It's been a gorgeous day here, and we've gotten a lot accomplished. The training in Salavan is going well, just had a good meeting with the Champassak Dept of Health. Seems like the sun is shining everywhere...
Except I just talked to my boss in Vientiane. He said that it's been raining like crazy up north, and in Louang Prabang, the Mekong has risen 3 meters and looks like it might go over the levee in Vientiane. Groan. Some of the areas that the bus will have to go through tonight are low so I hope the road is not flooded.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Salavan update
It's been a good week so far. We've started our first project management workshop. My staff have been doing the workshop pretty much on their own. The Deputy Director of the Dept. of Health stopped by for a while and we ended up talking in the back of the room. He said he was pretty impressed by the content and the confidence of my staff (especially the female staff) in running the workshop.
Most of the hospital and health dept. folks are ethnic minorities. Salavan province has about 30 ethnic groups and the common language is Lao (fortunately). I've been spending time at the workshop, talking to everyone so they can get used to my strangely accented Lao. In fact, because Lao is a second language, we tend to talk more clearly and use fewer slang words so I can understand them pretty well and they can understand me.
Last thing - it's the end of the rainy season but the rains still come down heavy and for long periods of time. Tried to go for a run at the old airport this afternoon, and got soaked.
Most of the hospital and health dept. folks are ethnic minorities. Salavan province has about 30 ethnic groups and the common language is Lao (fortunately). I've been spending time at the workshop, talking to everyone so they can get used to my strangely accented Lao. In fact, because Lao is a second language, we tend to talk more clearly and use fewer slang words so I can understand them pretty well and they can understand me.
Last thing - it's the end of the rainy season but the rains still come down heavy and for long periods of time. Tried to go for a run at the old airport this afternoon, and got soaked.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
In Ruins
Seeing the tombs for the first time, feeling that surprise of discovery, could never be repeated. Marlene felt changed as she walked out of the forest, the sounds of birds and insects silence by the fog cover. The ground sloped towards the ancient courtyard, partially obscured by the mist until a breeze swept it away.
Marlene breathed, filling her lungs with moisture and decay. The tombs had been asleep for centuries, hiding secrets within their vaults. She would not be able to explore them for long, but even knowing the futility of her desire, she entered.
The carefully manicured path led her through a cherry orchard and around a lake. She knew that each view had been chosen carefully to illustrate both the beauty and impermanence of nature. The fog returned, swallowing the sounds of her footsteps, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She felt alien to herself, to be in this land, without reference.
Her watched chimed, reminding her to return to the entrance. "Tee-shirt, mister?" The skinny youth stood at the gate, carrying a closet's worth of clothing on his arms. She tried to recapture the silence of her walk but the motorcycle-taxi drivers gunned their engines and she breathed in exhaust.
She found her driver and sat on the back of the motorcycle. They passed through the kaleidoscope of vendors selling soft drinks and posters along the road. Marlene left the park, and the descendants of the emperors who had built these ruins.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
I'm still kicking around Laos. Our project was renewed for two more years and we'll be working in the southern provinces of Laos - Salavan and Champassak. At the same time, we're still providing medical funding and follow-up support for people injured by unexploded ordnance in Xieng Khouang and Salavan. I'm still running back and forth between the provinces of the north and south. Yesterday, we drove from Xieng Khouang to Vientiane. Have a day to rest and write reports before continuing down to Salavan on Monday.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Sunday
I was up late last night, working on my medical anthropology paper, until my eyes blurred. The petanque crowd next door has quieted around midnight so it was nice to work in the cooling humid air. The quiet, humid air.
When I woke at 7 am, the crowd had started their morning games. I drank coffee under the shade of the mango tree and heard one of my cats, Alpha, meowing. She jumped up onto the fence between my house and the petanque players' house. I feel betrayed; I never knew that Alpha liked to gamble. I imagine that she lounges around, a glass of Beer Lao by one paw, and smoking a cigarette with the other, receiving leftover snacks from the participants.
After an exciting bike ride along the river, I left the my house, which is slowing transforming itself into an oven, and came here to the office where the trees keep my room cool and I can write and dream in peace.
When I woke at 7 am, the crowd had started their morning games. I drank coffee under the shade of the mango tree and heard one of my cats, Alpha, meowing. She jumped up onto the fence between my house and the petanque players' house. I feel betrayed; I never knew that Alpha liked to gamble. I imagine that she lounges around, a glass of Beer Lao by one paw, and smoking a cigarette with the other, receiving leftover snacks from the participants.
