Huge pet hate

Having come back from 6 weeks in New Zealand, and being re-acclimatised to their enlightened approach to eftpos I find myself repeatedly wanting to physically punch retailers in the mouth when I got to pay for something with eftpos and they turn around and say “Oh, sorry, $10 minimum on eftpos”. Seriously. Are they institutionally retarded? Are they under some illusion that they are stuck in 1987? I even get it in large shopping centres where surely all their eftpos transactions are not going through a phone line but via the centre’s broadband internet connection (and thus removes any concern about the cost of the call to dial into the eftpos system).

And then they turn around and say “How about just adding <insert some $2-3 item I didn’t want (otherwise I would have bought it to the counter with me) > to make $10”.

Increasingly I look at them as though they have a giant moron stick poking out of theirforeheads, tell them to get stuffed, and walk out without buying anything. They either want my custom or they don’t and I’m sure they can afford to factor in the 20cents worth of call to eftpos if they realise that a $7 purchase is still a $7 purchase, and if they treat me well I’ll most probably come back in the future (because like most males I’m a terrible creature of habit, and will in future go straight back to places I know and which have treated me well (and conversely never again frequent places that treat me with rudeness or disdain)), and spend (often a lot) more there next time.

The whole thing is absurd, insulting and counter-productive, and all around puts my blood pressure and my hackles up, when I know it’s not necessary, because other countries do fine without it.

Ignorant until proven guilty

(This post was alternatively going to be titled “Public Hospitals: You get the care you pay for”)

Well after listening to Jeremy talk about the stress of being responsible for ICU patients in the last few weeks, I got to experience it first hand last week.

My registrar got cellulitis from a scratch on his leg from kayaking, and was away for 3 days, and so I got something of a field promotion to pseudo-registrar.

Now the problem with ICU patients is two fold. Firstly they are (as their location suggests) genuinely quite sick (as opposed to the apparent level of health you see in some of the other people you see around the hospital, some of whom appear to see it almost as a nice little holiday). They need intensive care, and so require more technical support and more detailed knowledge to be able to manage them successfully.

The second problem is that while, in the first 2 years of being a doctor, I have generally become rather blase about what I can get away with on the care front (the old adage that Medicine mostly involves amusing the patient while nature cures the disease actually turns out to be remarkably accurate – most people tend to get better in spite of what you do (or the relative ineptitude of your methods of doing it), rather than because of what you do)) ICU patients are still surrounded by that aura of mystique, and I haven’t quite shaken off my tendency to be generally scared to do anything to them in case they should suddenly and catastrophically collapse in a heap as a result.

So the first day of being responsible was rather petrifying really. The nurses would ask me to rewrite some fluids, and I’d spend 5 minutes deliberating about the type of fluid, the rate, additives, other meds that may be needed as well, possibly implications for the ventilator settings, and a million other (in the end probably unnecessary) things before I eventually just wrote them up for more of what they were having before.

By the end of the 3rd day however I had settled on 3 general guiding principles, which had made my life considerably less stressful. Firstly, run almost everything past the bosses. They seemed happier when I asked than when I didn’t, so I just asked a lot. I’m sure that in a few weeks they would have gotten sick of it, but for a few days they were quite happy.

Second was to listen to what the more senior nurses said, and when they said “Can you change this for me” or “you should do this” I willingly went along with them, because they know far more about ICU than I do (at this stage).

Finally I learned that the first question in any unfamiliar situation should be either “what do they usually do here” or, more importantly, “Is there a protocol for that?”. More often than not there was already a protocol, and so you just followed it and almost never needed to worry about having to figure stuff (slowly) out for yourself, or being wrong.

Anyway, I managed to bumble my way through 3 days of it before my reg came back and I got shunted back into my largely superfluous most-junior-doctor-on-the-ward position, and no-one even died.

Stratification

It’s election time and one of the things I’ve been watching with growing amusement is the growth in the population of campaign signage along the side of the road on my way to work.

First there was just the nationals, labour and liberal candidates, usually separately. Then there were the Kevin Rudd ones put up next to the labour candidate’s ones as if to reinforce the candidate’s legitimacy. Then there were the union and “your rights at work” and “John Howard has sold off your rights” ones that popped up next to the afore mentioned Rudd/local candidate pairing. Then a few independent candidates and minor parties (greens, One nation etc) started putting their own ones up.

