Commuting to work by public transport can disappoint at first glance. The added time and distance might not be worth the hassle, I know. If that's not enough, the trip can be ruined by greedy seat searchers – to say nothing of someone who blocks the middle seat with a school bag.
Yet I'm unflinching: the best-kept secret of enjoying my train ride is the reading time. This week I traveled to Guangzhou for a conference. Getting there by train takes close to two hours, and that doesn't seem to bother me. The only question for me is what books or magazines to pack.
I was glad to have picked Daniel Gottlieb's Letters to Sam this time. I'd read this book few years back, but I still enjoyed reading it again. As I read the story of this man who has been paralyzed from the neck down (after an automobile accident), I learned great lesson from his struggle with bedsore on his buttocks. The quadriplegic psychologist went to see the doctor, who then examined the skin and said, "It's broken."
"I know," Daniel answered. The doctor had no idea that Daniel was referring to his heart, but not his skin.
"Too much pressure," the doctor explained, meaning his buttocks on a wheelchair all day. "I know," Daniel said, meaning his life.
When the doctor found out the moist wound, he commented on the unhealthy sign, in medical parlance, "It's weeping."
"I know," Daniel gave the same answer. But he wasn't still talking about his wound.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Peppermint
"Guess what," Peppermint Patty told her classmate Marcie one day, "I'm going for the "Most Improved Student" award."
"School just started today, sir."
But Peppermint didn't lose her hope, quite the opposite really, because she went on, "And I'm already better this afternoon than I was in the morning."
The story of Peppermint is the story for all of us to learn. It's not that we should learn to console ourselves when we just receive a D minus - as what Peppermint gets most of the time - but we're to remember the lesson not to envy our neighbours more than we need to. The question is not whether we should compare with others, because we all do. We compare the job title, the size of our house, the examination scores of our children, and the inches around the waist (or the breast, if you like).
The big question is, When should we compare with ourselves rather than our neighbours? Just think about the hypothetical question posed by the economist Robert H. Frank. In World A, you earn $110,000 per year; others earn $200,000. Compare that with World B, in which you earn $100,000 per year; others earn $85,000. So which would you pick?
The truth is, even though the absolute income figures represent the real purchasing power, the majority of people choose World B.
"School just started today, sir."
But Peppermint didn't lose her hope, quite the opposite really, because she went on, "And I'm already better this afternoon than I was in the morning."
The story of Peppermint is the story for all of us to learn. It's not that we should learn to console ourselves when we just receive a D minus - as what Peppermint gets most of the time - but we're to remember the lesson not to envy our neighbours more than we need to. The question is not whether we should compare with others, because we all do. We compare the job title, the size of our house, the examination scores of our children, and the inches around the waist (or the breast, if you like).
The big question is, When should we compare with ourselves rather than our neighbours? Just think about the hypothetical question posed by the economist Robert H. Frank. In World A, you earn $110,000 per year; others earn $200,000. Compare that with World B, in which you earn $100,000 per year; others earn $85,000. So which would you pick?
The truth is, even though the absolute income figures represent the real purchasing power, the majority of people choose World B.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Fountain Pen
Off all effects created by fountain pen, none is more eye-catching than that created by ink spillage on a white shirt.
Since I started using fountain pen over ten years ago, I came across time and again the creepy experience of wearing a white coat stained with black ink. Never shall I forget the embarrassing story which reminds me of - oh, say - say the Persian Gulf War oil spillage. I was trying to examine my patient yesterday morning, with medical students around. Before I put my hand on the patient's tummy, I noticed my dirty looking fingers stained with Waterman black ink. Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, a cursory glance at my white coat pocket showed another messy ink stain. I shrugged; probably I blushed. Uh-oh.
The stubborn ink stain is not pleasant - how could it be? - but it never deters me from being a fan of fountain pens. And, oh, yes, you thought it was nuts at first, and even more so for nurses who found a drop of water falling upon my handwriting in ink. But it has made a heck of difference in how I found my footprints in the patient record. It takes more than a standard template on the computer screen (in this age of electronic medical record) to keep track of the patient story. Patient story on a computer screen is emotionally dead, that's the crux of it. If you put the story in ink, you will be surprised at how much you will remember when you look back at the handwritten record. By surprised, I mean amazed; and by amazed, I mean stunned and impressed.
Since I started using fountain pen over ten years ago, I came across time and again the creepy experience of wearing a white coat stained with black ink. Never shall I forget the embarrassing story which reminds me of - oh, say - say the Persian Gulf War oil spillage. I was trying to examine my patient yesterday morning, with medical students around. Before I put my hand on the patient's tummy, I noticed my dirty looking fingers stained with Waterman black ink. Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, a cursory glance at my white coat pocket showed another messy ink stain. I shrugged; probably I blushed. Uh-oh.
The stubborn ink stain is not pleasant - how could it be? - but it never deters me from being a fan of fountain pens. And, oh, yes, you thought it was nuts at first, and even more so for nurses who found a drop of water falling upon my handwriting in ink. But it has made a heck of difference in how I found my footprints in the patient record. It takes more than a standard template on the computer screen (in this age of electronic medical record) to keep track of the patient story. Patient story on a computer screen is emotionally dead, that's the crux of it. If you put the story in ink, you will be surprised at how much you will remember when you look back at the handwritten record. By surprised, I mean amazed; and by amazed, I mean stunned and impressed.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Closet
"I've never known anybody who didn't have a skeleton or two in their closet," writes Robert Fulghum, noting that there are always those things we don't want to talk to anybody about.
It is true that all of us have a few demons being locked somewhere in a closet or drawer. Fulghum, the American author who wrote All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, explains that shame, guilt, and embarrassment are the locks on the closet door. I have long been wishing for a secret recipe to erase the demons, and I have always felt it to be just as well for me to clean up the lockers other than mine - I'm responsible for at least dozens of demons hiding in others' closets.
It's not hard to understand my excitement when I read about a memory molecule that appears in a recent edition of the scientific journal Nature. Researchers have discovered ways to manipulate a protein in the rats' hippocampus to enhance or diminish memory. This means that the scientists are able to deliver electric shocks to rats on entering a particular entrance to a box, but then erase their bitter memories of the shock.
Another way of making sense of the science is to develop a novel target for cognitive enhancement therapy. If you want people to keep remembering a story, you can. The question remains: Do we?
It is true that all of us have a few demons being locked somewhere in a closet or drawer. Fulghum, the American author who wrote All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, explains that shame, guilt, and embarrassment are the locks on the closet door. I have long been wishing for a secret recipe to erase the demons, and I have always felt it to be just as well for me to clean up the lockers other than mine - I'm responsible for at least dozens of demons hiding in others' closets.
It's not hard to understand my excitement when I read about a memory molecule that appears in a recent edition of the scientific journal Nature. Researchers have discovered ways to manipulate a protein in the rats' hippocampus to enhance or diminish memory. This means that the scientists are able to deliver electric shocks to rats on entering a particular entrance to a box, but then erase their bitter memories of the shock.
Another way of making sense of the science is to develop a novel target for cognitive enhancement therapy. If you want people to keep remembering a story, you can. The question remains: Do we?
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