Piracy, make no bones about it, is very wrong.
The very concept of stealing an idea or a property or a right to something that belongs to someone else is basically stealing. In an ideal world, there should not be any such practice around.
Therefore, please understand that before you go on to read the rest of my entry, lest you misunderstand.
I would like to look at the topic of piracy from a different angle.
First of all, when we say piracy these days, we refer to the illegal siphoning of multimedia material such as movies and songs, and selling them without the consent or knowledge of the owner to the right of the said material. Needless to say, none of the profits will go to the owner.
There has been such a clamping down of such activities lately, as well there should, that you can see anti-piracy campaigns in the form of posters and radio and TV advertisements, and there has been a significant degree of success, in that you hardly see any of the previously rampant small shops without a proper name, interspersed among the shops in the HDB heartlands. In those days, you would be able to find a shop with no name, peddling hundreds of CDs hanging on the walls, with a healthy stream of customers browsing the many titles, in every small town centre. In some shops, blatant pornographic titles are displayed with unbelievable audacity, daring people to look at them. Now, it is a rarity to find such a shop, and even rarer to see that it still exists the next time you pass by the place.
I applaud the efforts. However, whenever I see a poster or advert that tells us to support the original stuff because piracy kills creativity, further elaborating that artistes will not survive in an age of unchecked piracy, I cannot help but stop and wonder.
Let us take the average Joe, in his early twenties. He just came out of his national service, just started work with a salary of $1800. After spending whatever he needs to spend(food, transport, splashing out to impress hot babes, etc), including saving aside a small amount of money, he is left with about $200 for his leisure. He goes to a CD shop and sees a couple of CDs he likes, and decides to buy them. That's $20 per CD. Then he goes to a video shop and finds a couple of DVDs that he likes, and decides to buy them, at $30 per DVD. Just like that, he has spent half of his leisure money for the week. He sees a DVD series that he likes, going for $90 per set, but well, he needs to ration that meagre $100 that he has left, so he leaves without buying the DVD set.
Please remember that a large part of the market for such products comes from students who only survive on pocket money from their parents.
Then we read in the papers about how this big movie star in Hollywood is being offered US$10 million per movie, or how this big TV star is being paid US$500,000 per episode, and how this other star is throwing tantrums because he is being paid US$2 million less than this other star in the same movie.
Maybe Hollywood is a bit of an extreme example, you say. After all, it is the premier centre for movies and TV shows. Let's come a little closer to home.
Recently I heard on the radio about the earnings of the top singers and variety show hosts in Taiwan, in terms of per annum. While the figures are not as fantastic as those of Hollywood stars, they still reach the range of millions of dollars, some going into 8-digit figures, if I remember correctly.
So now I wonder. Does this look like the artistes are coming anywhere near the realm of bankruptcy?
Now, some of you might argue that the examples I have listed belong to only the elite top of the crop who are immensely successful in the entertainment business. Then I ask you, why would anyone want to produce pirated copies of CDs by singers who are not famous or popular? Obviously piracy would affect the really famous stars the most.
Once again, I want to reiterate that piracy is very wrong.
But consider this: would piracy be so rampant if the prices of CDs and DVDs were more affordable? If the prices were, say, halved, would there be so many customers risking being caught by the hand of the law to buy pirated products, not to mention tolerate its inferior quality? In fact, would the profits of the entertainment industry even increase by the sheer fact that there are more buyers in the market?
Someone from the industry might argue, this is a case of supply and demand. Willing buyer, willing seller. True, he would be absolutely correct. Then I would say, in the anti-piracy campaign, focus on the illegal aspect of it, rather than putting up the unconvincing reason that we are killing off the poor artistes who would not be able to make ends meet because of the pirates.
I do not profess to know everything about how all this works, and if I have unfairly commented on any aspect, I would be happy to accept correction, but the almost obscene earnings of the celebrities make it very difficult for me to accept that the industry is doing everything they can on their part to stamp out piracy.
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Thursday, April 5, 2007
A day in the life
Indulge with me, if you will, as we consider a bit of mathematical logic.
