The art of procrastination

I used to wish that I held some sort of superior talent, anything really. Although I was given piano lessons as a child, I was not and currently am not particularly good at it, I can’t sing, dance, draw or sew. I always find that I am envious of people who have that niche in which they can shine. However, I have recently realized, that I do indeed actually have a talent.

I am a master procrastinator.

I have long lists of things to do, and instead of doing them… I will instead go buy a fancy notebook in which I can accumulate all the important life tasks I need to have done (seriously, who can deny the allure of really cool looking stationary). I also have a list of books I need to read, that probably started somewhere in 2007, for which I’m averaging at a rate of maybe two books every five years.

The upside to being a master procrastinator, though, is that I never know when I will uncover something meaningful or interesting. For example, instead of doing some review work so that I don’t need to cram it right before my next 12 hour shift, I decided to upload pictures off my old phone and computer. I mean, really, how long can uploading over 2500 pictures and videos take? But I found a picture, and thus the memory associated with it.

One night, while meandering the streets of toronto, I came across a gifted piano player. What caught me most, was not just the music (although that is what caught me first), but was the dissonance of the entire scenario. At the time he was playing classical music, which eventually was transitioned with extreme fluidity to jazz, on an electric keyboard (which I had snobbily always thought wasn’t capable of good music) connected to a worn speaker with some other contraption balanced with great innovation on a shopping basket. His clothes were not torn, but obviously worn and his glasses taped together. As he played, he was both concentrated yet he smiled with pure enjoyment. And to be honest, he played so beautifully, I couldn’t help but stop to tell him. I only had a twenty, no change – so I decided to compliment him instead.

I felt bad for not giving him that twenty, I mean it would have been worth it. He played well enough that I had felt compelled to let him know what a great job he was doing. I had considered it, but true to all starved students, I thought about all the other things that I could buy: coffee, lunch, or maybe if I was lucky a shirt on sale. I thought about the fact that maybe he would use the money towards something like alcohol or drugs, which would not have been something that I’d like to support. Anyways, I realized later, that despite whatever he would use it for; maybe receiving more than spare change for his efforts could make his day.

A few weeks later, I crossed paths with him again. This time he had drawn a bit more of a crowd and once again I found I was changeless with just one twenty. Although initially shy because of the audience, I finally took the chance to speak to him. I discovered he studied music at the Royal Conservatory of Music, and teaches music on the side; but to make ends meet he sometimes plays music on the corner of Bloor and Walmer. I noticed a glass bottle sticking out of his bag, and he admitted that he would play better without a drinking problem. I told him I highly doubted it, and remembering the last time, handed over my twenty.

You never know the people you’ll meet. Sometimes, it just means taking a bit of time to notice.

*Unfortunately photography is also not one of my talents, and my phone sucks.. sorry. But the next time you go grocery shopping, try the Dominion at Bloor and Walmer – and if you’re lucky you’ll be graced with some musical bliss.

Becoming one with a cloud

Nepal’s notoriety for blackouts did not seem like a major issue to me, or at least that was until all of my electronics ran out of battery at exactly the same time. This was both a blessing and a curse, as my camera was unfortunately grouped into this poor powerless subset of devices. However, back at home I’m constantly plagued by my personal attachments, and having no form of communication at all was surprisingly refreshing and relaxing.

In fact, I can’t even remember what day I last logged my Nepalese misadventures. This may mean a little bit of repetition as I can’t back check what my last post was about since the internet is still sporadic.

Today is a Nepalese holiday – Janai Purnima & Raksha Bandhan, meaning we have a day off from the hospital. I’m currently sitting in a coffee shop up the street, which boasts “real coffee, not Nescafe”. I kid you not, that is what the sign says. I’ll give it to them though, the coffee in Nepal is usually incredibly watered down and subpar, so I jumped at the chance to taste some rich caffeine. It still tastes like Nescafe to me. 100 rupees worth of Nescafe.

