Final Year Med School

The Ilizarov Principle: Survive the Fracture

This is definitely a post of my journey for the past  5 years compressed into this single-laconic-space. I haven't even started and I'm doubting the plausibility of this attempt but here goes. First Year Too much of books. Too much of micro-molecules and sentences trying to describe the Father of Medicine and balamuthia Mandrillaris. Don't… Continue reading The Ilizarov Principle: Survive the Fracture

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Interval

Taking a short interval to be back from my social media abstinence and drop by here just to, you know, smother a big fat hello on this page. I’ve missed being able to write. But anyways, good news came knocking right up my door. It really feels ecstatic to see your name in print. It’s… Continue reading Interval

Final Year Med School

Bush-fire

Basal cell carcinoma presents itself like a bush-fire appearance-wise. Radical or geographical spreading of its margins like a bush-fire. Starts fierce at the centre and spreads it's ring of palisade-like margin to a slow-dying blurred demarcation. That's how she was. Hard and fierce like a basal cell carcinoma. Loud and demanding in what she wants.… Continue reading Bush-fire

Final Year Med School

Looking Over Her Back

She sat at the corner of the terrain. Calm by the company of a stranger that she found safety in. Time flowed like water in the creek, she lost track. It was too hard to hold on to time. It escalated to peaks and nothingness in venial. She sat herself in a constant trance buried… Continue reading Looking Over Her Back

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5 minutes before 24

For some reason, of all the previous birthdays that I've had, this one makes my intestines somersault. My heart settles into a stable tachycardia. My thinking a little haywire. 24 means a year of many milestones. Many achievement and with that comes high expectations to meet. Birth of new responsibilities to uphold. Transition into a… Continue reading 5 minutes before 24

perusal

Fun Fairs

As I passed by a brightly lit fun fair at the outskirts of Mallaca town, food trucks hemmed the coast of a reclaimed land. Soft waves dance teasingly towards where our car passed by. I didn't bother getting out of the car. I already know how it feels like. I still remember the waves of… Continue reading Fun Fairs