Sunday, December 28, 2014

On eternity

I once met a girl with the word “eternity” tattooed on her body. She was young and so I wondered if this was an ironic play on the Asian characters others get tattooed on themselves. She said simply “it’s just eternity; it means a lot to me”. I chuckled to myself in a kind of self-righteous indignation, and also waiting for her to crack and laugh too and tell me it was just a joke. It wasn't.

Eternity? How does eternity mean a lot to a young girl in their twenties? How does it mean a lot to a girl who I've otherwise only ever heard speak of some or another party, of “having fun”, of fashion, of nothing really meaningful. Really? Eternity? Could she even grasp it as a concept of time-space? Has she ever even dedicated time to the thought of infinity as it applies to the universe we live in, the physics of it. Has she contemplated eternity in the spiritual sense? Or is it more like the scribblings of children “Mary + Joe, 4eva”? Forever? Is it like the way “forever” means to some couples who get married, 'until the divorce'? What the hell does she know about eternity?

And then I thought, hey, what the hell do I know about eternity? And, you know what, I’m actually not that much different. To me eternity is like infinity, a concept that surely somehow exists even though you may not be able to explain it. Eternity exists because even after you die, the world around you keeps going. There were people around you and they saw you die, but they keep on living. After they die too, the world keeps going. There are constants in this world that aren't the lives of human beings, because certainly we’re not eternal. What about the afterlife, that has to be eternal, right? No one knows. There’s religious doctrines out there that say that yes, we are eternal because our spirits are eternal and, like energy, merely change form, but aren't destroyed. And still I say, no one knows. The evidence we have is of this physical world and all this says is that once our body dies, it merely decomposes to its components. End of story; no eternity to any part of us except the subparticles and energy that comprises us and everything around us. There’s infinity because of the expansion of the universe, the ongoing increase of entropy, the extremely small and extremely large processes going on in the universe. All of it, not things a lot of us sit and think about regularly. And certainly not the things that young girl meant by “eternity”.

But what do I know about eternity? I’ll tell you what I don’t know that I think this girl does: hope. Eternity is a wish, a desire for things like love and marriage and health and prosperity to last forever (or until the end of our days). I've lost that hope. I've let myself become too marred by experience, too dark and pessimistic. I came to realise that this young girl probably does have a much broader concept of eternity than I do. She has a child. She understands love far deeper than I do, and with it the concept of never wanting harm to come to your child – of wanting them to live forever, to be eternal. She’s in love. She remains passionate with her lover, he still makes her smile, surprises her in sweet and charming ways, they still want to impress each other. She enjoys life, looks forward to things, isn't accepting the 9-5 job as her life; her life is at home, and on the weekends, and every moment she can find in which to smile in. These are the things she hopes will last forever. She approaches life with such passion, embracing everything as if it were going to and hoping it will last for all eternity.

What are the things I wish would last for all eternity? These are the things I should focus on. With insight must come responsibility.

Impressive

Sunday, December 21, 2014

A story: "Poetry"

What if I'm brave today?
What if I quit my job?
What if I confess?
What if I take a chance?
What if I'm reciprocated?
What if I'm not?
What if I jump today?
What if I end my life?
What if I smile at a stranger?
What if I cry my insides out?
What if I'm brave today?
What if I die? 
And if I live?
What if I don't like the consequences?
What if there are no consequence?
What if all this is a revolution in a vacuum?
What if I'm really just stupid?
What if I do nothing?
What if I find happiness, here; right here?
What if I cower?
What if I smile at the end of it all?
What if I'm brave?
What if…?
I'm brave.

He writes this in an old notebook. The "poetry" of a pathetic old soul, unsure of whether he's in love or he's finally truly crossed over into mental illness. Is this what aging does to people? You see a flower and it's not even a particularly beautiful flower but you assume it was put there for you, that it was meant for you to notice it, that spring is quickly slipping away and you better embrace this one last remnant of what you felt when you were young and powerful. You see a table in a store and you feel the same sequence of emotions: my life isn't complete until this table enters my life, my house, my sphere. In time the table sits under a bunch of all your unsolved problems, debts to pay, crumbs of the last things you consumed without a thought. You introduced yet another piece of furniture you'd just walk past again, ignore, use, stub your toe on occasionally - and then, only then, with the pain do you remember that, yes, it was once a beautiful tree too. Eventually you forget (or ignore) that you'll do the same with your flower. You will walk past it and notice its withered leaves and petals; it'll have shed its soul for you. For you who ripped it away from its ecosystem where at least it's life and death at least contributed to the universe. You really thought your life, your love, your eyes were worth more than the universe?... You think all these thoughts and say to yourself: my life really is meaningless.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

A story about stuffing up

“And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for you: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather boast in my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in weaknesses, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.” 
- 2 Corinthians 12: 9-10

Charlotte
I walk into the doctor's office. What exactly do I expect? What's wrong with me? What can she help me with, she asks. I don't know. I think I need something. I don't know. In my grandparents day I would have been having this conversation with a priest or an elder of my church. Church? What if any part of this is holy? Thirty-five years ago marrying in a church, I did not expect that today I would be having this conversation with anyone. What can you help me with?... I haven't been able to sleep in days. I have no desire to eat. I cry all day. Every day. How long has it been, she asks. Two weeks. But two weeks is a long time when you're heartbroken, feeling like the world has been removed from under your feet. I haven't felt present. I don't know why or who I am... Oh, she's looking at me blankly.

It's my husband, I tell her. He had sex with another woman. It's my fault; I haven't had sex with him since the first time this happened. Yes, it's happened before; a few years ago now. I should have known my mother was right; she said if you forgive him once, you have to be prepared that this will be only the first time. How could he? How could she? I don't know her, but what kind of person has no brains about her to get herself into this? That is not a normal person.

Why have I really come here? What is my goal? Do I really intend to continue a relationship with a man of such low character? Oh, he's a wonderful man, but how can this... this... I can only think of the words filth and numb. He used to be so good. We were so good. How do you put your whole family life on the line like that? What do you have to be thinking? He's a man, maybe all men are like this. Doctor, are all men like this? What do I do? She's still just looking at me blankly. Am I wrong in feeling all this? Does he have a problem? Do I? I think it's better if we have a problem, that way we can fix it... Oh God, what am I saying? She's still just looking at me wondering how she can help...

David
I always thought 'yeah, I'm attracted to powerful people, passionate people, people with drive and motivation'. And that may be the case but I think another part of me takes comfort in the weak. Is it because I compare myself to them? I don't know. I’m weak. I'm uncomfortable too. I don't love her like I used to. It happens to all couples. She keeps asking what was I thinking? What was I thinking. Dear, if you would understand that I wasn't thinking. I intended nothing; I thought of nothing but of the moment. They ask of addicts “why do you do it when you know that it’s so bad for you?” But no-one ever remembers how good it feels. People do things because they feel good, not because you want to avoid something worse. It felt good, Charlotte! It felt good! But I can’t tell you that... I tell you I was lonely. Of course, it’s not your fault! It’s not your fault! And this is what makes me most ashamed of this situation. You blame yourself, you hate me, and you think there was a reason and you won’t let up until you find it.

Charlotte, if I told you what attracted me to her it would hurt your soul. It was me; I was what attracted me to this. But to explain to you that it really was about me and not her, well, you just wouldn't understand. You simply cannot understand that she made me feel things about me that you can’t and won’t let me feel anymore. Oh, dear, I’m not blaming you, either. Please understand that’s not what I’m thinking at all. But you shut me down, you tell me what to do, you tell me when and how it’s appropriate to do it. These women, (yes, you know of that one) see me as a worthy person, an intelligent person, a good person. They see ME. And in your way I know you feel the same way about me; that’s the stories you tell your friends. You say I don’t love you anymore, but when did you stop loving me? Why won’t you show me that love? Why did you stop being sweet and caring and loving as we once were? Don’t tell me it’s because of that first lapse; you and I both know it happened much earlier. And THAT I will never understand. Why did you stop laughing with me to start laughing at the pathetic all-adoring little mascot of yours I became?

