Georgetterox

Let’s sit down and waste just a little of our very precious time for watching teen shows.

Let’s get sick together to watch its uniformity story, about teens in love, strive for getting da cutest hunk in da school.

Watch the trophy boyfriend whom the yesterday gurlz strive for, same typical, he must be cute like a prom king and he must be a basketball hunk.

Let’s ask, O Lord, why must these most wanted Prom King be basketball hunks?

What’s up with the basketball hunks?

Just be honest, if you’ve ever been a girl, you must’ve ever dreamt dating your schoolmate who plays basketball. And if you’ve ever been a boy, you must’ve ever been a basketball player wannabe.

Now the question is, do you have to play basketball so you can be da school idol?

And is it true, that the most wanted hunk has to play basketball?

If I was a boy, I must’ve failed earlier of being basketball player coz I’m not tall enough to insert do da slam dunk. And as a girl, I’ve failed too to date my school’s basketball legendary hunk.

With a classical reason, Syeikh, just call him so, was 13, dated another chick, just call her Drew.

That day I thought, ouch, if I was compared to Drew, I was nothing at all.

She was cute, soft with sadly round eyes.

While I was a girl who always speeches that a girl who speaks English and could be a liaison officer for some Japanese guests who arrived to school, rocked more than a chick who only knew that welcome means for a towel for cleaning the feet.

End of story, we all graduated.

Syeikh and Drew, let’s bless the dumb doves, went to a particular school in town which loved having party and annually fighting with other schools.

While I trapped myself in a governmental high school and prepared for medschool.

Then many years later, exactly last week, I was just reminded that I’ve ever got a crush on a basketball hunk.

It was when I met Syeikh again in a shop at Islandstraat, right when I was hunting pirated DVDs.

I was surprised; first, coz I never thought that I would meet my ex-dreamlover again.

Second, I never thought that the ex-dreamlover that I was just dreaming of, now greeted me first. Though if I wasn’t greeted, I wouldn’t notice him first (I have a big problem in remembering friends).

Third, I was shocked more when I asked,

“What da hell are you doing here? Hunting for pirated, too?”

Then he replied lightly, “Oh, I’m selling them..” Exactly, he’s the shop-assistant of the place.

Lord, so is this the end of the career of the school idol basketball hunk?

How could I ever get a crush on this guy? This kinda man could embarrass me if he’s in my ex list. Imagine, among the doctors, the labor insurance staff, the cellular telecommunication informatics staff, and the others, then there was a shop-assistant of pirated DVDs store.

Where da hell am I gonna put my face?

I remember, I’ve asked Lord to give me this hunk. And He didn’t give me.

He just gave me other men, which more bootylicious.

He’s known that He must give me the best, not just make me the best.

Did I think, that dating a basketball hunk will make me the best babe at school? (not really, but at least that made Drew the coolest babe at school).

By the way, maybe I didn’t get basketball hunks. But at least my guyz love sports.

They play badminton, play table tennis, play futsal, and I don’t know what else they play.

And everybody agrees that sex is also another form of sport.

OK, so why does a prom king at teen shows have to be a basketball hunk? These are the reasons:

Not a tennis player.  Coz making a basketball court at school is cheaper than making a tennis court. Tennis needs special land, and larger area, too.

Not a swimmer.

Coz swimmers don’t full-dress up, so swimmers show up the whole of their bodies. That makes them easy to be censored by the anti-pornoactions Law.

And not an horse-racer, too. Horse-racers always smell like horses.

Coz, ”Which girl will stand for a man who smells like horse?”

What do they call you at the office?

“Pak, I’d like to present my design for the refinery  we’re building at Dumai.”

Or this one.. “Mas, which cafe are we holding the next meeting at?”

Probably also this one.. “Mbak, I’ve put the file that you want at your desk.”

Could be this one.. “Good morning, Bu. I’d like to raise an insurance claim for my car which has just been already crashed yesterday.”

But they call me this one.. “My headache is still on, Neng Doctor, though I’ve had a strip of Panadol.”

Why are there so lots of Indonesian vocab to call us?

There are Pak, Mas, Mbak, there are Bu, Neng, it’s so complicated.

Why is it not just Sir or Ma’am like English? Unluckily, I hate being called Mbak or Neng by my patient.

It just impresses that I’m still young, not competent yet.

Then I remember another cigarette commercial at tv, there’s a young guide leading a bunch of tourists, but her guests refuse listening to her.

But when she switches her guide position to an old man, her guests just listen to him exactly.

