Ripples

I stared with utter disbelief at my miniature laptop screen as I read about the tsunami that had struck and destroyed a myriad of islands and lands in Southeast Asia, including Sri Lanka, India and Maldives. My first thought when I realised its catastrophic effects: what will happen to the families of my Sri Lankan and Indian national friends back in their hometowns? Are they safe at places that were not affected? Thankfully, I found out today that they were mostly on sacred grounds away from the areas of disasters. My friend's house back home was only 2.5km away from the nearest flood site, situated up on a hill, stoic and unbattered. Another friend's loved ones lived at the northwestern corner of India, furthest away from vulnerability. I rang up my family in Singaland to ensure that none had travelled beyond our secured boundaries.

It was just so surreal as I recalled relaxing by the Indian Ocean coastline at Fremantle Perth with my parents 2 weeks ago. It would have been beyond our utmost imagination if the dynamic waves had chosen to strike in the opposite direction instead. What a way to have ended Year 2004.

Certainly there have been ripples in my life pond since the second half of the year. It had been stagnant and predictable for a long time and I was not expecting a huge tsunami of any sort.

I remembered heralding the new eventful year doing my psychiatric term in the eastern shore, listening attentively to the upheavals and troughs of the mentally-ill poor souls whose lives had been rippled, some acutely while others for a long while. My first expedition ever to Tasmania all by myself did cause a ripple among my colleagues who had been holed up in their comfortable wells all their lives, though it would not have raised any eyebrow in my more adventurous friends abroad.

My family went through a short period of tumult and turbulence, as my dad battled depression. Fortunately it was overpowered, thanks to the wondrous effects of SSRIs.

The major decision to tender my resignation abruptly (not after a gastronomical payout of my cursed bond) and leave my comfort zone at home marked the turning point in my year, not before creating a small ripple in the Paediatric Emergency department as everyone frantically asked for my reason. It was imaginable considering the contentment we should have as we held on to our iron ricebowl in the profession, though assailed with waves of dissatisfaction and frustration during the course of our work.

The path taken to uproot myself to a new environment and country has been a mini-tsunami for me. I was like a vulnerable sampan (small wooden boat, in Malay) floating with uncertainty in the huge precarious ocean, encountering merciless storms along the journey, panged with fears and loneliness. The beacon of hope and faith eventually emerged from the lighthouse which offered stability and widened horizons.

The people responsible for the 'good' ripples in my life - I could never have expressed more gratitude and respect for them. From the offer of my current job, to their encouragement and assistance in making all these possible, and my recent stroke of luck after an acquaintance with a kind Aussie professor....I have my guardian angels to be thankful to.

And my newfound confidants in the new land who have positively rippled my social life....perhaps a future companion to ripple my love pond as well (I know I need to actively pitch a stone to make that happen).....

I look forward to the coming new year, hopefully accompanied by a dashing phenomenal wave this time, complete with fireworks and confetti. My prayers at this moment would be with the survivors of the tunami tragedy, that they may have the strength and determination to overcome further trials and difficulties, and that the perished may rest in peace.

This Christmas

Christmas, the season of joy and celebrations, always evokes a torrent of memories in me, for obvious reasons. Not very favourable ones. It is often associated with I.L. Even though I had written earlier about our fateless story and my resolution to close the chapter once and for all, I never could quite truly live up to my words and promise. I am human after all, and one very sentimental being.

* * *
Year 1992
I was down with a flu few days before Christmas. I.L decided that he probably had enough of my indifference to our relationship and brought his ugly and desperately-seeking admirer from Business Administration faculty to our class party. He called me later at home to find out if I was alright. I valiantly put up a brave front, sniffing away from the cold (or was I actually stung by my tears?). That marked the end of our bland, yet emotionally-embroiled entanglement.

* * *
Year 1993
We were at a Christmas house party of a mutual friend and classmate. We had not spoken to each other for a year. We were cordial nevertheless and had group sharing with others. He was there without his girlfriend and offered to drive me home later. Halfway in the journey, he pretended not to be sure of his directions. I was pretty disappointed and had resolved to put our past behind. We moved on.

