Georgetterox

Many years ago, when the X-Files still hang on at the prime time, I prefer making Dana Scully to be my peer (before now I’m intoxicated by the charm of Padme Amigdala!). The reasons were:

1.         She succeeded to defease  Fox “Frigid” Mulder.

2.       X-Files had played about five seasons, and during those, Scully had just smiled about three times.

3.       She couldn’t laugh, she wasn’t that unfriendly, but she still looked sexy. If not, then why did alien still impregnant her?

4.       She could operate and autopsize a person in a bath-tub of a cheap apartment which just already been inundated, only been gadgeted by kitchen knife.

The last line that succeeded to change my future dream, from the plan to purpose for Chemical Engineering of ITB, become a doctor. Not just a doctor, but I planned to be like Scully, become a forensician! That moment, I thought, there was nothing rocks more than hang on alone at night by gelding the tissues of dead people, with my long hair waving like Angelina Jolie did, some times my arm grasped a bunch of potato fries, and this mouth hummed following the voice of Chemical Romance who was singing loudly at MTV FM (that year, it wasn’t become Trax FM like today).

But I never intended to date a forensician.

So I can’t imagine how surprised I am when I hear from my best friend, that a senior whose number  I’ve ever set my eye on several years ago, now has preferred quitting from the small clinic where he used to work, and now recklessly becoming a forensic resident in one of schools of medicine on this damn crowded isle. A forensic resident! He wanna be an expert of dead people!

Forensic isn’t a glorious branch of medicine in this country. In fact, I often watch the experts of forensic who are absolutely more senior than me, must leave their beds at night for picking up the phone, then drive to the case location for autopsize some victims of murder or other people who died illegally.

When generally doctors prefer shut up their mouth because they don’t like to spend their times for answering verbiage questions of the lawyers (so that’s the reason why doctors hate lawyers much?), then the forensic experts spent their times more to wander around at the courts to give testimonials as an expert witness of a murder case. Not seldom they’re menaced silently by criminals who felt annoyed, so the doctors don’t sing along ahead of the officers, the attorneys, and the judges.

All the small things, make my future dreams as a forensician, immediately mussy, and throw up the drive to other interests. I thin I’d like to be any experts, an ophthalmologist, a neurologist, a surgeon, even a rheumatician will be OK, but not a forensician! And the rules are made the same to my honeybunnies, and those potentials to date me.

Imagine if you marry a surgeon. At night,while you’re hooking up with him at the bed, suddenly the hospital rings him up, then he tells you like this, “Honey, sorry I gotta go. There’s a man couldn’t have peed about two weeks and now I gotta put out a stone from his prostate.”

Or if you still use maneuver of tickling when you make love to a neurologist. “Why don’t you shout out when I touch you there? Maybe you’re parestesized. I think you gotta drink Voltadex.”

The story’ll be worse if you date a gynaecologist. He’ll say like this to you, “Honey, I can’t make love to you tonight. Today I’ve seen tens of woman opening their caves widely and I can’t stand to see another one more.”

                                                                                                            

It’s all normal. At least they all still love us, the objects which are alive and have souls.

But the forensicians are not so.

So I thank God that I haven’t got a crush anymore on my old senior who now gonna be a forensician. I can’t stand if I have to marry him, and when we’re sunk in an husband and wife relationship suddenly he must be snatched away from me only by a phonecall, which then make him get to say to me, “Honey, I can’t continue our round tonight. There are seven new corpse in the lab and I gotta geld them all..”

I got pissed off to my friends yesterday. It was just that they kept the answer keys of clerkship post test and they didn’t give it to me. Well, actually they didn’t mean to, but they hadn’t sent them to my locker.

This kebetan thing makes sensitive enough. Especially for me who’s been member for kebetation mafia ever since high school. Seems I’ve remembered every kinda way of cheating. Just read the list inside, anything haven’t you ever done yet?

1. Peeping to the friend next to you. This is standard, almost all people do it. But actually this way is potential to make eyes become strabismus a.k crossed. Not mentioned yet the risk for having ache at your neck because you didn’t make a little gymnastic. Not just sex, even cheating needs warming up.

2. Making little kebetans. Keep them in your pocket. Not in your socks, they smell! If it’s small enough, keep it under your watch. Thank God if you can clip it inside your hair. At the sinetron, Lupus has ever kept Poppy’s kebetan inside his mouth, for saving the sweetheart who’s caught up cheating. But who wanna read kebetan that’s already mixed with saliva and jigong?