Don’t believe to the youth. That’s why I’m not confident if my patient calls me Mbak or Neng Doctor.

Sometimes I ask myself if the patient will have the drugs that I write for him or not.

He probably will go to another doctor grayer than me.

Then it confuses me to think how to make the patient call me Bu.

And next I dress up like an old lady, talk like an old lady, walk like an old lady.

Though I’ve never been pregnant or getting married before, so how could I be an old lady?

Can a single be a lady?

And actually, this unconfident syndrome of being still young doesn’t just attack me.

My ex grows moustache  to make him feel authoritative.

As it seems that no moustache gives him no authority at all. And he’s so proud if he’s called Pak.

Though he’s not been an old man already yet, especially a father.

If there’s a girl could make him a father without my permission as his ex, I’ll make her in trouble.

OK, it’s too much. My emotion, I mean. No wonder I’m not often called Bu, but more often Neng.

It’s just simple. We have this syndrome, wanna succeed syndrome. Wanna succeed is identical of being boss.

Being boss is identical of being mature and trustable.

And the mature-and-trustable ones are usually old men and women, not twenty-thirty-something people like us.

That’s why we wanna be called Pak or Bu, not Mas or Neng which more suitable for people of our ages.

Then I’ve been placed at work, in a same room with my senior colleague.

An 80-years-old hypertension patient comes to my colleague and complaints,

“Can I come visiting here only once a month, Neng Doctor?

I’m not strong enough if I must control every two weeks.”

I gap. Is he nuts?

My colleague is almost 50, she’s been working here long before I learnt that petting can make pregnant, but she’s still called Neng, not Bu!

But my senior colleague just nods. She replies, “Yes, you can, Pak.

But you must keep controlling and you must always have the drugs, OK?”

Then I’m embarassed. Why should I mind if I’m called Neng?

Though my patient still have my drugs and control for his headache, so he still obeys my instruction, then does it mean that I succeed my work? Then what’s the point if he still calls me Neng?

I should call up my ex now. I should tell him that he’s actually cute without the moustache.

And with or without moustache, he remains authoritative and mature enough for me.

Why should bother if people don’t call you Pak?

As Ian Flemming permitted his James Bond creature to be filmed for the first time, I don’t know why the first sequel was titled Dr No.

Does James Bond always say No to refuse, as like Desy Ratnasari who always says No comment when press asks when she’ll get married or split again?

No probably is the first English vocab that Indonesian learn first, beside Yes and Welcome.

Yes means you agree what people tell you about, No means you disagree (and Welcome means doormat to clean your dirty shoes).

Saying no is supposed to be easy, coz it’s feasible to be said by James Bond, especially by non-English-fluently Indonesian.

But sometimes this word which just consists two letters is difficult to be revealed from our mouth.

As I came to the barn for morning visit, I got a patient admitted for dyspnea of his asthma attack. I told him to buy ampul for nebulization for relieving his asthma.

He refused to buy coz he wanna use spray inhaler.

Coz, each time he gets dyspnea at home, it’s always relieved of the spray inhaler.

I didn’t listen to him and I keep insisting him to buy the nebul drug.

After my visit, my colleague, Dr Phiet, 32, came and asked me to replace her for ward-shift at Sunday. I told her that my turn for ward-shift is this Friday.

It must be exhausting for me for another shift at the next Sunday.

Then Phiet offered me to replace me at Friday, so I could work at Sunday. I said OK.

Then, my nurse came in.

She said, my asthma patient refused buying the nebul drug that I told him.

Now he treated to withdrawn and get home.

I laughed instead, however he’s the ill one, why did he treat refusing hospitalized?

I treated back, if he wanna withdrawn, then tell him to sign up black-above-white, and the hospital won’t pay responsible if anything ever happened to him.

In the middle of work, I got a message from a friend, Phian, 24, an administrator in an institute. She caught a cold. She went to a general practitioner and she was written a prescription.

As she gets to the drugstore, the drugs cost Rp 150.000,00.

That’s 20% of her monthly salary, and she minded.

I came home and checked my agenda. Oh, why did I accept working at Sunday?

It should be my chance to pray with my Dad. When can I pray again with my Dad beside Sunday?

He worked everyday and we’ve been praying individually.

But it’s hard for me to cancel my promise to Dr Phiet, she’s my senior, however.

Finally I contacted Phian and let her told her full story.

Phian had got a flu, and she showed her doctor’s prescription.