Then came the really amusing development – Stratification. I started to see labour candidate signs appearing immediately in front of liberal and national signs (and vica versa), as if to try and block them out. Then a couple of days later another sign from the obscured candidate would appear in front of the obscuring sign – to reclaim the limelight, but perhaps the most bizarre part is that the originally obscured sign would still be there. You’d think they’d just pick the obscured sign up and move it back into visibility or move it back in front of the new obscuring sign (like some perverse and ridiculous game of electioneering leap frog) but no. Instead you just end up with these rows of signs alternating red-blue-red-blue… or red-green-red-green.. each trying to block out the view to the one before it. It is all just really rather amusing in it’s absurdity.

Aftermath

Having finished Harry Potter I am finding myself ruminating a lot over it.

Part of it is the usual feeling of hollow sadness that I get after any book/TV/movie series that I have become particularly engrossed in comes to an end, the same feeling I get when I loose a friend because one or other of us moves away to continue our lives. I feel sad because I know I am going to miss their company.

Part of it also seems to stem from the fact that so many of the characters I have come to know and love end up dying, and while I won’t spoil the details for those who have not read it, it becomes a little overwhelming towards the end as so many end up dying sad and slightly futile deaths.

Ultimately I think a lot of it boils down to the fact that I kind of wish I too could do magic (and as much as I try and convince myself that some of the stuff I do at work is, in the grand scheme of things, pretty damn amazing, it’s somehow not in the same league as Patronuses and expeliarmus) and it frustrates me a bit that after getting so immersed in the Harry Potter universe for the last few days I have to return to my at the moment rather mundane life. <Sigh>

Finito

Well I just finished reading the last Harry Potter. I read 350 pages of it today (which for those of you who know how slowly I read, is quite a feat in itself).

Pretty good yarn, but I want more, and particularly stuff filling in those 19 years. Perhaps some stories about Neville and Hermione and what they get up to after school.

Anyway. It’s another thing out of the way on my “After I’ve sat the exam…” checklist.

Family photos

Right. Since getting home I’ve had a chance to look through the CD of the ultrasound Simone had while I was in Dunedin, and for your edification here are a few photos of Simone’s handy work:

baby-1.jpg _ baby-2.jpg _ baby-3.jpg

I included the last photo to prove (as if there was ever any doubt, given it’s parentage) that our kid has spine (and thus by inference grit, determination and (god help us) that now famous Ramsay family stubborn streak).

You should be able to see bigger copies of the pictures by clicking on each of them.

Homecoming

Well after 6 weeks in Dunedin I’m finally going home today. It’s going to be very odd going from Dunedin, where the daily high might reach 18, to Cairns where the daily low might reach 18.

And my cat is going to demand many many compensatory belly scratches. And Jack’s demands are going to be *nothing* when compared to my ever so demanding (:-)) wife’s expectations for snuggles and pampering after I left her alone and up the duff to go traipsing off to another country for 6 weeks…

And then I’ve got to get used to going to work again. Ah well. Suppose I can’t expect to be paid to do nothing forever… (although sometimes I think it would be nice).

Sushi Side Effects

Curious little mention on Slashdot of an article in Practical Neurology about a neurotoxin in tropical fish which, among other equally odd effects, causes a reversal in the sensations of hot and cold. That would certainly be unusual to experience, but an amusing party joke if you could make it short lived and reversible…

I have ridden the mighty moon worm!

Al Gore, the inventor of the environment, and first emperor of the moon (those futurama fans out there will know what I’m talking about), and one time holder of the award for the most boring man alive, has won the Nobel Peace Prize for his advocacy regarding global warming. Kudos to him. Now the question is going to be who will win the bag of moon sapphires for coming up with a solution to the global warming problem??

Call me cynical

…but I agree with those who feel that John Howard’s sudden interest in Aboriginal reconciliation is pretty cynical.

He’s had plenty of time to do this, but to suddenly decide to finally stop ignoring the sentiment of the majority of the country on this issue in the immediate lead up to an election just seems pathetic and fumblingly manipulative (especially when you’ve just annexed and arguably disenfranchised many of the Aboriginals in the northern territory).

I understand the concern that a poorly articulated apology might be interpreted by some as an admission of government guilt or complicity, and may lead to greater activity in the areas of aboriginal land rights and compensation litigation, but it is possible to (a) grow a set and accept that perhaps that wouldn’t be the worst thing, and (b) have taken some peremptory steps in that direction before trying to use it to leverage an election.

“I’m (personally) sorry that these injustices have happened to your people” neither implies guilt or responsibility, nor obliges any action, but does show that you appreciate that certain unfairnesses occurred, and that you may be agreeable to looking at ways of rectifying things. And if John had said something like that when Peter Garret and Midnight Oil wore their “Sorry” suit at the 2000 Olympics (as most of the younger generation of Australians apparently feel he should have) then perhaps I wouldn’t think that talk of recognising Aboriginals in a constitutional amendment so suspect.