3. Come earlier before the examination. The goal, writing the formulas on the desk. My prestige, I’ve written the formulas at the participant sign sticked on my desk, and the monitor didn’t catch me for four days continue! The problem is, what if the desk area isn’t enough to write all those formulas?

4. Event of lending and borrowing instruments always could’ve been used for transferring data. I think all people know that kebetan always could be clicked inside the cover of tip-ex, or written on your ruler that you lent to your friend. It makes problem when you ally wasn’t examed in your room. It means that there’s supposed to be a secret meeting in the campus toilet, on the certain hour, on the certain minute. If you don’t have time to meet her, write the answers on the wall of toilet.

5. Cell-phone is a very helpful gadget for every kebetation mafia. All answers circulate via SMS, even debating why you pick up answer A, not answer B or C. We just groused why those monitors love standing beside us when we wanna send SMS. But what could those poor monitors do when all participants write SMS at the same time?

OK, why must we cheat? It doesn’t mean we didn’t study, well we always came to examination with swelling eyes because we’d studied all night long. But a scholar always needs second opinion. You can’t decide a problem without consulting to another person, whether the consultation result is right or wrong. And that’s the meaning of cheating, coz we need other person’s opinion except our own opinion, before we decide the solution for our problem, ak decide the answer for our examination question.

Return to the story of my clerkship post-test. According to the tradition, we, the interns who’ll finish a department, must join a post-test. The questions are always same from years to years, and the kebetan of the answers are always heritaged from one intern to the others. Nobody knows whether the kebetan is right or wrong, except the teacher who made the questions and not noticed where he is right now, probably is too busy with his patients and has no time to make new questions for the students. The keys of kebetan finally fell to my hand, and I just sat quietly at the seat on the corner of the room with a small kebetan in my hand.

So I opened the examination one by one. Leptospirosis is a disease that could complicate as.. Oh the answer is C, Weil’s syndrome. I peep my little kebetan. Wait, the answer’s supposed to be D?

The next one. On prehepatic icterus were increased.. Oh, the answer gets to be A. SGOT, SGPT, bilirubin direct. But my kebetan speaks else. The answer is supposed to be B. SGPT is not included.

This kebetan is such a bullshit. Make me lose my way. I can’t believe all interns before me were dying for this damn kebetan.

I’ve been a med-student for six years and eaten these questions like these like eating French fries. I remember my science because I’m used to see patient, not used to read text books. Slowly I aware that I don’t need kebetan just to pass this post test.

Thank you all kebetans, who’ve helped me since I was a kid, until I passed the test of physics, EBTANAS, summative tests, midtests, final tests, and I don’t know what exams else I’ve faced. You guys made me realize that there’s no human who’s really never wrong on this earth. Today, I decide: I stop cheating!

In fact at that time I didn’t intend to run away. But I just did what every creature could do when it was starving.

At the time, my friends was gonna have examination, and they must exam the blood sample of their own patients without any laboratorium assisted them. The provided duration was very few, it was impossible for them to exam their patients, take the sample of blood and urine, and finish the report on time. So some friends and me gave our hands to help them. Early in the morning, they took the blood of their patients, then they sneaked to give the samples to us for analyze, while they exam the rests.

My task was simple, I just had to confirm that all of the patients had anemia. But I used to do doctor’s work, while this task actually was belong to the laboratorium analist. It made us worked very slowly and we didn’t expect that the sun had rised high, it was eight in the morning, we were supposed to be in the clinic where we worked daily, and I hadn’t taken a shower yet, even I hadn’t had any breakfast!

Panic, I ran to the clinic. Over there, the patients had accumulated, waiting to be examed. Luckily there were a dozen of other interns beside me, so my absence wasn’t really obvious. Beside my bosses, let’s call them Dr Ruth and Dr Jay, hadn’t come yet.

I sneaked out from the clinic, then I ran to the pavilion of interns. My stomach twine excrutiatingly because I hadn’t had breakfast. So I opened two packs of cereal, then I swallowed it quietly at the balcony of the pavilion.

That was the moment, when from the pavilion of residents which located next to the pavilion of interns, there came Dr Ruth! He came out in hurry by buttoning his white coat, stared at me sharply. I got caught ran away from the clinic!

