Having an eye hang over and falling in love with the doctor. Busy Indeed.

Yesterday I claimed that my eye was drunk, logically it is today very hang over. If you never seen a hang over eye before have a look below (sensitive viewers be warned).


After being very drunk you wake up with a realization about what is happening around you. Frankly I got shit scared. Three days on antibiotics and no improvement. Was I going swollen eye forever?

If getting to the eye clinic was entering a new level in a computer game, entering the eye surgery was definitely winning the whole thing. The victory feeling was short and not very sweet. I was lead straight to the general sight test and “do you wear contact lenses blabla” procedur. I paid more money and chilled out with more retired randoms.

According to my prejudices a specialist of the specialists is 50+, wear glasses, has a BMI above average and wears “innetofflor”. Imagine my surprise when doctor “very cool name” is 25+, good looking, wears a designer dress and whats app:ing from her iphone 5 (which has a playboy cover) when I enter. Fall in love is to exaggerate very much but she was pretty cool. First of all the most professional of all the doctors I have meet (maybe you have to when you are specialist of the specialists). Second she had a bit of humor, finally! Hospitals are sad, I was sad, I use humor as defense to get by, no one had understood that so far. We had a lot of fun over the fact that my new eye drops are named “FML” and that my concern over not being able to attend a festival is bigger than the concern for my midterms.

They suspect that the family who moved into my eye is of type microsporidia keratitis, which sound Greek to me, but I am pretty sure they are Thai and felt the liberty to attack my eye during diving last week. I googled it, rarely find a suitable content to use the word “horrendous”, but I think it fits in for the search result I got.

It is a resistent parasite, dosen’t sound nice at all… I think I will avoid mentioning that when out… “Hi, I am Sofie I have resistent parasite in my eye, would you like to buy me a drink?” (Challenge accepted btw).

So I am currently on the long island ice teas for eyes:


and mc (which means I do not have to be in school and I am excused from my midterms) for a week. I am retarded into the soul though, so I went home and studied for four hours and went and completed my midterm in Economics. I am very proud, switching names from Quasimodo to The Warrior.

To be honest I am much better and every three hours when I put “FML” in the eye, I laugh, even though it is like pouring acid, seriously, no wonder they named it the way they did.

EYEr and OUT
(ok den är inte lika bra men ni måste förstå att jag har varit själv i mitt rum i två dygn nu, taking it to a new low)


It might be the eye talking…

But from my experience, NUS health care system sucks massive amount of horse poo!

Tuesday morning I paid a fair amount of money to consult a doctor for my swollen eye.
Wednesday morning my eye had gone from ‘almost not noticeable’-swollen to ‘she is Quasimodo’-swollen. Semi-frustrated I took my pile of antibiotica drops and creams and went back. This morning I had to wait longer, pay more and my ‘consultation’ consisted of a 2 second flash light in the eye and watching the same doctor write ‘PLS ADVICE.TKS’ on a referral letter. With the referral letter I was then sent between different counters for an hour, payed different fees and read tiny numbers from walls (to check wether my sight had changed during the past 25 minutes or not). It took an additional hour for the very detached woman at counter number 3 to come to the conclusion that there were no appointments available with eye doctors today.

I guess she was feeling slightly uncomfortable and confused over what to do with this little crying person sitting on a chair next to her reception window. So she sent me to the emergency reception at the National University Hospital with an other paper.

At NUH I did everything again, twice. Talked to a receptionist, waited to see a nurse, waited again to see a doctor. Doctor number four had a fun time over that I could see better with my infected eye than with my other one. If I would have had more energy I would have infected his eye (by this point I was in a bad mood and in a lot of pain).

When I got told to sit down and wait for the seventh time I gave up and overdosed my old eyedrops which flash light doctor described to me the day before. I guess the nurses could feel my frustration because soon after one came and lead me to the eye Clinic. It felt like making it to the last level in a computer game.

Of course I had to see a nurse and answer the questions yet again but then I only had to wait for a little bit to see a real eye doctor. Apparently I have bacteria in my eye which they have identified, but they are not behaving as they are suppose to… This lead to heaps of cotton sticks pushed into my eye, to then be sent to a lab. The Doctor complimented me on being so calm, usually people are very nervous “when we cut a piece of the inside of the eye lid of”. I jumped two meters up in my chair, no one said anything about cutting… I did obviously not pay enough attention.

In addition I felt a bit like an animal in a Zoo, first of all because it was only me and 70 year old Chinese people in wheal chairs in the waiting room (loving to identify myself with the ‘impaired vision’-group of society). Second because all doctors and students in the whole section wanted to come and look at my bacteria acting randomly. Should have taken a commission fee for every stethoscope watch.