* * *
Year 1999
We met again at a local hospital in the north. I was the earnest General Medicine intern and he was in the busy Cardiology department. We had a night call together one day. I had just returned from a romantic Christmas holiday in New Zealand, while he was going through some turmoil in his new marriage. We had a memorable chat that night over a drink. He moved on to another rotation soon after.

* * *
Year 2003
We met at a friend's wedding dinner just after Christmas. By then, he had gone through a few postings of ENT as part of his GP training and planned to specialise in it. I had moved on to General Practice instead after realising that Internal Medicine was not my choice of career. Did he have a new special someone in his life, I wondered? I never had the courage to look at him in the eyes or say hi. Perhaps I should have.

* * *
Year 2004
It was one of the best Christmas I have had for a long while. My first one in the land of Oz. I met a professor of Paediatrics over casual dinner and was offered a job in his department by a stroke of luck. I had never felt more honoured and flattered. I had an enjoyable Christmas eve gathering with my favourite colleagues in a restaurant. There was absolutely no borders or animosity despite our diversed countries of origin. I had spent a week earlier with my loved ones at Perth and would be celebrating New Year's Eve in Sydney with my newfound confidants. The silver lining is now emerging for me, is it not?

I watched "Sleepless in Seattle" on TV yesterday, on Christmas Day. It was the show that we had meant to watch together 12 years ago but never did. I was completely enchanted by the succulent sweet Meg Ryan and ever charismatic Tom Hanks, despite having been mesmerised by the screenings multiple times. They remained my favourite screen couple, and their fateful meeting at the Empire State Building in NY in the show was an ultimate classic, at least for me. With its romantic and Christmas themes, it would have been a popular movie choice around this time yearly, and evoke the same waves of upheavals in me each and every moment. It has become one that I would associate my romance with I.L, even if it would be many years down the road, with our whitening crowns of glories and bundles of procreation. It is a memory that I would like to keep as a remembrance of the passing of our youths and growing pains.

Family Ties

The saving graces of my trip to Perth would have to be the endearing presence of my Mum and Dad, the nestling warmth in our shared hotel room, and the treasured moments that we spent together. I wanted to spend as much time with them as possible. They were contented with just exploring the city and its peripheries, and I complied readily. My thirst for adventure at the Forest Tree Walk, the exciting town of Albany (the oldest city in WA), the delightful Swan Valley and the challenging waves of the South Coast was insatiable, but I could have done all these any time later. Nothing beats sharing my new life in the land of Oz and proudly showing the photos of my new friends stored in my digital camera to my earnest parents who were always ready to lend their listening ears and comforting shoulders.

Perhaps the highlight of this trip would have been our constant lunching and tea-breaks at our newfound favourite Chinese restaurant at Northbridge and the Forum Cafeteria at Hay Street Mall, respectively. Having similar tastebuds, we thoroughly enjoyed the succulent dim sum at affordable prices for almost the entire week, and would happily look forward to sipping the concoctions of coffee and tea while relaxing in the comfort of the spacious alfresco cafe. We tried out different cakes daily, from parvola to black forest and cheesecakes, choosing to ignore the gradually expanding waistlines and strangling pants. The sweetness of the desserts and the cherished time of indulgence lingered lovingly in our hearts.

We made a new friend as well. Shall I call it fate? While waiting for the returning train near the casino at Burswood, we chatted up a fiesty energetic lady from Christmas Island who had been residing in Perth for 20 years. We ended up having a cordial yum-cha session, before arranging casually to meet at the Subiaco Market the following day if fate should prevail. As it turned out, we did bump into one another again and parted this time after exchanging our numbers. As the Chinese idiom goes: "Si Hai Yi Jia" (Four Oceans, One Family), it was indeed a special occurence of friendship and union.

It was with heavy hearts that my parents and I bade farewell once again, as I board the shuttle bus to the domestic airport first. As I gazed through the huge glass panel at the arriving planes, streams of tears flowed haltedly as I tried hard not to attract unwanted attention. It may be a short one week for us, but the heartfelt warmth and love are everlasting and eternal.