The polyclinic doctor has officially 8 working hours on a weekday. This is divided into 5 for the morning session(8am to 1pm) and 3 for the afternoon session(2pm to 5pm). He sees an average of 60 to 70 patients each day. For simplicity's sake, let's take the number to be 60. If you do a basic calculation, that works out to 8 minutes for each patient. This does not include any toilet breaks, or the fact that the first patient is usually not seen until about 8:15am, when his/her casesheet has been found.
So let's break down these 8 minutes. In the first minute, the doctor looks at the casesheet, chops his name, and looks through past entries to determine whether the patient has any significant past records that may be relevant to the current visit. Then he calls for the patient.
In the second minute, the patient gets up from his seat to walk to the door of the room, knocks and enters. The basic greetings are exchanged, and he sits down. The doctor asks for the patient's complaint.
The third minute is spent by the patient on describing his complaint in detail to the doctor. This includes the doctor asking any question to clarify.
The next 2 minutes are spent examining the patient according to the complaints he/she has.
In the sixth minute, the doctor formulates a treatment plan and discusses it with the patient.
The seventh minute sees the doctor answering any queries the patient might have, before printing out the prescription and MC if any, or writing a referral if needed.
The eight minute is taken up by ushering the patient out, and pausing for a breather before going to the next patient.
Sounds manageable? To the uninitiated, maybe. But let's look at what happens on a typical day.
It is 8am in the morning. The doctor is sitting at his table. No casesheets have arrived yet. He looks at his queue in the computer. 5 patients registered in his room. The clock ticks.
It is 8:11am. Finally one casesheet makes its way to the doctor's table. He picks it up, sees that it is a patient who has a chronic condition(eg diabetes, hypertension), and is probably only here to collect his medicines. This should be a piece of cake.
He calls for the patient through the computer system. 10 seconds pass, before a knock on the door sounds, and it opens. An old lady walks in slowly. The doctor greets her while beckoning her to sit down. She greets back and takes her time to settle into the chair. The clock says 8:13am.
The doctor asks for any drug allergy, and then asks if she is here to collect her usual medicines. The lady, to the doctor's delight, says yes she is. The doctor proceeds to take her blood pressure. After that, he writes down his findings and starts prescribing the medicines. The clock says 8:15am.
"By the way," the lady suddenly says, "I have this niggling knee pain. I need some painkillers." The doctor stops what he is doing, then turns and examines the knee. The clock says 8:16am.
The doctor says he will prescribe some painkillers, and hurriedly prints out the prescription. As he is waiting for the prescription to be printed, the patient suddenly reveals that she has been having some cough, and would like some cough medication. The doctor makes an audible sound with his teeth as they grated on each other. He snatches the piece of paper coming out of the printer, and crushes it loudly, dumping it into the bin, before turning back to examine the patient again. Then he adds in the cough medicine and prints again. The clock reads 8:18am.
Quickly taking the prescription, he all but shoves it into the patient's hands. The patient calmly says she wants an appointment for the next visit. The doctor asks for her appointment card. She fumbles in her bag for a good 20 seconds before pulling it out. The doctor snatches it from her, writes down the details, and tells her to go to the counter for an appointment. The lady thanks the doctor, and slowly gets up to leave the room.
Then, the doctor's heart sinks as she turns back and says she forgot to ask for some eye drops, as her eyes are occasionally itchy.
When the lady finally leaves the room, the clock says 8:22am.
3 minutes above the target of 8 minutes may seem little, but please bear in mind that the doctor sees 60 patients a day. Do your maths.
Looks like this doctor has some catching up to do. Tune in to the next episode to see whether he is able to make up for lost time, or whether this ominously slow start is the herald of a long, long day.
The polyclinic doctor has officially 8 working hours on a weekday. This is divided into 5 for the morning session(8am to 1pm) and 3 for the afternoon session(2pm to 5pm). He sees an average of 60 to 70 patients each day. For simplicity's sake, let's take the number to be 60. If you do a basic calculation, that works out to 8 minutes for each patient. This does not include any toilet breaks, or the fact that the first patient is usually not seen until about 8:15am, when his/her casesheet has been found.
