Thursday, May 14, 2009
More reason to snip away at the prized goods ...
For all the men out there who thinks that circumcision is horrid, go and read this. Besides improving your hygiene, it might just save your life.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Tripping down under (part 2) ... journeying over water for our zoo adventure.
Suzi and I caught a bus round the corner from our lodge (more about the Sydney public transport later). It is good to go on a trip with someone who had the foresight to research transportation dues before going on a trip. Suzi had purchased transport passes for AUD 38 at the airport: good for seven days and gave us access to most bus, rail and ferry lines in Sydney. This is truly value for money: a regular bus ticket for a 7 km trip cost about AUD 4.90 a single way. I guess they are trying to make it easy for the tourists to move around a lot; then they would spend more, no?
The bus wound around the suburbs. It looked to me as though Sydney doesn't believe in zoning. You could see mid-size shopping malls in the middle of the suburbs and just a few blocks away, rows of shops offering everything from dry cleaning, Lebanese bread, lotto and liquor to real estate. The houses seem to be on a small side, but Suzi pointed out that it gets really cold in winter and that smaller houses are more efficient to heat. However, although the gardens of the homes are the size of a postage stamp, they are immaculately kept and boasts a variety of colours. Some even shaped their shrubs into topiaries! None of the apartment buildings are over 5 stories high, which is amazing. I don't know whether this means Sydney doesn't have very many people (which I doubt) or because the development sprawls away into the countryside.
We got off near a train station to try out the double decker train to get to Circular Quay.
On board the train we were giggling away like demented girls as we craned our necks about, commenting at the age of the well-preserved vinyl seats and generally just oohing and ahing. Circular Quay housed the ferries harbour that we took to get to Taronga Zoo, where I got this cute little fellow for my niece.
However, it seems that he spends most of the time on my bed. Huh.
We bought breakfast at a cafe at the port?dock? of the ferry heading towards Taronga. Suzi told me that the school holiday had just begun with Easter last weekend. There was a large number of families also waiting for the ride. Many comprised of three generations; so for those who generalise about the moral and family institution decay of Western society, better shut your trap. There was quite a few where it was the grandparents who took the kids out; no parents. It was noisy and cheery and this atmosphere continued on board the ferry.
The ferries weren't very large and are quite old, I think. Autumn in Sydney was blissfully cool and the delicious cold breeze over the water was a fantastic contrast to the heat back home. The journey took us past a few major landmarks of Sydney such as:
The famed Sydney bridge. Apparently there are guided tour to the bridge inclusive of a climbing expedition. Those crazy mat sallehs.
The Sydney Opera House reminded me of some building in Shah Alam. Don't ask me why. I was just shocked to see how close it was: something that I had not thought to see except on postcards and television. The harbour water looked quite clear and did not carry the unpleasant reek that one often associates with a busy harbour. No debris, no floating pseudo jellyfishes (i.e. plastic bags) either. Fantastic.
I was admiring that white structure on the foreground of this picture; no idea what it was. You can see sailboats moored in the cove in the background; there are all kinds of water vessels to be found here, from paddleboats, schooner-types, water taxis etc.
The ride on this baby wasn't covered by our transport pass, so we only took pictures.
Boats big and small idylly made their way around the harbour, unhurried and casual.
Some of the hydrofoils carry passengers for special tour trips around the Darling Harbour and stuff. They serve food and provide some kind of entertainment on board.
This classic ship also carries passengers for tour trips to reminisce about the historical beginnings of Sydney. Unfortunately none were moored when we were at the quay; it would have been nice to be able to get on board to see what it's like.
Next: Wildlife encounter!
The bus wound around the suburbs. It looked to me as though Sydney doesn't believe in zoning. You could see mid-size shopping malls in the middle of the suburbs and just a few blocks away, rows of shops offering everything from dry cleaning, Lebanese bread, lotto and liquor to real estate. The houses seem to be on a small side, but Suzi pointed out that it gets really cold in winter and that smaller houses are more efficient to heat. However, although the gardens of the homes are the size of a postage stamp, they are immaculately kept and boasts a variety of colours. Some even shaped their shrubs into topiaries! None of the apartment buildings are over 5 stories high, which is amazing. I don't know whether this means Sydney doesn't have very many people (which I doubt) or because the development sprawls away into the countryside.
We got off near a train station to try out the double decker train to get to Circular Quay.
On board the train we were giggling away like demented girls as we craned our necks about, commenting at the age of the well-preserved vinyl seats and generally just oohing and ahing. Circular Quay housed the ferries harbour that we took to get to Taronga Zoo, where I got this cute little fellow for my niece.
However, it seems that he spends most of the time on my bed. Huh.We bought breakfast at a cafe at the port?dock? of the ferry heading towards Taronga. Suzi told me that the school holiday had just begun with Easter last weekend. There was a large number of families also waiting for the ride. Many comprised of three generations; so for those who generalise about the moral and family institution decay of Western society, better shut your trap. There was quite a few where it was the grandparents who took the kids out; no parents. It was noisy and cheery and this atmosphere continued on board the ferry.
The ferries weren't very large and are quite old, I think. Autumn in Sydney was blissfully cool and the delicious cold breeze over the water was a fantastic contrast to the heat back home. The journey took us past a few major landmarks of Sydney such as:
The famed Sydney bridge. Apparently there are guided tour to the bridge inclusive of a climbing expedition. Those crazy mat sallehs.
The Sydney Opera House reminded me of some building in Shah Alam. Don't ask me why. I was just shocked to see how close it was: something that I had not thought to see except on postcards and television. The harbour water looked quite clear and did not carry the unpleasant reek that one often associates with a busy harbour. No debris, no floating pseudo jellyfishes (i.e. plastic bags) either. Fantastic.
I was admiring that white structure on the foreground of this picture; no idea what it was. You can see sailboats moored in the cove in the background; there are all kinds of water vessels to be found here, from paddleboats, schooner-types, water taxis etc.
The ride on this baby wasn't covered by our transport pass, so we only took pictures.
Boats big and small idylly made their way around the harbour, unhurried and casual.
Some of the hydrofoils carry passengers for special tour trips around the Darling Harbour and stuff. They serve food and provide some kind of entertainment on board.
This classic ship also carries passengers for tour trips to reminisce about the historical beginnings of Sydney. Unfortunately none were moored when we were at the quay; it would have been nice to be able to get on board to see what it's like.
Next: Wildlife encounter!
Tripping Down Under (part 1)
Gotta thank the MAS travel fair that made it possible for me to make my trip down to Sydney last month. My whole family endeavoured to send me to KLIA that Thursday (April 16th), so I didn't have to take the train from KLSentral like I used to when I taught part-time at UDM. We had dinner there, which was a little disappointing, as my kuey tiaw tasted like raw dough. Ah, c'est la vie. So I ate most of Chomp's dinner of hotplate noodle, which she barely touched.
Killed some time walking around the airport with Chomps before my gate call. Yongie bought a cute little dress for Iman at the airport with the Petronas Twin Tower on it and it was wrapped up nicely by the sales clerk. Thankfully it wasn't too big that I could place it in my knapsack comfortably. Wish I had thought to get Iman something, but decided to give her angpau before coming back home instead (Yongie gives good suggestions).
Hugged everyone and got a little teary eyed as I made my way through the immigration, with Chomps cries for "Achu! Nak ikut Achu!" echoeing in the cavernous KLIA. Huh. On the days when she declaim that she "Tak nak kawan, Achu!", I will recall those cries. Drama queen.
I had no real idea of the vast dimensions of the KLIA until I made my way through the international departure area. Had to take a train to get to the plane. Goodness. There were plenty of shops for last minute gift shopping as well as getting duty free goods. Strangely enough, the cosmetics aren't all that cheaper than counter prices. What a rip off.
We departed Malaysian soil at 2229 hrs. I had the window seat, but I gave it to the Indian gentleman who shared my row; he had the aisle seat, but since his limbs are so much longer than mine, it was better that he got my seat. There was only the two of us in that row, which makes for a comfy journey, judging by the other rows that were fully occupied. It was pretty okay for an economy class fare; slightly more space than the domestic flight (which is shorter so it makes sense). The lift off was smooth and the nifty screen showing us the flight path was really cool. Love the idea of going over land and sea and knowing how fast we were going. Whee!
We were served a peanut and juice snack, followed by dinner at around 2345 hrs; I chose a delicious chicken dish and secreted away the cheese and crackers for future consumption. Tried watching the movies available, but my seat was over the wings of the plane so the engine was too loud for me to hear the dialogue. Watched a bit of The Transporter; one movie where dialogue was unnecessary. However, the mammoth book of paranormal romance that I brought had greater appeal and so I read that until I fell asleep at around 0040 hrs.
Sleeping in the plane wasn't very comfortable; there was an elderly lady sitting behind me so I didn't want to lower the back (not to mention I failed in my attempts to do so). But my gift for falling asleep under any and every condition came through so I managed about a three hour nap, waking up every 45 minutes or so to blearily look around and nod off again. I woke up proper around 0400 hours, went to the loo to brush my teeth and tidy up a bit. The plane windows were opened by then; the sky was beautifully streaked with light. If you weren't keeping Malaysian time, you would have thought that it was nearly 7 am.
