Time is worthless @ govt hospital. True that.

I'm typing this entry out of hunger while waiting for my turn to meet a specialist at Hospital Serdang. Hunger=Anger, no? In my opinion, the numbering system just doesn't work. A little illustration; Yours truly was here since 9:00a.m as my appointment is set at 11am. From previous experience, you've just got to arrive earlier,2 hours prior, to be safe. My first struggle was to find a parking space. Wasted a good 20mins. Then I proceed to the registration counter. Current number serving was 1328 and mine was 1450. Imagine my horror. So I decided to have a drink at the hospital canteen. When I got back to the counter after 30mins, the running number was 1380. I finally got my orthopedic number by 11:54am. Serving number 2016, mine is 2019. Relief; so I thought. But no. Now it's 12:45 freaking noon and I am famished... but where the hell is my freaking doctor?!!!! ... to be continued.

Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow

Yours truly is a little bit under the weather today...

My blood tube.

Monday didn't kick start well for me today. I woke up with super aching back and I felt that every muscles in body was tightened to a knot. My sore throat got the best of me as my eyes got teary every time I attempted to swallow. In no time, I found myself at the university's health centre, clocking in at 8:01am. Then walked in my boss, the Vice Chancellor. He's in for dental treatment though. He smiled, almost hairless but he couldn't wipe off that contented face of his even though the whole world knows that he's battling the big C. "He's a strong man" I pulled a faint remark. "And shame on me to whine on my sore throat!!"

So I got my blood withdrawn as the Dr wanted to make sure that I didn't contract dengue. I pray not!
My swollen tonsil was getting worse so the Dr granted me a medical leave for one day. She specifically instructed me to have a good rest. My aching back didn't help either. It resulted in severe pains on the outer side of my knees. This household is running out of 'koyok'.

What the hell is wrong with me.

As I survive my 'bed rest', I took the time to read Steve Job's eulogy written by his sister, Mona Simpson.

I've learned a thing or two.

• Steve appreciated arts.
• Steve put his family first, always.

It amazed me that his last words were... well you have to read the eulogy .

I plan to cook myself a pot chicken soup, (please heal, please heal...) but before that, signing off now to dozer land. Zzzzzzzzz...