and put effort into it, I'd only be the one at a loss.
2. Having been so exam-oriented, it taught me to study to pass exams. I mean, yes, we do need to pass exams but that's so that our knowledge is as what it should be. But the lecturers don't need our exam grades. We need the knowledge. And low grades is just an assessment that we don't have enough knowledge to be someone competent to treat others. This seems like such an obvious answer after having written it down. And it made me realize another thing... We already know the answers to the exams. We don't know which questions but if we keep learning and studying, we'd have already come across the answers anyway.
3. Before I entered medical school, I really wanted to become a doctor to help other people. Others asked, "But other occupation too can help people." And I think, "But I want to particularly help people in this way."
   Sometimes when some doctors ask us, "Why do you want to become a doctor? And don't tell us it's because you want to help people," and I think, "Why not? Why can't it be because we want to help people?" Maybe it's because our actions doesn't reflect that intention. That if we really want to help people, we'd put in all our effort and interest towards that in each step of our journey in med school.
4. And in conclusion; if I want to help people, and if I don't have to compete and I know what I need to study, then why am I not motivated to study?

Alhamdulillah, all that reflecting and all that common sense written down... I think that's exactly what made me more motivated to study tonight (and hopefully the rest of the other nights when my mood is not as it should be).

But well, I ended up not even delivering the tazkirah because we had a very busy morning. But it gave me a lot to think about (another reflection is that stress and performance go hand in hand!) Alhamdulillah 'ala kulli haal :)

Alia Nadhirah

nine-fifty post meridiem

2 things

When your heart is heavy, you try to find ways to pacify the ache. And suddenly, Alhamdulillah, the answer comes almost instantly, that you even wonder why it took you time to think: Do'a and the Qur'an.

I once heard...

 Do'a is a way for you to speak to Allah. And the Qur'an is the way for Allah to 'speak' to His servants.

InsyaAllah, no matter what hardship you have gone/ are going through, always turn to Allah and how ever way it turns out, it'll be okay in the end bi iznillah :)

:')

When your friend gets married, you get super excited and it's a really great feeling because you're just so happy for them. And when it's like your best friend and someone you've known for more than a decade, that joy is quadrupled and immense! But when the realization sinks... when you begin to accept the fact that it's not exactly going to be 'the same' anymore... well, for me it stings a little (or maybe a lot more than I'd like to admit).

She's going to have different priorities now, spending more time with that person. And it's like... imagine when you're young and you have this best friend. And suddenly she's best friends with someone else. It feels really bad... that you don't have her as a friend anymore. Perhaps a girl thing... Hahah. But when your best friend gets married, it's like someone else is 'stealing' her from you.

Funny. I hope this feeling passes real soon.

Allahu musta'an.

Of Bad Moods and Ice Creams

While being in an unexplainably irritable mood yesterday, I made it a point to at least inform my understanding brothers that I was not in a good mood.

When my 16-year-old brother Syarif came back from his debate program yesterday, he came into my room and asked what's was wrong.

To which I replied that I was in a bad mood.

To which he asked what would make me feel better and not in a bad mood.

I said whatever was at the top of my head; ice cream. It was just my inconsolable-irritable-I-don't-care-I-want-anything-eventhough-I-know-we-don't-have-it-and-I-know-you-can't-get-it-anyway mood.

He left my room... and came back a few minutes later with a bowl of chocolate ice cream.

I stared in disbelief. Since when did have ice cream? I asked.

He shrugged. Since last week I think.

Well, the ice cream didn't particularly solve anything. But it got me so surprised that it made me happy again :)

The Family

During the sahur at the masjid this morning, Arina and I was seated next to a family. Undoubtedly there was the mother, probably the eldest child around 20+, 2 boys between the ages 13 and 10 and a little girl probably the age of 5. While eating, I couldn't help but eavesdrop on the family's conversation. The funny thing was that I could only make out a few words. I peeked and saw that they were very much Malaysians. At first I thought it was in a malay dialect I couldn't comprehend. But as I listen a little longer, I realized it. I looked at Arina and realized that she was listening too. Her eyebrows furrowed, but as we exchanged looks, she smiled and mouthed "MashaAllah...". I smiled and we continued eating in silence.

They were talking as if in their own world, and making jokes and laughing. All in Arabic. Very fluent arabic! How remarkable!

After we cleared our plates and walked towards the wudhu' area, Arina said to me "I conclude that they lived in Egypt and they came back here for the holidays." I nodded- that was probably the most acceptable reason. How else could they be so fluent? But as we walked, I noted the mother in the purple hijab. Thinking "You'll only ever get the answer when you ask" (a personal principle), I made a silent vow that I would find her and ask her.

Before subuh prayers started, I spied her and her girls walking towards the wudhu area. They parted ways and the mother and the youngest daughter approached a lady to probably have a chat. The mother eyed me and I smiled, gesturing that I wanted to talk to her. She signaled for me to wait and so I sat next to them. After having finished the conversation, the mother approached me and asked who I was.

My name is Alia, I introduced myself.

Ah, how can I help you?

Well, I was sitting next to you during sahur. I'm so sorry I couldn't help but listen to your family's conversation. My friend and I were so amazed to hear your children speak in fluent Arabic. How was it that they were able to speak so well? Did you live abroad?

She smiled knowingly, perhaps all too familiar with such a question. My husband studied abroad previously in Jordan. So when we had our children, they grew up with Arabic. When we came back to Malaysia, we schooled them in an international Arabic school. And when they grew up, arabic was their main language of communication. When their younger siblings were born, they picked up the language from their older siblings.

Wow...  I smiled in awe.

She laughed, and said: The kids are delighted that they have a language that other people can't really understand as much as them. To be fluent in a language, you have to practice it often.

Those were her parting words. I thanked her, shook her hand and sat back next to Arina in saff.