So let's break down these 8 minutes. In the first minute, the doctor looks at the casesheet, chops his name, and looks through past entries to determine whether the patient has any significant past records that may be relevant to the current visit. Then he calls for the patient.
In the second minute, the patient gets up from his seat to walk to the door of the room, knocks and enters. The basic greetings are exchanged, and he sits down. The doctor asks for the patient's complaint.
The third minute is spent by the patient on describing his complaint in detail to the doctor. This includes the doctor asking any question to clarify.
The next 2 minutes are spent examining the patient according to the complaints he/she has.
In the sixth minute, the doctor formulates a treatment plan and discusses it with the patient.
The seventh minute sees the doctor answering any queries the patient might have, before printing out the prescription and MC if any, or writing a referral if needed.
The eight minute is taken up by ushering the patient out, and pausing for a breather before going to the next patient.
Sounds manageable? To the uninitiated, maybe. But let's look at what happens on a typical day.
It is 8am in the morning. The doctor is sitting at his table. No casesheets have arrived yet. He looks at his queue in the computer. 5 patients registered in his room. The clock ticks.
It is 8:11am. Finally one casesheet makes its way to the doctor's table. He picks it up, sees that it is a patient who has a chronic condition(eg diabetes, hypertension), and is probably only here to collect his medicines. This should be a piece of cake.
He calls for the patient through the computer system. 10 seconds pass, before a knock on the door sounds, and it opens. An old lady walks in slowly. The doctor greets her while beckoning her to sit down. She greets back and takes her time to settle into the chair. The clock says 8:13am.
The doctor asks for any drug allergy, and then asks if she is here to collect her usual medicines. The lady, to the doctor's delight, says yes she is. The doctor proceeds to take her blood pressure. After that, he writes down his findings and starts prescribing the medicines. The clock says 8:15am.
"By the way," the lady suddenly says, "I have this niggling knee pain. I need some painkillers." The doctor stops what he is doing, then turns and examines the knee. The clock says 8:16am.
The doctor says he will prescribe some painkillers, and hurriedly prints out the prescription. As he is waiting for the prescription to be printed, the patient suddenly reveals that she has been having some cough, and would like some cough medication. The doctor makes an audible sound with his teeth as they grated on each other. He snatches the piece of paper coming out of the printer, and crushes it loudly, dumping it into the bin, before turning back to examine the patient again. Then he adds in the cough medicine and prints again. The clock reads 8:18am.
Quickly taking the prescription, he all but shoves it into the patient's hands. The patient calmly says she wants an appointment for the next visit. The doctor asks for her appointment card. She fumbles in her bag for a good 20 seconds before pulling it out. The doctor snatches it from her, writes down the details, and tells her to go to the counter for an appointment. The lady thanks the doctor, and slowly gets up to leave the room.
Then, the doctor's heart sinks as she turns back and says she forgot to ask for some eye drops, as her eyes are occasionally itchy.
When the lady finally leaves the room, the clock says 8:22am.
3 minutes above the target of 8 minutes may seem little, but please bear in mind that the doctor sees 60 patients a day. Do your maths.
Looks like this doctor has some catching up to do. Tune in to the next episode to see whether he is able to make up for lost time, or whether this ominously slow start is the herald of a long, long day.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Wow. It's been so busy everyday, I barely have time to keep to my promise in my last entry to work on my blog. Work work work, come home, baby baby baby, sleep, wake up, work work(pause to dig nose) work. Everything's going at such a fast pace, there's hardly any time to think. But at least I'm finding the time to write something.
My family is in a state of transition at the moment. My wife is about to go back to work next week, so we have moved to her parents' place to get them used to our baby's routine, as they'll be taking care of her in the day. I'm finishing up my posting in the polyclinic. Come May, I'll be going back to the hospital to start my 3-year Family Medicine course. Can't imagine having to do night duties again. Oh well, at least this time I have a houseman to boss around.