You ask what these women had that you don’t? Nothing! Absolutely nothing. It felt good to be wanted again, Charlotte. I wish you knew how much. I wish you let me feel this good again. You say you feel numb. Now you feel numb? I've been feeling this way for months and years!.. It’s no excuse, I know.

And now you drag me to this doctor’s appointment. Haven’t I shown you already how ashamed and regretful I am? Must you humiliate me further? A “check-up” on my health you say. Is there something wrong with my brain? Have I contracted some illness? I go along. I have no secrets left, Charlotte. I have nothing left in me.

The doctor
I’m listening. What else am I supposed to do? How can I help? Oh gosh, they never taught me any of this in med school. They don’t teach any of this anywhere. I agree this is a bad situation but do you understand I don’t know what to do either? You’re trying to figure out the direction of your life, and I’m trying to figure out how can I do my job and somehow, I don’t know how, contribute something today. "Empathetic listening", they said something like that in medical school. I resented them for trying to teach me so much communication stuff and not enough medicine. I wish I’d paid attention in case we ever came across this scenario. Fuck, am I feeling sorry for myself in a time like this? Focus, Vanessa. Thirty-five years of marriage, you say. Thirty-five?! I haven’t even been alive that long! I barely know the difference between my right and left and you’re asking me for marital advice? I don’t know. How to make a relationship last? What to do when you find yourself in an unequally-giving relationship? I don’t know. Clearly, I have no idea; I've barely known how to keep myself alive 30-something years and you ask me how to rescue a relationship. Focus. I have to focus. What was my job again?... STI check. Would you like me to run some tests to check for sexually-transmitted infections? Did I really just say that as you started to cry? I’m an idiot. Somebody throw me a frigging bone here! I’ll point out the tissue box on my desk. There, that’s better. You said you can’t eat, sleep, or stop thinking depressive thoughts in the last 2 weeks. Two weeks isn't enough to diagnose you with anything. And did I really just think about diagnosis? Bad shit happened to you, you’re sad, and I’m trying to find pathology in that? Jesus Christ, what the fuck has happened to my common sense, to my morals, to my better judgement? God, don’t ask me what I think your husband was thinking. Was that a rhetorical question? I don’t know. I say I don’t understand it either. Oh God, I’m in fucking agony here… Charlotte, can YOU tell ME what you think I can help you with? And let me just say, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you. You have every right to be feeling the way you are. I don’t know what else to say to you, but I can tell you that.

And now you've brought your husband? What do you want me to say? How can I help you? How can either one of us be helped here, David? Stop telling me your story; it's inconsequential to me. Tell her! No, I'm being selfish and thinking only that I'll be late home again because you're spilling your guts out to me. Tell me. Cleanse your soul. Teach me things so that one day I may understand men and women like you and your wife. We've both stuffed up, David. And today I shouldn't have come to work.

Sunday, December 7, 2014

On people wasting your time

One day I was talking to someone who said to me "I'm sorry to be wasting your time". She was very depressed. I mean depressed in the classical sense, not just meeting medical criteria. I mean being so low that you don't even feel sad anymore, you feel nothing, as if you were dead already. I said to this lady that we're human beings and you don't waste your time with other human beings, we merely share it. I have realised since making that statement that there is no such thing as one-way or one-sided relationships. Even when you love someone and they don't feel the same way about you, that is still not a one-way interaction. We're human beings, and even if we want to believe that we live in a world where there are only material things, words, and other physical things like light, sound, movement, etc., that is simply not all there is. We have a rich inner world, we create metaphysical tracts we call relationships, we create and (most of live by) social norms. As annoying and as inconvenient as it sometimes is, we simply cannot go back to saying we are just carbon-based life-forms existing in a physical world that have no impact on each other's inner or external spaces. When you console your depressed friend, it isn't just for them, it doesn't just involve them; you don't just give without also taking away from the experience.

In clinic I sometimes see people who apologize to me for wasting my time. And it's not the ones that as a doctor you usually think of as 'wasting your time', like the drug seekers and malingerers. It will usually be someone with a mood disorder who feels they are a burden to everyone, including their treating clinicians. But then they quickly point out, "I know you're getting paid, but..." Which is right, I do get paid to do my job! A few years ago a patient said to me that he was sorry for taking up my time with his depression, and "knew" that I only did it because it was my job and I couldn't kick him out. I said to him, "actually I can kick you out". He looked at me, surprised, I guess. I explained, yes, this is my room and I am in control of what happens here. If I want you out of my room, I can make that happen. Stuff etiquette, stuff protocol, stuff that constant thought in the back of every doctors head of "how will this look in court?" Yes, I told the patient, I could if I wanted to kick him out of my room, and I can even go as far as terminating our therapeutic relationship altogether, not just that day's consultation. This was not an emergency situation, and terminating the consultation abruptly would not really affect his mental/physical health, so I had every right to ask him to leave my room – if I wanted to. But then I asked the patient, and "do you know why I haven't kicked you out of my room?"

I asked this question aloud for two reasons, and one of them was to buy some time to ask myself this same question. Do I care? Really, do I care about this patient? I mean "care" as in does this person's predicament truly concern me in a sense that it affects me emotionally? Well, no. I care about my mum, my friends, my partner, my pets, and my own physical health. I can't care for or about every patient in that way or I'd make a terrible and over-involved clinician. Of course, I "care" from a healthcare/clinical point of view of wanting my clinical management to better and not worsen the patient.

I believe in being honest to my patients, so I knew I wanted to word my response to this man in the most honest way I know how, and "care" was not the word I wanted to use. Why don't I kick you out my room when you're cleared depressed and have reached out to me for medical help? The first reason is because I understand why you sought me out in the first place.  You reached out for medical help because you felt you couldn't help your own self anymore, that you're unable to be helped, and not only that but that you're also unworthy of help. Those last two points are exactly why you asked the question in the first place. The second reason I haven't kicked you out my room is because I see your potential. And I see this because I am on the outside looking in. Depression is like being inside a deep, dark, empty, silent, and very still void. I'd say it's like a well, but in reality there is not even a bottom and there are no sides for a reference point. You can't see outside of the void – and when you're truly in that melancholic/pre-suicidal depression, there is no will left to want to see outside of the well. But I'm on the outside! I'm your clinician and I am on the outside looking in and can tell you that there is something outside of the void and you can and will get outside of its grip if we do things that seem pointless right now. This is exactly what I mean when I say I can see the potential in another person. (Of course there’s no point at all in this situation to disclose to patients that I understand depression so well because I have been in that void before. In fact I think this changes nothing in terms of how well any clinician can manage this scenario. I don't have to have experienced diabetes personally, for example, to understand it and treat it.) Patients may believe they're a waste of time and space when they're depressed, but I strongly disagree on this point. I disagree especially because, as I said, I truly do believe that we don’t waste time with other human beings, we merely share it.

I believe that sharing time with other people isn't a waste of time; that of every interaction you gain and you give, that of every interaction you learn, that every moment shared changes you as you in turn change others. And yet believing this as long as I have and as fundamentally within myself as I do, a few days ago I almost convinced myself that someone was wasting my time. And then I remembered back to my own words, and asked can people actually waste your time? And, you know; no, I still don’t think I got it all wrong in the first place. What happened was that I was responding emotionally, wanting to blame others for disappointing and hurting myself. It was easier to say “you’re wasting my time” than to admit that it was me who had unrealistic expectations. I felt very drained, raped almost on a cognitive/spiritual level, for giving so much of myself when really I was asked of nothing. And then I was upset about indifference? How absurd it seems now that I've had time to re-analyse the situation. It was like I had walked past a building, said to myself, ‘hey this is a bank’ and started pouring money into it – and then I got upset and angry when this building kept only taking and storing what I gave it but gave me no returns, let alone interest or growth. And am I to blame the building or my own delusional self for this feeling of exhaustion? Myself, of course. And yet I can take this experience and say that really that no time was lost, I merely shared a moment and learnt a very valuable lesson.


¿Qué escondes, mi flor blanca?
¿Qué hay bajo la próxima capa?
¿Es un escorpión?
¿Es tu corazón?
¿Son los gusanos que te comerán viva por no dejarte ver?
¿Son mariposas esperando su re-nacer?