I smiled in reminiscence. I understand well when she talks about her kids being able to speak in 'their own language'. When I look at her kids, they were really close and it reminds me of my family. When we came back from Oman, we only ever conversed in English. And we didn't mix so much with other people. Not because they couldn't speak in English, but because we couldn't speak much Malay. Though that's probably that's not the case with them...

MashaAllah, as Arina and I discussed about Arabic and the amazing family, I thought how awesome it is to be able to speak in Arabic so fluently. I lived 5 years in an Arabic country and spent another 5 years having Arabic classes, but not actually picking up and practicing the language.

InsyaAllah, I'm endeavoring to learn Arabic as much as I can!

Note: Conversation was in Malay, translated to English for the convenience of the writer.

The Medical Illustrator (Part 2)

The Medical Illustrator (Part 1) Link

I hesitated, "Was it supposed to be a secret?"

"No, no," he laughed heartily, "But not many people know that. Only my close friends who are doctors know that I draw surgical drawings. How did you find out? Is your dad a doctor?"

I told him about my dad's friend who had informed him. That neither my dad nor his friend were doctors.

He was deep in thought. "That's strange. I didn't think anyone else would know."

I nodded, unsure what to say. So I started with my lines, while presenting the coloured manuscript to him.

I explained about my project while he patiently listened. He said that he had seen the ALIEN Biz blog. And Alhamdulillah, he had such excellent views on it! He said that the artworks were fantastic and this effort was commendable.

My heart was still beating wildly but it had positively glowed. I thanked Allah silently for such an opportunity and an amazing response.

He leafed through several pages of the manuscript I had given him. He gave a few comments and raised several important and crucial legal publishing issues. Not only did he agree to look at the drawings, but he also agreed to look at the content. So when I asked if he would review the whole book, he smiled in agreement and replied, "When do you want it back?"

After arranging for the next meeting, I stood up to leave. He asked me one final question; "Why did you start this?" I explained about needing to raise the funds for a project for the Somali refugees and how I sold my notes to raise the money and how it had escalated to this.

At the door, I asked quite seriously if I needed to pay for this consultation (I just wanted to make sure since I didn't think I'd have the money for it). But he only laughed warmly and I smiled (though still confused).

I closed the door behind me, smiled non-stop and walked with a spring every step of the way back out.

The Medical Illustrator (Part 1)

After having met doctors and a visual facilitator to review the illustrated book, one thing suddenly came up: Why didn't I think of it earlier? Finding a doctor who's also an illustrator so that they could comment on the clarity of the illustrations and overall visuals.

I remembered very vaguely my dad telling me a few years ago about a surgeon who also draws. In fact, his friend told him about it. It was just a comment in the passing and at that time, I only nodded in acknowledgement but barely did it register in my mind.

Now, I was desperately clinging to that piece of information. My dad did not seem to recall about it and who actually told him.

The day after, he called up one of his friends and finally remembered the doctor's name- Dr J. My mom immediately gave me the number to the hospital and I promptly made the call and asked them to connect me to Dr J.

I called and was directed to his receptionist (?) who told me that he was unable to speak at the time. I said that I would call back later. When I did, I was told that his clinic was closed (of course, it was already 5pm).

The next day I called again, only to be informed that he was performing an operation and wouldn't be having any clinic that day.

Finally, I called again and spoke to his receptionist and  I explained who I was and my mission and she told me that he was very busy and that I would have to meet him during outpatient time the week after. I asked if she could settle an appointment for me. I didn't think seeing him during outpatient clinic time would be so good since there would be other patients and I might need a bit more of his time. She said that she would only inform him. I left my number and asked her to pass the message. She promised that she would get back to me soon.

That day, I also sent an email to him explaining who I was and gave the link to my ALIEN Biz website. I waited but neither my calls nor my emails were replied. I assumed that he did not have the time for me at all and that this was his way of saying it.

On Wednesday night, during dinner, my dad asked me: So, have you contacted him yet? I shook my head and explained what had happened. Well Alia, he started, you're going to have to do something to at least meet him. Camp outside his door, bring a sleeping bag. Wear a cardboard sign and show how much you really want to meet him! I nodded. I get what my dad meant. But perhaps I wouldn't have to go that far yet. I would go meet him the next day.

The next morning (Thursday), I woke up feeling anxious. I was told that his clinic was open on Thursday between 930pm til 1230pm. I didn't set an appointment so I just thought that I'd wait how ever long I needed. Even if I was given 3 minutes before I would be shoo-ed away, I would give him the most worthwhile and convincing 3 minutes for him to review my book.

As I walked to the hospital, I breathed in and out, unsure of what to expect. I replayed in my mind what would be the best opening line, "Doctor, I heard you also draw and illustrate." Too direct an opening? Or "Doctor, I'm not a patient; just give me 3 minutes of your time." Too desperate. "Doctor, my name is Alia and I'm illustrating a book." Yes, perhaps not too bad of a way to start. The worst that could happen would be that he refuses to review the book and that's that. Yes, I can accept that. I've had it happen to me and I lived through it.


When I searched for his room, this is what I realized: Private hospitals have suites. Having had clinical sessions at public hospitals where 50+ patients await, I blinked in disbelief when I found only 3 patients in Dr J's suite. I walked up to the receptionist and introduced myself, "My name is Alia. I need to see Dr J." She went through the list of appointments for the day and I immediately interjected that I didn't have one. She smiled pleasantly and gestured me to sit.

When the final patient came out of the room, Dr J came out too. He asked the receptionist who the next patient was and she gestured to me, "Doctor, this is the medical student."

I was startled- because I hadn't introduced myself that way but possibly she remembered me from the previous phone call. Dr J looked at me and exclaimed, "Ah, you're the one with the book- ALIEN Biz right?" None of my opening lines prepared me for this and I could only manage to nod. "Come in, come in." I scrambled to my feet and shoved the manuscript I was holding into my bag and followed him into the room.

I had expected that his room would be filled with illustrations and drawings. I didn't expect (that much) that it would be filled with so many books. Books covering almost every inch of his desk and the shelves that lined the walls.