Fun facts:

Amount of times I got asked if I wear contact lenses: 12
Amount of times I had to read tiny letters from a wall: 5
Process optimize much NUH?
Total Bill: 320 F***ng dollars
Unfortunately this is not the end of it, tomorrow I am seeing the specialist of the eye specialists. Might have to switch focus from internship sponsors to eye sponsors.

When I walked home my eye was drunk. I was completely sober but my eye had so many different liquids poured into it, which made me see everything in double and feel dizzy. Interesting I must say.

The only good thing coming out of all this is that I have a legitimate reason to wear sunglasses indoors. When I find the strength to leave my room will say.

(ååå vad tråkigt, jag är på starka mediciner, ok!)

This week have a “Stress Yourself”-theme


More updates towards the end of the week, promise!

//The Neon Junkie

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The strategic moves of putting yourself in a chronic food coma

DAY 18
Vientiane, Laos


As a financially restricted person/student/backpacker a breakfast buffe equals eat until you can barely stand up. So we did. Then Ida some how managed to convince me to come to a cooking class. It was us, a couple from Italy and our teacher Phao. Like a dinosaur driving a tuktuk, that is about how smooth I feel in a Kitchen. Therfore I thanked some above spirits that we didn’t go out last night so at least I had a steady hand while trying to cut tiny slippery onions with a knife that looked more like a sword.

We made three dishes which I already forgot the name of but Ida took heaps of notes and will be able to recreate it all back home. The first dish was a soup which I thought was really good. I said to Ida in Swedish that it would be nicer if you added more cocunot milk, the second after Phao says to the group that if you want you can add more coconut milk but then you will get really fat. Made a note to myself and my coconut milk loving ego to immediately apply for biggest loser when back home. Very soon forgot all about Phao’s words and my little note to self, had coconut curry for dinner the same night.
Vegetables no one knows the name of…
The course was finished by 12 and we were defenetily regretting eating breakfast like food was never to be seen again when having a three course lunch at 11.30. Cooking class was an intresting experience but I felt about as lost as in 9th grade music class. Simply prefer eating to cooking.
Once in a food coma it from time to time happens that you become retarded and just eat more even though you are super full. This idiotic phenomena happend to me and Ida this particular day. So after a three course breakfast directly followed by a three course lunch we felt the need to again directly follow up with a three course “fika”. What is wrong with us? I call it “the dog syndrome” because I have heard that dogs don’t have a limit, they will practically eat until they die if there is food available. The dog syndrome might be some weird consequence from missing the christmas feast in Sweden. Who knows…
What would be our dog names?
Tomorrow we are heading to Vang Vieng to behave like proper backpackers, there will be both roads and other tourists, something we are not used to at the moment. I will now go to bed and do brain laundry, wish me luck, I just want to sleep.
This has been another good day though, thank you Ida!
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All roads lead to subway

I have an addiction. To Subways.

– The staff know my name and what I usually order
– Sometimes at soccer practice or in a lecture I spent at least 50% of the time thinking about what to order on the way home
– I get angry when people in the line do not understand how the ordering system works
– and yes, I know the menu in my sleep

I had not had it since yesterday lunch and I am now on a complete “NO CONSUMPTION AT ALL”-restriction. This is getting embarrassing.

Like any addict I would like to blame someone. So this one I blame on Caroline, she got me hooked with her “two subs a day”-lifestyle before she left. Damn you Sussie!



Idag ägnar vi mitt marsvin Semlan en tanke. Det var väldigt intressant i ca 6 månader. Sen följde 4 år av ignorans från min sida. Helt plötsligt blev hon lesbisk med Idas marsvin. Strax därefter gick vi skilda vägar.

Det här med husdjur alltså…

(Det här är inte Semlan, det här ett “google marsvin”, Semlans glory days var före den digitala revolutionen)


Shit just got real

DAY 17
Don Dhet, Laos

Morgonstund har guld i mun…


10 minutes sweat walk later


Johor Bahru through the backdoor

You will not believe who I meet this weekend!

She was beautiful, had fluffier hair than me and acted as she was a bit better than her sister and mother. No wonder since she just received prestigious awards like “The most adorable female 2012” and “The fluffiest fur (long hair category)” from the Malaysian Cat Club.

Let me rewind 20 hours or so. Friday afternoon I was feeling slightly depressed since everyone I know had left the country due to the up coming Chinese New Year (which for us means no school Monday and Tuesday). Instead of sitting in my cell to dorm room staring into the wall and listening to the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra I decided to go and see my Malaysian friend who lives just across the border north from Singapore.

As I passed immigration a thought hit me; going alone might not be the smartest move on earth. I Simply let the thought pass and then walked through customs with a big smile on my face, determined to trust my instinct and excited for some adventure. I love how order turn to chaos and price is divided by 4 as soon as you walk over to the Malaysian side. I have so many stamps in my passport passing in and out now so they started asking questions about my “business” in Malaysia. Note to self: leave the peace signs at home and do not dress as a hippie to upset customs.