But not sprayed me, he just went leaving the pavilion. My cereal was just an half of the glass, I ate it quickly. I had just got caught, I didn’t follow my boss. I just took a towel, and took a shower. Out of the shower, my partner called me on the phone. She said I must come to our boss in the clinic, right now.

I was beautiful and smelled good when I arrived at the clinic, ready for punished because escaped. But from inside Dr Ruth’s room, I heard him yelled to my partners who had just caught coming late.

Dr Ruth had undertaken in military. He always went into hard discipline to all of his staff, and he hated anybody who ran from duty.

He said: Why are the four of you late?!

My friends were busy to make up the reasons. They said: They told us we had to come to the lecture at eight, Doc. But we waited on the lecture room and it hadn’t started yet.

Dr Ruth: If it’s true all of you had to come to the eight o’clock lecture, then why did I find out Vicky having meal in the pavilion of interns?!

My friends were powerless. They didn’t know how to explain about me. They said: I don’t know, Doc. She left earlier, she said she’d come over here.

At the moment Dr Jay looked in from the next chamber. He said: What’s the matter? It’s still early in the morning and you’ve got pissed off?

Dr Ruth groused: These kids were running late. This one said they had to join the lecture but cancelled, the other one is eating in the pavilion!

I swear I was really uncomfortable to hear it.

But Dr Ruth couldn’t behave like that. He says to my partners who he had just squawked: I’ll complain about all of you to the highness.

My partners were really shocked and walked slowly out Dr Ruth’s room. Complain to the highness, means we had to face the court. Means we had to get punished. Maybe they’ll give us detention. Maybe we had to work at the clinic for longer time. Maybe our marks will have castration.

I didn’t wait longer to get into my boss’ room. Dr Ruth stared at me sharply, and I tried hard to look guilty.

I said: I’m sorry, Doc.

Dr Ruth: Why did you eat at the pavilion?

I reply: I was starving.

Dr Ruth: You didn’t have breakfast at home?

I shook my head. I whispered with the voice that almost unaudible: I had no time..

Dr Ruth: What time did you come to the hospital?

Me: Seven in the morning.

It was a big lie. I had been in the hospital from the night before.

Dr Ruth: So? Why didn’t you eat between seven and eight? What did you do along this morning?

Taking the blood specimens for the examinations of my friends. But if I answered that, my examination friends would have detention.

So I said: I exam the hospitalized patients. I studied them for my examination next two days.

Dr Ruth knew I lied. For many years, the residents knew that the intern in examinations were always assisted sneakedly by their partners. And Dr Ruth could guess exactly what I really did this morning.

But he didn’t want more of my lies. He said: You just looking for reasons, Vicky.

Then he got busy of his patients. I step outside.

Dr Ruth ignored us along that day. Finally we didn’t work at the clinic, but we joined the lecture which done at ten.

But the guiltiness killed me. I think Dr Ruth couldn’t complain me to the highness that he caught me eating at the pavilion in the rush hour, because he had to explain also why he was in the pavilion at the time when he was supposed to work at the clinic. But I was scared that Dr Ruth would get another way to punish me. He could give me any difficult cases for my examinations such as carcinoma or abscess which wasn’t my portion. Or even worse, he could recommend me to be thrown to the killer teachers.

Mid day when I was weak because had just been yelled by Dr Ruth, suddenly my other boss passed me.

Dr Jay! The handsome Dr Jay who was never upset when I was wrong. Dr Jay who always corrected me and showed me which one was right for me to do. Dr Jay who became my reason to be passionate to wake up in the morning and come to the clinic on time.

His eyes were shining to stare at me. His smile was bright. He shouted: Vicky! How was your examination?! Was it good?

I almost got faint. There was sixteen interns at the clinic, and Dr Jay noticed that I was absent. He cared about me! He thought I didn’t come because I had examination. He didn’t notice that I was absent because I ran away!

I shoulda assisted this cute babe this morning, but all I cared about was just my starving stomach!

I didn’t dare to tell Dr Jay that I ran from his clinic this morning. So I told him: Doc, I didn’t have examination this morning. My turn is next two days.

Almost the after hour, finally my friends and I met Dr Ruth outside the hall.

We said: Doc, we really apologize. We’re really sorry for what we did..

I tried hard to look guilty. Dr Ruth goggled me sharply.