We were served a cold breakfast at about 0420; the Indian gentleman seated with me complained that his bun was too cold, poor thing. We spent some time chatting after breakfast; he was from India, had lived in Malaysia for some time before making a home for himself in Sydney. He reminisced of what life was like in the sixties and how much things have changed. His son is a free-lance journalist in Malaysia, I gathered, and he was here visiting his son and his French wife. Our conversation lapsed after a while and we both woolgathered until the announcement to land.
I arrived at 7.50 am local time. Once the light for the seat belt was off, I turned on the phone and was delighted to receive a message from my friend Suzi, whom I was meeting in Sydney. There was a bit of time to collect my luggage and get my passport stamped; gotta say that the Aussies are more efficient than the Americans at the Los Angeles airport. They were friendly enough and the little doggie (a spaniel or beagle of some sort, I think) who was sniffing for contraband was so cute. I got away with my crackers and cheese, but the dude behind me had apples in his bag; he claimed they were snacks his wife brought. Can't recall if it was confiscated though.
The beauty of cellular telephone connection meant I could warn Suzi that it took a while to find my bag and that she had to wait a bit. Her plane had arrived earlier from Melbourne and she had to take a ride from the domestic flights terminal to the international one; that's how big the Sydney airport is. After meeting her, we took a taxi to the inn where she'd booked us a room and we chatted a storm. Bits we didn't want our cabbie to hear was in Malay; I think she was glad to have someone she can talk to in her native tongue, even though her English is excellent.
Since we couldn't check in yet, we left our luggage in the office of the lodge.
... and left for our Sydney adventure!
Killed some time walking around the airport with Chomps before my gate call. Yongie bought a cute little dress for Iman at the airport with the Petronas Twin Tower on it and it was wrapped up nicely by the sales clerk. Thankfully it wasn't too big that I could place it in my knapsack comfortably. Wish I had thought to get Iman something, but decided to give her angpau before coming back home instead (Yongie gives good suggestions).
Hugged everyone and got a little teary eyed as I made my way through the immigration, with Chomps cries for "Achu! Nak ikut Achu!" echoeing in the cavernous KLIA. Huh. On the days when she declaim that she "Tak nak kawan, Achu!", I will recall those cries. Drama queen.
I had no real idea of the vast dimensions of the KLIA until I made my way through the international departure area. Had to take a train to get to the plane. Goodness. There were plenty of shops for last minute gift shopping as well as getting duty free goods. Strangely enough, the cosmetics aren't all that cheaper than counter prices. What a rip off.
We departed Malaysian soil at 2229 hrs. I had the window seat, but I gave it to the Indian gentleman who shared my row; he had the aisle seat, but since his limbs are so much longer than mine, it was better that he got my seat. There was only the two of us in that row, which makes for a comfy journey, judging by the other rows that were fully occupied. It was pretty okay for an economy class fare; slightly more space than the domestic flight (which is shorter so it makes sense). The lift off was smooth and the nifty screen showing us the flight path was really cool. Love the idea of going over land and sea and knowing how fast we were going. Whee!
We were served a peanut and juice snack, followed by dinner at around 2345 hrs; I chose a delicious chicken dish and secreted away the cheese and crackers for future consumption. Tried watching the movies available, but my seat was over the wings of the plane so the engine was too loud for me to hear the dialogue. Watched a bit of The Transporter; one movie where dialogue was unnecessary. However, the mammoth book of paranormal romance that I brought had greater appeal and so I read that until I fell asleep at around 0040 hrs.
Sleeping in the plane wasn't very comfortable; there was an elderly lady sitting behind me so I didn't want to lower the back (not to mention I failed in my attempts to do so). But my gift for falling asleep under any and every condition came through so I managed about a three hour nap, waking up every 45 minutes or so to blearily look around and nod off again. I woke up proper around 0400 hours, went to the loo to brush my teeth and tidy up a bit. The plane windows were opened by then; the sky was beautifully streaked with light. If you weren't keeping Malaysian time, you would have thought that it was nearly 7 am.
We were served a cold breakfast at about 0420; the Indian gentleman seated with me complained that his bun was too cold, poor thing. We spent some time chatting after breakfast; he was from India, had lived in Malaysia for some time before making a home for himself in Sydney. He reminisced of what life was like in the sixties and how much things have changed. His son is a free-lance journalist in Malaysia, I gathered, and he was here visiting his son and his French wife. Our conversation lapsed after a while and we both woolgathered until the announcement to land.
I arrived at 7.50 am local time. Once the light for the seat belt was off, I turned on the phone and was delighted to receive a message from my friend Suzi, whom I was meeting in Sydney. There was a bit of time to collect my luggage and get my passport stamped; gotta say that the Aussies are more efficient than the Americans at the Los Angeles airport. They were friendly enough and the little doggie (a spaniel or beagle of some sort, I think) who was sniffing for contraband was so cute. I got away with my crackers and cheese, but the dude behind me had apples in his bag; he claimed they were snacks his wife brought. Can't recall if it was confiscated though.
The beauty of cellular telephone connection meant I could warn Suzi that it took a while to find my bag and that she had to wait a bit. Her plane had arrived earlier from Melbourne and she had to take a ride from the domestic flights terminal to the international one; that's how big the Sydney airport is. After meeting her, we took a taxi to the inn where she'd booked us a room and we chatted a storm. Bits we didn't want our cabbie to hear was in Malay; I think she was glad to have someone she can talk to in her native tongue, even though her English is excellent.
Since we couldn't check in yet, we left our luggage in the office of the lodge.
... and left for our Sydney adventure!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
What to do when the villagers come knocking with pitchforks and torches ...
If you are about to be flambeed for some screw ups of your organisation, do not panic. It is not the end of the world, although you could feel the noose tightening and the horse beneath you bucking. All you need to do is go to "Dealing with an Angry Public", a Program on Negotiation offered by Harvard Law School.
I guess the PR people of the giant automobile corporations and failing banks the world over should go for it. It offers to help you communicate effectively when you are, "Confronted by the need to take effective action in the face of public anger (e.g., over a devastating accident, the failure to regulate products or services adequately, or the siting of a controversial facility)".
Endorsed by many. Look at some testimonials below.
“A great program! I’m walking away with a principled approach to deal with an angry
public.”
Col. Boykin Jordan, Jr., Commander, 55th Communication Group,
U.S. Air Force
“ . . . more than thinking ‘outside the box’. You learn to stand on top of the box.”
Brian Hague, Communications Director,
County of Bergen, NJ
Perhaps then you won't have to worry about being lynched (or at the very least, tarred and feathered) by the angry mob.
I guess the PR people of the giant automobile corporations and failing banks the world over should go for it. It offers to help you communicate effectively when you are, "Confronted by the need to take effective action in the face of public anger (e.g., over a devastating accident, the failure to regulate products or services adequately, or the siting of a controversial facility)".
Endorsed by many. Look at some testimonials below.
“A great program! I’m walking away with a principled approach to deal with an angry
public.”
Col. Boykin Jordan, Jr., Commander, 55th Communication Group,
U.S. Air Force
“ . . . more than thinking ‘outside the box’. You learn to stand on top of the box.”
Brian Hague, Communications Director,
County of Bergen, NJ
Perhaps then you won't have to worry about being lynched (or at the very least, tarred and feathered) by the angry mob.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Pride Without Prejudice
Well, apparently denial/The Nile is not merely a river in Egypt; it is also a coping mechanism.
Go figure.
Go figure.
Love is a Splendiferous Thing
To love and be loved unconditionally is the penultimate gift, no?
Please don't wait until that person is no more for you to show your love, even if you never say it.
Please don't wait until that person is no more for you to show your love, even if you never say it.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Learning Sans Ego
It was reported at a meeting of the Society for Healthcare Epidemiology of America in San Diego on Saturday that something as simple as balling up your paper gown and stuffing it in your gloves prior to disposal has a 26 - 62% rate of success at reducing hospital acquired infections. This measure has been included as one of three "Positive Deviance approaches that the CDC has found reduced infection rates at hospitals. PD is based on the premise that in any group there are natural problem-solvers".
The innovator: a humble patient escort named Jasper Palmer.
I'm glad to hear that august surgeons, clinicians as well as other hospital staff are willing to learn from Mr Palmer. Many a time people are not willing to learn from those they deem to be beneath them, no matter how egalitarian the society. It is nice to hear that people are serious about the problem of nosocomial infections that they are willing to listen to sensible solutions proposed by someone without a PhD.
Lovely.
The innovator: a humble patient escort named Jasper Palmer.
I'm glad to hear that august surgeons, clinicians as well as other hospital staff are willing to learn from Mr Palmer. Many a time people are not willing to learn from those they deem to be beneath them, no matter how egalitarian the society. It is nice to hear that people are serious about the problem of nosocomial infections that they are willing to listen to sensible solutions proposed by someone without a PhD.
Lovely.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Robbing Peter to Pay Paul ... The Good Version
The economic crunch is hurting pretty much everyone. You can't help but feel your blood boil when you read about how the AIG execs are still getting their bonuses (after screwing up other people's life savings, thank you very much) and the President of the Royal Bank of Scotland keeping his USD 1 million pension (also after screwing up other people's life savings).
And then you read how the doctors at the Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Centre in Boston is giving up part of their pay to help support their departments and stave off lay-offs. It appears that each of the heads of department are willing to contribute $27,000 of their annual salary to the cause. I have no idea whether this would suffice to bolster the financial woes of the hospital, but I think a contribution of $350,000 would make a dent to reduce potential redundancy.