I lactose overdosed at Starbucks waiting… and then from no where a familiar face jumps up and down in the crowd screaming my name (his movement reminded me of a Bumbibjörn). We jumped into his friends car and drove towards some suburb of Johor Bahru I would not know the name of. I soon got introduced to so many fantastic people.

There were 7 people living in the apartment we arrived to. Everyone sat on the floor listening to Coldplay, having a sandwich and observing the cats.  So this is where I found them – the adorable fluffy cats. The mother Kittie and her two daughters Cookie and Hahaha. Hahaha was the one with all the awards.


It got dark, people came, people left. I felt surprisingly comfortable on that floor considering I was with strangers far away from my world in NUS. It might have been due to their overwhelming hospitality or the fact that they were all totally swag wearing beanies and t-shirt saying stuff like “First one in the gang to die” and “Take a walk on the wild side”. Some of them were working with calling Europe to find investors. They found Swedish people quite rude on the phone. I taught them how to say “Hej Allihopa” and “Slyna” – not sure if that will make the swedes to invest but we had a lot of fun.




All of a sudden it was decided to go to a mall to buy shoes. Everyone wore vans. In the mall we bought more pairs of vans. Almost bought a pair myself. Pretty glad I did not. My neon phase in life was 2008-2009 – time to move on. But they were pretty damn cool, relapse?


I asked one of my best bros to come over and join me on the wild side of the continent, and fortunately he did. So we picked up Paras and went for live music in a bar/restaurant/Sheesha cafe (not sure how to define the place). There was a lot of very well dressed people there and the music was great. I felt like a nerd compared to all this swag Malay youths and also very blond, we saw no westerners all night. This fact was also observed by the band. One of the guys gave me a little speech in the end of the set saying something in style with “This is Sofie, she may not look like us but she is still human and enjoys good music. Please clap your hands for her”. Already feeling to nerdy for this hipp event I turned my redest due to all the attention and clapping (Paras was of course having a hilarious time watching my embarrassment).



Toilet door

We roamed the streets of JB, had dinner, meet the band, drank tea, cruised in the car and at some point we were about to head to a chalet an hour drive away (not sure what happend with that idea). At 3 pm we found ourself back on the floor in the apartment with Cookie, Hahaha and Kittie. People had more sandwich, I fell asleep to the sound of a violent action movie, Taken 2/3/4 maybe? How many are they? Remember thinking about destiny and coincidences and that I was happy I went to JB, to try their food , to visit their spots, to touch their cats and to see their world.

Thank you all and please be my guest in Singapore anytime!


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Follower of the year

Grattis på födelsedagen världens bästa farmor!

Med tanke på att du inte är varken från den engelsk talande generationen eller it-generationen så är det sjukt coolt att du klarar både engelskan & it-delen med bravur. När jag blir farmor vill jag också vara så!

Sitter precis och läser brevet om din kamp mot myrorna i sommarstugan när pappa och EM var små. Förundras över hur duktig du är på att återge detaljrikedom. Det känns som att jag var där 1971 och från ett hörn stilla lyssnar på diskussionen om hur vida myrorna kommer äta ihjäl sig på socker och jäst eller inte. En annan tanke som fascinerat mig sen jag fick det här brevet om hur farmor på samma sätt som jag för några månader sen (om ni kommer ihåg inlägget “Ant Auotbahn”) försökte bli av med myror, är hur jag kommer skicka min myr-historia till mitt barnbarn?

Jag tror inte Farmor hade i åtanke 1971 att hennes barnbarn skulle sitta på andra sidan jorden och skriva någon slags elektronisk dagbok som hon kunde ta del av direkt? Tror ni jag blir nya Steve Jobs om jag kommer på hur blogg-världen ser ut om 40 år? Det heter säkert inte ens “blogg” längre då… Kanske “slogg”? Om man kommer kunna strema sig själv? Så man slipper skriva, man kan helt plötsligt bara poppa upp hos en läsare och berätta live och sen poppa tillbaka. Kommer jag ens ha ett barnbarn om 40 år? Känns stressigt att hinna både det och framtids-blogg grejen.

Hur som helst så saknar jag att dricka kaffe på verandan på Vätö. Jag saknar att alla fina smultron är sparade på sina buskar tills vi (20,21,22&23 år gamla barnbarnen) kommer på besök, så vi ska få plocka själva och äta färskt. Jag saknar att vinna i Bocha. Jag saknar att kura upp mig i soffan och dricka GT. Jag saknar två timmar långa middagar där jag bara får prata om mig själv :). Jag saknar den nervösa känslan som uppkommer när man ska försöka backa ut från den där omöjliga vinkeln där bilen alltid står parkerad.



Jag saknar inte Cinderella dock, men Jag saknar er!

Stora kramar!

//Lilla F