i gave two solid knocks on the door. a solid wooden door like that definitely deserved an equally solid knock. not just one in fact, but two.

through the opaque glass that was set in the door, i could make out about four people inside the room. all of them, obviously anticipating what i had to present. the fact that i was only twenty-three only made them all the more excited.

'hi, i'm the MG chap!' i introduced myself as i pushed the creaky door open. i thought to myself that two solid knocks were severely undeserved as the door screamed for a burst of lubricant.

'thanks for seeing me on such short notice' i said, trying my best to muster a smile. it must have looked like a lop-sided one, come to think of it. bloody nerves just don't work when i'm nervous.

i took a seat and maintained that lop-sided smile with the other four people in the room. i think they must have noticed and expected it. but the kindly lady directly in front of me told me to relax. she asked a few questions of formality, perhaps to make me feel more relaxed. perhaps to set the mood of things to come.

'come...' she said.

'what?!' my mind exclaimed.

'come,' she continued 'i want to see you smile for me, i want to see the lack of symmetry!'

i couldn't help but think of what a mad plastic surgeon, Dr. J.S. Steiman, once said in an Xbox 360 game. Bioshock, to be exact

Aphrodite is walking the halls - shimmering, like a scalpel...
'Steinman,' she calls, 'Steinman! I have what you're looking for! Just
open your eyes!' And when I see her, she cuts into me a thousand
beautiful pieces.

Today I had lunch with the Goddess, 'Steinman,' she said...
'I'm here to free you from the tyranny of the commonplace.
I'm here to show you a new kind of beauty.'
I asked her, 'What do you mean, Goddess?'
'Symmetry, dear Steinman.
It's time we did something about symmetry...'

none the less, i did that lop-sided smile that was so characteristic of me these days. she proceeded to do the same with my hands. my arms. my legs. i felt a bit like the Vitruvian man. except fully-clothed, less lithe and perhaps with a better hair-stylist.

suffice to say, she touched me in places where i've never thought of touching before. and believe me when i tell you that i touch myself a lot. one by one, i was examined by the other three people in the room. they all gave weird stares. some of inquisitiveness, some of curiousness. but all of them refrained from passing a comment.

for some reason the novelty of touching a twenty-three year old gay man in bizarre places seemed to pass within twenty minutes. three people left the room, leaving me and the kindly lady who told me to 'come', alone. she grabbed my wrists, and suddenly applied a great exertion against me. i felt pinned down despite the fact that she was no heavy than forty-five kilograms.

failing to push me back, she reached for my feet instead, trying her best to topple me over.

'i seriously need a gym membership' i thought to myself.

it wasn't till a good five minutes later, when we sat back on our respective chairs. pent up, and exhausted from the excessive pushing. no prodding, i thought with relief.

'well, it's not MG, for sure' she smiled to me.


it all started three days ago when i was smoking. i kept making squeaky noises with my lips when i placed my cigarette on the left side of my mouth. when i smoked on the right side of my mouth, the only things i emitted was a puff of smoke.

it got worse when i tried drinking soup. i actually leaked. from the right side of my mouth! it got worse the next day when i tried to wink at someone and discovered that i couldn't wink on my right side. i could muster something that looked like a perverted old man with a history of stroke trying to make a pass at some sweet, young thing. yes, it's that scary! so i told Pangkeng about what has been going on with me. who told my gay colleague. who told several other colleagues. who told my supervisor. this particular su pervisor is my favourite one apparently. she's young, she's quite happening and she's intelligent, armed with a Masters in Nursing. she even brought Pangkeng and me out with her husband to St. James once. we went back home, having polished off a bottle of Jack Daniels. it was a black-labelled one. and we didn't foot a single cent. she even has a pet dog at home. and i like people with pets.

she told me to close both eyes. with which i did with lop-sidedness. she told me to smile. which i did with the same seemingly half-heartedness. and she gave me this serious-look which seemed to say 'you might have to be put on a ventilator for life if the worse comes to worst because it might be a fatal disease you're having.' of course, she never said that. she said to me: 'it might be MG'. and lo and behold, i just blurted out the words 'Myasthenia Gravis?' it's one of those rare epiphanic moments when something which you've studied during your student years suddenly just pops up once again. and like old acquaintances, you embrace or you just study it again. except this time, it's embracing me so tightly that i can't wink at people or smoke with a cool demeanour.

of course, i tried to play it down and tell her, 'Maybe it's Bell's Palsy lah!' two things crossed my mind at this time, the first being 'Where are these bizarre medical terms popping up from when i got a horrid C5 grading for my anatomy and physiology during my nursing student days?' the other thought was, 'Doesn't Bell's Palsy have some small minute scientific connection to a certain strain of Herpes Simplex? Wait, when was the last time i had sex? Oh, three months. Or was it weeks? Oh i just had sex with the janitor three hours ago. Haha, just playing tricks on my mind!'