Perth - The Capital City

It was an arduous process before we finally scaled the glorious Kings Park, set on high ground in central city. Having stubbornly refused to hop onto the Perth Tram for the City Explorer tour (which would have cost us $15 each), we valiantly marched onto the roads armed with only a skimpy map, searching hopefully for the grand entrance to the popular tourist spot. The scorching temperature of 41 degrees with the sun rays blazing furiously through the gigantic hole in the ozone layer did not help with our futile venture. We reached the Lookout summit of the park at the second attempt, not before treading through some barren bushlands via an indirect isolated route. The sweeping views of the central city, the south bank of the Swan River straddling through it, and the hill escarpment that surrounded Perth, all made our toil and sweat worthy of the cause. The pictures of my parents struggling with the trek, complete with a makeshift walking stick from the tall branch of a tree and leaves to swap the summer flies away, were actually quite hilarious. Of course, I should be feeling more guilty for failing to consider their fitness levels and arthritic conditions, on top of the merciless weather. So much for filial piety....(2 slaps for me)

The other must-see landmark would be the Swan Bells Tower which was erected right at the end of Barrack Street in the city, and included twelve bells of St Martin-in-the-Fields from England which were in existence since the 14th century. We caught a quick glimpse of its magnificence before moving on to stroll the Stirling and Supreme Court Gardens.

Nothing is complete in any tour without shopping, our favourite pastime. The city offered much pleasure and relaxation with boutiques and major department stores galore, forming 2 wide spacious malls, intersected by 3-dimensional shopping arcades linking the malls, traversing the streets and constructed in multi-levels. We could almost memorise each and every shop and location at the end of our one-week holiday there, with our constant visits and wanderings there.

I particularly liked Subiaco, which is 10 minutes' train ride from the city, and is the classier spectrum of a shopper's paradise. The boutiques and galleries that lined the streets were eye-catching and worth a photo shot. The sassy ambience and the weekend market were absorbing, forming a major highlight of our whole trip.

My impression of Perth: Rather cosmopolitan, clean, very self-sufficient, enough city life but less cultural than Melbourne and Brisbane, and full of Singaporeans and Malaysians (Deja vu...)! The last point is enough to stear me clear from an extended stay in this idyllic city. Just within this trip alone, I have bumped into 3 other doctors from Singaland (all consultants with their families) having a chillout at this relaxed destination as well. It would thus be one of my less favourable choices of tourist precincts in Australia for this reason.

Fremantle - The Romantic Harbour

I can only resume my writing now that I have dried up my streaks of tears.

Perth
Western Australia is huge. It would have dwarfed most Southeast Asian countries. It is also known as the oldest land on earth, hence its enormous contrasts of nature and developments. Perth is the capital city, which was our main focus in this memorable trip.

Captain Charles Fremantle formally took possession of this land in 1829 and selected 2 town sites: Fremantle which he named after the captain of one of his ships, and Perth, chosen as the administrative centre and named for Sir Charles Murray, Member of Parliament for Perth in Scotland.

The Swan River Colony as it was known previously was colonised by free settlers, not convicts, unlike other parts of Australia. Convict labour was however introduced later, with current buildings built by them a visible reminder of those days, notably the Town Hall at central city.

Fremantle
We decided to take a railway train down to Fremantle on our first day of the trip, as most of the shops were closed on Sunday, short of being a ghost town. Unfortunately we had to settle for a bus ride instead as the train to Fremantle chose to stop running for the day as well. I can now understand why my friend lamented about the weekend stagnancy of flow in Perth, a stark contrast to the bustling streets and human traffic in most Asian countries.

Fremantle is a modern seaport, situated at the mouth of the Swan River, about 30 minutes' bus journey from the city. We were captivated by its unique mix of heritage architecture and artistic cosmopolitan ambience, and instantly immersed ourselves into its culture. There were galleries, pubs and alfresco cafes abound and we had no difficulty finding our way to the famous Fremantle Markets which open only from Fridays to Sundays weekly. It was a grand old Victorian building, authentically and lovingly restored. We were greeted by Mexican musicians at the entrance and were fascinated by the stalls galore, selling everything from Australian gifts and antiques, through to seafood and dew-fresh fruits and vegetables. The strawberries and mangoes that we bought were simply succulent. There was a tinge of nostalgia of yesteryear mingled with the fun and excitement of today.