This past week and weekend has actually been quite eventful. We spent early Saturday morning going to the City of Patan, also known as the City of Art. Here we saw many temples, sculptures, and visited a few of the World Heritage Sites. As much as I love cultural history and art, nothing will compare to my experience up in the small Himilayan city of Nargakot.

Just a short 90 minute drive out of Kathmandu (perhaps longer but our driver was intense), I can’t even begin to describe the experience. From the moment we started up the narrow, incredibly crowed and unsafe mountain road, it was nothing but a sensory overload. I was told how beautiful it was, but it was beyond what I expected. No picture will ever do the view of the Himilayan Mountains justice (which is good since my camera was dead). At night, the hills are scattered with little lights from the houses of the locals that lived there. The contrast of these lights against the dark sky made me feel like I was actually in the sky. Being that it is monsoon season, there were clouds floating around everywhere, and at one point it enveloped me. Now I can officially say I have sat in a cloud. Another scratch off the bucket list (but does it count if I only thought of adding it to the bucket list once it happened?). Given that Toronto has nothing like this, I savored the moment. I sat there shivering all night until I saw the sunrise in the morning.

View from the top – what the mountains looked like from the top of Nargakot. All that white fluffy stuf? Yeah, clouds.

As this is monsoon season, everyone told us that we would not be able to see the sun through all the clouds. Luckily, a little hole opened up during sunrise just enough to burn our retinas with a little bit of solar beauty.

Following the once-in-a-lifetime weekend, this week has been a little bit more depressing. Being extremely sick one day, I had to miss out on an entire hospital day. From what I hear though, it wasn’t a good one. Two of the patients in the ICU passed away, and they were young too. Supposedly, at least 100 people lined up outside the ICU crying and mourning them. The next day, there were only two patients in the unit, and on these slower days I like to sit with the sisters (nurses) and staff, learning more about the language and culture. Pro: the ICU is air conditioned, offering a respite from the heavy humidity and heat. Con: sometimes you are left as the only person in the room when a patient is taken off life support. Having a large language barrier exist, I wasn’t even aware that this was the nature of the conversation transpiring beside me, until all the alarms went off and I was the only one left. Now, not having had any real clinical experience… maybe this is how it’s done. Maybe when someone is taken off a ventilator, the entire room does actually clear out. Regardless, it seemed a little morbid to have to die alone, and so for whatever the reason I couldn’t make myself leave (I’m a total emotional suck).

Buddhism and Hinduism seem to be the dominating religions here in Nepal, both emphasizing reincarnation in the afterlife. To the three ICU patients this week – I hope you are in a very beautiful place, with fresh air, flowers, and lots of mountains (and maybe some unicorns, because they are awesome).

Day 1 – Kathmandu awake/BIR Hospital

I had thought writing blogs would be difficult, mostly because I would not be able to throw anything relevant enough together. I was wrong. Writing a blog is difficult because I see and do so much, that even reflecting on my day to filter through my thoughts is yet another sensory overload.

Where do I start?

The part of me that wants to talk about every minute that elapses wants to mention my first dinner at a Nepalese restaurant or the egg drop soup, but I know I need to keep this limited. (see how I sneakily threw that in anyways)

So, Day 1.

The walk to the hospital was crowded, but not as intense as yesterday. It was humid, and despite being only 9am, it was dark. As we walked closer to the city, it became more congested, but also more lively. At a large intersection, I noticed a tall old building. It was light brown, gated, with rows of window typical of any building, only difference being that it was obviously old and not as contemporary. There were people streaming through a narrow opening in the gate, which was hard to see through the throngs. Just above it, my attention was caught by an english, not sanskrit, sign. In big red letters – BIR EMERGENCY ROOM.

At that moment, I can’t even begin to describe what I thought. I didn’t. I wasn’t sure I understood where I was, if I was at the right place. I keep reminding myself what I was here for; but once again, no amount of mental preparation would ever be enough.

