Maktoub

The weeks and months after a parental separation are probably tougher than the moment of the breakup itself. One can feel quite caught in the middle of a tug of war between differing wills. You don't know when things will settle down, if they ever do. Other things, small things, pile up and take tiny bites out of you, until you feel you can take no more. But maybe I'm not seeing the whole picture.

Alhamdulillah I passed my final exams, and after 6 years of hard work (not really, mainly just strategic/lazy revision), I'm now a doctor alhamdulillah! I got my first choice deanery (North Central Thames), which was completely unexpected, and I got the hospitals I wanted too, meaning that I don't have to move away from family. And here I am on elective in Zimbabwe, where the weather is perfect (it's supposed to be winter now, but any day here would make a British summer blush). I've met amazing people who've gone out of their way to make my stay more comfortable, with Mufti Menk's brother basically paying for all my meals, and another guy driving me wherever I need, showing me the country and keeping me company.

But as with all moments, merry or miserable, this too will end.

I've learnt that life is filled with single moments of happiness, pure joy, separated by periods of an enduring patience. Well that's the idea anyway.

Toughen that skin

When a person looks back at their life lived so far, there are certain events that may stand out, milestones; the memorable moments, times that tested your mettle, the incidents that elicited emotion. Milestones that may evoke feelings of elatedness, or bring about broken-heartedness. You could say that 2015 opened with the latter for me. Moving house did not only involve a separation of furniture from perfectly-indented carpet, but it involved my parents parting ways.

Although I had known about my mum's wishes for about 6 months, this came as no less of a shock when it happened. I have been assured by others that this is just a change that needs getting used to, but where I find myself at the moment is in a situation where I feel that it is up to me to keep the family in 'functional' order, where I am attempting to meet everyone's emotional needs and make sure this change hasn't hit anyone too hard.

 

Whilst I have been quite shaken by this change, which has also made me rethink my views on marriage as a whole, I will not let this affect the way I live my life. Yes, logistical changes will have to be made to meet both my parents' needs (and maybe for once, it will make me appreciate them the amount they deserve to be appreciated), but I refuse to let any emotional burden from this affect how I deal with others, and I will not let future plans be hindered by any depressive attitude that may arise as a result of parents splitting. I am learning to see adverse life events as a challenge; the tougher the test, the more courage I expect myself to show. I just hope there isn't a time when I see this courage deplete as something bigger decides to hit me. At the moment, maybe as a sort of false assurance to myself that I can handle this, I often ask shaytan, 'is that all you've got?!'

 

2015 also opened with my close friend losing his father, and another friend with his dad in a very critical condition that came about suddenly. Knowing they're going through emotional turmoil, but trying to maintain a calm exterior is extremely inspiring, and having such friends whose influence could rub off onto me is a blessing in itself. And then there's my depressed friend, whose condition still hasn't improved, and whilst I realise depression is a sinkhole that's very difficult to escape, his constant complaints about things that I see as petty has made me realise that we all approach and react to adversity in different ways. Some of us collapse at the slightest hint of pressure on our shoulders; others hurt on the inside but put on a brave face, and then there are the very rare few who embrace it.

 

I am a big fan of having a 'gratitude attitude', but I think the mark of a truly strong person is when they're grateful for even the bad things in life. Because they realise the situation could've been worse, that some good may eventually come from it, but most of all, they know that they'll emerge stronger. And they're grateful for that.

 

Don't expect your skin to be tough if you haven't earnt it through your fair share of trials. So reserve your widest smiles for times that would make lesser people curl up in a ball and give up.

 

Anyway, I think I'd better go and revise; final exams start in two days :P

The M Word

I've reached the ripe old age of 26, and I've noticed that wherever I am, or whoever I'm with, the topic of marriage has come up more frequently. Friends left, right and centre are getting engaged and married, begging the inevitable question: "When is it your turn?".

Yes, the question is usually asked just to fill a gap in the awkward silence that usually accompanies being in my presence, but I have started answering it with "Why, have you got someone in mind?" (because it wouldn't hurt to make things that bit more awkward). Their answers have more or less been a no, and either way, I'm not sure I'm a fan of the 'spouse via referral' methodology. I know there are people who are living happy lives (as far as I know) with people who they've pretty much blind-dated their way into marrying, but I think it can be way too risky. When two people are talking to each other for marriage purposes, everything can be so artificial; for the short periods of time that they do meet, everyone is on their best behaviour, and there's so much chance to pretend to be someone you're not (this is also assuming your thorough 'background research' into the person, which requires some degree of trusting referees, produces no red flags). The potential to discover something unsavoury about your partner later on is too great, but I suppose this danger exists whichever road you take.

The alternative to the 'spouse via referral' method? Meeting someone out in the big bad world also does carry massive risk. In fact, this whole marriage thing, whichever way you approach it requires some dice-rolling and praying that you find someone who isn't a psychopath (and remains that way; because people do change believe it or not). Why not just avoid getting married at all you ask? As pertinent as that question is, despite me absolutely enjoying the 'freedom' I have to go out whenever I want, and spending time with friends, there are those moments alone where you think 'well, this sucks; this experience would be much more enjoyable if I shared it with someone I'm in love with', and as many of my friends are beginning to move on with their lives, I find those moments becoming more frequent. Plus, children don't just come out of thin air.

Before I continue, let's just establish one thing: human beings are not perfect, and a lot of the time, human beings suck at being decent people. The trick is to find the special ones who value other people over themselves, and then hold on to them. I think finding them requires a degree of trial and error, inevitably leading to people getting hurt, so it would probably be a good idea to have a set of criteria before continuing the search. Two issues arise here: what are one's criteria; how does one formulate these criteria? And what happens if you meet someone you really like, but they don't exactly match the criteria you have in mind?

