Mirroring

Every now and then, conversations between doctors and patients boomerang between questions and medicalese. Not many of us nod, and even more of them struggle to make sense of doctors' words.

There is a cultural difference in play, too. Not for the first time, I encountered Chinese patients speaking in Chiuchow dialect or accent. "It seems like you're coming from Chiuchow," I enthused. It wouldn't take long for my patient to figure out I'm also from the same heritage.

But why the digression during clinic consultation? What I hope to do is improving trust by concordance. I have learned recently how doctors can make patients feel at ease when we share aspects of culture and identity, including race. Emma Goldberg, the author of Life on the Lines, taught me the emotional bonds from sharing identity between doctors and patients.

In a nutshell, like attracts like.

On the other hand, Black men visiting non-Black doctors turned down flu shot offers more than those visiting Black doctors, even when offered money incentives. Similarly, when Spanish-speaking patients see doctors who speak their language, they're more likely to adhere to their prescribed medications. 

Doctors are, obviously enough, not just the sum of our technical skills. Our gender, our cultural backgrounds, our ages, our race, our personal history matter too.

Endoscopy

The guru of good habits Stephen Covey once wrote, "Between what happens to us in life and our reaction is a space. In that space lies our power and freedom to choose our responses. In our responses lie our growth and happiness."

He had a point. It's often far more difficult to choose the weather of our mind than it is to wait for perfect weather. With that concept in mind, I've been learning not to control everything, but to control how I feel and react. Regardless of what the weather is like, I choose not to feel under the weather.

Recently, stomach pain woke me up twice. I realized that it's better to get an upper endoscopy examination. That means inserting a tube with camera through my mouth and into my stomach. That isn't a terrible medical procedure but most of us can think of a dozen reasons why we should have sedation medication: to help us rest and relax, to avoid discomfort, to go asleep without remembering the tube scratching the throat.

But then, I wish to go back to work immediately after the endoscopy examination. I did that today and sailed through the procedure smoothly without any need of sleep medication. Fifteen minutes and - ta-da! - I was back to clinic seeing patients.

Break a Leg

I was discussing with my daughter the meaning of the English idiom "break a leg' the other day.

She thought about the context of wishing luck before an audition. That way the "breaking leg" grants you the chance to be "in the cast."

Maybe she's right. Maybe I should not entertain such a question. And man, the story of "in the cast" turns out to be true. Within two months, my daughter broke her leg. Not in an audition, though. After sports injury from ankle inversion, it looked like a golf ball had been seen into her ankle. She ended up in a cast this week.

I went back to get the crutches, which have been passed from one colleague of mine to another in my department. It makes me think of the children's game known as "musical chairs." That's how it works: everyone gets the chance. My daughter's turn this time. Uh-oh.

Filter

I'm nerdy enough that I had to learn from my junior about Facebook some years after Mark Zuckerberg launched the social media. I have never installed this social networking app in my smartphone, with the hope that it can minimise addiction. I knew nothing about Tumblr or Snapchat. And until recently, I didn't quite understand the knack of using hashtag.

After my daughter asked for our permission to open an Instagram account last week, I decided to read about the story of Kevin Systrom and Mike Krieger.

By the end of the first few chapters of the book No Filter, I have already got more idea how and why I made use of Instagram, Facebook and Twitter.

For Instagram, I somehow craft it like a coffee table with magazines. Instead of inviting Instagram followers, I exclusively browsed photos of Lonely Planet, National Geographic, Runner's World and birds. That much is good. And this is the easiest way to enjoy photos of wildlife, kingfishers and leisure activities.

For Facebook, I use that as a gallery or diary with pictures of mine. Although posting photo on Facebook is more a hassle than using Instagram, the upside of this social media is the way it chronicles our memory like a diary.

For Twitter, I build my account to become a medical "knowledge tank". Following academic accounts such as that of the New England Journal of Medicine and the Infectious Diseases Society of America automatically helps me stay abreast of the most updated journal publication and conference materials.

I don't know if this system of categorising apps works for you, but this is perfect for a nerd like me.

Anniversary

The reason to take a day off on my 23rd wedding anniversary today, I would have thought, is self-evident. I'm sure there are hundreds and thousands of reasons.

So: because of the fundamental importance of we-time. That is the reason. And more important than me-time.

Also because, in this particular case, of being grateful for my wife's willingness to tolerate a difficult guy: a guy who doesn't drive and have enjoyed his passenger status for more than two decades; a guy who works for longer hours than Meredith Grey; a guy with a cluttered desk and messy home.

A more immediate explanation is to say that I'm thankful for about my wife.

Wallet

I lost my wallet yesterday evening.

When I found about the missing wallet and thought about the credit cards and the Octopus card, I felt the flutter of trepidation in my gut. I paced around to search, and wished that my wallet was hiding somewhere at home. Except it wasn't.

Stomach in knots, I was seized by the urge to call the bank to cancel my credit cards. Deactivating all cards would make sense, that much is clear.

A small voice inside me than said, "Excuuuuusee me, can I have a reason to feel hopeful about retrieving my wallet?" No sooner did I make up my mind to report lost cards than I thought of something better: a global study on the likelihood of returning lost wallet. I learned about this study from the book Collective Illusions.

The behavioral scientist researchers conducted a series of experiments to calculate the return rates of lost wallets and published their results in Science. The researchers "lost" over 17,000 wallets in 40 countries. Each wallet contained three business cards with a clear ID and an email address, a key and a grocery list in the local language. Some contained no cash; others held about $13; and others contained $100. 

And what did they find? In almost all countries, people tried to return the wallets. In all but two countries, people tried even harder to reach the owner if there was money inside. The more cash, the better return rate.

The little-known moral and altruistic nature of human is best reflected by another survey conducted by the same group of reseachers asking people to estimate the return rate based on whether the wallets contained no money, $13 or $100. Both laypersons and professional economists projected a lower return rate for wallets with money, and the lowest when there were more money. The opposite is true, as it turns out.

Putting these findings together, I decided to temporarily block my credit card and wait with a jolt of optimism. So when twelve hours passed and I hadn't received news of my lost wallet, I began to get a little edgy. Okay, I worried.

I got a phone call more than half day after I lost my wallet, and was told that a stranger wanted to return my wallet. I hadn't even noticed that my mouth was hanging open.

School

My daughter has graduated from a primary school many of us wished to have graduated from.

Her school is great; everyone says so.

In case you're wondering whether the kids' parents have chance to graduate from this school, here's the answer: Yes. Some of us. Luckily or unluckily.

You won't believe this, I tell you. We have arranged a "graduation ceremony" in the school hall for a parent of my daughter's classmate. That is, sadly, a ceremony or memorial after she died of stomach cancer last year.

Which means, of course, that the school serves like a close-knit family for the students. So much so that, when my wife has committed to get baptised, the church has borrowed the school venue for this important moment.

A moment, and a school for that matter, we won't forget.