Think that buying Porsche would actually make you happier than driving Subaru? Or, as my mentor recently asked in his blog post, can dining at Gaddis create a higher overall happiness level than at the fast food restaurant Café de Coral? Think again.
It looks like it's satisfying to buy another new car - and it is. But not for long. Believe me, we thought it was great at first. But it has made a heck of a difference when we step back and think about the overall happiness level. This has something to do with the human psychology of hedonic adaptation - the natural process for humans to quickly get used to things and return to a set point. In essence, the happiness - however high we achieve - will soon wear off. In the end, we sigh and moan and wish we had more money. From an economist viewpoint, the best strategy should be to space purchases to an intermittent approach, instead of the shopping spree.
The same goes for buying coffee. Should I yearn to visit Starbucks? Their coffee is great; everyone say so. If I started buying coffee from Starbucks, I would get used to that level of coffee quality and would no longer be able to derive any pleasure from cheaper coffee.
Man is a pliant animal, as Fyodor Dostoyevsky reminds us, a being who gets accustomed to anything.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
Gut Feeling
For a species wired for survival, it should learn to make use of instinct to quickly identify the feeding source and spot out the hostile enemy. And no wonder: a recent study from Paris has provided the first experimental evidence in urban pigeons for their ability to distinguish between friendly feeders and hostile foes.
The research team carried out the test with two feeders - one neutral and one hostile. To put it simply, the hostile feeder would chase the birds away. And what was so special about the urban pigeons? The birds learned quickly to discriminate between the feeders. Is this happenstance, do you think? Of course not, the pigeons avoided the hostile feeder even after the two feeders exchanged their coats.
While I subscribe to the theory that most animals are brilliant in terms of their gut feeling, I have trouble with telling this story. Before I heard the pigeon experiment, my wife and I had just found out that our used car was stolen by our auto mechanic - a guy we had counted on for over ten years. It isn't easy or even possible to rely on our gut feeling. But it is something we want. And need.
The research team carried out the test with two feeders - one neutral and one hostile. To put it simply, the hostile feeder would chase the birds away. And what was so special about the urban pigeons? The birds learned quickly to discriminate between the feeders. Is this happenstance, do you think? Of course not, the pigeons avoided the hostile feeder even after the two feeders exchanged their coats.
While I subscribe to the theory that most animals are brilliant in terms of their gut feeling, I have trouble with telling this story. Before I heard the pigeon experiment, my wife and I had just found out that our used car was stolen by our auto mechanic - a guy we had counted on for over ten years. It isn't easy or even possible to rely on our gut feeling. But it is something we want. And need.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Empathy
Following a hospital forum on doctor-patient relationship, I spent another whole day teaching the medical school graduates to practice empathy in communication. I taught them a good deal to recognize (and verbalize) the patient's emotion.
For those of you who believes that emotion is as obvious as an instant Twitter broadcast (or Facebook status update), you would have laughed out loud. If so, think twice after hearing behaviorist John Gottman's forecast of divorce probabilities. In piecing together years of research on marriage, John concludes that if the wife felt she was being heard by her husband the marriage was essentially divorce-proof. If that empathy was absent, the marriage foundered like a two-legged stool.
Ahem. Did I listen to my wife? Not always. Which is why, after the teaching, I went straight home and tried to hear what she said. She was away for work when I got home but I found three new gift books. My wife had just bought them for our daughter: When I'm Feeling Angry, When I'm Feeling Scared, and When I'm Feeling Happy.
I couldn't have been more flabbergasted; we get to learn our emotion since toddler age but can't seem to master it after a life time.
For those of you who believes that emotion is as obvious as an instant Twitter broadcast (or Facebook status update), you would have laughed out loud. If so, think twice after hearing behaviorist John Gottman's forecast of divorce probabilities. In piecing together years of research on marriage, John concludes that if the wife felt she was being heard by her husband the marriage was essentially divorce-proof. If that empathy was absent, the marriage foundered like a two-legged stool.
Ahem. Did I listen to my wife? Not always. Which is why, after the teaching, I went straight home and tried to hear what she said. She was away for work when I got home but I found three new gift books. My wife had just bought them for our daughter: When I'm Feeling Angry, When I'm Feeling Scared, and When I'm Feeling Happy.
I couldn't have been more flabbergasted; we get to learn our emotion since toddler age but can't seem to master it after a life time.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Help
Every time a doctor breaks bad news to the patient's family members, they go to pieces. From breast cancer to heart attack to motor vehicle crash, and each time, one can feel the family member’s heart almost palpably turning to flutter.
Faced with this common scene in hospital, what should a doctor do? Instead of telling them to let go and accept the diagnosis, I feel a need to give the family members something to do. It's not that they aren't in bad mood themselves – trust me, they are – but it doesn't mean that the family members aren't in a position to offer help to the patient.
On one such occasion, I received a crash call after my patient’s heart and breathing stopped. The diagnosis wasn't particularly difficult. The prognosis was. He didn't improve much and I realized that I was losing that patient. I was tempted to conclude, when his wife and children rushed to the hospital, that they arrived too late. I paused. I quickly gazed at the monitors. My patient's heart tracing wasn't flat yet. "Let's see what we can help your dad before saying bye to him," I changed my mind. I then handed over the Ambu bag to the sons and asked them to give their dad extra breaths. (Ambu bag, by the way, is a hand-held bag valve mask to provide breathing assistance.) In less than a blink of an eye, my patient's wife boomeranged back home to fetch the best attire for her beloved husband. All these, I know, did not save the life of our patient. But wait: the healing power for the family is enormous. They came and joined me to do the best they could to help their family member.
Some doctors have trouble with this. Actually, you shouldn't have been. The primary duty of a doctor is supposed to help the patient. If you ask me, helping the family to help the patient is a close runner-up. As my nurse friend asked me this morning if she could assist me to perform a bone marrow examination for her own dad, I nodded my head and let her join me to unravel the disease of a blood disorder.
Faced with this common scene in hospital, what should a doctor do? Instead of telling them to let go and accept the diagnosis, I feel a need to give the family members something to do. It's not that they aren't in bad mood themselves – trust me, they are – but it doesn't mean that the family members aren't in a position to offer help to the patient.
On one such occasion, I received a crash call after my patient’s heart and breathing stopped. The diagnosis wasn't particularly difficult. The prognosis was. He didn't improve much and I realized that I was losing that patient. I was tempted to conclude, when his wife and children rushed to the hospital, that they arrived too late. I paused. I quickly gazed at the monitors. My patient's heart tracing wasn't flat yet. "Let's see what we can help your dad before saying bye to him," I changed my mind. I then handed over the Ambu bag to the sons and asked them to give their dad extra breaths. (Ambu bag, by the way, is a hand-held bag valve mask to provide breathing assistance.) In less than a blink of an eye, my patient's wife boomeranged back home to fetch the best attire for her beloved husband. All these, I know, did not save the life of our patient. But wait: the healing power for the family is enormous. They came and joined me to do the best they could to help their family member.
Some doctors have trouble with this. Actually, you shouldn't have been. The primary duty of a doctor is supposed to help the patient. If you ask me, helping the family to help the patient is a close runner-up. As my nurse friend asked me this morning if she could assist me to perform a bone marrow examination for her own dad, I nodded my head and let her join me to unravel the disease of a blood disorder.
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