I haven't really got exact answers for either of these questions; some people do, and good luck to them, but sometimes having a rigid list of what to look for in a person can be limiting. Having said that, apart from having a 'feeling inside' that I like someone, there are things that I probably can't compromise on.

I love Allah (swt). And even though I am continuously ungrateful for what He has given me, He has been there every step of the way on my journey. In the future, I would like to be in a position where I hate every sin that I commit, and love doing good deeds for His pleasure. I need someone who holds similar values to me in that respect; someone who can motivate me to be better.

There are obviously other things that are essential: physical attraction (defo), personality (I'm surprised at how many people overlook this quality), intelligence and the ability to hold a conversation that doesn't kill my brain cells. Someone who's kind, and can tolerate the presence of children. I think that's about it. Oh and someone who isn't tied down by pointless culture. Can't deal with that nonsense.

Yes, I realise I've just semi-compiled a list of criteria. But these are things everyone should be looking for. What we see unfortunately is human beings feeling insecure, and the second someone shows them a smidgen of attention, the 'single' label goes, and later on they find that they're with someone who they don't actually connect with.

I've been told that as long as the girl's heart is in the right place, then I should go for it, and worry about the other things later down the line. But what if she doesn't pray for example? Do I raise the issue before or after we get married, and is it fair for me to go after someone who may not necessarily do these things and then expect her to change afterwards? I have met some beautiful people whose hearts are in the right place; in fact some of the best people I know are amazing character/moral-wise, but may not fulfil certain other criteria. And conversely, I've seen people who tick all the boxes religious obligations-wise, but completely lack manners or personality. I've probably had better conversations with a box of tissues than some people to be honest (but that story is for another day).

So where do I stand? Alhamdulillah I've got more than my fair share of female attention for some reason, but how do I know who I should 'go for' and who I shouldn't, if at all? Apart from the qualities I've mentioned above, it would probably be a good idea to get my mum's input on this. The issue is that her criteria restricts my choice quite dramatically. Whilst I respect her opinion and take it on board, there are things I disagree with to some extent, but understand her reasoning for having such criteria. I've learnt that many, many females out there are a waste of the oxygen they breathe (without being judgemental or anything, but it's a fact), and having a system to sift out the best candidates from the rest would probably be a good idea. There's just an inner conflict inside me that makes me wonder if being too strict would make me ignore the real gems whilst I'm looking to get all my boxes ticked. This is assuming people would want to marry me in the first place :P

Everything is already written. Our life partners and our children have already been decreed by Allah, but the fact that we don't know who they are makes us worry. What do we have to do to find them; are we doing enough? Do I wait for a girl to express her interest in me or do I have to take the first step? Have all the 'good ones' been taken in the time it's taken me to write this blog post?

What I need to do right now is keep working on myself and my relationship with Allah, and just maybe inshaallah the right person will just pop into my eyeline when I'm least expecting it.

"...And whoever fears Allah - He will make for him a way out. And will provide for him from where he does not expect. And whoever relies upon Allah - then He is sufficient for him. Indeed, Allah will accomplish His purpose. Allah has already set for everything a [decreed] extent." [At-Talaq: 2-3]

Post-Hardship Ease

I remember there was one particular week last year when things were getting pretty tough. In addition to the problems I was facing, a depressed friend who I was trying to look after had 'attempted suicide' (I put this in quotes because he knowingly took a dosage of paracetamol that wouldn't harm him), and I had to be the one who picked up the pieces afterwards. I'm not even sure his parents knew what was going on at that point, but I knew that I didn't need this. That Friday I had an exam which I was trying to revise for whilst on my placement out of London, and also at the same time I was the lucky guy who acted as an intermediary between a friend of mine and the friend of a girl he liked. Things were becoming all too overwhelming, and I was lucky that the Quran competition that was due to be held on the Wednesday was postponed; I don't know if I could've coped with the added travelling to/from London, the intensity of the Quran competition (which yes, was my own choice, but still), and the emotional strain I was under at the time. This week was but one example of what I faced during my fourth year.

Alhamdulillah I got through all end of year exams unscathed, and here I am now in my final year, only months away from being a doc. Although life problems aren't in short supply, I thought I'd share my experiences of the week that just went by, which I think proves that if you try your best to show patience, good things will happen to you. It began with the news that a close friend of ours had passed his retakes; this friend had himself gone through so much during the year, culminating in him losing his mother, and on top of that learning that he failed one of his exams. We did our best to help him out, but you could tell the strain it was all having on him. So hearing of his success did make my day. Then I heard my Quran teacher had got his PhD; he successfully defended his thesis (which apparently you have to do do get one), and the years of work he's put in have finally paid off. The bittersweet thing is that now he's going to go back home to Saudi, which means that we have to hurry when it comes to getting my ijazas from him.

The above news would be enough to keep me happy all week, but that Friday something extra special happened. As we were arranging our weekly Quran lesson through our Whatsapp group, we hear that we'd be receiving a special guest that week: Abu Bakr Alshatiri!!!!! Like, THE Abu Bakr Alshatiri, the world famous Quran reciter, who is one of the only two Quran reciters I ever listen to. The Quran circle was beautiful, and he listened to me recite and didn't feel the need to correct me at all. He led maghrib and isha, and he sounded just like he does in all his recordings. There was another Quran reciter there, and voice was also breathtaking mashaallah. That next morning, I had to check my phone recordings to see if I'd dreamt it all or not!

listen to ‘Unexpected Guest’ on Audioboo

During the weekend, I was using a memorisation technique Abu Bakr Alshatiri suggested we try out. As I sat in Regent's Park Mosque (a place I usually visit when I want to be alone), I noticed that all around me people were using sign language. It was surreal! I later learnt that it was the annual meeting of the UK deaf Muslim group. So there I sat, repeating to myself the last page of surah al-an'aam, a surah for one reason or another, I had spent ages trying to memorise (apparently it's the hardest surah to learn and retain). Maghrib time came, and what did the imam recite? Yep, the last page of al-an'aam. It was moving. I actually felt like it was a message from Allah to keep going. Yes, I did shed a couple of tears.

