The burnt-out rate is high for those who love the newsroom adrenaline. With age catching up and after the recent scare, I have to be mindful of how much my body and brain can take.
IT wasn’t karoshi, the Japanese term for death from overwork where workers die from heart attack, stress or over-exhaustion but I certainly suffered a blackout last week.
It happened on Monday when I was having a discussion with a colleague at 7.30pm after our daily evening editorial meeting to decide on the contents of the next day’s paper. It was the only time slot that we could find and I had wanted to discuss with her a simple matter – the design of the T-shirts for an upcoming event.
But shortly into our small talk, I felt my head spinning. I unbuttoned my collar to remove my necktie and complained about the heat in her room, asking for ever reliable minyak angin at the same time. My legs then turned wobbly and I started throwing up continuously. My colleague’s secretary quickly summoned for help.
I do not recall what happened subsequently – my colleagues struggling to put me into a wheelchair and bringing me down to the lobby to rush me to the hospital.Read the rest of the column here.