Everything's happening so fast, and changes are occurring practically everyday, it's near impossible trying to keep on top of things, but we're managing, and I must say parenthood, while extremely exhausting and taxing, is worth every effort we put into it. For all our baby's cries and screams everyday, just one moment's smile erases all the frustration, and makes it all worthwhile. She's starting to make some facial expressions, and cooing sounds. She's the cutest baby. Will post latest pics soon.
Like I said in earlier entries, I have some ideas to put on the blog, like some story concepts, maybe some poetry, some opinions on various issues, etc. It is not my intent to make this like a diary, although I will update on my life from time to time, like in this entry. But I will be posting some interesting things from next entry onwards, and will be putting up various pics, so till then, remember to continue to enjoy your life. Seeya.
My family is in a state of transition at the moment. My wife is about to go back to work next week, so we have moved to her parents' place to get them used to our baby's routine, as they'll be taking care of her in the day. I'm finishing up my posting in the polyclinic. Come May, I'll be going back to the hospital to start my 3-year Family Medicine course. Can't imagine having to do night duties again. Oh well, at least this time I have a houseman to boss around.
Everything's happening so fast, and changes are occurring practically everyday, it's near impossible trying to keep on top of things, but we're managing, and I must say parenthood, while extremely exhausting and taxing, is worth every effort we put into it. For all our baby's cries and screams everyday, just one moment's smile erases all the frustration, and makes it all worthwhile. She's starting to make some facial expressions, and cooing sounds. She's the cutest baby. Will post latest pics soon.
Like I said in earlier entries, I have some ideas to put on the blog, like some story concepts, maybe some poetry, some opinions on various issues, etc. It is not my intent to make this like a diary, although I will update on my life from time to time, like in this entry. But I will be posting some interesting things from next entry onwards, and will be putting up various pics, so till then, remember to continue to enjoy your life. Seeya.
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Wow. Time really flies. It's been more than a month since I last blogged. I guess after I went back to work, things just got really busy, what with the baby to take care of and all. Over this period, some good things happened, some not-so-good things happened. But everything's still progressing positively. Baby Chloe is doing quite well. She's getting quite irritable at night, but we're trying to put her to a routine, and getting her to recognize that night time is sleeping time, day time is playing time.
I've gone back to Jurong polyclinic. It re-opened on 28 Feb. Patient load is on the rise. Looks like it's working through lunch break for me again. I don't really mind that though. I just hope people don't keep thinking that slower doctors are lousier doctors. But don't get me started on that.
Things are going at quite a fast pace. It's getting more demanding to juggle everything together, but my wife and I are managing, and having a great time together. Will share more along the way. This entry is just to say I'm back, and I look forward to putting down more interesting things to share with those who unwittingly stumble upon my blog.
Watch this space.
I've gone back to Jurong polyclinic. It re-opened on 28 Feb. Patient load is on the rise. Looks like it's working through lunch break for me again. I don't really mind that though. I just hope people don't keep thinking that slower doctors are lousier doctors. But don't get me started on that.
Things are going at quite a fast pace. It's getting more demanding to juggle everything together, but my wife and I are managing, and having a great time together. Will share more along the way. This entry is just to say I'm back, and I look forward to putting down more interesting things to share with those who unwittingly stumble upon my blog.
Watch this space.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
I can't believe it. Spurs(i.e Tottenham Hotspur, my favourite EPL soccer team) has failed to win an away game again. In fact, they almost lost to a 10-man Fulham team. Conceded a penalty at 82 min. Good thing they managed to equalise, otherwise I'll be throwing things around right now.
Which brings me to my point of writing this entry. Why is it fans of soccer are so passionate about the teams they support? If the team wins, they get in a really good mood, there's an extra spring to their step. If the team loses, woe be to the first person who dares to even greet them. At least that's how I behave, and I know of friends with the same "passion". The ridiculous thing is, I have absolutely no direct association with Spurs. If they win a match, I don't get any match-winning bonus. If they win a trophy, I don't get to lift the trophy and kiss it. Yet everytime they score a goal, I jump up and down and start kissing everyone around me. But if they concede a goal I cry out in dismay and fall into a really foul mood. If they concede a dangerous free-kick I wring my hands and grit my teeth nervously. It is something I cannot comprehend, yet also something I cannot help myself with.
