under the blanket

There I was, channel surfing the pathetic five stations I have last night, when my finger stopped pressing the buttons at a familiar sight. It was Raffles Hospital on the news, the same hospital that where I'd gone numerous times for bai kar treatment, and where I stayed in when I had suspected appendicitis.

Gosh, it was like I felt homesick for a hospital. Or rather, I longed for the efficiency of the health system in Singapore. The NHS here truly deserves its awful reputation -- I just got an appointment to see a bai kar specialist after waiting for more than two months. In the meantime, I was limping all over Spain without proper medication.

Anyway, Raffles Hospital seems to be doing a very good PR job. Not surprising, since it is a high-class hospital with lots of money, a baby grand in the lobby, bellhops to hail cabs for you and Power Point presentations of appendicitis operations to freak you out. Oh, and there is a bunch of lousy useless doctors there who never managed to cure my bai kar. I really hope they don't fudge the operation to seperate those curiously cheerful Iranian twins.

As I watched the twins posing like movie stars, a familiar stick-like figure jostled his way to the front of the pack and started shooting. It was good old Straits Times photog Francis Ong and his trusty camera! I lapped up the sight of his curry-pok hair and those tight pants he has worn since the '60s. It's reassuring to know some things will still be the same when I get back to work.