The Roads to Hell.

The not- so- young man had an attractive profile. He seemed highly educated and seemed to be somebody who had and enjoyed a fair amount of power and control. He was obviously rich and flashy, judging by his choice of automobile. I stared at him for a moment longer than would be considered polite or appropriate. I was curious.

He cradled something in the palm of his right hand. He gazed at it longingly, with a half- smile creeping up the side of his face. Someone either was being very naughty or cheekily funny. I mentally commend his dexterity as I watch him reply to the the person who was being funny/ naughty.

A jarring noise broke me out of my reverie . The disgruntled woman behind me and her Porche were both pissed apparently. How dare I block their holy path. The signal had turned green, and barely had I shifted from neutral to drive, Mr Powerfully Attractive beside me had sped off at 140 km/ hr whilst still cradling his phone and typing in his reply. He obviously had a spare set of eyes at the vertex of his head, and a spare brain tucked in somewhere dedicated solely to driving his outrageously fast car.

Being in my speciality, I am exposed to my fair share of MVCs (motor vehicle collisions) and ATV rollovers. Still, trauma cases are diluted by other less exiting things like cysts, tumors, congenital deformities and the most boring – cosmetic procedures. But for the past month and a half, I have been rotating in Trauma Surgery and I have access to pure, unadulterated Trauma. I have the honour of being privy to the injuries of the most mangled, messed up and sometimes maddeningly stupid stupid people on the roads.

The horrors we see everyday in the trauma room are hard to describe. It has to be seen to be believed. After every shift, as I buckle up to leave the parking lot- I wonder if I will be back to the trauma room (as a patient this time) before I reach home. Honestly. It does not matter if I am a usually careful driver. It does not matter if I am a defensive driver. All it takes is a split second. One error in judgement. One stupid driver. And that stupid driver doesn’t have to be me!

Every time I break hard, I have visions of the airbag exploding in my face, my neck whiplashing back and forth like that of a rag doll. I think of how my car would be crushed between the car ahead and the bus behind.I imagine my knees smashing up against the front and the force traveling up my femur and breaking it. I can imagine smashing my hardly- insulated- with- fat little body and breaking it in at least half a dozen places.

I can hear the sirens speeding down to the scene, the EMS men and women with their heavy duty gear extricating me from within the mangled mess. Them placing me on the long- board. Of them putting the C- collar around my neck and me thinking how loose it was and that they should use the paediatric one instead. Of my insides being strewn on the tarmac, of my precious blood pooling at the bottom of the driver’s seat and staining my lovely beige, leather seat. I can imagine them asking me my name, as I gurgle in response.  I can’t breathe because the broken ribs impinge each time I inhale. There are blood in places where they shouldn’t be. I am sure there is some leaking within my cranial cavity somewhere , and definitely some in my lungs. I wonder about the organs in my abdomen and there seems to be blood in my eyes- so my face must be a mess. I wonder which colleague would end up operating on me. Then things would go dark.

A bunch of highly trained surgeons and nurses would be called and told that a young female with multiple injuries is on the way. In as few words as possible, they would receive a brief description of what transpired. My GCS (Glasgow Coma Scale), vitals and injuries would be rattled off. They will gown up and wear personal protective barriers and get an amazing array of equipment set up. They would notify the blood bank and the OR. It is like a highly rehearsed play. Each one knowing exactly what their role is.

I would arrive at the scene- the leading lady. Strapped, tubed, compressed. Strangers, or rather in my case, people I sometimes work with, would cut away every shred of my clothing. Inspect every surface and orifice. Palpate, percuss, and  scan every inch. Chest tubes, IV lines,  endotracheal tube, urinary catheters, possibly the OR. Being moved to the TICU (trauma intensive care unit), then the ward after a few days (if I’m lucky).

Everyday, I would meet at least three nurses. Doctors from neurosurgery, orthopaedics, maxillofacial and trauma surgery (at the least) would round on me. The dietician, physical therapist and occupational therapist would determine what I eat, and how many times I get to sit up or get out of bed.

