An obstetric anesthesiologist by training, a satirist by survival. I dwell in the quiet chaos behind the drapes: where vitals fluctuate, alarms scream, and consciousness is optional. This blog is my decompression chamber: part memoir, part manifesto, part controlled substance for the soul. Expect musings on medicine, life, and the paradox of staying awake in a system designed to sedate. I work and teach at the national university hospital and in a cancer hospital—two institutions that keep me grounded, exhausted, and occasionally inspired.
When I’m not professionally inducing paralysis for kaching, I partake in the ancient male ritual of performative reading—book in hand, e-reader aglow, stationed at cafés or gym benches like a misunderstood philosopher. On a more serious note, my academic side finds genuine fulfillment in distilling complexity, mentoring fellows, and designing instructional materials that (hopefully) make learning less painful than a misplaced epidural.
And when I need a break from all that, I hang out with my cat Zekie: chaotic, clingy, and convinced he’s the center of the universe. I named him after Hezekiah, a righteous king from the Bible, but let’s be honest: Zekie is anything but righteous. He’s got a talent for keyboard sabotage, mug tipping, and surprise Zoom cameos. Playing with him is part cardio, part comedy, and a daily reminder that mischief is underrated.
One time I had a bowl customized with his name, and the seller just couldn’t get it right. So I said, “Fine, Ezekiel.” And just like that, his name morphed from Hezekiah to Ezekiel, though he’s always been Zekie to me. When people ask what his real name is, I say Hezekiah Ezekiel, because apparently, one biblical name wasn’t enough to contain him.
Ether Diaries 