After the prayer, I went down to bathroom, and I saw a friend of mine who works in security tending to a man who'd slipped and fallen in the wudu area. When I approached, he was one of the deaf Muslims. I tried to put myself to good use (lesson of the evening: I need to learn sign language), and ended the evening having felt slightly useful in life, as well as meeting loads of the people from the deaf group. A pleasant end to a nice week alhamdulillah. (The man was alright by the way, just a minor head injury and a broken wrist.)

Endure

At the end of every academic year, I like to think back to its highs and lows and come up with a general theme that I can take with me on this journey. This year, with its endless stream of placements, logbooks and amount of knowledge to be retained, the theme for this year is one of resilience. Yes, the weekends and holidays we sacrificed in the library to get SSCs done and exams passed did need effort, but I'd like to talk about the people I've come across this year who despite all odds, just manage to keep going. Starting with my friends; some of them have undergone extreme hardship; financial, emotional, losing family members; but with their added burdens, it has only made them stronger.

Every placement I've been on, I've seen patients whose whole lives have been turned upside down. An expectant mother coming in for a routine scan, excited that after so many years of trying, she's pregnant, only to be told that there's no heartbeat, or that the pregnancy is ectopic. A previously active man who has been told that he'll never walk again. A little girl born with an extremely rare metabolic condition, leaving her physically and mentally disabled for life, and her single mother who has to care for her. A middle-aged woman who constantly has pain in all of her muscles and joints, only to be told that there's no real treatment. A mentally unwell man who spends his whole day hearing voices that constantly insult him, or a lady who believes the world is ending around her, and she is the only one who can save it.
With each instance of hardship I've seen this year, I've also witnessed extraordinary displays of resilience; not letting something like illness break one's resolve. But also incredible are the medical professionals involved in these people's lives day in and day out. Especially the nurses.

Pain suffered by others should prompt me to look introspectively and make me both grateful for a relative lack of misfortune, and question how I would react if something bad was to befall me. You will encounter people and situations that will make life a living hell for you, but you are resilient; you will surprise yourself by how much you can cope. We have been built to endure, so endure for now.

Psychiatry

Never before have I come across a speciality that involves so much conflict and clashing agendas. I've learnt that to be a good psychiatrist, you need to be a master at the art of negotiation, delicately choosing words that would cause least patient resistance. It's difficult trying to convince a mind to adhere to medication when that same mind is in the throes of psychosis.

The patients have been interesting; whilst many neglect personal hygiene, and it may take some time getting used to the smell, what really does keep you intrigued is the extent of some people’s psychoses. From believing that the world is only 42 years old and built by a computer, to fearing the world (doctors included) is out to get them. Unfortunately I also saw some of these thoughts reinforced by family members, probably based on cultural norms back home; the brother of a patient was open to the possibility that the patient's ex-wife had colluded with the doctors to admit him. Let's say the ward rounds, despite their hours-long duration, always had something interesting going on.

As well as having the ability to negotiate with patients, psychiatrists need to be able to detect subtle cues extremely well. They could be the difference between someone being well and potentially extremely dangerous to themselves or others. But they must also bear in mind the definition of 'normal', taking collateral histories from relatives to establish a 'baseline', as well as realising that really, no one is truly 'normal'. Psychiatry makes good use of extended silences to allow the patient to say what's on their mind, and whilst acknowledging that the patient is mentally unwell, it is essential to listen to their wishes when it comes to management of the condition. It depends on the individual patient, some may prefer (or need) the paternalistic approach instead.

During my stay, I learnt there's something that I cannot ever get used to (and this was even after visiting the child psychiatry section), and that's seeing people who experience auditory hallucinations. There are many different types of auditory hallucination, from someone talking directly to you (usually in a derogatory manner, or giving you orders), to repeating your thoughts out loud, or even hearing two people talking about you. The amount of mental toughness needed to blank out these voices and try and live a normal life is phenomenal.

Overall, whilst my time in psychiatry has been enriching, and it's been a beautiful reminder of how easily my life could be dramatically different, but I think paediatrics is still my calling :)

More than a city

Barcelona, where do I begin? I think the only reason I came here was something to do with looking at the list of upcoming marathons, and finding that the Barcelona one fit with my schedule (it perfectly being the weekend after my exam). That and also me hearing good things about it; one particular friend saying that it was my kind of city, and he wasn't wrong!

I think it would be difficult to find a place as pleasant as Barcelona. And a large part of this is thanks to its people. They seem extremely chilled out and happy (and with such beautiful weather, who could blame them?). I spoke to a German guy in the airport on the way back, and we were talking about the crowd's support along the marathon route, and he mentioned something interesting: they weren't really cheering the runners along, they were cheering the fact that you chose their city to run in. I could tell from the start that they were an extremely proud bunch of people; not really in the bad sense, and you could see their familiar red and yellow striped flags adorning balconies and shop windows everywhere. They have their own language. They're extremely proud of their football club (and who could blame them; Messi is a legend), whose fitting motto is 'more than a club'. Barcelona were actually playing the evening after my marathon, but with my aching legs, and my lack of expertise dealing with the black market ticket touts in another language, I thought better not to. They won 7-0, Messi scoring a hattrick, becoming the highest ever scoring player for the team in its history, and I heard the whole match commentary (not in English) blaring from a neighbour's flat nearby. I think I may have made the wrong choice.

Anyway, here in Barcelona, you could tell that they were happy with who they identified themselves to be, and with the stunning city they lived in. I liked the way old men relaxed together under the shade of trees, or how a neighbour would have a chat with you, not because they wanted anything, but just because they were friendly. I don't know what makes them like this, but I'm sure it has something to do with the weather; imagine the UK was more sunny, how we'd be! (Actually, I'm sure we'd find some way to complain). It could be something to do with many of them being descended from immigrants, and the social cohesion needed to keep everything working. Either way, they were an extremely welcoming bunch.