Tuesday, November 25, 2014

On obesity

Just a photo of a nice croc I saw
I read an article recently about how to best manage obesity as a society. It wasn't a medical journal, though, it was an economics/finance/management report published by the McKinsey Global Institute. It was written by business analysts and economists; which was interesting to me as usually I see these articles about obesity in the context of public health and medicine. And it got me thinking about just how did obesity become a problem. The report is very interesting and I certainly don’t intend to repeat it all; in fact what I’m writing here are merely my own insights and opinions that took this article as a starting point. But if you get the chance, read at least the executive summary of the McKinsey report here.

Food has always been a necessity for us humans, and obesity is not a new thing. The problem is the high prevalence of obesity and the subsequent high rate of health problems for which obesity is a major contributing factor. You then recall times from history like the great depression and wonder how did we overshoot so much that now obesity – an excess – is the problem. The thing is that perhaps the exact same things that brought us out of the great depression brought us to high rates of obesity.

Towards the end of the great depression, a lot of interesting things began to happen. Yes, there was the onset of World War II, which brought about destruction – and subsequently, at it's conclusion, a great need to re-create, produce, manufacture, and re-build the world! Industries soared. Governments and commercial enterprises became really good at economics and business. Extremely good.  And with the end of the great depression, of course, food became more than a rationed commodity, more than a human need, it became a highly lucrative commercialised industry more than it had ever been in our society. The success story of business and industry tracks that of obesity rates. Every strategy that led industry to thrive, also drove obesity rates to rise.

Think about all the strategies that make businesses successful, and then you finally may get closer to finding an answer to the question of how did we as a society let obesity rates rise to the levels they are today. Well, firstly, a great business needs a product that is desirable. What is a more desirable consumable than food? And more than being a desire, it is an actual human need! Food is one of those things that would sell even if it wasn't advertised anywhere.

But food is advertised – and very well; a great marketing strategy is one of the fundamentals of a successful business. The interesting thing is that the food that receives the most advertising is the least nutritious and yet most energy-dense. Unfortunately as a society we developed technologies and became really good at modifying our environment so as to minimize the amount of energy our own bodies expend. Our progress as a society, our advancement, is because we built efficient machines that use external energy to do the hard labour we previously took on. We walked greater distances, lifted more, did more physical work just in our everyday than we do now. And hence the large disparity between the energy content of what we consume (that energy-dense food advertised so heavily) and the energy we expend – with excess energy being stored in our bodies as fat.

Marketing isn't just about direct advertising, though. It even involves exploiting existing societal norms and evolving new ones. What do I mean by this? Actually this concept is the most wide-ranging aspect of how business, and food as an industry, has grown. But let’s take, for example, just two interesting quirks of us human beings: 1) we perceive more as better, and 2) we perceive bigger as better. Have you ever tried to buy just a Big Mac at McDonald’s? Well, let me tell you it costs nearly as much as a Big Mac meal, with the fizzy drink and the fried potato chips included. We all prefer to get more for our money, so we do end up buying a much higher energy intake for just a few cents more. But it’s not just about the big bad fast food giants, even our supermarkets do it.  They sell us even staple foods, but at a cheaper rate if we buy more of it. Why? Not because they think “poor, poor, undernourished people; let them have more food”. No, they do it because we are consumers, and only consumers to them. They sell us more so we pay more (we think we’re making a saving, but the reality is companies never underprice their items even in the “deals” they give us). The concept of portion size is similarly related. And portion size isn't just about how big our meals are, but the fact that because our foods are so energy-dense and our lifestyles for the majority of us are so sedentary, the physical-size of our meals isn't even what we’re really talking about here. And who does know what we are talking about when we say things like “portion-size”, “recommended daily intake”, “calories”, “kilojoules”, etc? Not that many of us! Education about nutrition and its relation to health and lifestyle are severely lacking in our society…

I want to conclude this topic of discussion with a direct passage of recommendation from the McKinsey report I mentioned earlier:
“Education and personal responsibility are critical elements of any program aiming to reduce obesity, but they are not sufficient on their own. Other required interventions rely less on conscious choices by individuals and more on changes to the environment and societal norms. They include reducing default portion sizes, changing marketing practices, and restructuring urban and education environments to facilitate physical activities.”
What do you notice about these recommendations? If you’re like me, then you will have noticed how most of the things suggested that we need to try to do as a society to combat obesity are the complete opposite of everything you need to do to have as great and successful a business as the food industry in industrialized countries is. We became obese not merely because we ate too much, but we ate more than we needed to because the food industry needed to grow its profits. I think in health care we particularly need to take note of this. Sometimes we think we must help individuals (or blame them, as we sometimes do), but the truth is individuals were helped in their demise by large industries and corporations who focused on our consumption/profit value rather than the effect of their products on our health.

Sunday, November 9, 2014

On sex and illness

Back in the day, the general thought about romantic partnerships was that the woman had to be dutiful, and part of her duty was to make sure her man was getting sufficient sex to keep him happy. This was prior to the 1960s (though in many cultures and countries this is still a very prominent idea). Back then, men made up the greatest proportion of the salaried workforce, and men’s ideals dominated the media. A by-product of this era that I find particularly interesting is the notion that men (and women) need sex to be happy, and that sex is a necessity to keep relationships strong and lasting.

A question us health professionals often overlook when consulting our patients is the importance of sex to them – they are, of course, human beings just like us and therefore have the same interest in it that we do. There was a time when we were all being urged to tell our cardiac patients to abstain from sex for a certain period of time after a cardiac event or surgery – and the message got through to us and them. We became good at dishing out advice to patients that sex after heart problems is a big no. Patients, motivated to obey as they didn't want to suffer complications from what is a very serious health issue, listened and took this very seriously too. A lot of us, however, forgot to frame anything but the negative to our patients and advise them that sex is OK too, and bar a few restrictions, it was OK to resume it. It was like as if as health professionals we thought that patients are sex-crazy insatiable beasts that cannot resist the urge to have sex straight after having (often) extremely painful chest surgery and/or losing a large amount of physical endurance. The reality we were forgetting is that very often after cardiac events, people (yes, patients are people too) become depressed, and with depression often comes an actual loss in libido. Suddenly after a major health scare we are faced with the realisation that our life isn't infinite, that our risk of dying is a lot higher than we once thought, and that we now have a chronic illness that you just can’t shake off and pretend like nothing ever happened. Our patients’ whole lives change, priorities change, relationships are tested and adjusted – and there we are as health professionals thinking that our patients actually want to have sex after considering all this! Yes, some do, but the majority probably also would benefit from being reminded that once they’re ready, sex is OK.

Another interesting scenario is sex in the context of cancer. I mean specifically cancers that affect tissues that we traditionally would associate with sex: breasts, prostate, testes, etc. As an example, let me consider women who have the most common type of breast cancer, those which are hormone-related/responsive. Treatment of their cancers often involves surgery, scars, and sometimes very marked deformity. All this in areas of their body often thought of as very intimate, sensitive, and defining of one’s sexual identity. Radiation treatment does similar, and sometimes making an area that was once so sensitive in a positive way, extremely tender.  Medically, to achieve remission of their cancers, these women often have to be put in a state of sudden menopause. And then come all the effects that go with menopause: vaginal atrophy, loss of libido, low mood, hot flushes, etc. You put all of this together and can you imagine how hard it is not only to think of sex, but to actually enjoy it in the way these women once did. Now think of the effect this has on a relationship if we aren't being open and honest on what people with these types of cancers are going through.