none the less, my favourite supervisor made some important-looking calls to several people she worked with at the neurology department previously. and believe me, she had to make a lot of calls because it was a Saturday and stethoscope-wielding health-care professionals were rushing off to have brunch and/or sex. within fifteen minutes, she came back with a piece of rough paper with instructions to look for a Burmese neurologist-on-call at a neurology ward in the hospital.

to which i proceed to of course. of course, i must not neglect to mention that i managed to take up practically a half-hour to settle some discharges, order a carton of Ensure (a nutritious mix of strawberry-flavoured milk and i think, protein) for a home bound patient, serve some medication, chit-chat with some people, clear up some lunch trays, work-related stuff, BEFORE i managed to run off for my impromptu appointment. such is an Asian working environment. you can be stroking, but they don't care. they would rather see you attempt to change that diaper while you are fitting in a patient's shit than send you off to the Emergency Department.

and thus i made my way. the neurologist-on-call was really a kindly young lady. like all Burmese people i have met in my life so far, she was patient and really hospitable (while all this was happening in a hospital, hur hur. okay, not funny). she tried to get me to raise my eyebrows, smile, close my eyes, open my mouth, stick out my tongue. to which there was an obvious deficit in the right side. she proceeded to try some motion exercises with which she was trying to prove there was some right-sided weakness with my right arm and limbs. apparently, it was isolated to my face only.

she was convinced that it was nothing more serious than Bell's Palsy. i had a fever last week which might have caused swelling somewhere along my face and thus causing one isolated facial nerve to function half-heartedly. it's treatable with steroids and anti-viral meds for that nasty herpes virus. i'm a knowledge whore. so i immediately wiki-ed Bell's Palsy. the prognosis is generally good. requiring a usual three weeks to see some progress and three to six months for complete recovery. what? three to six months??????????? what are the Catholic kids living opposite me going to say?????????? UNCLE, why is it you can only smile with one side of your face??????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!

i reported the news back to my supervisor. with which she gave me a very reassuring smile. i returned the smile with my not-so-reassuring version of a smile. for the rest of the afternoon, the rest of my colleagues were suddenly extra kind to me. they offered to help me serve my meds, thinking that i might be put on an artificial respirator within the hour. they constantly watched over me, ready to catch me when i showed signs of epilepsy. i felt reassured, yet at the same time irritated. to which i summarized to Pangkeng and my gay colleague,

'i'm not that afraid to die really. and even if i do, you guys will be there to make sure that when i'm on my death bed, you will make sure i'm a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) case. you see, i'm such a considerate patient! really, i'm tried all four vices of life, i'm not interested in a relationship, i'm twenty-three and this will prolly be the only few years when i'm happy to die now. so even if i die now, i'll die with no regrets. well, except for not going to a Mardi Gras yet.'

i thought it was a bit harsh. Pangkeng obviously didn't know what Mardi Gras was. and my gay colleague knew i was prolly joking about it as well. and so, i dithered about myself for the rest of the shift. of course, i couldn't help stoning out and contemplating the future of one-sided facial weakness. what if it gets worse? what if the MG i really wanted wasn't Mardi Gras but Myasthenia Gravis? what if what if. how come nobody thinks of positive 'what ifs'? as i walked to the train station with Pangkeng and the gay colleague that afternoon after shift, we were quietly smoking our cigarettes and making minor small talk. i tried to lighten the mood by making stupid jokes about one-sided facial weakness. apparently, i think they were irritated with my method of coping with what seemed to them, a crippling facial disease. i felt bad for patronizing them. so i decided to feed them with what they wanted by being serious for once.

i decided to visit the Emergency Department yesterday. in my hospital, no less. the doctor prescribed steroids and acyclovir and gave me three days of medical leave. i'd already taken one day for fever at the beginning of the week, so i felt bad for taking another at the end of the week (horrid, Asian working environment). as i handed over my medical certificate over to a different supervisor who was on shift, she taught me a few idiotic-looking facial exercises (she was neuro-trained). to which i actually decided to do occasionally at home.

i went home that Sunday, feeling unworried about my condition, and more guilty about taking medical leave for a sunday afternoon. sunday afternoons were always busy in our wards. Pangkeng was working that Sunday afternoon and i felt extra bad about leaving a brother in the lurch. the only good reason i could come up with was that i didn't get to sleep the previous night since i could only close my right eye to a maximum of 75%. i even tried putting scotch tape on my eye. which i had a hard time washing off after that. i say, try washing your face with facial wash when you cannot close your eyes properly.

and just in case you're wondering, i still look normal. the only good thing now is that i can drool at hot men in public and blame it on Bell's Palsy.

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