He sat down, looked at me and the first thing he questioned was: "So how did you know that I could draw?"

Continuation: The Medical Illustrator (Part 2)

Designing a Logo

Designing a Logo: A summary

Full story at http://diradesign.blogspot.com/2012/07/streamline-web.html

Is craving for

Gong Cha's Winter Melon Tea.

Medicine vs Art

A lady who stopped by our booth at BeingMe politely asked me: "Oh, so what are you studying now?"

I replied, "I'm studying Medicine."

"So what do you like to do?"

"Oh, I absolutely love art and design!"

"Oh," she responded in a rather confused manner, "I meant, which posting do you like in medicine?"

"Ah..." I replied sheepishly.

When you see them.

I want to have friends who are those kind of people. I want to marry that kind of person. But first, I have to be that person. :)

Article link here.

On Becoming a Parent

What does it take to become an awesome parent?

Recently my dad shared an article titled "Raising Children with Deen and Dunya" which he urged us to read. At first I wasn't too interested in reading it because it was really lengthy but when my dad pushed me to read it, I started and couldn't stop. It impacted me so much so that it made me think about what I need to do now.

Firstly, there are so many things on my mind when it comes to parenting. My parents are like "Parent Counsellors" who give talks about parenting, wrote books on parenting (Cool Mum Super Dad), and eat and breathe parenting. I've attended a few of their talks and seminars and what I have to say as one of their kids is this: Whatever they say, is true- and they still do so much more.

My lecturer once said: "As a student, you guys have to do nothing but just look after yourselves. When you're married and working, you'll have to look after your spouse, kids, patients, bosses, colleagues, in-laws etc". And while that's completely true, I've not given it much thought until now. Sometimes I used to start nagging when I ask my brothers to help me out but they say they're too tired (but nowadays, hardly do such issues arise) and I retort, "What on earth do you guys even have to do at school? Just sit in class, listen to the teacher and do your homework." So now I can understand my parents' feelings when before this I say I'm too tired/lazy to follow them anywhere or do house chores.


After being on holiday for just 2 weeks, I realize that there's just so much that they do. On top of earning money to put food on the table (giving seminars, talks, handling emails, supervising the other businesses etc), my parents also have to handle us (which includes listening, advising, spending time, fulfilling our needs, disciplining, managing, parenting etc), and they also have extra activities (dad as chairman of the local surau, mum writing a new book, them attending to other programs).

So it worries me when I ponder, "Why on earth did I decide to become a doctor when I want to focus on raising my kids?" There was a great debate about this during a course I attended and it made me rethink about staying in medical school. But when I consulted a few people, they said, "Well, we know of some friends whose parents are doctors and they turned out alright." I don't deny that. But ultimately, what do I want for myself and my family? Yes, perhaps doctors can juggle between their demanding career and their family. But there will always be a cost. Somewhere.

After reading the article, it registered that perhaps I'm over-thinking it all of those. That perhaps I'm focusing on the wrong things as of now. Yes, time spent with them and everything is important, that becoming a doctor might not necessarily give me enough time to be with them. But eventually, whatever jobs I take might render the same thing. And the greatest thing I've to think about now which I surmise from the article is this: I've to develop good habits now so that even if I'm unable to always be with them, I'd still be parenting with whatever actions I do.


Whatever I'm doing now, whatever habits I develop, it's got to be something that I would want to benefit my children. InsyaAllah, I hope to become a parent my kids will be proud to have.

.___.

Oh heart, please calm down.

Underestimate

After getting lost for 1 and 1/2 hours on the road, going to SK, serdang and finally turning back to KL and trying once more, I thought frustratedly, "Why on earth can't I see any signs to Bangi?"

I let out a loud sigh and quietly prayed, "Allah, please show me a sign to Bangi."

And the next road sign I saw showed "Bangi". It was the first "Bangi" sign I had come across for the past 90 minutes.

Prayers; how often we underestimate it.

The Lion

I love how she's always able to put everything into perspective. It's not just about worrying about what to wear. There's a lot of other things we worry about that is not that important.

Assumptions

---------Monday 11th June----------------
A few days ago I banked in a relatively-large amount of money into my friend's account for accommodation rent. Today, she told me that she didn't receive any money... I just realized that she had written that her account was BIMB (which I had assumed was CIMB). She had just confirmed that it's actually Bank Islam Malaysia (is BIMB the shortform? or maybe it's just me who misread).

So yes, I ended up transferring the money to a CIMB account. When I realized this, I immediately thought, Whyyyy now I have less moneyyy... But a few minutes later, I caught myself in time and thought to myself: Well, maybe Allah made it this way because that CIMB Person might have needed that money more.


I like how my parents brought me up to always think positively and assume for the best:)

---------Wednesday 13th June----------------
This morning I got a text from Maybank which read:


"Your funds transfer to CIMB BANK BERHAD was rejected and credited back to your account."


Alhamdulillah ^^

Of heights.

Before I leave home for Cyberjaya, I'd always hug everyone first. Yesterday when I hugged my 12-year-old brother, he noted: "Oh, you still have to bend down to hug me..." Then he grinned widely, "One day, I'm the one who'll have to bend down to hug you."

Siraj, I think you'd probably turn out to be the tallest among all of us!:)

Scary People.

I went grocery shopping with my younger brother this morning. After realizing that we had a lot of things to buy and needed a trolley instead of the basket that we brought along, he decided to get a trolley. I left him to go get it and I continued shopping. A few minutes later, he came back, still basket in hand and smirking.

"Did you hear what happened?" he asked, still grinning. I raised my eyebrow. He went to tell what happened:

 He was holding on to the basket of things we had already put in and went to get a trolley which was only available outside the store. As he stepped out (still holding on to the unpaid groceries), the security guard immediately roared for him to get in line to pay for the groceries. My brother (who was quite far from the guard), calmly mouthed and gestured that he only wanted to get a trolley. The guard however vehemently insisted that he get into line. He gave up his endeavor for the trolley and walked back to where I was.