Your faith in human nature is restored.
And then you read how the doctors at the Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Centre in Boston is giving up part of their pay to help support their departments and stave off lay-offs. It appears that each of the heads of department are willing to contribute $27,000 of their annual salary to the cause. I have no idea whether this would suffice to bolster the financial woes of the hospital, but I think a contribution of $350,000 would make a dent to reduce potential redundancy.
Your faith in human nature is restored.
Paging Dr No ...
Huh. Apparently in Sweden even convicted murderers can be accepted into medical school. I guess the 6 and a half years in prison gave him plenty of time to study and get awesome enough grades to get in.
But seriously, wouldn't you worry if your physician is a convicted felon? So he's smart, brilliant etc etc, but if he has race issues and you are definitely too coloured for his taste? A bit iffy, no? Vetting for entrance into medical school has always been a hotly debated issue, ranging from scholastic performance to extra curricular activities and even mental and psychological aptitude for the work. I guess now the Swedes will have to include query of legal issues in the application forms. In Malaysia, if you were ever in trouble with the law (say, you used to boost cars in your misspent youth or was busted during a nightclub raid), you can kiss your university entrance goodbye, much less the august medical schools.
So what makes good doctors? How do we make sure that the ones with the right stuff to become good doctors are given the chance to get into medical school? Should we allow a brilliant Nazi sympathiser (and every other colour of this sort) to get in because of his/her scholastic excellence?
*rubs chin thoughtfully*
But seriously, wouldn't you worry if your physician is a convicted felon? So he's smart, brilliant etc etc, but if he has race issues and you are definitely too coloured for his taste? A bit iffy, no? Vetting for entrance into medical school has always been a hotly debated issue, ranging from scholastic performance to extra curricular activities and even mental and psychological aptitude for the work. I guess now the Swedes will have to include query of legal issues in the application forms. In Malaysia, if you were ever in trouble with the law (say, you used to boost cars in your misspent youth or was busted during a nightclub raid), you can kiss your university entrance goodbye, much less the august medical schools.
So what makes good doctors? How do we make sure that the ones with the right stuff to become good doctors are given the chance to get into medical school? Should we allow a brilliant Nazi sympathiser (and every other colour of this sort) to get in because of his/her scholastic excellence?
*rubs chin thoughtfully*
Friday, March 20, 2009
Unwitting Participants of a Ponzi Scheme?
Man, I'll bet three months ago you would not know what is a Ponzi scheme. But thanks to Bernard Madoff, we understand that a Ponzi scheme is a "fraudulent investment operation that pays returns to investors from their own money or money paid by subsequent investors rather than from any actual profit earned." (per Wikipedia).
It seems that with the economic downturn afflicting the global economy, a great deal of attention has been placed on issues that previously are never really caught the limelight. One of them is the health insurance issues plaguing the United States. Physicians on the Medscape's Physician Connect have alleged that "commercial, for-profit health insurance is one of the greatest Ponzi schemes ever foisted on the public". As I understand it, patients do not pay directly to the doctors for treatments and prescription, but the insurance will handle it. Dubbed to be consumer driven health care, the American health insurance is a billion dollar industry. What this means? Read here.
I would like to believe that good health care should be the rights of all, especially in the self-dubbed greatest country on Earth. But it does look like the basic economic principle of "those who can afford, gets it; those who can't afford, forget it" is still at play here. Many have hung their hopes that the Obama administration will do their utmost to resolve this issue. I sympathise with the Americans who skimped on drugs that their insurance companies balked to cover or those who can't afford it, as they are the ones who are the greatest hit by the economic downturn and hope that Mr Obama and his crew will manage a miracle on this.
Malaysians should be grateful that they can get decent health care at Government hospitals with minimal payments for treatment and prescription. Even those who work in the private sector is still partially subsidised by the Government even though they pay more than civil servants. Those with diabetes and hypertension who needs long-term medication to control their condition, should they know the true price of the drugs they consume, would be a little more appreciative of the efforts of the Goverment.
Granted there is room for improvement, especially in terms of service delivery and time turnovers, but at the very least, you do get treated. Unless of course, if you decide to trust the medium/bomoh/tok dukun who promised you the cures of all ailments from cancer to baldness. Then, by all means, go to them. Let other people benefit from the Government hospitals.
It seems that with the economic downturn afflicting the global economy, a great deal of attention has been placed on issues that previously are never really caught the limelight. One of them is the health insurance issues plaguing the United States. Physicians on the Medscape's Physician Connect have alleged that "commercial, for-profit health insurance is one of the greatest Ponzi schemes ever foisted on the public". As I understand it, patients do not pay directly to the doctors for treatments and prescription, but the insurance will handle it. Dubbed to be consumer driven health care, the American health insurance is a billion dollar industry. What this means? Read here.
I would like to believe that good health care should be the rights of all, especially in the self-dubbed greatest country on Earth. But it does look like the basic economic principle of "those who can afford, gets it; those who can't afford, forget it" is still at play here. Many have hung their hopes that the Obama administration will do their utmost to resolve this issue. I sympathise with the Americans who skimped on drugs that their insurance companies balked to cover or those who can't afford it, as they are the ones who are the greatest hit by the economic downturn and hope that Mr Obama and his crew will manage a miracle on this.
Malaysians should be grateful that they can get decent health care at Government hospitals with minimal payments for treatment and prescription. Even those who work in the private sector is still partially subsidised by the Government even though they pay more than civil servants. Those with diabetes and hypertension who needs long-term medication to control their condition, should they know the true price of the drugs they consume, would be a little more appreciative of the efforts of the Goverment.
Granted there is room for improvement, especially in terms of service delivery and time turnovers, but at the very least, you do get treated. Unless of course, if you decide to trust the medium/bomoh/tok dukun who promised you the cures of all ailments from cancer to baldness. Then, by all means, go to them. Let other people benefit from the Government hospitals.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Waking Up on the Wrong Side of the Bed
On days when you feel like this, do you ...
a. Snap everybody's head off.
b. Go about in a daze for the rest of the day.
c. Give your best zombie impression when your boss asked about the project.
d. Give the finger to the world and go back to sleep.
e. None of the above.
*ponders*
Friday, March 13, 2009
Alcohol is Not a Universal Sanitiser
I'm sure you've heard of people who said that alcohol will kill all the germs in your food. You won't get gastritis if you ate contaminated food and chase it down with hooch?
HAH.
Not happening. Note here that the Clostridium botulinum had happily gone forth to multiply and produce the toxin that made those inmates sick. Not quite the usual application of botox, no?
HAH.
Not happening. Note here that the Clostridium botulinum had happily gone forth to multiply and produce the toxin that made those inmates sick. Not quite the usual application of botox, no?
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Everybody Dance Now!
I love the idea of dancing. I love it so much that I took ballet classes for seven years. Not that I was any good; I am too lazy and too afraid of pain to make a proper commitment to dance. But I love to move to music, even if the movements are unpolished and uncoordinated. After all, I'm not earning a living from it am I? (Thank God.) My odd forays into the clubbing scene cemented this love; I just never got into it much due to practical reasons. Oh yeah. And also I am afraid of losing my hearing.
Children have an innate sense of rhythm and feels free to enjoy their exuberance of music, but we bred the enjoyment of dance out of them, especially the boys. Young males are brought up with the idea that dancing is for poofters and that it is unmanly. WRONG. Being a dancer is harder than being an athlete; you have daily training and conditioning, more punishing than many athletic regiment. Male dancers often lift weights; their movements require a great deal of strength. I love watching men dance; the symphony of their body and the beauty that they can express because of their strength is marvelous to behold.
Who could watch the old Fred Astaire movies and not wish that they could move like him?
I saw this on anniehow's LJ. She is right in how rewatching the video just kept the smile on her face. I think we were all born to dance. As we grow older, we grow more inhibited; we are scared of expressing ourselves with our body. We are too afraid of being thought foolish, we are too self-conscious of how other people perceive us. Watch this and see how delicious dancing can be, even if you are a stiff-kneed seventy year old.
Don't that look like fun? Next time you find your feet tapping to some beat, let your body flow along with the music. Who cares if you look like a reject from Dancing with the Stars? Just enjoy the endorphins.
Children have an innate sense of rhythm and feels free to enjoy their exuberance of music, but we bred the enjoyment of dance out of them, especially the boys. Young males are brought up with the idea that dancing is for poofters and that it is unmanly. WRONG. Being a dancer is harder than being an athlete; you have daily training and conditioning, more punishing than many athletic regiment. Male dancers often lift weights; their movements require a great deal of strength. I love watching men dance; the symphony of their body and the beauty that they can express because of their strength is marvelous to behold.
Who could watch the old Fred Astaire movies and not wish that they could move like him?
I saw this on anniehow's LJ. She is right in how rewatching the video just kept the smile on her face. I think we were all born to dance. As we grow older, we grow more inhibited; we are scared of expressing ourselves with our body. We are too afraid of being thought foolish, we are too self-conscious of how other people perceive us. Watch this and see how delicious dancing can be, even if you are a stiff-kneed seventy year old.
Don't that look like fun? Next time you find your feet tapping to some beat, let your body flow along with the music. Who cares if you look like a reject from Dancing with the Stars? Just enjoy the endorphins.
Monday, March 9, 2009
A Little Less Conversation
Tagged by Sweet Eve. Hee!