My best buddy, Hongyi, often laughs at me for having this "passion". He even tried to understand this "passion" by choosing a team(Nottingham Forest) to support, but his interest didn't quite take off. I guess it didn't help that Nottingham Forest got relegated that very year, and never came back into the EPL(he could have at least consulted me first before randomly choosing a team), but it further adds to the mystery. Like me, he loves to play soccer, but he just cannot bring himself to love a club the way I love Spurs.
Well, like I said earlier, it's nothing I can explain myself, but I'll leave the science of it to the scientists. Meanwhile, although they occasionally drive me crazy with the nonchalant soccer that they play, until Sir Alex Ferguson gives Jose Mourinho a friendly hug, make mine Spurs!
COYS!!!
Which brings me to my point of writing this entry. Why is it fans of soccer are so passionate about the teams they support? If the team wins, they get in a really good mood, there's an extra spring to their step. If the team loses, woe be to the first person who dares to even greet them. At least that's how I behave, and I know of friends with the same "passion". The ridiculous thing is, I have absolutely no direct association with Spurs. If they win a match, I don't get any match-winning bonus. If they win a trophy, I don't get to lift the trophy and kiss it. Yet everytime they score a goal, I jump up and down and start kissing everyone around me. But if they concede a goal I cry out in dismay and fall into a really foul mood. If they concede a dangerous free-kick I wring my hands and grit my teeth nervously. It is something I cannot comprehend, yet also something I cannot help myself with.
My best buddy, Hongyi, often laughs at me for having this "passion". He even tried to understand this "passion" by choosing a team(Nottingham Forest) to support, but his interest didn't quite take off. I guess it didn't help that Nottingham Forest got relegated that very year, and never came back into the EPL(he could have at least consulted me first before randomly choosing a team), but it further adds to the mystery. Like me, he loves to play soccer, but he just cannot bring himself to love a club the way I love Spurs.
Well, like I said earlier, it's nothing I can explain myself, but I'll leave the science of it to the scientists. Meanwhile, although they occasionally drive me crazy with the nonchalant soccer that they play, until Sir Alex Ferguson gives Jose Mourinho a friendly hug, make mine Spurs!
COYS!!!
Friday, January 19, 2007
Today, I went back to work for the first time in one month. It was with some trepidation that I stepped into the polyclinic. After all, one month was a reasonably long time, and I was not sure I would be able to immediately handle the break-neck speed that the polyclinic consultation setting demands.
I was put on the 3rd floor, with only another doctor for company. Good thing I know him, otherwise it might have been slightly awkward. I put my stuff down, the familiar routine slowly coming back to mind. The watch to make sure I keep track of the time, the stethoscope to look more like a doctor, and the MIMS(a book listing all the drugs and their dosages, side effects, etc...hey, even doctors have a finite memory!) safely hidden but within arm's reach.
It was a bit daunting with the first few patients, as I remembered all the details I had to cover for every patient. I had to greet the patient, listen to his/her complaints, do an examination, come up with a diagnosis, formulate a treatment plan, make sure the medicine given is appropriate for the patient, and entertain any last minute demands that the patient might have(this seems to occur with infuriating frequency). This has to be done in all of 6 to 8 minutes to keep up with the speed at which the patients register at the polyclinic. After over 9 months working in the polyclinic, I still stand amazed at how many patients actually turn up everyday. For every "Hmm, I think I'll go to the movies today," that someone thinks, there is another, or maybe 2, who thinks, "Hmm, I think I'll go terrorize the doctors at the polyclinic today." A real scary thought.
