Composting. And Also, Happy Birthday To Me.

I got a phone call from Skoda. She's brilliant, you know. She's the "another distinction here, please" type, topped the Ophthalmology exam (I scraped through, and I consider that a major miracle) and all. She wanted me (please note the point, me) to tell her the dose of salbutamol used for nebulisation. I felt like a real doctor then, and was very happy. (And also, a confidence trickster, but don't you worry about that.) And then I used my brain (what? I have one, complete with 2 cerebral hemispheres and a medulla oblongata.) and concluded that she was too upset to think.

Community medicine posting, also known as composting, is what I go through these days, where they do their best to put me into a coma. Apart form trying to kill me from shock (“YOU THERE, SLEEPING GIRL, TELL ME, WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A RANDOMISED CONTROL TRIAL AND A COHORT STUDY?” directly into my left ear while I *ahem* meditate about life in class), they are also doing their best to show me up as an idiot by making me present seminars (or whatever those things are called) on leptospirosis. It’s on Tuesday*, I think. And I have a zillion pages to fill up in my record, and learn statistics. Logistic regression and standard effing deviation. And I joined medicine because I hated maths. Aargh! SPM, I hate you.

The point of this post, peoples, is to tell you that I am very busy these days. When I am not sleeping in class studying statistics and acting as a senior consultant, I am busy staring at my new dress, which is the BEST DRESS ever. Um, did I mention that I am having a birthday? No? Well, uh, I turn the inconvenient age of twenty two next week. I feel like a septuagenarian staring death in the face. Then again, I get gifts, and I’m pretty sure they won’t be dentures, so I guess it’s not such a bad deal after all.

Like all mallus, I have two birthdays, and they rarely fall on the same day. My nakshathram (star) was last week, and I got payasam and a sadya. I also got one of the best birthday presents ever. If The KGB is reading this, it's you I am talking about. It was awesome! So, tell me about Sharon Stone. ;)

I need to go complete that stupid SPM record now. Damn!

*The D-day. Or B-day, which sounds really stupid.

PS: You can send me gifts if you like. Anything to take the sting out of the two twos. :)