The rules:
1. Put your music on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!
4. NO CHEATING! (yeah, right)
5. Tag others (only if you wanna)
IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY” YOU SAY?
Help Me I'm Falling in Love (Again) (kd lang)
WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Make it Mine (Jason Mraz) ..... Covetous we are, precious ....
HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Run Baby Run (Sheryl Crow) ..... the hell? my ankle hurts!
WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Never Miss a Beat (Kaiser Chief) ..... Well, since it is the anthem of every ignorant git of an adolescent boy ... yeah. This is right.
WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?
Your Body is a Wonderland (John Mayer) .....Oh yez...
WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
A Pain that I'm Used To (Depeche Mode) ..... Gee, and I thought we're pals ...
WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Bad Case of Loving You (Doctor, Doctor) (Robert Palmer) ..... Will it never be out of my mind? *snerk*
WHAT IS 2+2?
Time is On My Side (Rolling Stones) ... I flunked add maths, though I adore Numb3rs.
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
I'll Remember (Madonna) ..... Will store all our shananigans together, yup ...
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Take a Bow (Madonna)
WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Carbon (Tori Amos) ..... Need to plant a tree to offset ... or maybe a forest.
WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Addicted to Love (Robert Palmer) ..... Yez! Wants ...
WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Paint it Black (Rolling Stone) ..... and then eat, drink and be merry ...
WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Dreams (Fleetwood Mac) ..... kinda bittersweet, no?
WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
3.45 No Sleep (The Cardigans) ..... Your snoring ... *smirks*
WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
You'll See (Madonna) ..... You know what it is ...
WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Jesus Doesn't Love Me Anymore (Dragonette) ..... how appropriate...
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
All I Wanna Do (Sheryl Crow) .....Yez! Let's go! *wink wink*
WHAT’S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
Sweet Sangria (Tori Amos) .....the need to drown one's sorrow...
WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
Your Cloud (Tori Amos) ..... this song really does... sweet and a little melancholic ...
WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Don't Stop Me Now (Queen) ..... belting this out with Freddy at 100 km an hour ...
WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
And I Love Her (The Beatles) ... that I should be omnivorous?
HOW WILL YOU DIE?
Pour Some Sugar On Me (Def Leppard) ..... what a way to go!...
WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon (Urge Overkill) ..... Hee! you tell me ...
WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Scarlet's Walk (Tori Amos) .....pretty true considering the path I tread ...
DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
Landslide (Fleetwood Mac) .. uh ...
WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
A Place Called Home (Kim Richey) ..... the fear of hurting the nearest and dearest to me ...
IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
Heads Will Roll (Marion Raven) ..... ver royal like, what?...
WHAT WOULD YOU SAY, WHEN YOU MEET YOUR BOSS?
I'm Going Slightly Mad (Queen) ..... Literally.
WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
A Little Less Conversation (Elvis Presley) .. it's all about the aurgasm, baby!
The rules:
1. Put your music on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!
4. NO CHEATING! (yeah, right)
5. Tag others (only if you wanna)
IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY” YOU SAY?
Help Me I'm Falling in Love (Again) (kd lang)
WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Make it Mine (Jason Mraz) ..... Covetous we are, precious ....
HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Run Baby Run (Sheryl Crow) ..... the hell? my ankle hurts!
WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Never Miss a Beat (Kaiser Chief) ..... Well, since it is the anthem of every ignorant git of an adolescent boy ... yeah. This is right.
WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?
Your Body is a Wonderland (John Mayer) .....Oh yez...
WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
A Pain that I'm Used To (Depeche Mode) ..... Gee, and I thought we're pals ...
WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Bad Case of Loving You (Doctor, Doctor) (Robert Palmer) ..... Will it never be out of my mind? *snerk*
WHAT IS 2+2?
Time is On My Side (Rolling Stones) ... I flunked add maths, though I adore Numb3rs.
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
I'll Remember (Madonna) ..... Will store all our shananigans together, yup ...
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Take a Bow (Madonna)
WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Carbon (Tori Amos) ..... Need to plant a tree to offset ... or maybe a forest.
WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Addicted to Love (Robert Palmer) ..... Yez! Wants ...
WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Paint it Black (Rolling Stone) ..... and then eat, drink and be merry ...
WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Dreams (Fleetwood Mac) ..... kinda bittersweet, no?
WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
3.45 No Sleep (The Cardigans) ..... Your snoring ... *smirks*
WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
You'll See (Madonna) ..... You know what it is ...
WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Jesus Doesn't Love Me Anymore (Dragonette) ..... how appropriate...
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
All I Wanna Do (Sheryl Crow) .....Yez! Let's go! *wink wink*
WHAT’S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
Sweet Sangria (Tori Amos) .....the need to drown one's sorrow...
WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
Your Cloud (Tori Amos) ..... this song really does... sweet and a little melancholic ...
WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Don't Stop Me Now (Queen) ..... belting this out with Freddy at 100 km an hour ...
WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
And I Love Her (The Beatles) ... that I should be omnivorous?
HOW WILL YOU DIE?
Pour Some Sugar On Me (Def Leppard) ..... what a way to go!...
WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon (Urge Overkill) ..... Hee! you tell me ...
WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Scarlet's Walk (Tori Amos) .....pretty true considering the path I tread ...
DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
Landslide (Fleetwood Mac) .. uh ...
WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
A Place Called Home (Kim Richey) ..... the fear of hurting the nearest and dearest to me ...
IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
Heads Will Roll (Marion Raven) ..... ver royal like, what?...
WHAT WOULD YOU SAY, WHEN YOU MEET YOUR BOSS?
I'm Going Slightly Mad (Queen) ..... Literally.
WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
A Little Less Conversation (Elvis Presley) .. it's all about the aurgasm, baby!
Eggs for Sale?
Women are oftentimes the first and hardest hit during economic downturns. They can act as the barometer of financial weather: look for numbers of women getting the pink slip and pay cuts. Believe it or not, there are still employers who do so with the draconian idea that women always have a man to look after them; hence, it is okay to lay off the female workers first.
However, for many single parent households, it is the women who are the sole breadwinners. Married women contribute to the financial health of their family. Often times, you hear daughters setting aside money for their parents, but quite often you hear that sons do not do the same: they have their own nuclear family to support and cannot afford to do so.
There are reports that in this time of economic crisis, women are resorting to selling parts of their body. No, not the oldest profession (although motherhood is the oldest job, and to this day, still no hazard pay, pension or days off), but selling their eggs. Egg harvesting is risky, painful and financially rewarding. A sperm donation is worth only USD 60 at fertility clinics, but eggs can fetch up to USD 10,000. Many young college women have been lured with the promise of paying back student loans with something that their body discard monthly anyway. They put not just their future fertility on the table, but also their health and life. Stimulating ovulation puts undue stress on the body and the long term effect is not known, as the practice of egg donation started as recent as 14 years ago.
But seriously, what a tempting offer.
However, for many single parent households, it is the women who are the sole breadwinners. Married women contribute to the financial health of their family. Often times, you hear daughters setting aside money for their parents, but quite often you hear that sons do not do the same: they have their own nuclear family to support and cannot afford to do so.
There are reports that in this time of economic crisis, women are resorting to selling parts of their body. No, not the oldest profession (although motherhood is the oldest job, and to this day, still no hazard pay, pension or days off), but selling their eggs. Egg harvesting is risky, painful and financially rewarding. A sperm donation is worth only USD 60 at fertility clinics, but eggs can fetch up to USD 10,000. Many young college women have been lured with the promise of paying back student loans with something that their body discard monthly anyway. They put not just their future fertility on the table, but also their health and life. Stimulating ovulation puts undue stress on the body and the long term effect is not known, as the practice of egg donation started as recent as 14 years ago.
But seriously, what a tempting offer.
Can We Afford to be Moral?
In times of painful economy, it appears that ethics is about to take a flying leap out the window. In New Zealand, at least.
Oh, boy.
Oh, boy.
Are You Lonesome Tonight?
If you are a Net addict (or someone who spends roughly 1/3 of his/her waking hours online), I'll bet you never said or even thought that you are lonely. After all, you are not: you have over a zillion friends on Facebook, people leave you messages on your wall, leave gifts, send music etc.
For some people, admitting loneliness is akin to telling your Boss that you're schizophrenic. It is something terrible and embarrassing. There has to be something wrong with you if you are lonely: don't you know how to make friends? What happened to the best mates in uni/school/last hell hole (aka workplace) that you were so tight with? And if you are not married, then it's your fault for being lonely; so choosy one lah ... and so on.
The thing is, you can have people leaving messages on your Facebook wall every day and be lonely. You could lie in bed with the love of your life (or so you thought when you married him/her) and ache with loneliness. You can work in an environment filled with people who talk to you and still be miserably alone.
Is it a state of mind or a state of being? Can one grimly resolve to not be lonely and fill one's life with activities and people? Does that work? Or do you accept that it is your fate, down all the painkiller in your medicine cabinet and slit your wrist for good measure?
Apparently, loneliness is not something you can pooh-pooh at and sweep under the carpet. It affects you,: body, mind and soul. This article definitely makes you contemplate your state of aloneness.
But like Sartre (I think) said, "Hell is other people."
*snerk*
For some people, admitting loneliness is akin to telling your Boss that you're schizophrenic. It is something terrible and embarrassing. There has to be something wrong with you if you are lonely: don't you know how to make friends? What happened to the best mates in uni/school/last hell hole (aka workplace) that you were so tight with? And if you are not married, then it's your fault for being lonely; so choosy one lah ... and so on.