When asked why he didn't just leave the basket of groceries inside, my brother explained that the basket had been taken away once before during a previous episode and he didn't want that happening again.

In the car, I told him that if I was in his place, I wouldn't have been so calm and might have been quite freaked out if someone were to scream at me. I told him that I've had to face certain scary people and it just gets me traumatized. He smiled and said to me:

"People aren't actually scary. They're normal human beings. It's just that in some point of their life, they have something that they wanted or needed to do. And they ended up realizing that being scary works for them. But they're ordinary people and they too have their own fears. Once you analyze people, you'll realize that there's nothing to be afraid of."

As always, he taught me one of life's lessons. He amazes me.

A Milestone: The First Completed Draft

The Softcopy: Initial design of the book cover.

The Hardcopy: Printed design of the book cover.

Bismillah.

Last week was a challenging week. My parents (who are also my publishers) told me they'd be sending the manuscript out to reviewers. I was scared out of my wits, so afraid of what they would say, agonizing over the (yet-to-come) critics. Had 'disagreements' with my parents etc. But in the end I went ahead with what they said.

Initially my parents thought of printing all the pages in colour to be given to the reviewers so they can see it clearer. But after printing only one copy and learning that it was very costly to have it printed in colour, they decided to print it in black and white, which too was fine.

I came back home today and remembered that they had printed a coloured copy. I didn't take much notice of it except that Ahmad had said that it looked really good. It didn't register much to me at that time. That's to say; normally Ahmad would critic my works- but when he says something is good, it's good.

Well, my mom showed me the printed hardcopy today. At first I couldn't believe it. Is this really it? MashaAllah, I was grinning ear to ear and was.... speechless. I was holding on to the book. In full colour, every single page. After a whole year of spending on it, it's finally... in book form. Not 100% complete, but getting there.

I said to my mom, "I can't believe it...". My mom beamed at me and said, "Well, I can't believe that at one point you told me you didn't want to continue it." I smiled sheepishly. I remember that. When I was engulfed in my own fears and emotions. I was traumatized by the "what-if"s.

Looking at it now, I was very proud of how it turned out. And Alhamdulillah, just in time, I remembered of a blog post I read yesterday. The writer had said, "We become so proud that when something gets done, we think it's our effort. We forget that everything comes from Allah." And indeed, everything does come from Allah.

It's going to be a long journey after this. I have yet to meet reviewers, listen to their critics, listen to people's critics, edit it again and again. There will be pain, joy, disappointment. But there will also be perseverance, effort and most importantly, faith in Him.

Alia, remember to be ikhlaas and make this for His sake. Don't lose yourself and keep on track, come what may.

Ummi and Ayah, please remind me always. I love you guys:)

Pull through!

Have you ever woken up one morning 

and felt so down and depressed- 

and the next minute 

be so filled with 

renewed faith 

and an even stronger will?

You can do it, Alia!

You can make it through!:)

The type of person

Today I realized I've become someone who I didn't want to be.

A few years back, I told myself I wouldn't be afraid of being different, of doing things that would push me outside my limit and that I would learn something from. It's different telling yourself that and facing it for real.

A few weeks back I was able to complete the first draft of my physical examinations book. This was after a long hiatus and when my parents finally pushed me to complete it. When I did complete it, my parents had been supremely supportive (as my publishers), to contact all the reviewers I listed down, print out the manuscript, mail it to some of them and personally hand over to a few other reviewers.

For some of the reviewers, my heart was arguing that I would be going through a very tough time because among them would be professors who are very critical.

So all those excuses came. All the 'reasonings'.

I told myself, when I did the book, my notes were all from 2nd year and the content was based on what I learnt a whole year ago. I had only completed the book JUST before my Internal Medicine (IM) posting of 3rd year; and one must know that most of the physical examinations are done during the IM posting, and that there is just so much more to physical examinations than what we learnt in preclinical.

I told my mom. I said, "Ummi, there are really good professors who I know can review it well, but I'm scared, because I'd probably be critiqued a lot and I'm not sure I can handle it."

My mom replied, "All the more reason they need to review it. We need people who are qualified to review it so that there will be standard and quality to the book. And don't you worry, I faced the same thing when I was going to publish my first book."

I mean, these things I already know. But then my heart complained again that... it's not like my parents know these people, like how I do as a student (after having had attended their class and getting reprimanded other times).

What if it's rejected? What if they didn't like it? What if they thought like, "Who does she think she is to produce something like this while she's only just a student?"

After reflecting, I got angry with myself for being too scared to face what I needed to do. And I forget that to achieve something extraordinary, you need extraordinary effort. Yeah, if it's critiqued, improve on it. If it's rejected, then.... work on another plan.

Why did I work on something like this in the first place? I know my reasons. My mom always reminds me two things:
1. Be ikhlaas in everything you do. Because if you're not, then everything will be a waste.
2. Be outstanding. Because Allah will ask you on the Day of Judgement what you have done in this world.

And like a lecturer said to me, "Alia, if publishing a book is easy, anyone can do it. Working on a book or any project no matter how much you like to do will still have periods of ups, downs, doubts and fatigue... etc which is why not many (including me) have the commitment to do it."


I've been agonizing on how I'd have to face these reviewers. But now I don't think it's going to be as bad as I imagined. I know I have people who I can count on to boost my spirits up high again when my spirits are down low. Make a lot of du'a to calm my nerves. It's a test from Allah. InsyaAllah everything will be fine. It's all in the mind :)

And perhaps I can still live up to my personal expectations. I can still be the type of person I want to be.

I've been under a lot of stress these past few weeks with these thoughts in mind. I think typing them down and organizing my thoughts have somehow helped to clear my fears. Writing helps :)

Oh magnesium. Why?

Case of post-parathyroidectomy is haunting me :(

Sneak Peek.