It’s no big leap of the imagination to conclude that a lot of relationships often become sexless after cancer affecting what we predominantly think of the sexually-defining features of our body. For those who are not in a relationship at the time of diagnosis, entering or re-entering a relationship is equally as daunting and is often delayed by many many years. Now, as an example (because I have seen this scenario a few times in my own practice), consider a heterosexual couple where the woman becomes diagnosed with breast cancer. Initially, both partners become concerned about the physical well-being of the partner affected by the cancer. The couple shares common goals: for the woman to survive the cancer, and for her to tolerate the treatment as best as possible. Of course, despite our best personal support networks and the best-meaning friends, family, and health professionals, cancer diagnoses and treatments are very isolating. Everyone may know what you’re going through, they may care about you and want the best for you, but only you are going through it in mind and body. It’s a sad fact of life, that at times no matter who’s around you, you feel very alone. The cancer treatment begins and ends for the woman, but the emotional adjustment takes a lot longer. Sometimes it takes a very long time, and though couples never forget the cancer, they sometimes forget to speak of the less “heavy” things of life, things like sex. And more than simply not speaking of it, sex during and after cancer becomes taboo. I mean, such greater things are in question when the cancer diagnosis came up: mortality, strength, survival, endurance, support – who can think of the mundane things of life like sex? But time passes and life and relationships continue once the acute cancer story is done with.

And, yes, we do think of sex. Not just the partner who hasn't been sick, either! We know that the person who has survived cancer has all that physical and emotional stuff to deal with, scarring, pain, deformity, loss of libido, low mood, etc. How can you possibly have sex again? Unfortunately, this same information is often locked up inside with shame, fear, and the desire that if we just ignore the issue it will all just go away. If we return to the example of the woman with breast cancer, the partners of these women often do not know her struggle beyond the acute cancer story. No one talks about it. And so they wonder what they’d done wrong, what did they do during the woman’s struggle to turn them off them sexually still so many years down the track? Can they ever undo this and how? Is this it; is this just how it is after cancer? Does a sexless marriage mean a loveless one? Is it wrong to still be sexually attracted to the woman she is despite her body changing? Has this got nothing to do with the cancer? Has it really got nothing to do with it at all, and the only reason the woman isn't leaving is because she’s grateful for his support during her cancer battle? Is gratitude enough to continue a seemingly loveless marriage? These thoughts are very emotionally painful – and I think very important to talk about. Similarly, I've known of men who won’t approach their partners sexually after cancer treatment for fear that she won’t want it, can’t have it, and just not knowing (and unable to ask?) how it will be different for her. Women may react to this in the way that, ‘hell, not only did I just go through cancer, now my partner doesn't even want to touch me or know me sexually’. And so the cycle of sexual abstinence continues…

And what do I conclude? That we talk about sex. That it becomes neither an expectation in relationships nor a forgotten burden. That health professionals to their patients about it, but more importantly, that couples talk to each other about it. And that we be allowed to form our own conclusions as to the importance of sex in relationships.

Monday, October 27, 2014

On the purpose of life

What if the purpose of life isn't to be kind and experience happiness and all that stuff? What if the whole purpose is to try to live as long as possible, be gratified at all costs, and try to outlive others so that either us or our offspring (mine, and not that of others) have a chance of becoming God? Because if you outlive every other human being, then by default you are supreme, right? And I say human being because I imagine that other creatures don’t worry themselves with questions like “what is the purpose of life?”

I am, of course, not the first to think of this evolutionary/survivalist theory of life. There’s a theory that even altruism, that warm, fuzzy, “nice” stuff we seemingly do without self-interest, does actually pose a survival advantage. As an example, let’s say I become a humanitarian and go out of my way to help other people in whatever disadvantageous situation they find themselves with (ill health, poverty, etc.). You may think that it’s selfless, right? I mean, how does helping others help me, when if anything I am giving up of my time, efforts, money, etc to help another human being? Well, indirectly it does boost my potential to survive and still come out on top because it buys me allies. Other people see my “selfless” acts and get a positive impression of me – and that makes them want to help me! People more powerful than me may want to protect me, associate with me, give me opportunities I would never had had access to on my own. Numbers of people want to protect you, embrace you as an ally, and defend you from bigger enemies than you could handle on my own. Selflessness pays off! And it pays off probably more than pure instinct-based, survival strategies ever could.

I used to preoccupy myself with the question of what is the purpose of life, and more specifically, my life. Is it to love? Contribute positively to another’s life? To prove myself in this biophysical form on this planet until the biological matter I’m made off becomes unsustainable and I start decomposing into my component atoms, subparticles, and energy – so then after this, some “essence” of me (the thing I and many other “believers” call the spirit) can carry on to another alternate life? Then the question becomes, yes, but what is this “proof” we need to make of our lives? Again, is it to show that I am the best at this survival game, to boost my happiness to the maximum level imaginable, to boost the happiness of others, to feel connected to another human being in the way love connects people? What is love? Is it more than the stimulation of the right combination of neurochemicals in my brain that make me “feel” the emotion of pleasure and calmness we call love? If it’s more than the chemicals, the reactions, the synapses, does that again place it in that inexplicable spirit world? Is anything real? What is real? … and you see now where my preoccupation led me to: suddenly I’m wondering not only why do I exist, but do I exist?

At times I wonder if all this thinking isn't just all part of some secret system, that the human ability for introspection is just some sort of distraction technique. Let me explain it like this: imagine that you have an eye looking out. Now, behind it there’s a brain attached to it like a movie screen set up to capture the image in front of the eye. So whatever is in front of the eye is what is transmitted to the brain; that is the movie being watched. But now put a mirror in front of the eye, so then suddenly the only thing the eye sees is the eye itself. So then then brain becomes preoccupied with the eye (as that’s the only thing visible in the universe). But you will never know what is beyond the mirror, and pretty soon you’ll stop even wondering about what there is beyond the mirror. Hell, you may even become convinced that that eye is what it is all about. You’ll start asking yourself questions like what is the purpose of eye? Is it to keep it healthy and free from pain, to experience happiness and all that stuff…

Monday, October 6, 2014

On neighbours

From when I was very young, one of the things I remember being taught was that the best neighbour is the one you don’t even know you have. You don’t see them, you don’t hear them, and you certainly don’t interact in any other way. Is my family strange for having taught me that? My family (like everyone’s family) is strange for many reasons, but I didn't figure out the true wisdom of the neighbour theory until I moved out of home myself.

I've always tried to be the kind of neighbour I have wished to have: courteous of others’ tolerance to noise, and allowing people the right to be left alone in the place where you have every right to be alone. Now I know some people are different to me, some people want interaction with the people around them, and they think it’s courteous to interact with the people who share their street or their neighbourhood. I once even had a friend my age who when she left the house, would go knock on her neighbours’ door and tell them that she was going out. Maybe it was purely because she had some health problems  and took comfort in knowing that in times of need her neighbours would likely (or be expected to) come to her aid. Maybe that was the reason, I don’t know, but I found this very very strange. Or maybe I’m strange.

I once lived in an apartment where I had the misfortune of renting the unit above where the owner lived. I made agreements with the real estate agency and moved in, and that was my expectation of all I would have to do in order to live in this place. That was all our written contract said: I would not destroy the property, inspections would be scheduled ahead of time, and I would just do the “living” inside the unit as per my choices in life and the standard human rights afforded to anyone. But the owner downstairs would count the number of showers I had a day and approach me if I had more than two in a 24 hour period (which can happen if you work shift work like I was doing at the time). She would question me persistently if I had visitors and ask if they were moving in. If I went out onto the little veranda where I kept some pot plants, that was somehow an invitation for a conversation with her. She wanted to know what I was doing, who if anyone was living with me (no one was), what times I was expecting to be working in the following week, why I was having a shower at a particular time, why the extraction fan was running (i.e. when I was cooking), why did I let my mum park in my parking spot and leave my car in the street when she visited, etc., etc. It wasn't just friendly banter or genuine interest, it was always in the style of an interrogation, and it was so exhausting. Why couldn't this woman get through her head that living near each other did not make her my friend, comrade, ally, family member, or anything other than a stranger? As soon as my lease ended, I moved out. That was the craziest neighbour I've ever had, but certainly not the craziest I've heard of!