As the day dragged, the mundanity of work began to set in. As with most days, there usually is a point-mostly between 11am and 12 noon- where it gets really tedious. You have done enough work to feel worn out, and near the point of exhaustion, and yet realise you are just about halfway through the day. Boy, is that a hopeless feeling. But as I continued to work, I found that there was a difference this time. I could continue working with more enthusiasm than I could previously muster. The workload kept piling, but I kept ploughing through it like a determined farmer out to rid his field of the last weed. The answer to this newfound energy was clear to me. There was a new reason to go home today. Besides my lovely wife, whom I adore with all my heart, and who is already every reason for me to go home to everyday(I just realised she may be reading this! Don't want to make it sound like she never motivated me to finish work quickly and go home), there is now another superstar waiting for me at home:
My Baby Chloe!!
I could not wait to rush back home to pick her up and give her a hug. I could not wait to sink my nose into her tiny face and smell that milky aroma. Patient after patient I saw, with the knowledge that one more patient seen is one less patient standing in the way between my baby and me.
Finally! I saw off the last patient at about 4:40pm. Man, that had to be some record. For me, anyway. I packed my stuff, hopped into my car and scooted back home.
Reaching the gate of my in-laws(staying there now because of my wife's confinement), I slotted in the key and turned it with anticipation. I can finally be with my baby! As i took the first step into the house, the wild, incessant hungry cries of an infant rang in my ears. Who is this unschooled babarian of a baby. and where is my Chloe??
My wife appeared from the room, haggard and exhausted, carrying the struggling, screaming infant in her arms.
"Oh good, you're back," she said in a sardonic voice. "Just in time to change her diapers."
I suddenly realised with horror that after today, I'm on leave until next Tuesday.
Blogger's note: The final few paragraphs of this entry were of course made up. It was a happy homecoming, and the bliss of married life and parenthood continue to permeate my very being even as I write this.
(Uh, dear, you can let go of the ear now....oww....)
I was put on the 3rd floor, with only another doctor for company. Good thing I know him, otherwise it might have been slightly awkward. I put my stuff down, the familiar routine slowly coming back to mind. The watch to make sure I keep track of the time, the stethoscope to look more like a doctor, and the MIMS(a book listing all the drugs and their dosages, side effects, etc...hey, even doctors have a finite memory!) safely hidden but within arm's reach.
It was a bit daunting with the first few patients, as I remembered all the details I had to cover for every patient. I had to greet the patient, listen to his/her complaints, do an examination, come up with a diagnosis, formulate a treatment plan, make sure the medicine given is appropriate for the patient, and entertain any last minute demands that the patient might have(this seems to occur with infuriating frequency). This has to be done in all of 6 to 8 minutes to keep up with the speed at which the patients register at the polyclinic. After over 9 months working in the polyclinic, I still stand amazed at how many patients actually turn up everyday. For every "Hmm, I think I'll go to the movies today," that someone thinks, there is another, or maybe 2, who thinks, "Hmm, I think I'll go terrorize the doctors at the polyclinic today." A real scary thought.
As the day dragged, the mundanity of work began to set in. As with most days, there usually is a point-mostly between 11am and 12 noon- where it gets really tedious. You have done enough work to feel worn out, and near the point of exhaustion, and yet realise you are just about halfway through the day. Boy, is that a hopeless feeling. But as I continued to work, I found that there was a difference this time. I could continue working with more enthusiasm than I could previously muster. The workload kept piling, but I kept ploughing through it like a determined farmer out to rid his field of the last weed. The answer to this newfound energy was clear to me. There was a new reason to go home today. Besides my lovely wife, whom I adore with all my heart, and who is already every reason for me to go home to everyday(I just realised she may be reading this! Don't want to make it sound like she never motivated me to finish work quickly and go home), there is now another superstar waiting for me at home:
My Baby Chloe!!
I could not wait to rush back home to pick her up and give her a hug. I could not wait to sink my nose into her tiny face and smell that milky aroma. Patient after patient I saw, with the knowledge that one more patient seen is one less patient standing in the way between my baby and me.