The thing is, you can have people leaving messages on your Facebook wall every day and be lonely. You could lie in bed with the love of your life (or so you thought when you married him/her) and ache with loneliness. You can work in an environment filled with people who talk to you and still be miserably alone.
Is it a state of mind or a state of being? Can one grimly resolve to not be lonely and fill one's life with activities and people? Does that work? Or do you accept that it is your fate, down all the painkiller in your medicine cabinet and slit your wrist for good measure?
Apparently, loneliness is not something you can pooh-pooh at and sweep under the carpet. It affects you,: body, mind and soul. This article definitely makes you contemplate your state of aloneness.
But like Sartre (I think) said, "Hell is other people."
*snerk*
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
My Body is a Wonderland? Yes.
When you look in the mirror, do you like what you see? Or, like me, you take off your glasses and smile mistily at the fuzzy figure before you? A great deal of our self esteem is tied up with our body; say what you will about building personality and a fine crafted mind, we would all trade our Einstein-like genius for satiny smooth skin and trimmer waistline.
But should our hang ups of our body get in the way of our enjoyment of it? I say, NO. We are fed with airbrushed images daily of what we should look like. We are made to be unnecessarily critical of our physical self, that we are not good enough if we don't look like a fifteen year-old nymph/youth. We forget to enjoy our health and grace because we are too busy whining over what we think is wrong with ourselves.
The hell with all of that. Celebrate your senses. Stroke your skin and feel how delicious it is. Your limbs so well-shaped to support you and for you to enjoy your world. Taste. Listen. Observe. Reclaim your sexuality. What ever shape or colour you are, you have every right to enjoy the feast that is your senses.
So go forth, reach out and touch somebody.
But should our hang ups of our body get in the way of our enjoyment of it? I say, NO. We are fed with airbrushed images daily of what we should look like. We are made to be unnecessarily critical of our physical self, that we are not good enough if we don't look like a fifteen year-old nymph/youth. We forget to enjoy our health and grace because we are too busy whining over what we think is wrong with ourselves.
The hell with all of that. Celebrate your senses. Stroke your skin and feel how delicious it is. Your limbs so well-shaped to support you and for you to enjoy your world. Taste. Listen. Observe. Reclaim your sexuality. What ever shape or colour you are, you have every right to enjoy the feast that is your senses.
So go forth, reach out and touch somebody.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
A Nail that Sticks Out, Gets Hammered
I remembered that quote from Tokyo Drift, the 3rd of the Fast & Furious franchise that launched Vin Diesel into the stratosphere of stardom. The father of the protagonist quoted the Japanese saying in hopes of getting his son to keep his head down, nose clean and no getting into trouble.
But what if keeping to ourselves means smothering our conscience to the expense of our health; physical, mental and emotional? I posted earlier on how nurses have one of the most stressful and dangerous job; it seems here that it does appear as though there is no way for a nurse to win.
A job should be one that not only helps pay your bills, but also fulfills something inside so that it becomes an ibadah (i.e. a way to serve God). But when you have to decide between your professional health and voicing out your concerns, it is really tough indeed. How often do you find yourself swallowing your view points that is for the benefit of your clients/patients/students/etc because you are afraid that the upper echelons will fall on you like the proverbial tonne of bricks?
Perhaps it is better to balik kampung dan tanam jagung*.
*return to the hometown/village and plant maize
But what if keeping to ourselves means smothering our conscience to the expense of our health; physical, mental and emotional? I posted earlier on how nurses have one of the most stressful and dangerous job; it seems here that it does appear as though there is no way for a nurse to win.
A job should be one that not only helps pay your bills, but also fulfills something inside so that it becomes an ibadah (i.e. a way to serve God). But when you have to decide between your professional health and voicing out your concerns, it is really tough indeed. How often do you find yourself swallowing your view points that is for the benefit of your clients/patients/students/etc because you are afraid that the upper echelons will fall on you like the proverbial tonne of bricks?
Perhaps it is better to balik kampung dan tanam jagung*.
*return to the hometown/village and plant maize
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Your Body is a Wonderland
I love that song. About the only John Myer song that I could listen to with any kind of regularity; sweet without being cloying, cajoling and worshipful with a dash of wonderment thrown in.
Your body is a temple; worship it. We all know that. Eat properly, get enough sleep, drink plenty of water, exercise etc. How many of us actually do all that? Well, certainly I don't join that rank of the population. Those who can afford it take short cuts via plastic surgery. A little nip here, a tuck there and voila! You're a new person.
It's easy to snicker about people who chose this route. But take a look at the clip from Nip/Tuck below. I guess the grey areas are larger than I thought.
What think you now?
Your body is a temple; worship it. We all know that. Eat properly, get enough sleep, drink plenty of water, exercise etc. How many of us actually do all that? Well, certainly I don't join that rank of the population. Those who can afford it take short cuts via plastic surgery. A little nip here, a tuck there and voila! You're a new person.
It's easy to snicker about people who chose this route. But take a look at the clip from Nip/Tuck below. I guess the grey areas are larger than I thought.
What think you now?
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Marcus Welby vs House MD
When my dad had colon cancer, he said that he wanted to have a doctor like Dr Gregory House; someone who will solve the puzzle of the disease no matter what it takes. My dad was pretty all right with House's brand of caustic acerbicism, and felt that his manic competency will outweigh any and every personality drawbacks that he have. What he got was a surgeon who was brutally honest about the treatment options and is kick ass to boot. So that was cool.
For all that Dr House saves the day (for the most part), when we are sick we don't want someone who mocks us about the poor choices we made that hurts our health or someone who runs rough-shod over our feelings. We want someone who listens and give us the advice we need with no judgment whatsoever. I am sure that all of us have had experiences with medical professionals who treat us with disrespect, annoyingly condescending and out-and-out uncaring about our pain. However, this article gave me hope that there are still doctors out there who still give their all to their calling and made their patients' life a little better all around. However, questions have been raised on whether this personal touch is impairing their judgment and affects their professional conduct adversely. Even the American Medical Association's Principle of Medical Ethics demur on treating family and friends.
Well, it should be up to the physician to decide on the lines to be drawn and crossed when it comes to arranging his/her personal and professional life, isn't it? And let's hope the ones whom we have to deal with does this in a way that makes our doctor's visit nothing like having a toe nail removed.
For all that Dr House saves the day (for the most part), when we are sick we don't want someone who mocks us about the poor choices we made that hurts our health or someone who runs rough-shod over our feelings. We want someone who listens and give us the advice we need with no judgment whatsoever. I am sure that all of us have had experiences with medical professionals who treat us with disrespect, annoyingly condescending and out-and-out uncaring about our pain. However, this article gave me hope that there are still doctors out there who still give their all to their calling and made their patients' life a little better all around. However, questions have been raised on whether this personal touch is impairing their judgment and affects their professional conduct adversely. Even the American Medical Association's Principle of Medical Ethics demur on treating family and friends.
Well, it should be up to the physician to decide on the lines to be drawn and crossed when it comes to arranging his/her personal and professional life, isn't it? And let's hope the ones whom we have to deal with does this in a way that makes our doctor's visit nothing like having a toe nail removed.
The Dadiator
Man, you gotta take your hat off to this guy. Having seven kids in the space of five years is one thing, but making them work into not giving into the middle age spread? Whew.
Wonder if my niece would mine being part of my exercise equipment.
Wonder if my niece would mine being part of my exercise equipment.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Things That You Never Really Think About
Sex is something that titillates people the world over. Rarely is a subject that is widely alluded to but rarely spoken frankly of as sex. It is also something that people take for granted; which is why discussion of disability and sex is rarely forthcoming. Disability and sex can be pretty wide ranging, in my humble opinion; and should include issues such as erectile dysfunction.
This article discusses an aspect of a form of disability and sex in a very candid and humourous, yet sensible manner. Take a look. You know you want to.
This article discusses an aspect of a form of disability and sex in a very candid and humourous, yet sensible manner. Take a look. You know you want to.
Malaria Destructo: Anti Retroviral Drug Goes Mediaeval on Plasmodium's @ss
Snagged from Medscape. Hoo wee! Good news in the face of rising resistance to artermisinin-based chemotherapy.
NEW YORK (Reuters Health) Jan 22 - Protease inhibitors, already valued in treating HIV infection and under investigation as anti-protozoals and anti-cancer agents, now demonstrate new potential as anti-malaria drugs.
A laboratory study by U.S. researchers has shown for the first time that HIV protease inhibitors inhibited the development of preerythrocytic-stage plasmodium parasites. Lopinavir and saquinavir separately had this effect in vitro, and the combination of lopinavir and ritonavir had this effect in mice. The study was published in the January 1 issue of The Journal of Infectious Diseases.
These data are important, "as there is currently no clinically available drug that has an effect on the liver stages in the way that we have demonstrated HIV protease inhibitors have an effect," Dr. Charlotte V. Hobbs of New York University School of Medicine told Reuters Health. "HIV proteases inhibitors are unique in their demonstrated ability to inhibit parasite development in the liver stages, at which point the parasite is initially present in much lower numbers."
Since 2004, published research has shown that HIV protease inhibitors can be effective against plasmodium in the erythrocytic stages of the protozoan's life cycle.