So what exactly is it with some people thinking that just because you share a similar street address that you somehow share something deeper? I don’t understand this. Yes, the people we live near probably share a similar income demographic, similar priorities in choosing a house to live in, but that really is about all we share in common – and this common ground does not give us greater privilege unto each other. Yet I see it all the time, neighbours believing it is their right somehow to integrate themselves into your life. Why? Is it loneliness? Is it that because of the high rate of mental illness in our society that you’re more likely to encounter “interesting” people as neighbours? I don’t know the answer to that. I just wish that people would understand that it isn't your right to impose or seek from your neighbours any sort of validation, positive or negative. I wish that more people understood that people do have a right to privacy and to have their home be their retreat. And why do I think of these things right now? Not because of me; I couldn't tell you the names of my neighbours or recognise them if I saw them anywhere other than our street, so I consider myself lucky in this sense. But I am currently witnessing a close friend’s joy in life being sucked away by her over-involved and intrusive neighbour – and that’s not fair. She now has no retreat to come home to after work. We’re not talking here of some sort of Hollywood celebrity who has signed away their privacy for the industry they work in. I’m talking about everyday people being robbed of their basic right to be free from interference. And even if what I've believed since early on about interacting with our neighbours is wrong (and it may be), why can’t we at least try to be good neighbours to others?

AFTERWORD: Yes, I believe there is too much solitude in this world and we should be more caring and “neighbourly” towards other fellow human beings.  But the neighbourly we speak of here is more like in the biblical sense of considering every other human being as our “neighbour” and thus doing good to all other human beings. That is a concept I support fully. What I've spoken of here is of not respecting our literal neighbours right to privacy and peace.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

On my life

It’s August 2014 and it’s been too long since I've written anything here. A lot has been happening in my life. I’m happy, but a lot has happened.

Woodworking. I’m still woodworking. Still loving it. The last thing I've made is to replicate a plastic step-stool I have (because I’m short) so I can have one in my workshop and one inside the house. I've slowed down from buying tools too, but I can’t guarantee how long that will last.

Lego. I’m moving the Lego from the spare bedroom to a large display cabinet I got for my living room. I was hesitant at first to put them in a “fixed” position such a display cabinet or shelf, but now I much prefer to have them within easy view from the couch.

Work. Work is fine, but sometimes things frustrate me. On slow days I get frustrated with the fact that if I don’t see patients then I don’t get paid. On busy days I get frustrated with scheduling issues. Often I get frustrated with certain patients’ expectations of special treatment. More often I get frustrated at myself for allowing these patients’ behaviour, things other doctors or professionals from any other industry would not allow. Most days though something or someone will remind me why I do my job in the first place, and then I am satisfied.

Family. Well, not so much family as religion. I am still very dissatisfied with the way the religious group I belong to operates. My mother has to remain distant from me in order for me to protect her. And yet the threat isn't me; I am the one that loves her! The threat is posed by the religious group we belong too. I will admit that after my last blog, somebody confused a post I made on my facebook with the post I made about the things I love in life and told my mother some very vicious and hurtful lies about what I post online (she, of course, does not even use the internet to check things out herself). This resulted in my mother telling me she has never felt more ashamed of me in her life, and she is embarrassed of me because of the things I post online. Ashamed of me, of her daughter! Regretful of the fact I was born and the way I am. Yes, of me, and it’s not the first time she’s ever said that to me. And yet I love her and I know that in reality she loves me, but those words are the result of the religious group we belong too. That is sad. And there is nothing I can do to change anything. I can only love my mother, accept that she hasn't yet realised what I have (that we belong to a cult), and keep going about my life.

The last month. Gosh, I don’t feel I own this story wholly so I will try to remain respectful of other’s privacy and intimacies. In this last month I have at times felt so alone, at other times it was the closest I've ever felt to any other human being, so intrinsically-linked, so unbelievably happy, and then so terribly disappointed and angry. And yet, somehow, and definitely helped along because I know I am not alone, I remain hopeful. I feel I have this undercurrent of general positivity. I am strong because I am not alone. I feel strong because I choose to remain positive and optimistic despite some hell of an emotional roller-coaster. I feel like a soldier, but not a soldier on their own, but one that is part of an army. My army, our army, and though we may not win every battle, we are not beaten. I am so not done.


Wednesday, May 28, 2014

On my obsessions

A dam koala... A koala I saw on a visit to a dam.
If you haven’t noticed, I haven’t been writing a lot recently – and I love writing! But turns out there are a lot of things I love also. Recently someone described it perhaps more correctly as obsessions; I get obsessed with certain things. Rewind back to a year ago and I was completely absorbed with guitars. I was obsessed with learning about them, taking them apart and modifying several, and even trying to learn to play. Well, I didn't quite get to the playing part due to having a mismatch in attitudes with my teacher who discouraged me to the point I now get panicked to even hold the guitars in my house, but that’s a story for another day. The list of other things I’m told I also obsess about are my Lego collection/village, rabbits (in all shapes and form), buying bed linen, and the one thing that has been consuming me day and night for the last month or two: woodworking.

My obsession with woodworking started from when I was a teenager, or perhaps even younger. See, I was always a nerdy kid, the kid who preferred going to the library at lunch time, and absolutely dreaded phys ed class. I wasn't good any activity that was physical, and I didn't enjoy it at all. I did, however, really enjoy visual and literary arts, and once I was introduced to it, I fell in love with manual arts too. Suddenly I enjoyed something that wasn't purely intellectual – and it didn't matter how good or bad you were, most things could be fixed somehow. I did manual arts for 3 years in high school, dropping it for the senior years to focus on the academic stuff. I remember I told my mum and siblings that one day I would become a doctor and I’d buy a house and in my house I’d have a workshop and then I would take up woodworking again.

Well, here I am. Coincidentally the house I bought happened to have this room at the back of the garage that, well, someone could turn into my workshop. And that’s what I've been doing. That’s what I do when I get home from work and on my days off. I recently took a 2 week holiday in which I think I spent 80% of my waking hours in that room. A large proportion of the remaining time was spent buying tools. And you know what? I had a great few weeks. It gave me a new focus and clarity to return to work and the rest of my life.

I read a woodworking blog once where someone asked, ‘what have you learnt from woodworking that also applies in general life?’ I made a light-hearted note recently when my router stopped working suddenly just as I was preparing to fix it to a table, that some things would rather die than lose their freedom. That was a joke, of course (for people like me), but a more memorable quote I once read said that a master woodworker isn't one who doesn't makes mistakes, but one who can cover up their mistakes well. And that’s more like my style of philosophy:  Everyone stuffs up; what matters is what you do next.

But, yes, the obsession part of this, as was pointed out to me, is I spend a lot of time buying tools, doing random odd jobs in my workshop, and watching, reading, and attending woodworking shows/magazines/videos. A LOT of time! My plants are going unwatered. I get itchy at work to go home and work on some unfinished project when I have gaps between seeing patients. I've had to re-calculate my budget to try to stop myself from overspending on tools and things for woodworking. I've been neglecting my own blog and reading so many woodworking blogs. It’s ironic, yet at the same time I think I’m finally learning about the importance of balance.  When my life isn't just work, it is so much more enjoyable.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

On Lance Armstrong

It was only when I watched this report on "smart drugs" that I finally understood how skewed our perception of Lance Armstrong is. See, in the report this scientist speaks of how taking these types of drugs can make people be able to read quicker, maybe retain some of that knowledge, maybe be able to retrieve it quicker and more consistently than if you didn't take the drug. The theory goes that if you do these things with greater ease, then you’ll be able to perform better on tests that measure how "smart" you are, and maybe even other types of academic tests. That's why some college students find using these drugs of advantage for their studies. But I asked myself, can I take some of these drugs and then go and pass a test on astrophysics or mathematics or computer programming? Could I? Not unless I've at last read the subject matter before! And that's just it; I can't be "smart" unless I put in at least some effort myself. All the best drugs in the world can't make me pass a test on theoretical physics if I don't even know what theoretical physics is.

