Sunday, May 03, 2015

The Big Three-O

When it hits you how fast it's approaching, even if it's just the Hijri calendar, you reconsider a lot.

This is approximately half of my life expectancy. But if I take better care of myself I could maybe push for an extra decade.

I should be more mindful of how I treat myself, what I put into my body, how I treat people. I'll let you know how that goes.

Monday, March 30, 2015

My Konica FS-1 Died.

My Konica died, but I guess you can tell from the title of the post.

I found that camera when I was about 13, it was in a terrible state. My mother told me that it was a prize for some local bowling tournament or such that my father won.

I cleaned the poor thing, I macgyvered the battery compartment that was completely burned by leaking old batteries from the 80s and I used it up to around 2012. then yesterday it wouldn't start with fresh batteries. I'm glad it lasted so long, but it was my first love and I won't let it die! So I found one on ebay... Sadly, mine is beyond repair, the battery compartment just came apart for good this time.

That's my baby Konica a few years back. RIP. I hope the new one works well.

Sunday, March 15, 2015


مبروك علينا, السعوديات اشتغلوا.
كمية ناس مستحيله اتكلموا عن العوائق في طريق الموظفات السعوديات و أكيد كلهم معاهم حق (ما أبغى أزعل أحد).

العوائق اللي أبغى أتكلم عنها مو بس للموظفات, أكيد في موظفين كمان بيعانو منها, بس أنا ما بأشوف غير الستات في عيادتي.

ما تتخيلو كمية الموظفات الأهليات اللي ما عندهم تأمين صحي! حسب وزارة العمل لازم يكون عندهم.لمن أسألهم ليش ما طالبتو رئيسكم في العمل بالتأمين يقولولي انو اللي طالبو قبلهمانفصلو. 

لازم يختارو بين عملهم و صحتهم.

و ساعات العمل حكاية تانيه.

البنات بدأو يشتغلو في المصانع: مصانع ادوات التجميل, الزجاج, السجاد, و بدأت تظهر اصابات العمل الناتجه عن عدم استخدام أدوات الوقايه الشخصية المناسبه خلال العمل. ساروا يجو بنات على العياده يحروق كيمياويه على أياديهم, أجراح من أدوات العمل, ضيق تنفس من استنشاق الكيماويات.

حسب المادة الثالثه والعشرون بعد المائه من نطام العمل: "على صاحب العمل احاطة العامل بمخاطر مهنته, و الزامه باستعمال وسائل الوقاية المقررة لها, و عليه أن يوفر أدوات الوقايه الشخصية المناسبه للعمال, و تدريبهم على استخدامها."

هما عارفين انو من حقهم التأمين, و أدوات الوقايه الشخصية, و ساعات عمل لا تزيد عن ٨ ساعات مع استراحه بعد ٥ ساعات بالكتير, بس خايفين يقولو شي يقومو ينفصلو من العمل. 

هادول على الحد الأدنى من الأجور, وما معاهم الثانوية حتى. مساكين و يحتاجو الألفين ريال هادي (اللي حينخصم نصها أصلا من الاجازات المرضيه), و لو انفصلو يلاقوا مليون وحدة تاخد محلها.

المهم, انا مرة وصلت معايا اليوم.</فضفضة>

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Paris, July 2014

Paris in black and white isn't a new subject, but I happen to like Paris in black and white. Cliche, I know.

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Medical School and My Sanity

Medical school wasn't a piece of cake, but I guess that's no new news to anyone. Medical school causes anxiety and depression in students, many people don't realize that.

The stigma of mental illness is still at a high, no-one wants to admit to having any mental problems but medical school leaves quite the dent in a student's psyche. It wasn't easy for me.

This morning, as I went through my ritual of reading tweets in bed I stumbled upon a discussion between a former student of my school (who is now finishing up his specialty abroad) and a doctor currently teaching at my school. And I had a panic attack.

They were describing how now there are doctors at the doors of the hospital to inspect students' wardrobe and nails. Yes, you read that correctly. Wardrobe and nails. Let's set aside the different connotations of such an act and focus for a second on how I, a former student who is currently practicing and managing a health care center, just had a panic attack so terrible it required teddy bear hugging and cat cuddling, along with breathing exercises and whatnot.

