When I was 7 years old my favourite pyjamas were an incredible hulk pair - I wore them to rags. This week it would seem that like Bruce Banner I too am dangerous when provoked.
I have been sitting at 8 on the VAS for anger, with occasional rapid cycling to 10 for a while now and one incident of 9 at the weekend. There are a lot of contributing factors for this but as discussed in the previous blog other people's attitudes is very high on the list.
One such person, a khmer doctor, accused me of doing something which I wasn't even responsible for but told me in no uncertain, rude terms that I was wrong - its important here to blame someone. I tried to explain that what he was referring to occurred after I had been involved with what we were discussing. The national guidelines had been changed & the training material, what we were discussing, had been edited to match these changes but they had forgotten to align one small section of the training with the new guidelines. Of course he was not at all convinced with my explanation & made it clear he thought I was the idiot.
I was fuming - no day that starts without electricity & witnessing a moto versus dog accident can turn out well.
Did I argue my point, assert my qualifications & experience or make a big scene? This is what another expat had recently told me I do, in work. In actual fact I did what I always seem to do with Cambodia health workers which is calmly say my piece, leave the room, internalise it all, feel useless & crap, if I've really had it I will then cry. This expat has never seen me in work & their opinion of me may well be coloured by all the 50 cent draft beer & 25 cent cigarettes they consume. They got a 9 out of me.
I was at the end of my tether where being treated rudely & disrespected was concerned, especially by misogynists. I was carrying quite a lot of suppressed anger & rage.
The next day the training was delivered & the same doctor was due to teach the session I had originally prepared - before the discussed edit.
I went into the training room to see his presentation but he hadn't yet begun. In actual fact he was stood by the door with his finger resting through a metal loop meant for a padlock. One loop was on the door frame & the other loop was on the door. Me opening the door partially amputated the tip of his finger. There was blood everywhere. I had a huge adrenaline surge, had all that pent up rage been converted into an unconscious act of violence towards him, I hadn't seen him at all when I opened the door.
Emergency Physician Esther kicked in so I guided him to a tap to clean the wound - he refused to listen to my advice. Even in an emergency the bastards won't listen to a word I say. I forced his hand under the tap & then led him to sit down as he was looking rather grey & sweaty.
I got gauze & told him to apply firm pressure & elevate his hand - he continued to ignore me so that now my initial guilt transformed in a cold heartedness - if he wouldn't listen to my advice screw him.
It was only after cleaning the wound & starting to close it with steristrips that I asked him "Do you know what job I did before I came to Cambodia?" - him & another male Cambodian doctor were both saying the he needed stitches. My question was prompted after I heard them say in khmer that I didn't know what I was doing. He looked at me sheepishly & then shrugged - he had no idea whether I was even a nurse or a doctor. I told him what I was - his attitude then changed a little.
I dressed the wound as best I could & gave him 2 paracetamol. He declined going to get an X-ray - I was feeling sick with guilt again - I can't maintain heartless bitch for too long. He did concede to take a course of prophylactic antibiotics but whether he believes me when I told him not amoxicillin as the resistance rates are very high here I don't know.
He then went on to stoically deliver the training.
I skipped lunch as I couldn't shift the guilty, sick to the pit of my stomach, feeling. My boss asked me to remind her never to make me angry,
Could my anger have manifested itself in this act of unconscious violent revenge? What next - ripped shirts, green tinge to my skin, Anger management classes?
My Cambodian victim said it was clearly an accident & if anyone was at fault it is him for standing with his finger wrapped through the padlock metal loop of the door to the entrance of the training room.
I, however, am still not convinced it wasn't bad karma or my budding telekinesis skills. And next time it won't just be a finger....
I have been sitting at 8 on the VAS for anger, with occasional rapid cycling to 10 for a while now and one incident of 9 at the weekend. There are a lot of contributing factors for this but as discussed in the previous blog other people's attitudes is very high on the list.
One such person, a khmer doctor, accused me of doing something which I wasn't even responsible for but told me in no uncertain, rude terms that I was wrong - its important here to blame someone. I tried to explain that what he was referring to occurred after I had been involved with what we were discussing. The national guidelines had been changed & the training material, what we were discussing, had been edited to match these changes but they had forgotten to align one small section of the training with the new guidelines. Of course he was not at all convinced with my explanation & made it clear he thought I was the idiot.
I was fuming - no day that starts without electricity & witnessing a moto versus dog accident can turn out well.
Did I argue my point, assert my qualifications & experience or make a big scene? This is what another expat had recently told me I do, in work. In actual fact I did what I always seem to do with Cambodia health workers which is calmly say my piece, leave the room, internalise it all, feel useless & crap, if I've really had it I will then cry. This expat has never seen me in work & their opinion of me may well be coloured by all the 50 cent draft beer & 25 cent cigarettes they consume. They got a 9 out of me.
I was at the end of my tether where being treated rudely & disrespected was concerned, especially by misogynists. I was carrying quite a lot of suppressed anger & rage.
The next day the training was delivered & the same doctor was due to teach the session I had originally prepared - before the discussed edit.
I went into the training room to see his presentation but he hadn't yet begun. In actual fact he was stood by the door with his finger resting through a metal loop meant for a padlock. One loop was on the door frame & the other loop was on the door. Me opening the door partially amputated the tip of his finger. There was blood everywhere. I had a huge adrenaline surge, had all that pent up rage been converted into an unconscious act of violence towards him, I hadn't seen him at all when I opened the door.
Emergency Physician Esther kicked in so I guided him to a tap to clean the wound - he refused to listen to my advice. Even in an emergency the bastards won't listen to a word I say. I forced his hand under the tap & then led him to sit down as he was looking rather grey & sweaty.
I got gauze & told him to apply firm pressure & elevate his hand - he continued to ignore me so that now my initial guilt transformed in a cold heartedness - if he wouldn't listen to my advice screw him.
It was only after cleaning the wound & starting to close it with steristrips that I asked him "Do you know what job I did before I came to Cambodia?" - him & another male Cambodian doctor were both saying the he needed stitches. My question was prompted after I heard them say in khmer that I didn't know what I was doing. He looked at me sheepishly & then shrugged - he had no idea whether I was even a nurse or a doctor. I told him what I was - his attitude then changed a little.
I dressed the wound as best I could & gave him 2 paracetamol. He declined going to get an X-ray - I was feeling sick with guilt again - I can't maintain heartless bitch for too long. He did concede to take a course of prophylactic antibiotics but whether he believes me when I told him not amoxicillin as the resistance rates are very high here I don't know.
He then went on to stoically deliver the training.
I skipped lunch as I couldn't shift the guilty, sick to the pit of my stomach, feeling. My boss asked me to remind her never to make me angry,
Could my anger have manifested itself in this act of unconscious violent revenge? What next - ripped shirts, green tinge to my skin, Anger management classes?
My Cambodian victim said it was clearly an accident & if anyone was at fault it is him for standing with his finger wrapped through the padlock metal loop of the door to the entrance of the training room.
I, however, am still not convinced it wasn't bad karma or my budding telekinesis skills. And next time it won't just be a finger....
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