I'm not oblivious to the fact that there are social problems. Apparently unemployment is extremely high, and the Catalans want to separate from mainland Spain (also interestingly, the German guy also told me how barely any Spaniards support their national football team, because the populations of each region are 'patriotic' to their region and their region alone). There also seemed to be a more sinister element which I didn't completely understand, reflected in a lot of anti nazi graffiti I saw. And then of course was the whole episode over privatisation of their health system (which we can obviously sympathise with).

On the topic of graffiti, I found that a lot of it actually beautified the city and made it more colourful. The whole city seems like thought has been put into its design, and I'm sure this Gaudi artist guy has had some impact. Even after my marathon, with my aching legs, I felt so happy (yes, genuinely happy) walking for hours on end in this city. And getting lost. That is one of the positives of travelling alone; no one will get annoyed at you for losing your way, and instead you can take your time and ask directions from the locals, and maybe even take a detour because a certain place looked interesting (and trust me, there was loads of that).

In terms of the marathon itself, it was amazing (if you don't count the latter half which involved extreme pain, cramps and searingly hot weather). The pre-race atmosphere was like none I had been in before (with confetti and everything), and the people along the route enthusiastically cheered you on (oh and they could pronounce my name properly!). As nice as the marathon was, I still think nothing I have seen so far matches up to London, but Barcelona comes in a close second.

I also saw Muslims. But what saddened me was that it looked like, apart from being an obvious minority, they weren't in a happy place economically (I'm talking about the residents, not the random Arab tourists who walked up and down La Rambla like it was Edgware Road). The Pakistanis seemed content with their fruit shops and small takeaways, and there was a mix of other nationalities. Maybe it was just the short amount of time I spent there, but it did not look like Muslims were particularly people of a high social class in Barcelona, and this reflected in the main mosque being near the red light district (well, I saw women loitering on doorsteps; I didn't ask too many questions). Compare this to when Muslims were ruling Spain for 800 years before the Spanish Inquisition, being at the height of civilisation and the envy of the rest of the world. Whilst it saddens me to see us in such a helpless state, I know things will change, but that will only come when we better ourselves and the people around us. It also saddens me how the locals aren't Muslim, especially with how nice they are, and how awesome they'd be if they were guided to Islam. One day.

Overall, Barcelona was a breath of fresh air, exceeding all my expectations. I definitely want to come back and spend more time taking it all in, maybe alone, or maybe with friends who have the same 'wanderlust' as me, and who won't lose their patience if we decide not to take public transport everywhere. And yes, since I've been back in the UK, getting on the tube in this not-so-pleasant weather, I have been tempted to learn Spanish/Catalan and disappear to Barcelona, maybe working as a doctor there before I run out of clean clothes and come rushing back home. :P

Paediatrics

Ever since my second year at Barts, I think my mind was more or less set on doing paediatrics as a career. So you can imagine my levels of anticipation when my paeds firm at Newham was about to begin (as well as my apprehension; what if I didn’t like it?). I’ve had loads of exposure to children both before and during med school. I currently am still involved in Teddy Bear Hospital after I was president of the society 2 years ago, I am on the committee for the paediatric society, I helped set up and still am part of the East London branch of Street Doctors (a charity that teaches young offenders life-saving techniques), and I have just become part of our new playscheme at Barts, meaning I’ll be playing with sick children at the Royal London quite regularly. Not to mention all of the academic things (SSCs, conference attendances etc) I’ve done paeds-wise. So you could say I’ve invested quite a lot into the idea that paediatrics is my thing.

There were six of us on our four-week firm, all male (apparently the first time it’s ever happened), and we were split up into groups that would spend a week each on a certain section. First week was neonates, a fitting start I thought. The neonatal ward had extremely strict infection control policies in place, after there had been some klebsiella-related deaths recently. In terms of patient-interaction, there wasn’t much, even in terms of examination. All we could really do was stare at the tiny neonates through the plastic of the incubators and watch their little bodies survive with the help of the drips, surfactant syringes and CPAP machines. This is where I first saw what was to be the biggest lesson I took away from this placement; the amount of love and care that a mother puts into her child. There was a poor mother sitting by an incubator who had clearly gone through a lot emotionally (and this was after the trauma of a probable natural birth). I saw how reassured she felt following the doctor’s words, but I knew that there were probably other mothers who wouldn’t receive such good news.

By the end of the neonatal week, I wasn’t overly impressed; maybe this was due to the lack of teaching we received from the team, but I have a feeling it also because neonatal medicine mainly involved walking from incubator to incubator, adjusting things here and there on the more-machine-than-human subject, before moving on and doing the same. What did excite me however were the baby checks. I had read up beforehand on what I was supposed to do, and I felt like a fish to water! I’m sure having five younger siblings contributed to my confidence handling babies, but I remembered I was there to do a job, despite the amount of fun I was having.

After the winter break, we resumed our placement, with me and my partner being on Rainbow Ward for the week.  Despite the regular bedside teaching we received from the amazing registrar throughout our four weeks, which did expose me to the ward patients earlier, I thought being given free reign over the ward would be slightly different. It was an interesting experience, but at first I did feel hesitant to approach patients in their beds, maybe out of fear I was inconveniencing them and their parents. I think I removed this barrier by simply spending time on the ward and taking in the atmosphere, joining in with the kids whilst they were playing. The ward rounds were slightly too business-like and thorough, and I couldn’t really take in the whole atmosphere, but I did have a chance to speak to a few parents myself, particularly the mother of a 3 year-old girl with B-mannosidase deficiency, a rare metabolic condition that has left the child in a terrible state, requiring multiple hospital admissions every year. Again, I saw the amount of dedication mothers have towards their offspring, almost an unnatural amount of love that you would not see anywhere else. I saw a range of patients, from teenagers with cerebral palsy to a delightful 3 year-old boy with a port-wine stain and lymphoedema in one painful leg. Again, my impression of paediatrics based on my ward experience what was not what I had anticipated.