I know, that's not a real comparison though, right? I mean if I want to pass a test on a subject matter it's probably because I at least have some interest in this matter, have heard of it, and for some reason have decided that this is important to me. If I had had access to them in medical school, would I have taken "smart drugs"? Well, I could argue that I obviously didn't need to to graduate. But what would have happened if I did? I could have taken less time to study as I may have being able to read quicker, learn quicker, and recall more consistently. I could have, in turn, dedicated more time to leisure activities. Or, I could have studied some more and got even better grades (for what benefit I don't know, but that's a possibility). The real question is would it be unfair to other students if some take ‘performance-enhancing’ drugs and others didn't? Would this whole conversation be unnecessary if every student in the class had access to these drugs? Well, this is exactly what Lance Armstrong's logic was even when he did confess to using (banned) performance enhancing drugs and techniques in international professional cycling competitions. What he told himself was that if everyone does it, it's not cheating and it’s not wrong and it's not even worthy of discussion.

But let me go back to my original scenario about "smart drugs" in academia. No, they don't work on just nothing, and if you have never heard about thermodynamics, taking all the best performance-enhancing drugs in the world will not magically make you know about it. You still won't pass tests that other students who have studied know about. You have actually no advantage over them despite the drugs - unless the drugs are not the only thing at play.

Lance Armstrong. Everyone feels entitled to call him a cheat and a liar. He's a bad person, right? Well, firstly let me state my opinion – and yes, this is just opinion. Certainly (as he admits) he has done and said some things to cover up his use of performance-enhancing drugs and techniques that hurt other people. He broke international cycling competition rules also. He denied other competitors a right to an equal playing field. And he tarnished the reputation of a sport and competitions a lot of people had a high regard for. But more than that, I think what people (and I mean people outside of the cycling world especially) feel most upset by is the selling of a false story. I mean, he was thought of a hero and an example of overcoming great adversity for equally great success in life (overcoming metastatic testicular cancer) and what is a very difficult sport. His story gave many people hope, inspiration, and motivation. This is why Lance Armstrong was so widely respected and admired. But that story (perhaps) only occurred because he gave himself unfair advantages. He molded and manipulated the circumstances so that the story would unfold the way it did: with him as the winner. That part of it I feel we have a right to be upset about, but I think for the majority of us, that is where our opinion of him should end.

Lance Armstrong  is a very flawed character, and yet I think we all somehow forget that the majority of us weren't there on the race track on bikes competing next to him.  A lot of us act as if he personally cheated against one of us. A lot of us believe he had no right to the admiration and success he had because of his use of performance-enhancing techniques. But the truth is how many of us have cycled 3,400km in 21 days? I haven’t and I don’t know personally many people who do. Yet a lot more people that don’t do this either, behave with criticism towards Lance Armstrong as if they had been his immediate competitors in the Tour de France. We didn't compete because we weren't motivated to, we lacked the physical and mental stamina to undertake such a marathon task, we simply were not up to the standard required for it at all. And that’s the thing I realised when I watched the report on “smart drugs”, that no matter what anyone says, drugs do not work on nothing. Something of the whole Lance Armstrong story was the individual himself (was it the motivation, the will, the mental determination, the hours of physical training and preparation, etc - who knows?). and not purely the performance-enhancing techniques he utilised.

So I think, yes, admit that we are angry towards Lance Armstrong for selling us a false story, for giving us hope based on false premises, for acting erroneously towards a lot of individual and sporting groups – but remember, we were not his competitors and are not and should not judge him as being any more or any less than we are: an imperfect human being.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

On medicine and public money in Australia

Recently I was at a meeting organised by a community pharmacist to “remind” myself and other general practice doctors about a scheme available to patients that not only can help patients, but just also happens to be remunerated quite well by Australia’s federal health care system, Medicare. And I mean it pays general practitioners (GPs) well, and it pays pharmacists well. Suddenly another GP in the room asked just why are we being paid extra to do this when as GPs we have little to actually contribute to this patient’s particular health care encounter. The room fell silent. I couldn’t believe that finally someone had said what I had suspected for some time but didn’t have the courage to admit: that in some instances, the government does misspend money allocated for health care. I know, it seems so counterintuitive, so out of place, to suggest this at a time when the Australian government is saying that health care funding is becoming unsustainable, that the need for it has made it such a drain to government funds that it’s become unaffordable to fund alone on public money.

So where are the holes in the bucket with public health care funding? Well, in the interest of open disclosure I will admit that it’s been years since I worked in the public hospital system. I work in private practice, but as most doctors in private practice, still work under Medicare rules and (federal) funding. What I mean by this is, although we work in medical clinics that are privately owned, we receive Medicare money for part or all of the work we do. The choice to accept Medicare funding as the whole payment for services provided (i.e. “bulk-billing”) or only as part of the total fee is each practitioners choice. And the choice is not as simple as “some doctors are greedy and some aren't”.

I’m not a greedy person, but I refuse to accept the inadequately-low fees Medicare offers as payment for most general medical consultations. Let me explain this with a simple everyday example. Seeing a patient for a general medical complaint in a consulting room for 15 minutes costs the medical centre about $65-$71. That is what it’s going to cost to pay the doctor, administration staff, building running costs, etc. Now, Medicare Australia only pays $36.30 for this service. The federal government pays that not because they have calculated that that is what it actually costs for the medical centre to actually fund this consultation. No, this has been a federal budgeting decision that says that that is all the government is willing to pay for this service. It does not take into consideration the medical needs of the patient, the individual patient’s financial situation, and it certainly does not take into account the real costs of medical practice today. So, the government has essentially given the Australian public Medicare cards that you could roughly equate to “50% discount” cards (when used in private general medical practice), but they have unfortunately gone and told them that they are “100% discount” cards. And what’s more frustrating than patients not realising this, is that they expect this, politicians tell them they have a right to receive healthcare from private practitioners that are 100% subsidised (what is commonly called bulk-billing) using their 50% discount cards. What happens then is that medical centres have to charge individual patients the difference of what it actually costs to fund their healthcare and what the government is willing to pay on their behalf – or you go to a medical centre that has adjusted their practice not to suit the patient’s medical needs, but to try to make the smaller money from bulk-billing stretch (I won’t go into their practices, but there’s a reason I refuse to work in that system). But that’s not the story the governments tells the general public, honesty doesn't win votes, what they tell the public is that doctors are charging them more because they are greedy, not because governments are not funding their healthcare adequately.

Having said that, let me now discuss instances where I feel funds are not best justified. Some years ago, it was brought to the government’s attention that there is a high incidence of mental illness in the community. This affects a large proportion of people’s health, and ultimately it also becomes a drain on the social welfare system. It was identified that psychotherapy could help a lot of these patients with mental health problems. So it was then decided to allow Medicare to fund psychologist visits if it was deemed by a doctor that this was likely to benefit a person’s mental health. In order to encourage GPs to asses patient’s mental health and subsequently refer them to psychology services, Medicare offered substantial funding to GPs to provide this service. Considering the high incidence of mental illness, the cost of paying GPs and subsequently also funding psychology visits, this resulted in a massive new/extra expenditure for Medicare. So although the government wanted to encourage extra referrals to psychologists, they wanted to make sure that people weren't being unnecessarily referred who perhaps didn't require it. To ascertain this, Medicare introduced clauses that referring GPs had to obey, things like how long the consultation  must last, what must be covered in the consultation, what things had to be recorded in patient’s charts and in referring letters, etc. As time has passed, these things came to lose their function: most GPs could take less than 20 minutes (one of the initial clauses) to identify that a patient likely was suffering a mental illness that may benefit from psychotherapy and write a simple referral for this. In fact, I would argue that were it not for trying to meticulously (and unnecessarily?) follow all Medicare clauses, this could all be done in the course of a single standard medical consultation. Remove the clauses, respect doctor’s clinical judgement more, and get rid of special extra incentives to GPs. I know, I know, how dare I suggest a “pay-cut”? I’m not, really, all I’m suggesting is a redistribution of public funds within healthcare.