OMG, no wonder it’s expensive, she’s written for patent drugs.

But if the doctor wrote generic brand only, the price wouldn’t reach the half.

But Phian was embarrassed to ask her doctor for generic drugs.

She thought that the doctor must’ve known the best, so as a patient, she must obey him.

I’ve just realized that we all have the same problem. We’re afraid to refuse.

Though we know that if we just accept, the problem gonna trouble us.

Why I mind of patient who refuses nebulization, though my teacher has taught me that nebulization if the best medication for asthma.

Why I mind of being disliked by my senior coz I refuse shift-switching, though I know that Sunday cuts my opportunity to be with my family.

Why Phian is afraid asking her doctor for generic drugs, though patent ones can drive her bankrupt.

So I return to the barn and visit my asthma patient.

He delayed his intention to back home, coz he’s afraid the hospital wouldn’t help him if he collapsed at home.

I ask him why he didn’t wanna try the nebulization drug that I told him to buy.

By the way, spray inhaler is cheaper than nebulization.

Spray inhaler can be used for many times, while nebulization is only used once.

I tell him then, that spray inhaler is only useful for a while.

You spray today once and your asthma relieves, but tomorrow you’ll get attacked again.

I wanna nebulise you once and the next day you’ll be attacked no more, at least for a week, two if you don’t smoke.

He thanks me coz I’ve resisted him for nebulisation.

He’s better today than before, when he’s still got dyspnea.

I’ll be observing him about two days or three, until he’s really free-dyspnea and I can send him home.

Then I come to Dr Phiet’s room, and apologize that I can’t replace her at Sunday.

I wanna stay with my family. She looks down, but she can get it.

I understand, actually it’s not her fault if our boss has her for Sunday ward-shift, that’s Boss’ computer’s fault. I thank her to cancel moving her trouble to mine and forbid my family day.

Phian returns to her doctor, and shamefully she asks for generic drugs.

The doctor agrees and writes the prescription.

As Phian visits the drugstore, she just has to pay Rp 40.000,00.

Sometimes, things are solved if we dare to say no.

Thank you, James Bond, to teach us by being Dr No.

Oh, I’m sorry. I mean, thank you, Ian Flemming, for making the James Bond.

Actually, religion thing doesn’t interest me that much.

But I’ve spent the whole year for hedonism, and I think that this Ramadhan is an appropriate moment for me for being good for a while.

That’s why this time I prefer writing about something that grazing some issues of religion. None, I don’t mean that I’m preaching.

If I preach, then the world would be lonely coz the master of critic has changed the profession.

There’s a 14-year-old kid comes to my office at the hospital for treating his TBC.

I advice him, the same advice that I’ve told to the other TBC patients, that I always reverse like a ruined cassette, “Have your drugs everyday, don’t ever skip.

Then, you must have milk each day.

And you must open up your room’s window everyday. Don’t ever forget, ok?”

The kid shakes his head. “But, Doc, my room doesn’t have a window.

But the door is opened everyday.”

I stare at his mom, at her cherry glossy lips, blaming her, why did she build an house with a windowless room?

Is she that poor and she doesn’t have enough money to perforate her wall so she can ventilate the air each day?

And the mom says, “My son lives in a boarding pesantren, Doc.

He lives in a room with his nine roommates or ten, and the room has no window.

But they open the door everyday.”

I smile in blue.

Half of my heart cheers up, imagine how dark and sultry the room is, minimal half of the dwellers must’ve been transmitted of TBC.

So I just need to motivate the patient to bring about five of his roommates to check-up at my office, and all I need to do is just calculating the income that coming to me.

I’ll be rich in just a little time, then.

But another half of my heart sighes why the pesantren director dares to build a boarding school which rooms are absolutely sanitary-unclassified.

The pesantren will drive the belief to be healthy, but all of the physics are ruined of TBC.

Then I remember about two years ago, another kid at this patient’s age, came to the hospital where I was working as an intern, coz of itch.

I had thought that it was just panu, but absolutely he had scabies, a dermatological transmitted disease that transmitted by mites via the unwashed sheets.

And the patient said that his friends were feeling itchy like him, too.

They lived in another pesantren, too.

And in a research that my colleague ever did for his pediatric thesis, the rate of malnutrition at pesantrens is high enough.

One of the marker is the kids with the weights that too small for their ages.

So if we’d like to make a gross conclusion, the students of pesantrens  are growing up to be pious kids that easy-transmitted of TBC, dermatological diseases, and malnutrition?