He said by pointed at me: Vicky, you’re such a bad girl!

Then he pointed my other friends: You guys are so naughty!

And he pointed at me back. He said: Vicky, you’re really really naughty!

My face was hot because embarrassed. I said: Yes, Doc, I’m so sorry..

Dr Ruth stared at me. His hard face, began to be soft. Then he smiled like an horse. He said: Allright, that’s fine.

Oh. My. Boss.

My friends laughed happy, I took a deep breath.

I would never again run away from my office at the rush hour. But I can’t promise I won’t do that again if I’m pushed to, especially if it deals with my stomach who crying for food.

Me, as any other little girls, have designed our own weddings even since we have not passed our kindergarten. When my cousin played the brides with put a white cowl over her head, my girlfriend in our schoolbus even has played huggy at the thigh with a boy next seat (see, now have you understood why those little children need sex education). My fantasy even has flown highly, no longer only with simply scene when I stared lovely to my husband in his black tuxedo while he swore that he would love me in sad, sick, poor, and happiness, but even I’ve conceived clearly how my husband reacts when I tell him that finally I’m pregnant. Even when I bear, he’ll sit beside me, clutching my hand so tightly until he breaks it, at the same time he’ll shout out, "C’mon, Vic, keep push it on! Push..! Push..!"

It’s so clear that I didn’t conceive that releasing a baby from under my cave is equal to passing seven slices of hells without anaesthetic.

Finally, my friend bears her first kid. Spontantly in hurry I came to her at the midwife hospital, where I found her lying down weaken by trying to smile. The delivery was difficult, she said. 41 weeks of pregnancy, the foetus didn’t wanna come out, though it’s already entered the flank door. My friend was anxious, her husband was stressful, and the entire family was worried. The doctor said, this child can get stress inside there, so let’s have the pitocin dripped so it could be pushed out.

So they streamed the oxytocin into my friend’s body, but she hadn’t felt anything inside, except her womb’s getting contracted, a little. Oh God, she got so nervous. The pitocin drip was fail. She had to be done Cesar.

We the feminists really hate Sectio Cesaria. When you bear with Cesar, you’re just get anesthetic and you don’t feel how it hurts to bear your child. So it really doesn’t feel like a mother. Moreover, the stitching of the surgery really doesn’t make good impact for the reason of cosmetics.

Luckily the surgery worked excellently. My friend was safe, praise the Lord. The baby was safe, too, thank God. It’s a girl, it weighs approximately 3,5 kgs, the length is 50 cms. The Apgar score? C’mon, no need to worry. But my friend can’t see her baby yet. Same as the rules of the most midwife hospitals, that the baby must be kept first in the baby room. The mother must stay at the bed. Moreover those who’s just had surgery. Not just sightseeing to the baby room, they’re even not allowed to sit on their beds.

My friend’s husband hasn’t seen their daughter. He was nervous, they guess. It’s his first child.

I haven’t got shift at the Obstetry, so the first stomach of a bearing-mother that I’ve seen is my friend’s one. Likely my head gets unsettled to see how the skin that was stressed widely ccause of pregnancy became shrinking and leaving an unestethically scar. She’ss need so much alpha hidroxy acid to recover the hyperpigmentation. She won’t wear any bikini for a little long time.

All the family cheered up when the midwife opened the window of the baby room, and they could see my friend’s baby sleeping in her box. The child was so cute, they shouted. I saw my friend’s baby, and the truth is, the baby’s adorable. My friend’s grandma claimed, the baby’s really looks like her mother. I just nodded politely. I swear, those babies looked like each other.

My friend is just 23, and she hasn’t even had the half of her shift as an intern at the hospital yet. Two years ago she still hung out with me in the mall, and now she’s got married, she had to treat her husband, her first child, and the scar on her stomach. I still enjoy my work at the hospital, flirt with my handsome senior residents, fill my break with learning French, and routinely write for my weekly blog.

I really wanna get married like my friend and make breakfast every day for my husband who’s always busy with warming his car in the morning before work. But I’m not ready to make a time between my busy hours to count the bills of electricity and water. I even don’t wanna count with my husband about with whose parents we wanna celebrate the feast for this year, with his parents or with mine. Even I don’t wanna leave my work just because my pregnancy gets older and my stomach gets swelling. Moreover, gets confused about the failed pitocin drip.

I’m not ready yet. Absolutely not so that ready.