The current researchers found that saquinavir and lopinavir inhibited the development of Plasmodium berghei exo-erythrocytic forms in vitro, but that atazanavir, amprenavir and nelfinavir did not.
In the in vivo part of the study, which used P. yoelii, lopinavir/ritonavir exerted a dose-dependent effect in reducing the burden of liver-stage parasites in mice, while saquinavir alone had no effect, even at high doses.
Dr. Hobbs told Reuters Health that although theories have been proposed, no one knows the exact mechanism by which HIV protease inhibitors affect malaria parasites. "If one could elucidate this mechanism," she said, "one could perhaps develop a further class of antimalarial drugs based on the chemical structure of an HIV protease inhibitor.
J Infect Dis 2009;199:134-141.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Reading is Good for You. Really.
Huh. That you would impart subliminal messages of healthy self esteem and good life habits in a young adult fiction novel.
How ... novel.
Not.
But hey, so long as the kids get the idea that life isn't merely a popularity contest, why should it be a problem? Interesting ...
How ... novel.
Not.
But hey, so long as the kids get the idea that life isn't merely a popularity contest, why should it be a problem? Interesting ...
Year of Science 2009
In celebration Charles Darwin's 2nd centennial bash, more than 150 scientific organisations (predominantly in the United States) had declared 2009 as the Year of Science. So here is the website, hosted by the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory.
Go look. Explore. Enjoy.
Go look. Explore. Enjoy.
Living with a Lab Rat
As I dip my toes into looking at human subjects, it became clearer to me how hard it is to recruit subjects who not only fits the criteria you wish, but also those who would agree to be poked/prodded/electrocuted etc.
I got the link to this article in NYTimes from The Scientist' Community and when I started reading, I thought, "Hey, why not?" My cousin who was working on juvenile immune response recruited her nieces and nephews for her study. She bribed them to agreeing to come with her to the hospital to have their blood drawn. To date, there don't seem to be any kind of negative effect from their participation in her Master's project.
In general, children have an innate desire to please the adults in their life; be it a parental figure or any other caretaker. Is their consent for the study something taken for granted or is easily waived away because their parent(s) signed the parental consent form? What happens when they grew up and decided that they were not happy with having participated in the study and wishes for the data to be withdrawn? That is something that have been seen in adult participants who withdrew from studies.
I wonder if any of the children who participated in their parent(s)' studies have ever said something along the lines of, "Hey, my data helped you get that professorship. How about springing a car/Playstation/new dress etc for me?"
*ponders*
I got the link to this article in NYTimes from The Scientist' Community and when I started reading, I thought, "Hey, why not?" My cousin who was working on juvenile immune response recruited her nieces and nephews for her study. She bribed them to agreeing to come with her to the hospital to have their blood drawn. To date, there don't seem to be any kind of negative effect from their participation in her Master's project.
In general, children have an innate desire to please the adults in their life; be it a parental figure or any other caretaker. Is their consent for the study something taken for granted or is easily waived away because their parent(s) signed the parental consent form? What happens when they grew up and decided that they were not happy with having participated in the study and wishes for the data to be withdrawn? That is something that have been seen in adult participants who withdrew from studies.
I wonder if any of the children who participated in their parent(s)' studies have ever said something along the lines of, "Hey, my data helped you get that professorship. How about springing a car/Playstation/new dress etc for me?"
*ponders*
Friday, January 30, 2009
Mourning My National Museum
I had read in the Utusan Malaysia today on the plan to bring the Mona Lisa to be exhibited at the National Art Gallery. How exciting! Although I am pretty darn far from the artsy-fartsy lover, I am of the school of knowing-what-I-like-and-appreciating-it when it comes to art. I enjoyed immensely my few visits to the National Art Gallery to look at the Lat retrospective exhibition and the Tun Dr Mahathir photography commemoration. There were other stuff there which were pretty nice and I loved the Mobius strip-like central staircase of the gallery. However, I will admit to not enjoying the 3D sculptures: if I can't identify immediately what it is, I'm not interested.
I must say that the National Art Gallery is very well organised and planned to enhance the contribution of the arts to the collective national agenda. Granted they don't appear to publicise their doings loudly enough, but my visits showed that the exhibits are well-presented and current by changing the exhibit themes. This brought to mind the sad state of the National Museum.
The last international level exhibition to be found at the museum was I think in 1994: the Beauty Through Suffering exhibition. It was mostly a collection of photographs and artifacts showcasing the various methods and instruments used in the pursuit of beauty from the world over. Every continent was presented in colour and gore. The African scarification, the South American porcupine needle piercing to name a few (not to mention insane plastic surgeries of the West). It was a fantastic exhibition and you walk away with something new and thoughts to ponder.
When you speak of the heydays of the National Museum, you must recall the fantastical Khazanah dari Kubur or Treasures from the Grave exhibition in 1991. It was astounding. Funerary artifacts from the world over was gathered at the National Museum: from shrunken heads, to mummified remains from South America to the glorious golden sarcophagus of Tutankhamun. The entire exhibited smelled of earth, suspended decay and rot, but that did not deter visitors from gazing in awe at how inventive man has been in honouring and processing the dead. They even extended the showcase due to the tremendous response not just from Malaysian citizens but also from foreign visitors.
These glorious past can be laid down to the doors of Dato' Shahrum Yob, the then-curator of the National Museum. He braved lambasting from religious leaders and cynical detractors to bring history to life in the museum. His exhibitions were often innovative, well-designed and comprehensively researched with an artistic eye for presentation. He did not only look abroad for inspiration of his exhibits, but also at the local flavours; quite literally when he had the durian exhibition in the 1980s. I remember a cartoon by Lat of this momentous occasion of him eating durian with the ministers outside the museum, impeccably clad in a well-cut suit and an immaculately knotted bow tie.
I met him once at the University Malaya library and I bitterly regretted not having anything on me for him to autograph (I doubt the librarian would let me keep the book I had on me for momento sake). His tall and lean body was as immaculately dressed as his Lat caricature, and he spoke carefully and courteously in his well-modulated voice (I seem to use the word well a lot in relation to Dato' Shahrum). His Malay bore traces of his youth in Perak, the cadence and words so familiar to me as those from my father's lips. Ah, Dato' Shahrum, how I missed your curatorship.
My last visit to the National Museum was to the Misteri Alam Ghaib exhibition. It was touted to be an exploration of the mystical supernatural beliefs of South East Asia. I didn't have high expectations of it but my God what a horrific disappointment. The exhibit looked as though it was researched and constructed by a team of school children (which is an insult to all school-going children, mea culpa). The highlight of the exhibition was this tiny bottle said to contain a jenglot and a hantu galah sculpture. You walk through the exhibit in less than 10 minutes: there was nothing of note to see. The research was one-dimensional and shoddy; something amazing considering the richness of mystical lore of the region. There was so much more that they could have done: include the books and films done in horror genre produced in the country for example (e.g. Sumpah Pontianak, Sumpah Orang Minyak, Pontianak Harum Sundal Malam, etc.), use a different approach to present the material, include more details and so on. But what can you expect when from the museum when the Ming vase exhibition artifact was labelled thus,"Mangkuk. Biru. China" (i.e Bowl, Blue, China).
YOU ARE THE FREAKIN' NATIONAL MUSEUM!!!!!
*tears out hair by clumps*
The very least you can do is include the dating of the specimen and the region it was found, for the love of God. If you are not colour blind, you can see that it IS A BOWL THAT IS BLUE IN COLOUR. When I saw that label I was nearly tearful with rage: how could you prepare an exhibition with such hideous labelling at THE FREAKIN' NATIONAL MUSEUM!!!!!
*expletives deleted*
Sigh. I should look up the curator and write him a letter, no?
*facepalm*
I must say that the National Art Gallery is very well organised and planned to enhance the contribution of the arts to the collective national agenda. Granted they don't appear to publicise their doings loudly enough, but my visits showed that the exhibits are well-presented and current by changing the exhibit themes. This brought to mind the sad state of the National Museum.
The last international level exhibition to be found at the museum was I think in 1994: the Beauty Through Suffering exhibition. It was mostly a collection of photographs and artifacts showcasing the various methods and instruments used in the pursuit of beauty from the world over. Every continent was presented in colour and gore. The African scarification, the South American porcupine needle piercing to name a few (not to mention insane plastic surgeries of the West). It was a fantastic exhibition and you walk away with something new and thoughts to ponder.
When you speak of the heydays of the National Museum, you must recall the fantastical Khazanah dari Kubur or Treasures from the Grave exhibition in 1991. It was astounding. Funerary artifacts from the world over was gathered at the National Museum: from shrunken heads, to mummified remains from South America to the glorious golden sarcophagus of Tutankhamun. The entire exhibited smelled of earth, suspended decay and rot, but that did not deter visitors from gazing in awe at how inventive man has been in honouring and processing the dead. They even extended the showcase due to the tremendous response not just from Malaysian citizens but also from foreign visitors.
These glorious past can be laid down to the doors of Dato' Shahrum Yob, the then-curator of the National Museum. He braved lambasting from religious leaders and cynical detractors to bring history to life in the museum. His exhibitions were often innovative, well-designed and comprehensively researched with an artistic eye for presentation. He did not only look abroad for inspiration of his exhibits, but also at the local flavours; quite literally when he had the durian exhibition in the 1980s. I remember a cartoon by Lat of this momentous occasion of him eating durian with the ministers outside the museum, impeccably clad in a well-cut suit and an immaculately knotted bow tie.