First draft design for the front cover of my book insyaAllah.

Alhamdulillah, one of the biggest blessing I got was being able to complete the first draft for the WHOLE book. It's been long but the journey is still far from over. Still working on it. Slowly, but surely. :)

Holding hands.

At a recent parenting workshop at our local surau, the MC introduced the speakers with this statement:

"The talk will be delivered by Ahmad Fakhri and Jamilah Samian. Now, one thing about them is that, I've even seen them going back from Subuh prayers holding hands."

I didn't know. I smiled. My parents are 50 years old and they are super romantic :)

Tahajjud together.

I pray that when I get married, my husband will wake me up in the middle of the night and remind me to pray Tahajjud together :)

It's one of the sweetest things I learnt that my parents do together.

Rose

I had the amazing opportunity to meet a wonderful and dedicated lady today. She is soft yet unshakable, down-to-earth and resilient. To me, she is the epitome of strength.

Earlier today, my family and I had planned to visit by Rose's Old Folk's Home for Women today, just for a while. We thought we'd just stay put in the car while our parents settled what needs to be done. But as always, after my father got out of the car, he stuck his head in and gestured to the building, "Let's show some mark of respect," he said- hinting that we all go in.

And we did.

Upon entering, we saw about 6 beds filled in the living room, each occupied by elderly women. Some glanced at us, some were unable to move and some just smiled. We shook hands with the women, all old enough to be my grandmother and we stood to one side. Taped on the door next to me was a list of all the inhabitants and their cases. There were cases of attempted suicide, their families trying to rob them of their own money, abandoning and even their own husbands harming them.

The saddest story I read was of a lady whose son punched her and hit her with a wooden chair. She asked for money to go to the dentist and he refused. Long story short, instead, he demanded RM700 from her for looking after her and paying her bills.

When you hear such things, it makes you wonder, "How can these people even exist?!" It makes me so angry and so broken-hearted to hear these harsh realities.

We then followed the lady in-charge; Victoria. Her hair tied back, medium height, and carrying a heavy burden on her shoulders, she led us into her small office. Her table was laden with files and boxes of medications. There were shelves on one side, each having a name labelled with tablets, pills and medical aid. She told us the story of how, because of some selfish people, the house would be taken away unless it's settled and bought back. Monthly expenses need to be paid to continue operations. Workers quitting and not enough helping hands to look after the women. She is over-worked but she is still going strong.

And the most amazing part was how, despite all these, she still says she wants to go on because at the end of the day, it brings her satisfaction.

This is first and foremost a reminder to myself, and to others:

Children, please look after your parents when they become old. They have sacrificed and looked after you without asking for anything back.

Parents, please raise your kids right and treat them kindly. So that when you become old, they will do the same to you.

It's a cycle.

After having a depressing day over my own personal problems, listening to these acts of courage immediately lift my spirits high and remind me that: There are problems bigger than yours. Don't let small things bring you down; continuously be involved with the BIG things so that it will keep you going farther.


"Pleasing Allah first and foremost is the most important thing. That way, when humans are displeased with you, it doesn't matter because you already have Allah's pleasure."

The Macbook Battery

So I finally got the RM 300 to replace my nonfunctioning macbook battery. I was so excited! I thought to myself (and being quite proud of myself); I did it! All by myself! I didn't have to ask Ayah for the money and I didn't have to borrow anyone's money!

I accompanied Ayah to Low Yat today to run a few errands. When we dropped by the MacStore, I asked for the battery. The guy at the counter went away for a while and returned after a few minutes with a small box in hand.

"We don't have the white battery for you but we only have the black one left." He continued, "But it's the same price." So I agreed and just went on with it.

As they placed it on the counter, I saw the pricetag: RM 599.

I was stunned. "It's RM 599?" I asked. 

"Yes, this is the original." He answered. And apparently, it did cost RM 600 instead of RM 300.

I looked at my dad and told him softly, "Ayah, I only have RM 300."

He paid the rest and said to me, "Alia, you can pay for it when you're richer than me."

:')

The assumed price of a macbook battery= RM 300.

The real price of a macbook battery= RM 599.

The lesson from buying a macbook battery at that time= Invaluable.

Lessons from Not Eating

Bismillah.

I've met, seen and heard about so many amazing people who seem to have never-ending energy to do everything. I greatly admire these people and I wish to emulate them in every way. In the course of this pursuit, I learnt a very important lesson; which took place yesterday.

It's my mid-sem break and I had planned so many things so that I can accomplish as much as I can. I've been continuously reminded that we have so little time left and there's still so much we have to do. What that principle in mind, I wanted to push myself to the limit and do everything I can. In normal circumstances, I think I could have handled them. But yesterday, Allah wanted to teach me a lesson.

Before that, on Wednesday, after having tightened my braces, of course my teeth were throbbing- consequently causing me to eat, talk and smile less. Each muscle contraction inflicts pain and this continued for a few days. I had no mood to eat because I could hardly munch anything.

On Friday, I had a long list of meetings and sessions that followed with a program which ended the next day followed by another program the next night. Throughout Friday, my head was spinning and I felt like crashing to the ground every few minutes. I don't know why I didn't figure out it was because I didn't eat. I didn't FEEL hungry (maybe I was too hypoglycemic to realize that I was hungry?). It should have been obvious but I figured out that maybe I was in distress because of other things on my mind. By Maghrib, after the meetings, I ended up feeling very irritable and highly stressed.

Still not figuring out my palatal problem, I finally called a friend up and asked her advice on whether I should just go home or still go to the next program. I argued that going home would just mean I do nothing but sleep, and going to the program would feed my soul. She said the one thing which struck me:

"Alia, sleeping is an ibadah too. If you need the rest, don't push yourself to do other things. Whatever you do, whether its sleeping or eating, those are ibadah too."

It took me a few minutes to register that. I thanked her and decided to go home.