As we browsed through the large variety of shops along the streets, making some purchase and snapping candid shots, we eventually reached the beach overlooking the magnificent Indian Ocean. The coastline was bordered by various restaurants serving gourmet cuisines or the famous fish and chips. We watched the world go by at one of the outlets before making our way back to the city.

We loved the place so much that we decided to return some days later, to relive its romance and soak up its vibrance. We successfully took the train this time and the endearing smiles on my parents' faces after the visits became valuable assets in my photo collections.

Reunion.Perth.

I miss my parents tremendously! After spending a meaningful week with them at Perth ( I flew there from Sydney, while they departed from Singaland), the familiar feeling of homesickness assailed me again. I couldn't control my tears at the airport on the last day.

It has been 5 months since I left my homeland, the longest period that I have been away from my dearest Dad and Mum for the good 30 years of my sedentary life. I had tried to spend as much quality time with them, dining out with them daily and spending more time at home watching our favourite VCDs together. They watched their only daughter, their eldest child whom they dote on dearly, board the plane, giving her their warmest blessings that she would survive the troughs ahead and be happy.

I have fulfilled my longtime dream of working and living in the land of Oz. But they have aged. The wrinkles on their faces have deepened significantly and their crowns of glory whitened conspicuously. They looked much more like their ages as they emerged from the arrival hall of the Perth International Airport. The radiance that they exuded when they saw me then remained etched in my memory.

Christmas Beetle!

A middle-aged heavily tattooed man was brought by ambulance into my emergency room, both his hands tightly cupping his ears.

"My ear is aching!! I can't hear you!" he proclaimed in his intoxicated breath.

"Which ear?" I tried to act blur, secretly upset by his sinfully unjustifiable action.

You called the ambulance for an earache!!

"Yes, I felt something crawling in my ear and dug with a cotton bud. Then it started bleeding. So I panicked and rang the ambos." he replied, with a tinge of flushed embarrassment.

I peeked into his right ear with the otoscope. Hmmm....it looked full....lots of earwax....some dried blood from the excoriated ear canal....some hairy brown thin object sticking out....wait, is that a leg?....an insect in your ear?!....

I became excited and interested. I had never removed an insect from a ear so far, not since when I had started practising 5 years ago.

"Where's the olive oil?" I couldn't wait to plunge my aural forceps into his vulnerable inlet.

As we waited impatiently for the living foreign body to drown in the sea of parrafin liquid and earwax, I slowly inserted my predating weapon, made a firm grip at what felt like the body, and YANKED it out swiftly.

"Ah!!!" patient gave a brief scream. "It's a Christmas beetle! !@#%^&*...." he took a glance and exclaimed in frustration, followed by a string of expletives.

I stared with disbelief and awe. The lifeless body measured at least 1 centremetre, intact as a 10-cent coin. To imagine that it actually managed to embed itself in that narrow pit of darkness of the external ear canal, torturing the poor victim with hours of enduring pain.

"Why is it called a Christmas beetle?" I asked with the innocence of a 3-year-old.

"It comes out only during Christmas because it is attracted to the lights on the Christmas trees at night. Some of them are beautiful, with rainbow colours on their bodies", my visibly relieved patient explained, a far cry from when he first presented rolling on the bed.

"Is it unique to Australia? I haven't seen one before back home." I probed at the pesty brown arthropod, hiding my glee while reminiscing about my childhood days when I would sadistically pluck the wings out of the poor suffering flying insects with my playmates.

"I think so....it appears only in the summer months, which coincides with Christmas here", my smiling patient continued, in his now fatherly tone.

"Can I keep it? I wanna show it to my grandchildren", he requested. We gladly obliged. My nurse brought the ornament to the main emergency unit and enthusiastically described my incredible feat to the rest of the department.

"Thank you, Elizabeth. I feel really good and relieved now. And yes, I can hear you clearly", the gentleman beamed with gratitude.

I am still grinning from ear to ear at this very moment.