I could raise a similar argument about other general practice activities that are all clunked up with a lot of Medicare clauses, that pay a lot money (and I say this only comparatively to other general practice activities like consultations [which are underfunded]), and that could be just as well performed by doctors without either the extra clauses or the extra money. I mean things like home medication reviews where it is acceptable that pharmacist are paid for, but it is hard to justify why doctors should also receive an extra reimbursement when we are already expected to review patient’s medications as part of a normal consultation. A lot of people also seek ‘care plans’ to be eligible for some Medicare-funded allied health services. Why not just trust that GPs can make an assessment in a general consultation that a patient has a chronic illness and would benefit from allied health assistance? And while we’re on Medicare-subsidised allied health referrals, why is Medicare funding referral for therapies whose benefit’s on people’s health is not widely accepted and tested as beneficial? Medicare offers subsidised consults with osteopaths and chiropractors for patients with chronic illnesses (on a care plan) who have been referred by a GP. Why? Even some private health funds refuse to subsidise this (due to their unproved benefits) and the Australian government thinks it is worthwhile throwing precious health care dollars at it?!

To maintain my focus on what I have more personal experience with, I haven’t commented on how public health care money can be misdirected in public hospitals. However, you can speak to many public health employees in Queensland and they’ll all be able to tell you that a lot of public health care money is directed to bureaucrats and purely bureaucratic processes. Now, I will give you a simple example of how I have noted this happening more and more – even from my end as a private practitioner in the community.

Remember how one of the “perks” of private health insurance in Australia is said to be that the patient can nominate which specialist they are to see? Well, the opposite of this is that if you attend a public hospital, there is no choice given and people are triaged on clinical need, etc. as to which practitioner they see and in what relative time frame. Well, a few years ago I could refer a patient to a public hospital outpatient clinic for review with doctors of a particular specialty and exactly that happened: the patient received a letter to attend an appointment to the outpatient clinic of a particular specialty. Do you know what happens now? That when I send a referral for a patient to see a general surgeon, for example, in a few days’ time myself and the patient receive the first of a series of letters. This first one says this clinic is heavily booked, reconsider the referral, and go back to your GP to discuss this further (I tell patients to expect this letter and to ignore it). The second letter is just for me, and  it says that the patient has been given an appointment with a specialist (but they don’t state who) but because of Medicare rules, could I please tick the name of the specialist on the form, rewrite my referral, sign this new referral form, and then fax it back to them. But the patient already has an appointment booked with a particular specialist so that’s the specialist’s name I need to tick (I have to call them to ask them who this is before I can fax it back to them), and they obviously already know the clinical details I had on the original referral or the appointment would not have been booked. After I return the form to this hospital booking department, the third letter (and the only one that needed to be sent, really) arrives giving details of when the appointment is booked for. I ask myself why all this bureaucracy? And more importantly, which of my hospital colleagues in clinical roles lost their income so that this crazy bureaucracy  could be funded?

Sunday, March 16, 2014

On happiness (again)

I just found this quote again from The Zahir, one of my favourite books by Paulo Coelho: "No one should ever ask themselves that: why am I unhappy? The question carries within it the virus that will destroy everything. If we ask that question, it means we want to find out what makes us happy. If what makes us happy is different from what we have now, then we must either change once and for all or stay as we are, feeling even more unhappy."

I haven't been happy lately. I mean, I don't even know if I'm unhappy, miserable, or just expectant. And I thought to try to solve my question of whether I am happy or depressed or what by asking myself this: what would it take for me to be happy? Well, I always thought that I'd like to have a family unit of my own, to provide a house for them, to provide for my family, to work a job I don't hate, and to raise a child and be a good mother. But lately it's becoming tiresome having to get up in the morning and go to work. I want my work day to go quickly. I want tomorrow to take it's time getting here. I want the weekends to last forever. I want to stay in bed longer, to eat more, and more time to sit and not interact with anyone.

I figure I'm not depressed as at least I still want something, even if they are avoidant things. I remember a time when I was depressed and I just wanted nothing at all, when nothing mattered at all. So at least I do want things now. But am I happy? Will I ever be happy? I think I want to be. Yet I remember another quote, another favourite of mine, and I remember why at the same time I want never to be fully happy. I've also quoted this, by Charles Becker, before: “I would urge that you be dissatisfied. Not dissatisfied in the sense of disgruntlement, but dissatisfied in the sense of that ‘divine discontent’ which throughout the history of the world has produced all real progress and reform. I hope you will never be satisfied. I hope you will constantly feel the urge to improve and perfect not only yourself, but also the world around you”.

Is that why I'm unhappy? Is it because I do always want to be progressive, someone who is always active and contributing? Or am I just depressed? Lately I've been thinking about the very real probability that I may actually have the chance to start my own family soon, and I am so wanting it, so contemplating it as a reality I want, that it's making the rest of my life seem tedious and just like a filler in time. And, oh God, the possibility of not having a family and a providing for them - that is pure misery! The thought of it can put me in tears and despair. Am I unhappy? Is this vision of "happiness" unattained slowly killing my spirit? Or is it something else? Sometimes I think the best way out of all the uncertainty that is weighing me down is to just ignore the questions and simply move forward.

And maybe it's not even forward that I need to go, but backward. That is to say that sometimes I think it's best I go back to simpler times; like the time I first learnt about positive and negative contingencies. Recently my pet rabbit became ill and I hadn't felt that miserable in such a long time. I was petrified she may die and was suffering. I wanted her so badly to be well again. She needed surgery and was at the vet hospital three nights. I worried endlessly about her. I thought that if she dies, my life will lose its centre of balance and I would be immensely sad. I cried at the thought of it. When I finally got to bring her home, she was still quite fragile and I was still worried, though not as much as previously. Then I remembered to set myself a positive contingency: as soon as she's eating, drinking, and pooing normally again, I will be happy as I will know she has recuperated. That happened a few days after she came home! And even though I was upset from other events in my life, I actually felt happiness again in my heart to see my little rabbit eating away at some food. Yes, such little things can make me happy if I allow them too. And it is also true, of course, that also little things can make me very unhappy if I allow them too. But for now, my rabbit is eating her hay, hopping around, and I am a happy woman again, moving forward :)


Sunday, March 9, 2014

On insight

When I was younger a psychologist once asked me why I always ended up in relationships with people who were 'unavailable'. Of course, she asked me this rhetorically to prompt me to reflect on the pattern of my relationships. She asked if I could remember the first time someone had made me feel like I was vying for their attention and yet I wasn't getting my emotional needs met consistently. Yes, how cliché, it was with my mother as a child! Now, what most people instinctively do when we find a source to our problems is it either 1) brings us comfort by allowing us to say "hey, it's not my fault I'm like this", or 2)  we feel guilty that we are the way we are. The problem with blaming the past, though, is it's of no use to anyone if it doesn't force change.

If we feel guilt (which is an unpleasant emotion and thus makes for a great self-flagellation device), we come to believe that feeling guilty is exoneration enough for doing what we do. But if feeling guilty is ALL we do, we usually just continue to behave in the emotionally-immature coping patterns we're used to. It's not enough to feel guilty. It's not enough to wait passively for things to change. In real life, the poor little victim princess doesn't magically get rescued by a hero. In real life the princess needs to build up her strength, overcome her own past, and slay her own dragons in order for things to change for her. It's not a matter of 'good things happen to those that wait', but rather good things happen to those who make things change.

Sunday, February 16, 2014

On punches

One thing that has really been irking me in the last few weeks is the negative stereotype that is getting peddled about the men who (accidentally) kill or seriously injure other men with one punch. I mean, I know, the media is telling us that it's only the other guy's story matters and the guy who threw the punch is a "coward", a monster, someone who should have known better. They call the punches that result in such grave injuries a "king hit", a "coward punch". Now, I believe, that had these punches not resulted in these grave injuries, they would have been called an "awesome hit", a "hero punch", a "champion move" or something positive like that. Why do I say that? Because the truth is so often we do glorify violence and displays of machismo like that. It's literally like that saying, 'it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt'.

Now is about the point where people tell me I've got it all wrong, that the men punching other men like this are thugs and demons and simply bad people. They're not people like us, they're different. You know, because the rest of us apparently don't delight in violence in movies, we don't cheer on contact competitive sports, and we haven't been responsible for making "ultimate fighting" so popular on television that we now want to enroll our children into mixed martial arts lessons so they can be the next cage-fighting champion. I know, I know, witnessing violence doesn't make people violent, right? Probably not, but the case is often that art imitates life and not the other way around. It's not that things magically appear on television and we want to do exactly like it; I think its more that television executives observe what the rest of us like and want to put that in television so we can relate and watch their shows (and buy advertised products, etc). Generally, we like to watch what we already like. But I digress... What I'm meaning to say is that the people punching other people are often regular people like us who make very poor decisions,and those decisions lead to poor consequences. These decisions themselves are often predisposed by (usually) alcohol and/or other drugs, peer pressure, and the other unique social pressures men in our society face.