This had all changed once our A&E and outpatients week had begun. I had actually gone to A&E the Friday before to see if I could get any of my logbook filled, and I instantly fell in love with it! It could possibly been to do with the autonomy I was given; in neonates and on Rainbow Ward, diagnoses and treatment plans had already been made, and we were simply monitoring their progress. But on A&E, there was the challenge of the unknown. And for the first time I really got to experience for myself the unique three-way consultation (I always forget the word used for it), interacting both with the mother and the child, and observing the interaction between them both. I loved it. I was also surprised at the amount of composure I had when I was made to hold a screaming child’s arm straight whilst blood was taken. Although I believe I have a degree of empathy for the patient, I also realise what’s essential for their best interests, and if anything, I felt more empathy for the parents. I recall a mother who brought her child in who had sliced the top of his finger off; the child didn’t seem too bothered by it, but the mum was an emotional wreck, and she needed more comforting than the little boy. Paediatrics is interesting in the sense that the patient doesn’t really appreciate your presence, and if anything, fights every move you try to make; with psychiatry the only similar speciality that comes to mind. My outpatients experience was also a breath of fresh air; on one occasion, the consultant gave me my own room to see patients in, and I loved how absolutely anything could walk through the door.

I had always considered community paediatrics to be something I’d like to go into once I’d ‘settled down’ and was tired of on calls etc. Although the children who came in had interesting conditions, I was physically exhausted after seeing only two patients! The first (a young boy with autism) was extremely difficult to assess because of his non-compliance, and the second just wanted to climb on my back and have piggy-back rides. I was also told of the large amount of paperwork involved, and the court appearances that had to be made in abuse cases, and I felt that this wasn’t the type of medicine I wanted to practice, but I shall keep an open mind until that decision has to be made.

Paediatrics as a whole has been a breath of fresh air. Whilst I acknowledge that every speciality will get repetitive after some time, I believe general paeds is somewhat different because of the vast amount of knowledge and practice required; it’s not only one organ system involved. It’s probably similar to being a GP, minus the remaining static in one room thing that I could never tolerate. Maybe it’s my medical student enthusiasm doing the talking, but I genuinely felt alive and excited by everything I did during my 4 weeks. Giving a young premature baby a Hep B vaccine was just the icing on the cake, and generally the whole paeds team were extremely enthusiastic getting us involved. This placement has only strengthened my desire to become a paediatrician, and I constantly wonder why more people don’t choose it as a career.

An Overwhelming Sadness

These past 6 months haven't been happy ones. I don't recall a period in my life where I've felt sadder; yes even the events of 2008 have nothing on this, or maybe I'm just really bad at remembering.

Starting with the deaths of close friends in Syria, to events in Syria itself. It just saddens me to see the ummah in the state it's in. People that even claim to be Muslims are on the opposing side regarding the Syria issue, and will do anything to scupper efforts for progress, spreading propaganda and lies. The same can be said for Egypt. Things were looking up when Morsi was elected; now things are the stark opposite. The military coup has killed all hope of Islam flourishing in Egypt for a while, and what's more infuriating is that people actually support it, giving ridiculous excuses for the brutal repression taking place. And the list of countries goes on.

In this country, day after day the media is bombarding us with hate articles against Islam and Muslims. It's been overwhelming. From banning 'hate preachers' to 'debates' on the niqab and Muslims serving pork in M&S. This country is in a mess economically, but the media still finds time to print this rubbish?! It brings to mind the anti-Jew media campaign run by the Nazis, and we all know what happened there. What's sad is that the general British public couldn't really care about any of this blatant Islamophobia, not really learning from history, and it's even dividing Muslims over what side we should be on regarding certain issues.

On a more personal note, I'm sad because I've been let down by people I trusted. For the past few months there's been a constant heaviness in my chest, sometimes painful, sometimes just heavy. Trying to get on with normal life hasn't been easy; sometimes I am distracted from these sad thoughts by what I'm keeping myself busy with, and other times my mind wanders and fixates on this sadness. Seeing people around me lose their faith also really saddens me; and a visible manifestation of this is when Muslim girls, for one reason or another (and I know not to judge personal circumstances), decide not to wear the hijab anymore; conversely I rarely am happier when I see someone start to wear it for the first time. We are all in a a daily struggle against our soul and shaytan, but it's changes like these that really get to me.

So these are a few of the things contributing to my sadness. In front of my friends I am putting on a happy cheery face (no one likes a party pooper after all), and I know that this is just part of the test. Sadness doesn't last forever, and neither do the problems we face. It's how we pick ourselves up that really matters.

Syncope

So for the third time this week, I've had to intervene in someone collapsing in public. I did feel like a bit of a hero to be honest, and it lightened my mood up for a bit that evening :)

Milestones

Oh hey there. Yep I'm still alive. So, a lot has happened in life that I haven't talked about on here. For the sake of ease, I'm going to start with the most recent and then work backwards, as far as my memory serves.

So as Ramadan was coming to an end (the 27th day in fact), I passed my driving test alhamdulillah. This was my third attempt, and it happened only a few days before my second theory test expired. I took one about three weeks before this one, and I failed because I stupidly stopped at a roundabout when I should've just carried on (yes, I got a major for it). The first time I failed was just before my first theory expired and that was because I scraped the kerb as I was pulling over. Boy, have they rinsed my money!