Chatswood - The Happy Town

Thought I should mention about Chatswood here, although I only spent half a day there.

It was another small towny paradise, about thirty minutes' train ride from Sydney, and still more than 2 hours from my adopting city. I had to make a transit stop at Hornsby before boarding an express train to my destination via the North Sydney route. As the train charged, we journeyed through interesting towns with elegant names, like Roseville and Lingfield. I found them heavenly and fascinating. Rows of attractive houses graced the pristinely clean streets, like fairytale cottages in the storybooks. The intertwining plants and colourful flowers decked on the brick walls added life and intrigue to the homes. I was envious of the leisurely life that the residents had and wished I had the fortune of living in such an environment. It was simply too awesome for me.

Chatswood was similarly enchanting. There was an amazingly thick Korean/Japanese air. As soon as I alighted from the train station, I was assailed by hordes of commuters, an equal and healthy mixture of Australians and Asians. A right turn brought me to the food court where I ordered my delicious chicken laksa from a Chinese couple. The pleasant lady owner greeted me in Cantonese with a heartwarming smile. It was perhaps a usual greeting for her, but somehow that made my day. The friendly spark in her eyes and her kind demeanour were affable and unforgettable.

My friends had told me that Chatswood was a shopping paradise, with all the outlets that we could find in Sydney. They were quite rght. The main street was bordered by two long stretches of shops, centered by Myers in the huge shopping mall. The foyer in between were sprinkled with myriad makeshift stalls selling various assortments from simple silver jewelleries to sunglasses to multicultural food preparations, including that from Singapore/Malaysia. It was reminiscent of our neighbourhood bustle back at home with its characteristic simplicity and familiarity. There was a live musical performance by an ethnic Turkish band, with scattered small groups of quiet but attentive audiences, mainly shoppers seeking rest and food refuges.

I decided to stroll down the streets hoping to have a glimpse of the peripheries beyond the touristy spot. The town was pretty self-sufficient, with the necessities centered in the main tourist compound and the living quarters surrounding it. It was alive with its multi-ethnic occupants, but without the undesirable mess and noise pollution that we find in Sydney Central. Vibrant school children glowing with rosy cheeks added to the dynamic background. Congregations of Korean/Japanese housewives at the Asian eateries and along the neat roads, sharing their lives and passions, filled the air with their hearty laughters and giggles. I bought a cooling strawberry frappacino from my favourite Starbucks and chilled out in the vicinity, watching the world go by.

After a futile Christmas shopping, I called it a day and made my way back to the train station, not before stopping at one of the Takayaki stalls for the all-time mouth-watering specialty. The cute Japanese sellers were extremely polite and professional, leaving a lasting impression. Sushis and sashimis abound in this happy town, which I vowed to return for one day with my friends.

It would be lovely to be able to experience living in this small corner of Oz, with its healthy dose of immigrants and the cheerful ambience that perpetuated the air, a stark difference from my current abode. It would not have been possible at this stage with my career only taking off here. Perhaps it may be feasible to consider moving on only in the near future. This is one ocean which I have yet to explore fully.

Crossing Paths

I sat quietly outside K-Mart, my eyes roving attentively at every passing shopper who may bear the slightest glimpse of the image conjured in my head. A long-haired petite typical Chinese girl caught my eye. She looked around with intensity, then whipped out her mobile and pressed. My phone instantly buzzed. I gave a smile and approached her.

"Hi, are you I***? I am Kelvin's sister." That began the herald of our friendship in Sydney.

We became confidants despite our wide age gap. I've since known her other friends in the babysitting city, all with variable backgrounds and cultures. We would congregate during the weekends when I could pull off from my workplace, have succulent Asian cuisines in town, venture into forbidden outlets together in unity and shared our fervour for life. We were comfortable with one another and were able to be ourselves once again.

I've made new friends in Newcastle as well. Mostly Asians though. From the god-blessed Sri Lankan family who showered me with so much of their love and sincerity from day one of my arrival here, the rather matured-looking but actually young-aged earnest Indian colleague, to my sweet fellow Malaysian new pal whom I would fervently exchange in Cantonese......they have all become my family in this new land.