Finally! I saw off the last patient at about 4:40pm. Man, that had to be some record. For me, anyway. I packed my stuff, hopped into my car and scooted back home.
Reaching the gate of my in-laws(staying there now because of my wife's confinement), I slotted in the key and turned it with anticipation. I can finally be with my baby! As i took the first step into the house, the wild, incessant hungry cries of an infant rang in my ears. Who is this unschooled babarian of a baby. and where is my Chloe??
My wife appeared from the room, haggard and exhausted, carrying the struggling, screaming infant in her arms.
"Oh good, you're back," she said in a sardonic voice. "Just in time to change her diapers."
I suddenly realised with horror that after today, I'm on leave until next Tuesday.
Blogger's note: The final few paragraphs of this entry were of course made up. It was a happy homecoming, and the bliss of married life and parenthood continue to permeate my very being even as I write this.
(Uh, dear, you can let go of the ear now....oww....)
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Fatherhood
The time is 3:00am. I'm tired and worn out. Staring at my laptop screen, I realise I can no longer focus on the moving pixels. A sudden sense of unrealness sweeps over me as I become momentarily disorientated in time and space. For a moment I find myself wondering what on earth I am doing awake at this hour when every fibre of my being is calling out for precious blessed rest. The computer game showing on my screen is no longer holding any attraction for me. There is a limit to everything. I close my laptop, and lie back onto the bed. The mattress suddenly feels so heavenly, so comfortable. I almost fall asleep as soon as the soft fabric touches my skin...
A baby's cry pierces the deep silence of the night. Then I remember. Feeding time.
Pulling myself out of the bed with a burst of energy I did not know I possessed, I move to the baby cot to tend to my baby. Seeing her wriggle about uncomfortably, her tiny mouth opening and closing in a silent demand to "Feed me! Feed me!", any remaining shred of fatigue dissolves from me as I carry her in my arms and attempt to soothe her in a high-pitched voice.
"It's okay, it's okay," I coo as I rock her gently. As her face smoothens into a calmer expression, I slowly set her back onto the cot. From past experience over the last 2 weeks(2 weeks! It feels like I have been doing this forever!), I know I only have a couple of minutes' grace before she catches on that I am no longer holding her. I rush to the kitchen, remove the bottle and teat from the steriliser, assemble them together with lightning speed, and pour the chilled milk from the refrigerator into the bottle. I pour hot water into a cup, and all but throw the bottle into it while making my way back to the room.
I am a bit late, as I hear her cry as I enter the room. My wife, just awoken, cradles her and soothes her as I set down the cup waiting for the milk to warm up. I move to my wife and baby. Together, we look lovingly at her angelic face, love spilling out of our hearts uncontrollably.
A sudden sense of unrealness sweeps over us as we dwell in the bliss of parenthood.
A baby's cry pierces the deep silence of the night. Then I remember. Feeding time.
Pulling myself out of the bed with a burst of energy I did not know I possessed, I move to the baby cot to tend to my baby. Seeing her wriggle about uncomfortably, her tiny mouth opening and closing in a silent demand to "Feed me! Feed me!", any remaining shred of fatigue dissolves from me as I carry her in my arms and attempt to soothe her in a high-pitched voice.
"It's okay, it's okay," I coo as I rock her gently. As her face smoothens into a calmer expression, I slowly set her back onto the cot. From past experience over the last 2 weeks(2 weeks! It feels like I have been doing this forever!), I know I only have a couple of minutes' grace before she catches on that I am no longer holding her. I rush to the kitchen, remove the bottle and teat from the steriliser, assemble them together with lightning speed, and pour the chilled milk from the refrigerator into the bottle. I pour hot water into a cup, and all but throw the bottle into it while making my way back to the room.
I am a bit late, as I hear her cry as I enter the room. My wife, just awoken, cradles her and soothes her as I set down the cup waiting for the milk to warm up. I move to my wife and baby. Together, we look lovingly at her angelic face, love spilling out of our hearts uncontrollably.
A sudden sense of unrealness sweeps over us as we dwell in the bliss of parenthood.
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