I once heard a woman praising her child for having punched another boy in the abdomen. She was proud of him for having demanded his own respect via violence. She was proud of him because by his behaviour this boy had shown he was becoming a "man". And she was proud of him because  that other child was not her child. Now, this woman is an otherwise very well-intentioned human being and mother, but she has learnt to have the same expectations a lot of us have of how men ought to behave. Men do not sit down and talk about their indifferences, they should fight them out physically. Men should show their superiority and demand their pride be respected by physical displays of strength. Men need to consume as much alcohol as their bodies will tolerate so they are not thought of as "wimps" by their peers. Men should be muscular. Muscular and strong men have a right to pick on less muscular and physically less-strong men. Men in the company of others must always seek to be seen to be the stronger one. These are the kind of pressures men face most days. Even the female partners of men often demand this behaviour of them. For example, how many of us have seen a man who disrespects another man's partner, and then this partner demands that he "be a man" and confront the other man (usually verbally, but with the expectation that use of physical violence is acceptable too). And that's just it, we've created a society where people are taught that violence sometimes is an option, and that option is higher up in the hierarchy of options if you're a man.

The reality is that a lot of us have felt angry at times - and a lot of us have wanted to react violently at times when we were angry. A lot of people have also faced the situation where they were so intoxicated that their usual inhibitions were lowered, where they're more susceptible to make bad choices. Hey, some of these people sometimes punch others too. I'd say more often than not, they are barely thinking of the potential consequences of their actions. I mean, these are normal people making bad choices that are tainted as the big bad demons when one of their punches cause another person a serious injury. There is no point in ruining their reputation either or calling them a coward. But here is where I do lay some blame on the media.

The media knows what we like, what human beings are used to and expect. And we all love stories of villains and victims, of good guys and bad guys, of heroes and cowards. So that is what the media feeds us: a poor young innocent man being a model citizen who is randomly targeted by a devil who attacks him with superhuman strength and intending to cause maximum damage. I'd say that if a person gets punched while they're in church with their eyes closed praying, or while alone in a library, lost in thought, reading a book, then that's pretty cowardly - and, yes, that's exactly like the kind of the story the media sell to us... but it's not usually the whole one.There is never mention that these kinds of things actually usually happen in areas filled with intoxicated persons, in the late hours of night, and what other combustants for social disorder are about. I'm certainly not saying that you deserve to get punched in the head if you happen to want to have some fun out in the town at the early hours of the morning where others are consuming drugs or alcohol, I'm simply saying some situations are inherently more dangerous. This is why our parents warned us about these situations. It's not all about inherently-bad people and inherently-innocent people.

How about if instead of negatively-labeling certain men who get caught up in bad situations, we do something a little more productive?  I don't have the answers, but perhaps we need to start asking better questions. Something like what role does alcohol play in violence? what other factors contribute to violence? how can we better educate men about avoiding violence rather than retroactively calling them 'cowards' and 'thugs'? what would be some alternative/healthier measures of masculinity we can inculcate into our young men to aspire to? These are just my opinions and suggestions, but maybe it needs to be something more of us think about.

Sunday, February 9, 2014

On drawing

I've been fascinated for a long time now on how drawing is one of the first abstract things children learn to do. And more than learning it, they almost all seem to love it! And the majority of them are very confident about their skills. But at some point in our early life, most of us lose that confidence and we disregard drawing and visual art as something that only certain “skilled” people, artists, are allowed to do. Why is that?

When children first start drawing, they actually just put squiggles on a page, and when prompted by adults to say what these represent they often have no idea. It’s like the amazing thing to them is that they held a pen/pencil/crayon/whatever, then brought it into contact on a piece of paper, and it left a mark for which they are wholly responsible. It seems that at that age it doesn't matter what you've drawn, but simply that you have created something. Eventually, they are moulded into the concept that these scribblings are not enough, that drawing must be representational. And, fair enough, it is said that these are some of the most unique characteristics about human beings, that we document things visually. So children eventually learn to draw people, animals, and scenes from their lives and their inner world. And they enjoy it. I often ask children to draw pictures for me, and up to a certain age they always tackle the task enthusiastically. But if you ask an adult, one who doesn’t define their job or their hobby as visual art, they all say “I can’t”. Yet what I think they really mean to say is “I can’t draw things so that they look how they are, therefore I refuse to try”. And I struggle to understand why. Why not even try?

Is it teachers that erode children’s sense of feeling equipped to draw? Is it their peers? Is it a general disillusionment in that the world will respect our unique view and representation of the world, because they will judge us? Why do we stop drawing? Why do we become convinced that we are not good at it and so we shouldn't? These are the kinds of questions that I think about.

Pablo Picasso, the artist, is someone I have always admired for reasons other than his visual artwork. See, Picasso was the son of an artist who taught him from very young the techniques of visual art: perspective, light and dark, etc. And he learnt these very well, so much that visual art became something he eventually was able to make a living out of. Now, the majority of us know Picasso as that guy who made those “weird” paintings, those cubist paintings that only vaguely looked like real-life objects – and, yes, that was on purpose. But Picasso himself said that by the time he was 4 years old he could draw representationally, draw like that renaissance painter’s Raphael very impressive and life-like paintings. And he wasn't exaggerating! Yet what I like most of all that he said is this: “Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up”. It makes me feel like I am not the only one troubled by questions like this :)

I still draw. Just don't see why not :)


Sunday, February 2, 2014

On keeping quite

I've noted myself that I haven’t being writing as much as I used to, and I think that now I know why. I was trying to convince myself that it was because of lack of ideas, but that’s not the real (or at least not the whole) truth. I have been censoring myself. I know, it’s embarrassing but that is exactly what I have been doing for at least the last year.

It’s interesting that I started this blog to put down some of my rants, to share some of my stories, and essentially to say the things that I lack verbal finesse to say adequately. It was meant to be to express myself and my personal opinions. So what happened? I've been scared. It’s true, I have been.

It started because at one point I was asked by someone to not share stories about my romantic relationships because they felt that reflected badly on them. So I held back my feelings (which I am finally realising are solely my property) and tried to eliminate even commenting that I may or may not at a particular time be in a relationship. Then I was dissatisfied with the circumstances of a couple of the last few places I've worked, and yet too scared to lose my job (and suffer financially) for saying what I really think and what I think is wrong. Later I became scared to even comment about any social or political situations that I have opinions on, for fear that my opinions may unfortunately be seen as not simply my opinion but those of “a doctor”. I was at the time reading stories about people who happened to be doctors and also bloggers who were posting opinion pieces, and who later received attention or reprimand from medical registration boards because apparently doctors can only ever be doctors and never just be everyday human beings with opinions. I was scaring myself into thinking that I just wasn't allowed to have an opinion that may not ‘reasonably be expected of a medical practitioner by the public’ or that may not ‘reasonably be shared by my peers’. Yes, I was thinking in medico-legal terms. And I was afraid to post about things that concerned or bothered me about the religious group I attended for fear of it affecting my or my family’s standing and reputation within the congregation.

So what does Vanessa discuss if she can’t talk about love, medicine, socio-political commentary, or theology? Not much. Because those are the things that affect my life the most, the things that I want to talk about. So I almost came to a complete halt of this blog. But I've been feeling very frustrated and very tired in the last year, and I've come to the conclusion that there may be a correlation between my lack of self-expression and the ongoing frustration and exhaustion in my life. So my plan this year is to allow myself to regain my passion for self-expression, and to lose some of the frustration that comes from my self-imposed censorship.

Thank you for your support.

Nothing should come between a woman and her love for... mangoes.
This picture was meant to be an analogy for writing, but mangoes will do :)