And Alhamdulillah, after reaching home, eating dinner, chatting with my brother and my sister-in-law, laughing and finally sleeping; I woke up the next day refreshed and revitalized.

I honestly revere the great people and sometimes wonder how is it that they're able to do it. Maybe they've learnt their lessons too. Maybe they've learnt to manage their time and their energy. InsyaAllah maybe I can do that one day.

This is what I concluded:

1. It's okay to feel tired and take a break. It's part of being a human. We're not invincible and we have limits. Rest when you need to and pick things back up. But never let go of everything all at once.
   
2. From a tafseer class at CUCMS, Ust Hasanuddin said (translated to English and as understood by me) that "Everyone has their own capacity of how much they can do. Maybe to you, what that person did was small but that is according to his capacity and the best that he can do."
   
3. Resting too is an ibadah.

The Price of a Brick: Part 2

(Link: Price of a Brick: Part 1)

He pointed out his finger to one of our teammate’s hand. “That watch.”

We all stood there motionless. Without hesitating, she unfastened her watch slowly and handed it over.

No way... I thought. But it wasn’t over yet.

“Bracelets,” he said. One of the sisters silently took off her bracelet and gave it to him.

“Remember,” he said. “You’re never going to see these again.”

My heart started racing. A sudden realization hit me. I prayed hard he wouldn’t say it- but he did. 

“Necklaces. Everyone who’s wearing them.” And my heart sank. Plummeted into my stomach and I gripped my hands hard.

I had forgotten that I was wearing my necklace. There were about 5-6 of us who were wearing them. A number of us started getting teary. So did I. I can understand why. What mattered the most was the sentimental value that I’m sure each necklace holds. 

I couldn’t give mine away. It meant so much to me and... This is really the cost for a brick? We had to sacrifice all of our valuables to just finish of this checkpoint? Just for a few building blocks and we’ll never see it again? 

Honesty stood strong and I quietly unfastened it. I took one last look and dropped it in the facilitator's outstretched hands.

That gained us two bricks. We continued the obstacle dejectedly and completed the objective. There was an air of disbelief and dissatisfaction.

Before we walked off to the next checkpoint, he concluded the objective of the game: “Remember you have so much. While the orphans have so little. Imagine if you have children, and you passed away. You would be praying endlessly for someone to be kind-hearted enough to provide for them.” I saw the logic and nodded silently.

That night all participants sat in the hall. The facilitator stood up. He started reflecting about the checkpoints and he pointed out the most important checkpoint: Pengorbanan.

It was incredible. Some of the male participants had promised and sacrificed their phones, camera, money (in the hundreds) and watches among other things. Female participants mostly gave valuables, accessories, necklaces, bracelets and wedding rings. We had two female participants stand up and talked about their sacrifice: A necklace which belonged to their mother.

It was an emotional session. A lesson hard to swallow. But I learnt well. We learnt about what it means to sacrifice. That what we have is from Allah and He can take it back whenever He wants to. That this world is a sojourn and all materialistic things will not last. That sacrificing is such a depressing feeling but it’s what one must do for a better outcome. That this is only the start of more sacrifices to come. That the rewards are not in this world, but in the Hereafter.

For me, I couldn’t look that well without my spectacles. But not to the point that I couldn’t see anything infront of me. I was short-sighted but I was not too affected by it. My grievance was for my necklace. I wasn’t too emotionally pressured- but it did have a lot of personal value. But I accepted it because of the lessons that we learnt.

When I think about it clearly now, I mulled over the facilitator’s words. It struck me that I’ve repeatedly heard the story of how Ibrahim was ordered to sacrifice his own son. I had always heard but never deeply reflected on it. Only after having had to sacrifice just a few materials, did I realize just a bit of what it meant to sacrifice.

A lot of us were still affected by it that night. Even until the next morning.

We had a session in the morning at the hall. Before we started our next program, the faciltator made an announcement. 

“I see that people are still affected by the sacrifices that they had to make and are still unable to accept it. I’m satisfied that you all feel that sadness and loss. Listen well: Allah does not want your valuables- He wants your intentions.

Earlier this morning, a female participant came up to me and handed me her wedding ring that she had promised to sacrifice. Even until now, people are still sacrificing what they had promised. Incredible.

So, I have decided: That we will return all that you have sacrificed.”

I could feel the tension lift. Some were still in disbelief and some had weak smiles on. 

Our valuables all were returned back to us. After having had to squint for less than 24 hours and having had to plan on how to deal without glasses for the next few days, I finally received my glasses back. And I got my necklace back.

Whether he planned to return the valuables in the beginning or not, a part of me also believed he wouldn’t- because he had sounded so convincing. But a part of me believed he would. Because where our things returned, they were in envelopes and labelled by group.

The price of that brick costed hundreds of ringgits, streaming tears and our heavy hearts. But it came with an invaluable life lesson I would never forget.

The Price of a Brick

Brick: a small rectangular block typically made of fired or sun-dried clay, used in building.

I just came back from training camp. It was overall okay- not too tiring but not too relaxing either. I’ve one incredible story I’d like to share.

On the second day of camp, we had to go through 5 checkpoints. Each checkpoint had an objective we had to complete. They had their own instructions, obstacles and solutions. Some needed a lot of thinking, some a lot of physical power and one of them- a strong heart.

At around 3pm, after our lunch and prayers, we trudged towards our second checkpoint. It was called “Ambassador”. 

He introduced the topic to us: Being an ambassador means being a representative, a model, the person who will be in the front line. But to reach this point meant one thing- it means we have to sacrifice.

Before we began, our facilitator gave instructions on what we had to do, the rules and the objective of the ‘game’. We had to walk through a pathway of planks and hoops, with its conditions, while holding hands. After discussing, we started on the pathway and easily overcame the first obstacle. On the second obstacle however, we reached a hoop where we had to jump from the plank we were on towards it without stepping on the grass anywhere else. The feat was (purposely) impossible to do. After a number of failed attempts, the facilitator intervened.