And if I survive with my sanity and limbs intact, it would be just the beginning of the long, hellish road to recovery. This, thanks to the imbecile of an idiot in the car ahead of me who was busy texting a reply while he swerved and braked suddenly to avoid the 6000QAR penalty for running a red light.

Honestly, I dread these roads. Folks, before you pick up the phone to reply to that inane, unimportant message or call, remember that you have but a pair of eyes. You may consider yourself an expert driver, but this time doesn’t necessarily have to be like the thousand times before. We have seen it far too many times. The young and healthy, the old and accomplished, the rich and poor- losing life and limb to the Road.

Trust me, having your brain matter splashed on the road, or bleeding to death in your car is not a pleasant way to go. Heck, even breaking one rib (forget the multiple fractures I spoke about here) or one tiny bone in your hand is insanely annoying.

I hope I never meet any of you lovely folks in the Trauma Room.

Have a lovely and safe weekend y’all! And please, ditch the damned phone while driving. Please.

 

Till next time,

Dr J.

Stuff that changed my ‘getting ready’ game!

There are times when you meet someone or use something for the first time, and you are blown away. You hear bells ringing in the far background and you hear a choir hitting a high note. You think to yourself “where the hell was this all my life?!!”

Here are a few products that I have been religiously using for the past few months and now I cannot imagine how I managed without them all these years.


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This is my third bottle of this truly “extraordinary” magical potion. The Loreal Elvive Extraordinary Oil  claims to be a beautifying oil for coloured hair. With UV filters too apparently.

My hair is coloured, and I’m not too sure about the efficacy of the UV filters but this light, non- greasy oil (which isn’t the least bit oily), makes my hair soft and less frizz prone. It imparts a subtle shine without it ever appearing or feeling greasy. I use it prior to and post drying/ styling my hair.

At over 50 QAR, it’s isn’t cheap but the bottle does last a while. And honestly, I have used far more expensive hair products with far less impressive results.

*I have often caught sight of Mr H snicking a couple of squirts of this in the morning to set his “this- isn’t- styled- I- was- born- this-way” hair.


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This innocuous appearing, humble little tool has completely revolutionised my hair game (along with he Elvive EO). I am now a blow dry/ dry styler convert.


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These ridiculously priced, glorified make-up sponges have been a rage for a while now (The world has in fact moved on to even more ridiculously priced, weird oval- shaped toothbrush like  make-up applicators.) Never thought I needed them. I also did not want the extra hassle of washing and drying them. Finger-tips will do thank you very much!

I was wrong. Some foundations of mine have been languishing on my dresser, unused, for a while now. They just never look good on me. The shade matches, but the finish just doesn’t cut it. But these Beauty Blenders (the less pricey Real Techniques ones aren’t bad either) have literally made every single unuseable foundation useable. And the foundations that I already liked, I like them even more now!

The finish (best when used damp) is unparalleled in my opinion. And it definitely makes heavy- duty, full -coverage foundation look less cakey, especially when you use them damp.


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Fix + , the name connotes that this is a fixing or setting spray of some sort. Maybe it helps the make- up stay longer?

I use it for a different purpose though.

I hate appearing powdery and dull- matte. It usually happens to me with my ill- cared for skin and full- on foundations. Three spritzes of this, and everything sinks in, coalesces and the whole look appears more polished.

Seriously, no exaggerations. And thankfully, even if I go overboard with it, I don’t appear shiny or oily (which would defeat the purpose entirely).


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Use this as a color corrector, prior to applying concealer. No more dark circles, thank you.

No wonder my concealers always  appeared ashy on before *facepalm*.

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Insanely expensive, but the best eye- liner thinggy I have ever used. Period.

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Has two ends- thin and thinner. For that extra- precise flick.


P.S. These are not just my favourites, these are stuff that I would repurchase till they go out of stock/ production.

 

Till next time,

Dr J.