I met him once at the University Malaya library and I bitterly regretted not having anything on me for him to autograph (I doubt the librarian would let me keep the book I had on me for momento sake). His tall and lean body was as immaculately dressed as his Lat caricature, and he spoke carefully and courteously in his well-modulated voice (I seem to use the word well a lot in relation to Dato' Shahrum). His Malay bore traces of his youth in Perak, the cadence and words so familiar to me as those from my father's lips. Ah, Dato' Shahrum, how I missed your curatorship.
My last visit to the National Museum was to the Misteri Alam Ghaib exhibition. It was touted to be an exploration of the mystical supernatural beliefs of South East Asia. I didn't have high expectations of it but my God what a horrific disappointment. The exhibit looked as though it was researched and constructed by a team of school children (which is an insult to all school-going children, mea culpa). The highlight of the exhibition was this tiny bottle said to contain a jenglot and a hantu galah sculpture. You walk through the exhibit in less than 10 minutes: there was nothing of note to see. The research was one-dimensional and shoddy; something amazing considering the richness of mystical lore of the region. There was so much more that they could have done: include the books and films done in horror genre produced in the country for example (e.g. Sumpah Pontianak, Sumpah Orang Minyak, Pontianak Harum Sundal Malam, etc.), use a different approach to present the material, include more details and so on. But what can you expect when from the museum when the Ming vase exhibition artifact was labelled thus,"Mangkuk. Biru. China" (i.e Bowl, Blue, China).
YOU ARE THE FREAKIN' NATIONAL MUSEUM!!!!!
*tears out hair by clumps*
The very least you can do is include the dating of the specimen and the region it was found, for the love of God. If you are not colour blind, you can see that it IS A BOWL THAT IS BLUE IN COLOUR. When I saw that label I was nearly tearful with rage: how could you prepare an exhibition with such hideous labelling at THE FREAKIN' NATIONAL MUSEUM!!!!!
*expletives deleted*
Sigh. I should look up the curator and write him a letter, no?
*facepalm*
Cock of the Walk
While being driven to work this morning,I confessed to my parents this morning that I have a blog and am actively writing in it. My father's comment?
"Stay away from political and religious issues. You don't know enough about religion to comment on it."
At which point I had to smugly point out that my e-mail to Dr Mohd Asri Zainul Abidin, the ex-mufti of Perlis had been placed in his website as an e-mel pilihan (insert giddy cackle). I continued on to explain that the e-mail was a long(-winded?) commentary on the sad state of the religious education for our young.
I held court in the car to my captive (literally) audience on how no one should blame the sad state of the Malay Muslim youths' moral judgement to the lack of religious education. Seriously, the national religious education curriculum (of which all Muslim children are subject to at all Government schools) is a rigorous one and covers all the basics that a Muslim should know: from aqidah, fardhu ain, sirrah nabawiyah and tauhid. There are even practical classes on how to pray. I remember being scolded by my ustazah for failure to bring the requisite telkung to school for the practical.
So why is it, with the well-crafted religious education curriculum that is taught from Primary One to Form Five, do we still say that our social ills are due to lack of religious education? Is it because our religious teachers adhere to the medieval teaching style whereby all dissent will be awarded with hell? Or the lack of a sensitive and well thought-out approach to inculcating our religious values?
Man, I could go on and on. But I had already arrived at my lab.
"Stay away from political and religious issues. You don't know enough about religion to comment on it."
At which point I had to smugly point out that my e-mail to Dr Mohd Asri Zainul Abidin, the ex-mufti of Perlis had been placed in his website as an e-mel pilihan (insert giddy cackle). I continued on to explain that the e-mail was a long(-winded?) commentary on the sad state of the religious education for our young.
I held court in the car to my captive (literally) audience on how no one should blame the sad state of the Malay Muslim youths' moral judgement to the lack of religious education. Seriously, the national religious education curriculum (of which all Muslim children are subject to at all Government schools) is a rigorous one and covers all the basics that a Muslim should know: from aqidah, fardhu ain, sirrah nabawiyah and tauhid. There are even practical classes on how to pray. I remember being scolded by my ustazah for failure to bring the requisite telkung to school for the practical.
So why is it, with the well-crafted religious education curriculum that is taught from Primary One to Form Five, do we still say that our social ills are due to lack of religious education? Is it because our religious teachers adhere to the medieval teaching style whereby all dissent will be awarded with hell? Or the lack of a sensitive and well thought-out approach to inculcating our religious values?
Man, I could go on and on. But I had already arrived at my lab.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
At the Frontline of Healthcare
If you join the armed forces or the police department, you are expected to be exposed to assaults and other bodily harm in the course of your job. But evidently, nursing is another job whereby not only are you subjected to verbal abuse, you may expect to go home with a broken nose or worse.
Boy, oh boy.
Boy, oh boy.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Standing on the Shoulder of Giants
No one learns in isolation. Even the best philosophers get illuminated by watching and learning the world around them. And when you are a dunce, it is very important to learn from someone who knows. When I came across this link, I nearly wept in gratitude.
For the past few weeks, I've been struggling to re-educate myself with matters of molecular biology and genetics with hopes of making a go of my pharmacogenetics project. As a person who is an audio-visual learner, looking for the right medium to get your wheels going can be a right pain. And isn't it fantastic that the world is populated by kind people who are generous with their knowledge?
Thank you so much Drs. Tyra Wolfsberg, Kris Wetterstrand, Mark Guyer, Francis Collins and Andreas Baxevanis.
*dances with joy at the marvel of the Interwebs*
For the past few weeks, I've been struggling to re-educate myself with matters of molecular biology and genetics with hopes of making a go of my pharmacogenetics project. As a person who is an audio-visual learner, looking for the right medium to get your wheels going can be a right pain. And isn't it fantastic that the world is populated by kind people who are generous with their knowledge?
Thank you so much Drs. Tyra Wolfsberg, Kris Wetterstrand, Mark Guyer, Francis Collins and Andreas Baxevanis.
*dances with joy at the marvel of the Interwebs*
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
An Excuse for Blimping Out?
The Washington Post reported that my decision to take the last brownie on the pan is hardwired into my genes/hormones. Whatever.
*gobbles down the lunch-time lasagna*
*gobbles down the lunch-time lasagna*
Shagging Real Early?
No, not that lunch time nookie you had planned with a naughty lover.
*snerk*
This article in the NYTimes paved the way to debunking the myth of teenage shagdom. In Malaysia, the biggest obstacle to a reasonable sex education is the fear that teenagers, upon learning the "right way" to do "it" will be hell bent for leather for the bedroom Olympics.
Never mind that sex education is also about respecting your body and your partner. Never mind that research shows that young individuals who are armed with knowledge are less likely to engage in risky behaviours. Never mind that simply telling teenagers that premarital sex will send them straight to hell has never worked as method of prevention.
The accessibility of pornography (via Internet and pirated media) means that children are exposed to sex at a much younger age. Relentless exposure leads to desensitisation; sex are no longer taboo and may even be a normal recreational activities. The thing is, when adults are reluctant to be honest to children about something so important, it doesn't mean that children are not keen to experiment.
They do not understand that watching pornography can be akin to watching a superhero movie. There are special effects and that the characters are played by actors who are paid to do certain things according to a specific storyline. The activities perpertrated in pornography may be unhealthy and dangerous. Issues of consent is commonly pushed aside in pornography; in fact, some porn cater to non-consensual acts as a draw. This means that children may not understand that full consent is very important when engaging in sexual activity. That when someone screams "NO!" it really means no. Hence, the increasing number of young people being charged with rape; some of them barely in their teens.
Porn is not the way for them to learn that sex is an expression of emotional intimacy and that it is the best thing that two people who love each other can share. Porn does not tell you that sexual activity is something that should only be shared when the body and mind is mature in tandem. Porn does not tell you what to do when you are pregnant and your boyfriend (of the day, week) disappears. Porn does not tell you that you are responsible for your genetic element and fathering a child should be done responsibly.
Anyone who remembers their teenage years with any kind of clarity recalls what a roiling cauldron of hormones you were then. It was the time of exploring curiosity and what is more curious than this body that is changing daily with all this new sensations? How do you deal with these urges? A lot of people have experienced or heard of boarding school shenanigans (or even day school shenanigans, at that); how did that affect their future sexuality or sex life? How did you process all the information? Who told you what? Was the information correct? I had a classmate in secondary school who claimed that babies come out of their mummy's navel. I also had classmates who frenched same-sex classmates and were making plans to go further (in the interest of being better lovers to the opposite sex).
We should, no, we must, teach our children to treat their body with respect and to educate them to make responsible decisions that will affect their future.
*snerk*
This article in the NYTimes paved the way to debunking the myth of teenage shagdom. In Malaysia, the biggest obstacle to a reasonable sex education is the fear that teenagers, upon learning the "right way" to do "it" will be hell bent for leather for the bedroom Olympics.
Never mind that sex education is also about respecting your body and your partner. Never mind that research shows that young individuals who are armed with knowledge are less likely to engage in risky behaviours. Never mind that simply telling teenagers that premarital sex will send them straight to hell has never worked as method of prevention.
The accessibility of pornography (via Internet and pirated media) means that children are exposed to sex at a much younger age. Relentless exposure leads to desensitisation; sex are no longer taboo and may even be a normal recreational activities. The thing is, when adults are reluctant to be honest to children about something so important, it doesn't mean that children are not keen to experiment.