The night before I passed, I finally finished memorising suratul Maedah, which wasn't too difficult alhamdulillah. I have been more or less on track this Ramadan with my one-page-a-day target. Other things were happening when I finished suratul Nisa' (a very tough surah may I add!); our close friend Isa, who had gone to Syria to provide medical aid, was killed. It was such a massive shock, and it still is. Clichés aside, he was an inspiration to our community in NW London, starting up our youth group which has gone from strength to strength, and we continue to have our Quran circles which made me start my journey of hifdh. May we join him soon inshaallah.

This year has been dedicated to my intercalated degree (a one year degree you can do in the middle of the medical course). There have been times where things were extremely chilled, only needing to go in once a week, to being a bit intense, especially around deadlines where essay-writing isn't exactly my forte. My dissertation was on exercise interventions in childhood cancer patients, which involved me and my project partner trawling through research papers and then writing 5000 words on results that were barely there. There were times when the course was quite interesting, learning about health inequalities, and times where I felt extremely lost, particularly during Health Systems, Policy and Economics seminars. The sociology and Primary Health Care modules were slightly dull, but I can see their appeal to some, and to be honest, the essay I wrote on the development of the 'profession' did open my eyes to a whole new world. I think that's what this year has taught me, a greater understanding of how health systems work, and I've left with a different way of thinking; less two dimensional now. Call me geeky, but despite my complaints about the essays I chose to write about the Russian health system and how it has developed from communist times, I did slightly enjoy it (especially when I submitted it :P).

Third year of medicine was amazing. I don't know how much I've talked about it on here, but I loved the freedom you have on the wards! As well as juggling all the societal commitments I had, I really found myself as I roamed from ward to ward finding patients to talk to and examine. During my first firm, bored from too much cardiology, I even snuck onto the paediatric ward and made friends with the doctors there. My surgery firm at the Royal London was cool. Because the old hospital was still in use, we had to constantly move from 18th century hospital to 21st century hospital to find all the surgical patients that needed tending to. I remember all the weekend night on calls I did, and how adrenaline-pumping seeing trauma patients come in with legs hanging off, and how I was considered as part of the team. There is something about hospitals at night that really attracts me; the way it can go from all calm; empty quiet corridors, to absolute chaos once that pager bleeps. Whipps Cross and its LONG corridor was my final firm, which was nice, but by this time, me and my firm partners were trying to find all the time off we could get, as end of year exams were looming.

Oh and then there was the issue of marathons. My first days of firms at both Newham and Whipps had me limping from Amsterdam and Paris from the weekends before respectively. Amsterdam was beautiful as a city (I went alone), but I didn't like that a few miles of motorway was part of the course; what happened to the canals and stuff? Paris as far as I remember (and I went with Farhan, who also was starting at Whipps that Monday- but we went in on Tuesday) was quite cold; we didn't really go past any landmarks, met an English guy with chatted with on the race, and the t-shirt given at the end was nice. I am currently using the Marathon de Paris kagoul to cover my bed during the day to stave off stray cat hairs.

So as I go into my fourth year of medicine, and my fifth at Barts, I can't wait to get back into things. Yes, I am slightly apprehensive about my lack of knowledge on everything (apart from Tetralogy of Fallot, can never forget that!), but I'm sure a lot of people are in the same boat, and I still have a few days to brush up on my electrolytes and drugs and whatnot. I also can't wait to meet my new colleagues!

I also entered the FOSIS London Quran competition this year. Long story short, I won alhamdulillah (see video I've edited mistakes out from below :P). The thing is, I entered the highest category, which was called 'a quarter of the Quran', but I only needed to recite from Baqarah and two thirds of Aal-imraan, as advertised. But when I progressed to the national stage, they said (via email; I didn't go to Birmingham and receive this shock) I had to recite from the actual quarter of the Quran! In a few weeks, I will reach that milestone inshaallah so I may try again ;)

Garments

So alhamdulillah my brother got married on Saturday. Even though I was told some time ago that it would be happening in December, I was pretty surprised when I saw it written on the calendar last week. The kid that I grew up with, finally becoming a man. The nikah was held in Regents' Park Mosque, straightforward, with the small room packed with family. The imam of the mosque gave a small reminder about marriage and repeated the beautiful analogy about spouses being garments to one another. Later that evening we integrated our weekly circle with a celebration, where loads of old childhood friends came down and we ate mountains of lamb (leftovers of which we are still feeding off now!). But what struck me were two things; first, how quickly we grow up. The two witnesses my brother brought, I can remember running around and playing football in the same primary school playground as me. Now, standing tall and mature (well, kind of), one of whom is already married himself and expecting a child inshaallah (not him, his wife ¬_¬). The second thing that struck me, and this happened both after dhuhr prayer when a funeral prayer took place, and when we went outside to take photos and witnessed a child's coffin being carried in to the mosque. This life is temporary, and marriage is only a vehicle for us to reach where we want to in the next life, where we can be reunited with our partners and live happily ever after, literally. What a marriage that would be.

Chapter 3

Alhamdulillah last night I finished memorising Surah Aal Imraan. Despite it being half the length, in some ways it was more difficult than Al Baqarah, because it didn't have many long, flowing stories that could be memorised in one chunk, but this Surah is amazing with the number of 'famous' ayahs it contains. Memorising all this is actually scary, because you have to make more of a commitment to revise previously memorised pages as well as keep up with new material. Anyway, onto Al-Nisaa' now. Bismillah.

Perspective

Wednesday: Took part in research comparing non-smokers (me) compared to shisha smokers (a lot of my friends), went to Teddy Bear Hospital and felt good not needing to properly run things any more, attended the steering group meeting for TBH, went to Mile End station and helped out some amazing people with tube collections for Charity Week.

Thursday: Lectures, dissertation meeting to generate a research question with our supervisor, met an amazing person in the library, saw them again at the protest in High Street Ken.

