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It made its first appearance on my bathroom wall about a week ago. It was cautious about being spotted, moving its little head furtively left and right with every step it took.

I stood at the sink, brushing my teeth when I detected some small movements from the corner of my eye. I stopped short and looked over, and that was when the lizard stopped in its tracks too. I shrugged since I was in an uncomfortable position (with my mouth full of foam then) and resumed brushing. The movement resumed too.

I looked over and the lizard stopped moving again. This was a shrewd one.

I gargled the foam out and immediately welded the shower hose. I could sense that the lizard had begun to panic there and then before all its furtive moments gave way to frantic running.

Too late. The blast of water from the hose knocked the lizard off the wall and onto the ground. Floundering for survival in the surging waters, the fellow was eventually washed down the drain pipe.

Brenda – 1, Lizard – 0.

Day 2
I stepped into the bathroom and the little one suddenly scurried out from beneath a pail. The same one as the other day. Not expecting that at all, I let out a squeal and jumped – but not before welding my trusty ol’ weapon all over again.

For the second time that week, the little lizard struggled to break free as it was washed away into the drain pipe while I grinned sadistically at my second victory for the week.

Brenda – 2, Lizard – 0.

Day 3
The little one decided to get even shrewder. This time, it didn’t target the bathroom. It decided to seek revenge in my room instead. And of all places, the wardrobe.

It stood at the edge of my wardrobe looking at me as if it was going “muahahaha, you can’t get rid of me so easily”. Heck, it was probably laughing its guts out when I let out one of the loudest screams I’ve ever let out so far in 2011. And there I was, panicking because any moment, it would start running into the abyss that is my wardrobe.

Damn, this was a smart one. But it got mangled anyway by mum who came to my rescue at the moment – grabbing the little thing with a tissue and flushing it down the toilet.

“There! it’ll never bother you again,” she says. I was happy.

Mum – 1, Lizard – 0.

Day 4 and 5
I bet mum was regretting she said that. Because, the shrewd little one had decided to briefly stop taunting me, but shifted its attention to her instead.

For two days in a row, the little one showed up in the bathroom with my mum – terrorizing her in the shower, or while she’s in the midst of her half-hour long makeup-application sessions. To her credit, she didn’t scream in terror like what I’s usually do. Instead, she put up a bold fight with the little one with the use of several layers of toilet roll and this awesome suction mechanism called the toilet flush.

Mum – 3, Lizard – 0.

Day 6
“There! it’ll never bother you again,” the mum said a few days ago. Boy, was she wrong.

The lizard showed up in the bathroom again, this time slightly larger than I had last seen it (which also means it’s harder to wash the damn thing DOWN the drain pipe). This time – utterly frustrated – I contemplated using something heavy to just squash the damn thing dead once and for all. Previously, washing/flushing the thing down the drain pipe/toilet bowl could mean that the lizard could have managed to wedge itself on some solid surface, survive and then climb its way back up.

But squashing it would only mean that someone HAS to pick up the remains – and the person wouldn’t be me.

So, I picked up the shower hose again. And turned the water temperature dial to its hottest possible setting.

And because the lizard was larger, I couldn’t wash it down the drain pipe as easily as before. The fellow was washed around the toilet floor (with me standing on top of the toilet bowl), round and round for almost an entire minute as I struggled to get it down the drain. For a while, I felt as if I was cooking lizard soup.

It went down the drain pipe in the end. For the third time. Good bye, little one. For good, I hope.

Brenda – 3, Lizard – 0.

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.
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I haven’t seen it for three days so far. And I hope I’ll never see it again. This is one shrewd lizard with a stubborn will to live. But smart lizards should also know that they shouldn’t return to the scene at which they were last (attempted to be) murdered. Tsk.

Final score: Brenda – 3, Lizard – 0 and Mum – 3, Lizard – 0.

To that doctor at Serangoon Gardens who examined my mum for presumptive gout late this afternoon.

All this while, my main point of contention was the obvious fact that you were displaying a blatant lack of Emotional Quotient (EQ) and that you have to be more mindful of your tone when dealing with your patients.

You, on the other hand, chose to hurl personal insults at me and demanded me to get out of the room – which I must say, is extremely out of line and highly unprofessional.

For one, you were practically barking orders at my mother right from the very second we entered the consultation room, in that superior, holier than thou tone which you adopted throughout the entire consultation session.

No, I am not picking on your outright frankness (unlike what you seem to think during the whole argument) when you practically spat the following words out at my mother – “At your age, first your knees give way. Then, your neck gives way. After that, your heart will also give way!”

Frank is good. But surely, there is a much better way to phrase that?

Add that on to the fact that you were constantly affirming your position as a medical professional – and how we should only listen to you and not anyone else’s advice, and how we shouldn’t argue when you tell us what to do and such.

Superiority complex, hello?

That was what I called you out upon. But you chose to miss the point altogether, deeming me as misinterpreting what you are saying, telling me that I am oversensitive and that I argue too much – even going to the point of saying that “I will never get a boyfriend because I am like that“.

WHAT. THE. ****?

You boasting about how doctors make use of laboratories, medical technology and theories and “keep emotions out of the picture” to treat a disease does not change the fact that you have terrible EQ. In fact, it only affirms my observations about you.

Dude, you fail to see the difference between emotions, and showing empathy.

You do not friggin’ treat a patient as an inanimate entity in which the disease is located. You treat the PATIENT as a whole – taking into consideration how they feel and paying attention to their rights (respect and dignity included). Not just the disease.

Then, you tried to defend yourself by saying that in the medical profession, words are thrown out the way they are. And even cited examples of how words like “going to hell” and “the patient’s going to die” are thrown around carelessly during lectures.

You’re still missing the point of my argument.

See here, my boy. How medical professionals talk to one another is none of my effin’ business. The crux of my argument is the fact that you are dealing with a PATIENT. Here is where ‘the ability to deal with people on a compassionate level’ comes into play.

Patients have genuine concerns, and are in most cases, either worried or anxious about their condition. Having to deal with doctors like you does not make things any better.

You seem to have this impression that just because you are a doctor who ‘heals people’, you are this superior being who possesses extraordinary powers and how people should marvel at your godliness and bow down to your feet.

Which was probably what led to your outright display of indignation (coupled with the ‘get out of the room’ remarks and personal insults) when the daughter of your patient decided to call you out on your misdoings.

Please. Get off that pedestal you’ve placed yourself on already.

You may have all the necessary paper qualifications, several years of service and experience behind your back, or whatsoever credentials it takes to become a doctor.

However, as long as you have a zilch EQ, terrible bedside manners, and that type of attitude you displayed today, you have failed in your duty as a doctor.

P/S: For the record – no vulgarities were spewed during the actual argument with said doctor. And I was struggling to keep my tone steady despite the verbal assault I was receiving from the other party. GRARR. ANGRY.