They do not understand that watching pornography can be akin to watching a superhero movie. There are special effects and that the characters are played by actors who are paid to do certain things according to a specific storyline. The activities perpertrated in pornography may be unhealthy and dangerous. Issues of consent is commonly pushed aside in pornography; in fact, some porn cater to non-consensual acts as a draw. This means that children may not understand that full consent is very important when engaging in sexual activity. That when someone screams "NO!" it really means no. Hence, the increasing number of young people being charged with rape; some of them barely in their teens.
Porn is not the way for them to learn that sex is an expression of emotional intimacy and that it is the best thing that two people who love each other can share. Porn does not tell you that sexual activity is something that should only be shared when the body and mind is mature in tandem. Porn does not tell you what to do when you are pregnant and your boyfriend (of the day, week) disappears. Porn does not tell you that you are responsible for your genetic element and fathering a child should be done responsibly.
Anyone who remembers their teenage years with any kind of clarity recalls what a roiling cauldron of hormones you were then. It was the time of exploring curiosity and what is more curious than this body that is changing daily with all this new sensations? How do you deal with these urges? A lot of people have experienced or heard of boarding school shenanigans (or even day school shenanigans, at that); how did that affect their future sexuality or sex life? How did you process all the information? Who told you what? Was the information correct? I had a classmate in secondary school who claimed that babies come out of their mummy's navel. I also had classmates who frenched same-sex classmates and were making plans to go further (in the interest of being better lovers to the opposite sex).
We should, no, we must, teach our children to treat their body with respect and to educate them to make responsible decisions that will affect their future.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Taking the Joy Out of Watching Mindless Violence
I have always enjoyed action movies; the more gory the mindless violence the better. Explosive stuff aplenty? I'll be there with bells on. You never really think about the gun stances that the actors take and I'll bet a lot of people thought those things can and really do happen.
Chuck Dixon very kindly disabused me of those notions in his post here. Now the next time I watch something with gratuitous gun violence, all these details will pop into my head and take me out of the story.
*facepalm*
Chuck Dixon very kindly disabused me of those notions in his post here. Now the next time I watch something with gratuitous gun violence, all these details will pop into my head and take me out of the story.
*facepalm*
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Gong Xi Fa Cai!
The Chinese lunar new year will be celebrated next Monday (January 26th) the world over.
I am blessed to live in a multi-cultural country where this is another new year that is a national holiday (we celebrate the secular calendar, the Chinese lunar calendar and the Islamic calendar). In my old neighbourhood, we can expect a great deal of noise in the nights preceding the Chinese new year's (CNY) eve and for up to three weeks after with the celebratory fireworks and sparklers. Fireworks and sparklers are actually banned in my country, but the police are rather tolerant of festival firecrackers as long as no one loses a finger (or an eye, or a limb or any part of their body).
With every festival season, all my countrymen look forward to the celebratory advertisement put out by Petronas. I was lucky to have caught it on screen tonight as I was chatting with my parents. All of Petronas' festival advertisement are like micro features; a superbly crafted story executed fluidly in about two minutes. Laden with meaning, beauty and emotion, these advertisements serve to remind us that the most important thing in life is love; be it family, lover or country. If I am not mistaken, all or nearly all of the ads are the handiwork of the incomparable Yasmin Ahmad. She is a film-maker of renown who often deals with subjects such as love and betrayal and compassion for fellow man so passionately and beautifully. Unfortunately, her "unconventional" expressions often lands her in hot water with the national censorship board. Thanks to their overzealousness, our neighbouring Singaporeans get to watch her films much earlier than any of her own countrymen.
This year's CNY ad reminds us how fleet time is and how sorrowful regret can be. The muted tones, the lowered voice ... tres fantastique. The actors are very fine and did a wonderful job at telling the story. The backdrop is Ipoh, with its old world charm and idiosyncratic features.
It is said that the year of the Ox will be a better one than the last. Here's to that!
Yam seng!
I am blessed to live in a multi-cultural country where this is another new year that is a national holiday (we celebrate the secular calendar, the Chinese lunar calendar and the Islamic calendar). In my old neighbourhood, we can expect a great deal of noise in the nights preceding the Chinese new year's (CNY) eve and for up to three weeks after with the celebratory fireworks and sparklers. Fireworks and sparklers are actually banned in my country, but the police are rather tolerant of festival firecrackers as long as no one loses a finger (or an eye, or a limb or any part of their body).
With every festival season, all my countrymen look forward to the celebratory advertisement put out by Petronas. I was lucky to have caught it on screen tonight as I was chatting with my parents. All of Petronas' festival advertisement are like micro features; a superbly crafted story executed fluidly in about two minutes. Laden with meaning, beauty and emotion, these advertisements serve to remind us that the most important thing in life is love; be it family, lover or country. If I am not mistaken, all or nearly all of the ads are the handiwork of the incomparable Yasmin Ahmad. She is a film-maker of renown who often deals with subjects such as love and betrayal and compassion for fellow man so passionately and beautifully. Unfortunately, her "unconventional" expressions often lands her in hot water with the national censorship board. Thanks to their overzealousness, our neighbouring Singaporeans get to watch her films much earlier than any of her own countrymen.
This year's CNY ad reminds us how fleet time is and how sorrowful regret can be. The muted tones, the lowered voice ... tres fantastique. The actors are very fine and did a wonderful job at telling the story. The backdrop is Ipoh, with its old world charm and idiosyncratic features.
It is said that the year of the Ox will be a better one than the last. Here's to that!
Yam seng!
Monday, January 12, 2009
I vote for Hospital X ...
Getting the best of healthcare treatment should be the rights of all individuals. Unfortunately, the healthcare market is skewed to favour those with the more moolah. But is money alone the sole determinant of getting the best treatment when you are dealing with cancer, hypertension, cardiovascular issues etc? How do you know to shop for the best place to get your gall bladder out?
This article in NYTimes indicated that it is important to shop around for the best treatment and that physicians should be ethically obligated to disclose whether or not the institution that they are affiliated with is the best place for the patient to receive the treatment indicated. But when you consider how little interaction the physician wants to have with you, as a patient, it renders this a moot point. Many physicians are still of the old school, paternalistic style: I know what's best for you and you should trust and not question my judgment/recommendation.
I was just glad that when my dad was diagnosed with colon cancer, he agreed to go to a teaching hospital that my mother frequents. Not only is the cost reasonable (hehehe, we cheated on this one as my sister is a government servant and could get massive discounts for the treatment), the surgeon (a scary and uber competent woman) does the operation on a weekly basis and thus, is well-trained for the occasion.
The thing is, many patients are still unable to communicate their needs well with their physician. It is easy to point the finger at the physician for not being better listeners/willing to spend time with the patient etc., but do we, as patients, pay attention to what and how we tell our problems to our doctors?
Point to ponder.
This article in NYTimes indicated that it is important to shop around for the best treatment and that physicians should be ethically obligated to disclose whether or not the institution that they are affiliated with is the best place for the patient to receive the treatment indicated. But when you consider how little interaction the physician wants to have with you, as a patient, it renders this a moot point. Many physicians are still of the old school, paternalistic style: I know what's best for you and you should trust and not question my judgment/recommendation.
I was just glad that when my dad was diagnosed with colon cancer, he agreed to go to a teaching hospital that my mother frequents. Not only is the cost reasonable (hehehe, we cheated on this one as my sister is a government servant and could get massive discounts for the treatment), the surgeon (a scary and uber competent woman) does the operation on a weekly basis and thus, is well-trained for the occasion.
The thing is, many patients are still unable to communicate their needs well with their physician. It is easy to point the finger at the physician for not being better listeners/willing to spend time with the patient etc., but do we, as patients, pay attention to what and how we tell our problems to our doctors?
Point to ponder.
I am my gene, not my ethnicity
This article by Jerry Adler in Newsweek gave me pause. I'm in the middle of constructing a proposal to look at the pharmacogenetics of diabetes in the Malaysian population. One of the parameters that I plan to collect during the course of the investigation is ethnicity (or race, except that race sounds so ... racist.). Living in multicultural Malaysia where you have a box in any given form to indicate your ancestry(Melayu, Cina, India dan lain-lain), identifying yourself as part of an ethnic group is pretty much a way of life.
For those who are of mixed parentage, things can get pretty squeaky. As Asians, you are expected to identify yourself per your father's ethnicity (paternalistic society norms still prevail in the 21st century). But what if your father is a mere sperm donor and you do not want to link yourself to him at all? Or you're a dyed in the wool feminist who believes in aligning yourself with your maternal lineage?
Anyway. A number of the work done in disease genetics in Malaysia do indicate certain patterns that relate to a person's ethnicity. I guess I will not be going all gung-ho about not being "racist" in my project.
*crescents fingers*
For those who are of mixed parentage, things can get pretty squeaky. As Asians, you are expected to identify yourself per your father's ethnicity (paternalistic society norms still prevail in the 21st century). But what if your father is a mere sperm donor and you do not want to link yourself to him at all? Or you're a dyed in the wool feminist who believes in aligning yourself with your maternal lineage?
Anyway. A number of the work done in disease genetics in Malaysia do indicate certain patterns that relate to a person's ethnicity. I guess I will not be going all gung-ho about not being "racist" in my project.
*crescents fingers*
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