Friday: Jumuah, randomly bumped into two good friends on separate occasions on the tube, get given a chocolate as a thank you gesture by a first year medic, share a hadith with a first year dentist who puts it on their phone, work on the quiz for our CW Big Event, go to the Shaam Under the Wings of Angels charity event, more amazing people.

All the while, Gaza gets bombed again, Syria massacres are ongoing with over 40,000 dead, and Burma...

2:1-286

To the untrained ear, beautiful Quran recitation may not be all that beautiful, technically speaking. Yes, a person may have a melodious voice and put emotion into what they are reciting, but they could be completely off with the rules. Although I was taught by a teacher as a child for a few years, and was aware of the basic rules of Idgham, Ikhfaa' etc, it was only until I started lessons a year ago, did I realise that I had a lot of work to do. We started from Chapter One: Al-Fatiha, and spent a week perfecting our pronunciation of every letter, every rule. Then we started Surah Al-Baqarah, memorising only a few verses at a time, and for around half a year, our teacher (from Saudi and studying a phd here) recited half a page to us; we recited back, having multiple mistakes corrected, and by the next week we'd have memorised it perfectly (or that was the idea). Then the memorisation gradually increased, and we'd be tested from anywhere in the surah before we'd be allowed to continue with that week's Quran. When Ramadan came around, and we took a break for a month, I thought I'd take advantage by memorising as much as I could, and then after Ramadan, he thought I'd be able to memorise more, so he gave me 3 pages to memorise every week. Today, alhamdulillah, I finished memorising Surah Al-Baqarah, the longest chapter in the Quran; and only a few months ago, I thought this task was impossible. As per tradition when scholars celebrate their memorisation of this surah, I have a cake waiting for me downstairs. Alhamdulillah.

But now the biggest challenge is trying to remember what I've committed to memory, as well as memorising more, and apparently this is where most people fall short. My advice to people wanting to memorise Quran? Don't feel disheartened if you can only memorise small chunks of Quran, because small chunks add up to bigger chunks, and with patience and a LOT of revision, you and I could memorise the whole thing one day inshaallah :)

Also, it's useful to have a teacher as kind and as patient as mine. Jazakallahu khair Hamid.

Laparoscopy

This is the first blog post composed entirely on my new phone. Yep, after 3 years of being with BlackBerry, and although I still love its keyboard, I couldn't stand the lack of functionality any longer and switched to Android. No, I didn't fork out a fortune for the latest Samsung Galaxy; instead I ordered a 5 inch touchscreen phone from China. It looks exactly like a Galaxy note, does exactly the same thing, but for a quarter of the price! Best purchase ever alhamdulillah.

Anyway, yesterday was special in its own small way. A month or so back I signed up to take part in trying out 3D laparoscopy as part of research comparing it to conventional 2D laparoscopy. [Laparoscopy is basically key hole surgery, where a camera and various instruments are inserted into small holes in the body to minimise damage]. The research was conducted by a nice Omani lady, and pretty much all the researchers were Muslim (including a very friendly Algerian lady; yes I was surprised too, not because she was friendly, but that she was an aspiring surgeon; good on her). 5 tasks were to be completed; you had to reach 'proficiency' for each one to progress to the next task; so you had to complete the task within a certain time and with no 'errors'. Not a simple feat, especially when these times have been set by consultant surgeons. You had 80 attempts to reach proficiency before you move to the next task anyway. Oh and did I mention, you need to do it twice I a row? Yes, celebrations were short-lived when I found out.

The first task involved transferring rubber pegs using two instruments, and whilst I saw my 2D colleagues in the other room doing better with both this and the second task, reaching proficiency, I had to do mine in 80, spanning several sessions. On my 80th attempt, I got my best time, but still not good enough. Apparently 2D was supposed to be much easier for the 'non-medical' tasks, but this did not do my self-esteem any favours. The second task was probably the most frustrating, having to cut discs out of pieces of gauze, with only a 2mm error margin. So whilst I was still on the 2nd task, I saw my 2D friends whizz through to the 5th task. Around 6 hours of pointless cutting later, I reached 80 and I was glad to be rid of it.
The third task was using an 'endoloop' on a mock appendix, basically tying a knot around it, which I managed in a few attempts. The fourth task was 'extra-corporeal suturing' where you had to stitch up a small vessel, bring the needle out, and introduce external knots which you had to feed in. The 5th and final task was the same but you had to tie the knots inside the 'body', which was a bit fiddly with the instruments and on-screen. I managed to get proficiency on my second attempt, but couldn't get two in a row, and this continued several times. One of the researchers standing by told me to move aside and let him have a go, saying that I should never go into surgery. Ok then. The lady supervising me (and whose research this belonged to) said she was going to go home, and the guy who had just dashed any dream of me wanting to do surgery said he didn't mind supervising.

I couldn't have that. Just as she was getting ready to leave, I get it within the time, no errors. Come on, I need to do this! Start the clock. Pierce vessel through the dots twice with the needle, pull string through, now transfer to other instrument, wrap around twice, now pull tight. Transfer needle again, wrap once, tighten, and transfer a final time, wrap once, tighten, introduce scissors, snip. Stop the clock! Boom, 1 minute and 12 seconds, a new record for the task! I felt elated. No more sessions needed to be booked, I was free. And I learnt that sometimes harsh criticism is just what's needed to bring out the best in me. Either that, or just not wanting someone breathing down my neck all the time. :P

Yes, it's the small victories in life that matter the most.