Said the facilitator, “You’ve been unable to pass this obstacle. Try to think and use the things from your surroundings.”

We saw some bricks lying around.

“May we use the bricks?” I asked.

“No.” He continued, “Those bricks belong to me.”

“What if we borrowed them?”

“You can’t borrow them.” He answered.

“What if we paid for them?” piped a teammate.

“How much money do you have?” I don’t think any of us brought any money along. 

“What if we exchanged something for the brick?” someone suggested.

“What are you willing to give?”

We all were speechless.

“At the start, I’ve already explained to you. This checkpoint is about ‘pengorbanan’ (sacrifice). You have it in you. But you just don’t know yet what you want to sacrifice. Ibrahim (a.s.) was ordered by Allah to sacrifice his own son.”

We all stayed silent, still unsure of where he was heading with this.

“Can we sacrifice ourselves? Like we sit there and the people step over us.” But how could we? All our hands were joined and it was impossible.

After a few minutes of silence, the facilitator spoke: “I am involved with an orphanage,” he started. 

“Whatever you give, in exchange for a brick, I will use it to give it to the orphanage. Whatever you give to me, it will be the last time you see it. You won’t be getting it back.” It was a very serious order and we took note of it. Little did we realize at that time how heavy it would mean.

At first one would think “Would he really use it for an orphanage? Will he give it, whatever we had to sacrifice, back to us?” My rationale was this: I’ve met this trainer before and I trusted him. He is a well-known trainer and facilitator. And although there was a small part in my heart that felt that he’d return it, I told myself probably we’d never see our ‘sacrifices’ again.

A teammate voiced out: “I have a pen.”

“What kind of pen is it?” He inquired.

“Pilot brand,” she said.

“Let me see it.” He inspected it and said, “I will accept this. But it still is not enough for the brick.”

“I have my Qur’an,” said another sister.

“Show me.” he said.

Quietly, she took out her Qur’an. It was tattered and had a lot of sticky notes sticking out, picturing a Qur’an so often used. With tears streaming down her face, she passed the Qur’an to him.

We all looked at each other. Someone else said, “We have brooches.”

“How many of you?”

A few hands shot up and he gestured it to be passed over.

I searched my own pockets. Nothing. I wasn’t even wearing my watch at that time. I didn’t know what I could give. And realizing at that moment the only thing I could sacrifice, I took off my spectacles and gave it to the facilitator.

He nodded and went to get a brick. He placed it in between the obstacle and we managed to pass it. Everything went fine until we reached the third obstacle. This time, it was further and we needed two bricks.

“There are two kinds of sacrifices.” The facilitator said. “One is where you volunteer it from your own heart. The second one is when it is an order.”

We all looked at him.

“I am going to ask for you to sacrifice something. And whatever it is, you must give it to me. Are you ready for this?”

None of us moved.

(To be continued... The Price of a Brick: Part 2)

Drawer's Block.

Today I got stuck while designing. I'd have to say the most difficult thing to design is a logo. You want to make it look as eye-catching as possible in the most smartest way and make people do a double-take when they look at it and say, "Wow, that's something."

The process of designing goes something like this for me:

1. A client orders something. They give all the details and I ask further questions and that settles it.
2. The ideation process begins. I go on art sites, google images and creative websites to search for ideas. This process normally take a few days. I start doodling on paper but never fully because I get tired and straight away start on Illustrator (this is where my mistake is. You're supposed to finish drafting on paper; else you'd be wasting a lot of time on Illustrator. But I get too impatient).
3. I draw something once. Then I re-draw it a bit differently. Then look at it from another angle. Change a few fonts here and there. Revamp the whole thing. Ditch it to the side. Start on a new paper. It goes on and on until the work gets something relatively to how I imagined it.

This is what my Illustrator workspace look like when designing something:

When I look at an artwork, I look at it once and say "Wow." A few seconds... and then move on to something else. I forget that someone could have spent hours and hours on something that might have looked simple. This alone took me 5-6 hours.

Well, it makes me appreciate artworks more:)

Felt like ranting because I couldn't find inspiration to make it look better than how it turned out:P

A lesson from Manjung.

On the last day at Hospital Manjung, I learnt an extremely important lesson about taking time to listen.

In 3rd year, clerking in OnG ward works like this: 

1. You clerk the bed you’re assigned to, meaning basically history taking and physical examination. Find out their complaint, describe it in detail, and take down other histories such as antenatal, previous pregnancies, gynaecological, menstrual, past medical, past surgical, family, drug, social history. It’s basically a long list and can take up to an hour sometimes to clerk in detail. Do it together with examining the patient based on their complaint, to confirm your diagnosis and exclude differentials.
   
2. It doesn’t matter when you clerk your case. Whether it’s the night before or just the morning (in case there were new patients who just came in), you MUST have your bed clerked before you have class. and this cycle happens everyday.
   
3. Then, we’d present our case to our professor. This one particular morning, he decided to go for rounds. So he would choose any bed at random and ask us to summarize the history and present relevant information. If you didn’t clerk your patient, in short, you’d be dead.

830pm, I went to the antenatal ward and saw a patient at my assigned bed. She looked tired and very stressed and another lady, who I presumed to be her mother, was sitting beside her. They were talking quite heatedly in Tamil. I approached the patient immediately and asked if I can clerk her (the idea is if you don’t clerk, you’re dead). She gave a quick nod and I started my clerking immediately. Things like, “Why did you come to the hospital?” and the details that follow. As I continued my clerking, I noticed that she gave me very short answers and was very much distracted. Her mother suddenly stood up, walked to the counter and gestured for a medical officer (MO). An MO came to her bed and the patient said to the MO (in malay of course), “My mum wants to confirm what the specialist said.” And the MO explained. I didn’t catch much because I didn’t know the case beforehand but what I did find out was that she had to choose between a normal delivery or a C-Section, both of which had risks. I can see that even if I clerked her that night, she wouldn’t be able to answer since she was very much stressed with the decision that she had to make. I thanked the patient and walked away.

