Phases of a Trip Back Home
Can't wait to go home. Can't wait to go home. Don't have to bloody put on 3 layers of clothes just to stop my balls from turning blue. I can actually walk out in shorts. And... oooh, lor mai kai, how I lust for thy flesh....
Days 1-2: The Hate-Malaysia, Miss-USA Phase
This is stupid. Why do Malaysians bloody drive like this? Why can't Malaysians be friendlier? Why can't things here be more efficient? Why must the bloody immigration department take so long with my passport renewal? Why must this place be so corrupt? Why is Proton so sucky? I miss Veronica.
Days 3-7: The Lau-Nuah Phase
Wahhhh. The girls. Omigod why did I ever leave Malaysia? So slim. So supple, gentle. So pretty. And the food. Perpetually bloated from the 5 meals a day. I'm getting dehydrated from drooling so much.
Days 8-10: The Adaptation Phase
Hmm. Home isn't so bad. Yea, it's not perfect, but neither is the USA. And yea, we're decades behind in terms of public attitude, and the medical system. But we'll catch up someday. And If I return, maybe I can help contribute and change what's lacking here. And hmm... that girl (Ms X/ Y/ Z) is really sweet. I wish I didn't have to leave. Maybe something beautiful would have come out of our friendship. She'd make a good partner in life.
Days 11-Departure: The Regret Phase
Damn it. So what if I work at that bloody famous hospital. Doesn't matter how many degrees I get at the end of the day. Not if my dear friends are not around to share my life with me. Not if I don't have a family to come home to at the end of the day. Not if I can't have wild, rolling-on-the-floor, animal sex five times a day. Or have so much roti canai that ghee oozes from my ears and I bleed cholesterol. Farkdammit. Maybe I shoulda just stayed in Malaysia instead of getting myself into a residency and fellowship. Maybe I'd be happier being a regular Joe-MO.
I don't wanna go...
Departure-Arrival: The REALLY Homesick Phase
Err, Miss Stewardess, I want my mommy....
Week 1: The Surreal Phase
Huh? Did I really go home? Almost feels like I didn't. Hmm. I don't feel homesick anymore. True, I miss my friends and family... but that was how I felt before returning.
Shit. All the stupid clinical notes I have to sign. And patient phonecalls I have to return. Prescriptions to sign. And shit... I'm oncall for the week. Oh well... back to the grind.
Tongue-in-Cheek to an extent. But true in many aspects. The emotions I go through. I'm at day 11 now, so go figure. The feeling I get at the airport is incredible. Almost like it wouldn't take much for me to just rip my ticket up (oops. I got an e-ticket this year). Takes a herculean effort to hold back the tears. Chee How, the first in our gang to leave, gave this advice once; "At the airport, never look back. It makes it easier."
I wonder if they have teddy bears on that Korean Airlines flight I'll be taking? However, knowing me, the last tinge of nostalgia and sadness I experience is when the plane thrusts forward on the runway, and I look out the window, and silently bid Malaysia farewell, and pray that I'll be back soon. By the time we're at cruising altitude, I'm usually no longer homesick.