Just Say Yes

Opportunities are always coming your way, whether you're aware of them or not. It may be tempting sometimes to tell yourself that you're not really in the mood to do much today, but I've found, and I enjoy talking about this whole 'Yes Man' thing, that you feel much better about yourself when you say yes to things rather than stay home and do nothing. The feeling of regret you may feel from having not 'participated' far outweighs any small chance of you feeling bored or 'out of place' or whatever. Take this week for example, I went to participate in my usual laparoscopy research booking (testing out laparoscopy in 3D basically), and in the few hours I had to spare afterwards (not that I'm particularly surgically-skilled or anything), I had to decide whether or not I wanted to go to an 'iftar with the homeless' event I was invited to via facebook. Meh, I thought why not, so I walked around London for a bit (awesome in itself), then shared some food with some homeless people, made some really cool friends, and was interviewed for a documentary for the main TV channel in Finland! And to think I could've just gone home. Then a similar event happened a couple of days later, where there were even more cool people! In fact, this past couple of weeks, I've been invited to things left right and centre by different friends, resulting in me having iftar at a different place (Birmingham included) every day, and I've enjoyed every moment alhamdulillah. I haven't even let fasting get in the way of playing football with complete strangers (Football Beyond Borders people), in amazing weather, three hours every week.

So I'm basically writing this to the future Yasin. If you're reading this, which you probably aren't, because you have this thing of feeling really embarrassed by reading your old stuff, just flipping say yes. Doors are opening all the time for you; it's just up to you to realise they've opened for a reason, and walk through them.

Post-exams

All done! The second OSCE day was more fun than the first as we pretty much knew what was coming up and had some time to prepare. It involved taking a 'funny turn' history, giving advice about heart failure drugs, trying to get a diabetic patient to comply with medication and sort out his personal issues, the standard resp and abdo exams, a lower limb PNS, and a really cool emergency situation station where you have to assess the patient (the whole ABCD shabang), give oxygen and put a drip up. The last exam of the week (and year) was what everyone was dreading, data interp, with no-one having any real ideas of  what was going to come up. In the end it was quite straightforward., standard diagnoses and treatment with tricky questions here or there, pictures of tumours we were supposed to identify and some random ECG strips that weren't the usual heart-block picture. I think I passed all of them inshaallah :)

Anyway, post-exam time has already been eventful; straight after the exam/prayer, we went to eat, where a friend quite valiantly accepted the 'eat 6 extremely hot chicken wings within 20 minutes and get a free meal' challenge. The problem is that we weren't aware that you couldn't have any water during the challenge, and so 2 wings later, he had to give up, poor guy. The video probably won't make it into the public domain anytime soon. Saturday I had to wake up early to be a participant in laparoscopy research, where they are trying to compare 2D and 3D laparoscopy. So I basically stood there for 3 hours wearing 3D glasses, trying to transfer rubber prisms from various pegs within 48 seconds (impossible). I've done 40 attempts, another 40 to go before I move onto the next task. I find it quite fun, and it's definitely stimulating the hand-eye coordination bit of my brain! After that I had to rush off to North London to help out with a 'getting into medicine' thing that the BMA were attending, and in the evening I waited around for my friends to finish watching spiderman so I could bid farewell to one who was going abroad the next day.

Sunday was when I was supposed to meet another friend to say goodbye, for which I turned down VIP access to the British Grand Prix (I know!), and it didn't even happen in the end! So instead I watched Andy Murray attempt to be the first Wimbledon champion in 70 or so years, and we had to miss the end of it to get to our last Quran lesson before our teacher goes away for Ramadan. And now currently I am sitting here in my uni library, after having a meeting with a professor (surgeon who I've been on a couple of post-night on-call ward rounds with) who wants us to collect data for neurogastroenterology research and put it into a database. The location of this data is all around the country and abroad, which could mean expenses-paid trips around Europe! I do vaguely remember replying to an email asking for help with research a few months ago, but this came out of nowhere, so inshaallah this all works out! And then a friend came out of nowhere asking to be a participant in a nausea trial, for which I've been thinking about it for a while; getting paid to feel sick is a bit iffy in my books, but I watched the screening film, felt a bit sick, and now I'm waiting to see if I'm eligible to be a participant (but I've already said no to an NG tube being put down me; traumatic past experiences in the clinical skills lab!). And I still feel a bit nauseous typing this, but I think that's about it so far.

I haven't been writing as much on here as I'd have liked to in the past year; with all the things I'm doing and the weekly MMD newsletters I'm typing the spiels for, all my writing energy is sapped by the end of the week. But I have got 'lessons' I've taken away from the year, and I definitely don't want to forget everything that's happened, so welcome back into my life blog! (until October when I resume my newsletter duties)

Mid-exams

Two exams down; the first, a three hour 'single best answer' paper on pretty much everything in general medicine, sat in York Hall (the home of British boxing apparently; can't think of any puns at the moment). The problem with any answer to a question being technically correct, is that you don't really know how well you did afterwards, but it does provide a good opportunity for post-exam debate! But I think I passed inshaallah. The second exam (yesterday) was Day One of OSCE (7 minute stations), so basically seeing actor patients and examining them, taking histories from them, and quite a cool station taking a history through an interpreter! It was extremely nervewracking at the beginning; my first station being a cardio exam, which I did perfectly, apart from washing my hands at the beginning and end, darn! Putting a cannula into a plastic arm was ok, apart from fiddly moment with the sticker wearing my gloves, and just in case there was a mark for building rapport, I asked the plastic arm how its day had been. I didn't get any reply surprisingly. The second day of OSCE is tomorrow, and I hear from people who've already taken it, it's quite a killer, trying to get patients with a host of personal problems to comply with their diabetic medication, emergency situations involving short-of-breath dummies hypothetically vomiting and bleeding everywhere, balanced out by the hopefully-straightforward respiratory and abdominal exams. Then on Friday is the data-interpretation exam, which I have no idea how to revise for, so we'll have to see about that.

Our exam hall, sans the boxing ring.

Pre-exams

Next week is make or break week. Very worried, but strangely quite excited too. I know I haven't done nearly as much revision as I would've liked, but last minute rescue operations are pretty much the theme for this year. And two days before major exams, I find myself suddenly paying my blog some attention. Oh dear.