We (my group and I) made our way into the hospital, past the emergency room, turning left down one hallway, right at another, through a courtyard and finally the hospitals new intensive care unit. Along the way, there were people spread in any open space, lined against the walls, sitting on blankets holding eachother… waiting for something.

In the ICU, we met the two doctors that will act as our liason. Dr. Navindra, an anesthesiologist resident and Dr. Pradip, head of the anesthesiology department. They were friendly, knowledgeable, and unboundedly helpful. We were lucky.

Sitting in on their morning rounds, I could not help but feel slightly humored. The very first thing we saw was a resident “giving report”. Now to truly understand this, you have to be an RT student in their clinical summer simulation semester. That is literally, all we have done for the past four weeks. Constantly practising, criticizing and perfecting that reporting routine.

Their ICU is a small one, consisting of five different beds. Currently they have four patients, which makes up 80% of their ICU. Sadly there was a patient with organophosphate poisoning from attempted suicide. Organophosphate  comes from the use of fertilizers and insecticides and is not commonly seen in Toronto, as it is mostly used for farming in rural areas. In Nepal however, this is readily available and often used for suicide. This woman also had a young son, and lived in a rural area 50 km away from the hospital.

After the hospital, we walked around the city. We were forced to buy masks as the combination of dust, dirt, gas and exhaust was too much to handle. I began to partake in the pretty gross habit of horking out my phlegm like the other locals. I walked by a little girl strapped to her mom’s back, who couldn’t be more than 2 years old yet was tiny, and she gave me the most endearing smile and a wave.

Walking across a bridge, I made eye contact with an old man carrying things on his back. He was skinny, seemingly frail but obviously not as he was carrying at least 30 books 2-inches thick on his back via a cloth strap anchored to his head. Nothing I had seen in the hospital had moved me as much as this moment. I wanted to help him, to grab some books, buy them all and give them out. I wanted to find some way to take care of him as he struggled up and down the stairs of the bridge. I felt ashamed for carrying enough rupees in my bag to buy double of everything he was selling.

These are the moments that put life into perspective, the moments that make you appreciate what you have. How many times a day do I complain about how many more things I want, how much life could be better, how I wish things were different?

And you know what, I still do. I wish I could make everyone’s world perfect.  

 

People on planes – pit stop #2

Finland is nothing like what I expected it to be. To be honest, I’m not quite sure what I had expected… but now at least I know that Finland has a crazy amount of trees. And it only took me thirteen hours to get here.

Strange enough, I like comparing airports. Not that I have been to a plethora of them, but I’d say a fair enough amount to attempt to draw some parallels. The airport here is well lit, accomodating to passer byers (if that’s even a word), and definitely less crowded than Heathrow. In fact, I was trampled twice just standing there, and I’m not even a small person.

In about 30 minutes, we will be boarding our next flight to New Delhi, for which the customer service rep has kindly let me know is a fully packed, crowded, 7 hour flight. Interesting.

Being that I hate being crowded, I am completely dreading it. However, the upside is you always meet the most interesting people on planes. Sometimes you want to punch them, and sometimes they make your experience that much better.

My flight to London meant meeting Bheem, an adorable 15 month old friend, who despite his disjuncted bouts of crying, won me over with his cute overly dramatic expressions.

My flight to Helsinki (did I mention was upgraded? BOOYAH again) highlighted the consideration that strangers can sometimes show. Being completely deprived of sleep, I managed to sleep the entire four hours, waking up intermittently. At one point, I woke up and the passenger next to me was gone, which was quite ninja of him, as I didn’t even move to let him leave. The next time I opened my eyes, I was staring into his (for lack of a better word) ass, because he was trying to step over my sleeping form not to wake me. Naturally, I did what one normally does in this situation, keep pretending to sleep.

So now I’m here, in Helsinki, already homesick, missing my mom, and hoping that melantonin can help cure my now completely skewed sense of time.

But it is so worth it. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.