I've crossed paths with other acquaintances along the way, some of them colleagues and medics, some friends' friends, etc. There were differing degrees of sincerity and superficiality. They could be Asians or non-Asians, fellow Singaporeans or Malaysians. Majority of them have been away from their native countries for many years, thus fully blended into the complexity and morality of the adopting Oz. I learned to sieve my words and accept their presence as part of the diversed universe.

There were a few who were simply naturals in the art of socialising, oozing great charm and grace in their dealings and communications. They were the unpredictables which the heavenly powers would decreed whether our crossed paths would leave an indellible dent.

As I dutifully stitched up the deeply self-inflicted wrist lacerations on a depressed and anorexic but aesthetically beautiful teenager yesterday, she lamented on the ostracising and lack of understanding by her classmates. I asked if she would know anyone who would love her unconditionally. She nodded her head and agreed that she was fortunate to be blessed with loving healthy parents and concerned childhood pals. My heartfelt reply to her for the day: "You don't need a lot of friends in life; you just need a few good ones". I hope I was right.

Discrimination

My friend from Hong Kong commented: "Nobody has ever written about discrimination the way you did, so direct and unreserved." She was referring to the barrage of emails I sent when I first touched down in the land of Oz. Thankfully the ill feelings have evaporated as I happily settled down and learned to deal with life's upheavals.

"All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others".

Sounds remotely familiar? I enjoyed reading and studying 'Animal Farm' in those innocent and simplistic days but nothing in this world would have prepared me for its stark reality in this shark-infested society in later years. The author had skilfully conveyed the true reality via this popular and entertaining satire.

My first encounter with subtle discrimination occurred in New York 3 years ago, a year post September-11. My friend and I asked for directions in the hotel lobby. The receptionist who was speaking amicably to a Caucasian couple just before us wiped her smile off her face and sternly directed us to our destination, like a mother scolding her misbehaving child. I thought the salesgirls in the boutiques were unfriendly and loud as well. I was told that New Yorkers had mellowed down significantly since the Twin Towers tragedy. I could hardly imagine what they were like previously.

My major fibrillations came when I stepped onto the land of Oz. I always thought Australians were one of the friendliest species of mankind, as the era of modernisation eroded into our values and integrity. I would ignore my friends' recounts of racism they faced, thinking that they would never happen to me. How wrong I was. I walked into the conference room for a lecture in my first week and was ignored completely by the entire bunch of colleagues whom I would work with closely later on. No "hi", not even a bat of their eyelids or any eye contact. I felt a chill streaming down my spine. I didn't want to think what worse or awkward situations I would face in the days to come. This was a stark contrast when my Canadian colleague joined the department few months later. She was accosted and introduced by another British consultant. I'd like to think that perhaps I appeared too young to them at that point of time, until I proved my prowess in the course of my work.

The patients were equally hostile and sceptical. A small handful didn't even bother to look at me when I spoke. They reacted dramatically when I missed a cannulation and whispered among themselves. Was I being schizophrenic or over-sensitive? Things have improved tremendously for me now, as I gained mountains of confidence and flashed my cheerful smiles more frequently. Maybe it was transference, as my psychology contemporary analysed.

The unpleasant experience I had with my first landlord was unexpected and hurting. The young punks whom I bumped into at Kotara shopping mall, shouting:" Go back to your own country!" added to my misery and disappointment. My encounter with the lecherous car finance manager provided a tint of dark humour to my skewed impression of the Aussies.

My friend who had been a nursing student on attachment in Melbourne offered differing views and experiences, as she reminisced about nice helpful colleagues and polite patients whom she had contact with. Maybe I was just plain unlucky. Being a working adult, I have responsilibities to fulfill and hence expectations of me are higher and more demanding, compared to if I am just a learning apprentice. My sincere advice to my friend: develop your skills well and have faith in yourself.

Discrimination exists all around the world. Muslims or Malays were associated with terrorism, even though it was mainly the extremists who tarnished the image. I just learned from a fellow blogger that Eurasians and PRs hold ICs of a different colour code from our usual pink, thus segregating them in areas of privileges (or lack of them) and distinction. The Chinese population in Malaysia are persecuted for admission to the ivy league courses in universities, even if they outperformed the Malays by leaps and bounds.