Sometimes we have ‘difficult’ patients who, when we clerk, refuse to talk to us or reject us immediately. Sometimes we have ‘easy’ patients who, even without us having to ask so many questions, they volunteer the answers and even tell more than what we ask for. This particular patient, she wasn’t a ‘difficult’ patient. She was just in a huge dilemma.

Next morning, 730am I arrived in the ward, as we all normally should. At 830am, we would have to present the case to our professor if he randomly chooses our bed. I only had less than an hour to clerk the full history plus come up with differentials, rearrange it and present it properly. All this, together will building rapport, and I wasn’t even sure she still wanted to be clerked, after being under a lot of stress.

Normally when approaching a patient, I ask general questions like, “Have you eaten? How’s your pain? Is it still there?”. But this time, somehow, eventhough I had only one hour (which would probably have been just right to clerk a full history), somehow my heart told me otherwise. I was once told that doctors nowadays don’t have time to look at patients, don’t have time to be humane, and I don’t blame them sometimes because they’re super busy. But this time I decided to drop being a student doctor for a while. 

I approached her bed. She was lying on her side, staring at the curtains, but thoughts very distant. I closed my clerking notebook, crouched next to her bed and said quietly, “You must be very stressed right now.”

She glanced in my direction, then stared at the curtain again. She kept silent for a minute, then nodded, “Yes, I am. If I deliver normally, it would carry a lot of risks. Even if I do it through operation, there would still be a lot of risks.”

I nodded. After a while, I asked, “Where’s your mum? Is she coming today?”

She smiled. “My mum is at home. Yesterday it was her birthday. We were supposed to have a big family dinner. But since I got sick and was sent to the emergency, she came with me and she didn’t celebrate the dinner. All my siblings were there. She loves me. I’m her only daughter.”

It was like... I had found the right key and unlocked the tightly bolted door. She opened up and talked to me. She talked about her work, about how her sleepless nights and extra work was what was possibly causing her headaches. She talked about how she was worried that no one would be looking after her 5 children. About how her eldest, at 9 years old, still depends on her eventhough she tried making them independent. She wondered how they were going to school. 


She told the story of how she had to give away one of her children to one of her siblings because they couldn’t conceive, and how that child of hers calls her “Auntie”. But most of all she said about how she was so worried about the outcome of this pregnancy. And she said to me, while pointing upwards, “Right now, there’s only God who can do anything.” Most of the time I only nodded, smiled and gestured her to go on.

Time was ticking away and I still had 80% of the history not clerked. Sometimes I feel they’re very mechanical questions since we’re still training and have to refer to the questions. But I decided this time, if my bed was randomly chosen, then I’ll just present what little I had. Right now, what she needed the most, was not my questions. She needed someone to listen.

At 830am on the dot, I still hadn’t passed the first history; history of presenting illness. Of course, with palpitations, we waited for our professor to come.

Alhamdulillah, my bed did not get chosen.

But this was the lesson I had learnt today. Sometimes what people really need is for you to listen.

And what I had learnt so well from our specialists here is that... if you don’t take a good history, you wouldn’t know how to manage. And taking good history means listening. This patient for example had headache. You might want to prescribe her painkillers, but that wouldn’t be the correct management because actually, her headache is caused by excess work and what she needed more was probably an MC for rest. “The management will be different.”

I learnt, sometimes, it’s not that patients are difficult. They’re ill and they have a lot of worries on their mind. And when we just start bombarding them with questions one after the other, they don’t get heard. Yes, I do admit, sometimes we want to get to the heart of the matter as soon as possible for the patient to lead us to the diagnosis. But sometimes, just listening is what they need the most.

Muhasabah 2011.

Assalamualaikum.

Looking back: Highlights of Alia Nadhirah's 2011

January: Ummi's book "The Groovy Guide to Generation Y & Z" published.

Front Cover of Ummi's latest book.

February: Saujana Janda Baik launched (?)

Website Saujana Janda Baik

March: What happened in March?

April: Somali Project started.

Designed menu for the Somali Project

May: ALIEN Biz. launched.

ALIEN Biz. Website

June: Pro Exam 1.

My study partner for Pro Exam 1: Puteri Nur Aqilah!

July: Elective with Brotherhood Arts + to Brunei!

With Managing Directors and Designer of Brotherhood Arts.

Family friends since I was 8 years old.

August: Clinical Phase started (Surgery, Paediatrics, a bit of OnG)

Surgery posting. Lunch time, of course.

September: Again, what happened in September?

October: Work as Freelance Graphics Designer started.

www.diradesign.blogspot.com

Website for diradesign

November: Turned 21... + unexpected pleasant surprise.

:)

December: Alisha became family:) ie Ahmad got married.

Ahmad's wedding at Batu Pahat, Johor.

2012 is going to be an action-packed year.

On the way back to Perak (for my OnG posting) last week, I took out my organizer and said to my dad, "Ayah, so what are our plans in 2012?".

Now, one thing really amazing about my dad is that he memorizes the calendar. He remembers key dates and locks them in with the big events. So that way, when he told me our family plans etc, it went all the way to July. Each weekend had something. And for the last 6 months, he gave me just the main big events. The journey to Manjung always feels so long and I'd normally fall asleep just 30 minutes into the car ride. But this time, I stayed awake the whole time discussing and talking (plus other issues) with my parents.

Plans for 2012 should be coming up in next post insyaAllah!

Side note: I realize nowadays, instead of surfing deviantart.com for designing ideas, I tend to go more to Behance.net. Ahmad introduced me to Behance. It's a platform for professional designers where they seek to find careers etc. The work is truly amazing and really fantastic. They sort of have something like Facebook's "Likes" but it's called "Appreciate this!" so you can see how many people like it. I especially like designs under the Advertising category. They always do designs in the most attractive, attention-grabbing, creative, smartest way possible.