Just the thought of walking through the doors of that hospital again gives me a panic attack. Am I the only one? not according to some studies (here and here) which apparently should warrant more studies.

"Doctors make bad patients" comes to mind. We're too preoccupied by our studies, patients, life happening elsewhere while we're stuck in a never-ending cycle of trying to fix things and we don't consider things happening to us to be serious enough. Our mental health deserves our time, we should take better care of it.

P.S. I am jet lagged, and I slipped on ice/rain and only sought medical attention a few days after (when my knee started swelling and the bruise was too painful. Now I can't go up stairs)

Friday, February 13, 2015

Jeddah Balad Festival!

So, we had a festival in balad (which was cut short by the King's passing, allah yr7amo. He'll be missed.) and auntie took us there! And I took photos!

 My babies *heart*

When your lens just isn't wide enough =_=" This is the Nassief library, next to the house. It's part of the first Nassiefiyah school for girls.

Also, they had a little exhibition of old objects:

Monday, January 26, 2015


King Abdullah passed away, but I guess you know that already. There are numerous articles on the subject in every media outlet, I won't bore you.

Our new king is King Salman, which you probably know as well.

Politics is a messy affair, King Abdullah's politics kept us afloat. Some love him for it, some criticise him. I'll never understand politics. The loss of human life, of a person who was a brother, a father, a grandfather to someone is something I do understand. It's never pleasant, regardless of what wonderful place you believe they end up in.

In other news, Maysaa and Lujain are still locked up. I don't personally know Lujain but I do hope they both come out of this well, they are strong women. I cannot imagine how their husbands (and Maysaa's cats) feel.

Saturday, December 27, 2014

Do doctors owe patients their lives?

Disclaimer: this is my personal opinion, read at your own risk. Also, I'm venting.

Some patients barge into the clinic expecting their doctors to not only give them their best, but to give them their lives. They expect you to put everything at their disposal: your private time, your money, even your peace of mind.

Empathy is not sympathy, your doctor is not a CareBear and he/she is a real person.

When your doctor does his/her job they're not doing you a favour. They are professionals providing you with a very personal and sensitive service within the legal boundaries of the practice. I will not break any rules for you. I will give you my best, treat you politely, make sure you're as comfortable as possible. But I will not give you money, my personal phone number, or my private time (unless it's a life threatening emergency).

We believe in this job, or else we wouldn't be doing it. It's a big part of who we are, but it doesn't mean we owe you our selves. It takes too much of us the way it is anyway.

Also, if you try to cut in line or speak rudely, I'm sending you to another clinic. The least I expect from you is to stay on line and reciprocate the politeness you receive. I don't care if rudeness is the norm in your household, you are to behave politely in a clinic.

I owe you the professionalism, best treatment, most comfort I can provide. But not my life. My life is mine.

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

What Kills A Young Woman - Part II

Male guardianship.

I make most of my life changing decisions in the clinic, affecting people's lives, and my guardian isn't there to scrutinise these decisions. Thus, why is this guardian scrutinising other decisions that are less likely to get anyone killed or disabled?

If I can be trusted with the lives of so many people, why can't I be trusted with mine? I make my living by improving their lives, so could I please have my life?

What Kills A Young Woman

Nothing can kill a girl's ambition and self-esteem like her commitment to be proper to a father who doesn't respect her.

That commitment, in the name of her own propriety, will make her feel like a terrible person once she realises how little he values her and how his main concern is only himself. She's only here to show the world what a great person he is, regardless of the fact that he had nothing to do with raising her. He was only a DNA donor.

That DNA becomes a part of her that she despises, as she cannot believe she shares genetic material with someone so selfish, self-righteous, and utterly disgusting; thinking his daughter only appreciates him for his money. While in reality she doesn't appreciate him at all, it's a mere sense of duty that is quickly fading away due to his repulsive behaviour. There's only so much commitment you could ask of a person.

She would very much like to leave him, but in a country where he downright owns her, how could she leave?