Perhaps we would see the beacon of hope for equality and fairness in the distant lighthouse to come.

Ugliness

I felt so embarrassed and disappointed yesterday, and wish I never would ever face a similar situation here again.

A young Chinese couple walked into our department, cradling their frail and conspicuously jaundiced baby. I happened to have finished reviewing a paediatric case in the vicinity and eyeballed the little one quickly. He looked ill and septic, resting quietly on the maternal arms. I approached them within five minutes of their arrival.

"Hi, how are you? What happened to your baby?" I asked in my friendliest tone after introducing myself. "Oh, he just had a fever. The GP asked us to come straight here", the mother answered looking somewhat baffled. I glanced quickly at referral letter which gave a typed out brief summary of the illness, including a written note towards the end about some "jerking of all limbs" while in consultation.

"So did the baby have any stiffening or jerking of the limbs? Was he unconscious at any stage?", I probed. "No, he was sleeping very soundly" she replied in a very familiar un-Australianised accent. "Oh, someone else is coming over right?" she asked persistently in her crude 'broken-English'. She had overheard my conversation with my HOD regarding a paediatric referral for admission.

"Yes, we are getting a paediatrician to come over because your baby needs to be admitted for treatment." Unpleasant memories of the paediatric emergency department back home and the Singland parents' obsessions with "only specialists are fit to see us" flashed across my mind. I held my breath beneath the seething distaste.

While examining the baby diligently, I tried to break the ice: "So, how long have you been in Australia? Where are you from?"

"We are from Singapore, and we have been here for 6 months." While I was not surprised since I recognised the accent, I explained later as professionally and clearly as I could the diagnosis of neonatal pyrexia and the indications of blood and urine investigations via cannulation so as to institute immediate treatment.

"Blood tests! Forget it...." The baby was just discharged the day before after shots of phototherapy given for neonatal jaundice. "Look at the marks on his hands! I don't think they are good enough..." She started wrapping her baby up, preparing to leave.

I frantically persuaded her to stay, reassuring her that we would not do anything to her baby if she refused, but warning her that there is no oral treatment for NNP and he may eventually require intravenous antibiotics if his fever persisted. She agreed to stay, not before demanding formula milk powder curtly.

As I explained the situation to the paediatric registrar who just strolled into the room, she walked out of her cubicle with the baby in her arms, looking perplexed. "Where is the formula milk? How come no one has come to see us yet? What kind of an emergency is this?!" My HOD approached her and patiently reassured her.

"Who are you? Are you the specialist?" she questioned neurotically. Despite the introduction made by my HOD, she made a dash out of the department towards the carpark with her husband, who remained suspiciously reticent throughout (I could foresee a long personal complaint letter shooting in over the next few days from the smiling tiger). My HOD was shell-shocked but gave chase and kindly persuaded the couple to return.

They relented. I went over and tried to shower more TLC with the nurses. I instructed her to try and catch a mid-streamed urine specimen. "Don't you have the urine bag?" she asked impatiently. I explained that the urine might be contaminated and the clean-catch would be most accurate. "Never mind, I WANT the bag". I gave up trying to talk sense into her thick skull, but continued to flash my usual friendly smile.

After a few hours of observation with no pyrexia documented, they were eventually discharged against advice by the paediatrician. As we flipped through the ward records, we realised that the mother had been giving the caregivers a hard time as well. Perhaps she was simply not mentally equipped to deal with any "stressful" event.

I looked at my HOD apologetically. "You know they are from Singapore....", she mentioned before she left. I nodded, empathetically aware what she had dealt with.

I have hardly encountered such incidences and rudeness among the Aussie patients, at least not until I have settled down comfortably in my current department. Imagine having tens or hundreds more of such characters as parents or patients in Singaland. Sometimes I do wonder if I had been just as unreasonable and difficult subconsciously while I was here, being a born-and-bred Singaporean with the notorious demanding streaks. We do have a long way to go while striving to be a gracious society.