After an exciting bike ride along the river, I left the my house, which is slowing transforming itself into an oven, and came here to the office where the trees keep my room cool and I can write and dream in peace.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Petanque
We're slowly moving towards hot season. In Vientiane, the wind barely moves and the new leaves of the Bodhi tree are still. They are the only sign of life in the temples, where in the afternoons, the tuk-tuk drivers lay down in their vehicles with their feet sticking out, snoozing as soundly as the dogs who sprawl out next to them in the thin strip of shade.
The only movement are the unemployed men who play petanque. It's a game, like bocce, played with metal balls. It's now night, when the village should get quiet. I almost drift off to sleep - and suddenly the hoot of the men wakes me up.
I've played petanque once. A friend had a long tailed boat, so we floated down to a sandbar on the Mekong, ate lunch and after pounding down the sand, had a level playing field. It was fun, mainly because it was a beautiful day with a cool breeze along the river, but I don't think I could play it 24 hours/ day and with the same intensity as my neighbors. To each his own, and they can take petanque.
I do wish they'd be a little quieter about it though.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petanque
The only movement are the unemployed men who play petanque. It's a game, like bocce, played with metal balls. It's now night, when the village should get quiet. I almost drift off to sleep - and suddenly the hoot of the men wakes me up.
I've played petanque once. A friend had a long tailed boat, so we floated down to a sandbar on the Mekong, ate lunch and after pounding down the sand, had a level playing field. It was fun, mainly because it was a beautiful day with a cool breeze along the river, but I don't think I could play it 24 hours/ day and with the same intensity as my neighbors. To each his own, and they can take petanque.
I do wish they'd be a little quieter about it though.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petanque
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Books I've read #4 and #5
Livejournal is on a security vacation, so I'm posting the review of my Book #5 and links here. Book #4 was Catcher in the Rye which I released at the Culi Pub in Hanoi last week - still no takers. I'm not ready to post that review yet. So here, I'm writing about my new favorite book, which starts like this:
When the phone rang, I was in the kitchen, boiling a potful of spaghetti and whistling along to an FM broadcast of the overture to Rossini's 'The Thieving Magpie,' which has to be the perfect music for cooking pasta.
I wanted to ignore the phone, not only because the spaghetti was nearly done but because Claudio Abbado was bringing the Long Symphony to its musical climax. Finally, though, I had to give in. It could have been someone with news of a job. I turned down the gas, went to the living room, and picked up the receiver.
"Ten minutes, please," said a woman on the other end.
I'm good a recognizing people's voices, but this was not one I knew.
"Excuse me? To whom did you wish to speak?"
"To you, of course. Ten minutes, pleasse. That's all we need to understand each other."
And so begins The Wind-up Bird Chronicles, by Haruki Murkami. It is a mesmorizing book written in the first person, of the strange life of Toru Okada. It all starts when the cat disappears. Was that the cause of it all or just a point of reference? Searching for the cat leads him into a well, and into himself. In the middle of all this, his wife disappears. In order to find her, find the cat, and even to find himself, he meets strangers who are drawn to him. There's another world of meaning and explanations behind this one and the question is - is a dream or is it real?
I liked the quote on the process of Murakami's writing at the bottom.
Some links to Murakami sites:
Biography: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haruki_Murakami
Main "official" website: http://www.murakami.ch/main_2.html
The Year of Making Spaghetti, a short story: The Year of Making Spaghetti
Another short story: http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/content/articles/050926fi_fiction
Random House website (This is cute because the web page opens on to his new book Kafka on the Beach, and has cats walking back and forth at the bottom of the page): http://www.randomhouse.com/features/murakami/site.php?id=xml/books/kafka/about.xml
Interview at Salon, in which he talks about alienation, influence of the West, and how he is intrigued by writing genre fiction, particularly the form of mystery: http://www.salon.com/books/int/1997/12/cov_si_16int.html
New York Times Book Review: http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9800EED9133EF931A35752C1A961958260
Quoted from the review:
''The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle'' does have its flaws, principally in its uneven design. Murakami has said that he does not plot his novels beforehand but lets the story reveal itself to him as he writes: it shows, especially in the way that neither Toru nor the novelist seems to know or care whether Toru's adventures are real or illusory. And the juxtaposition of the harrowing, all-too-real war stories with the marvelous, supernatural events in Toru's quest feels contrived. The war narratives were almost certainly composed separately and then inserted into the novel to support its grand aspirations.
Yet what Murakami lacks in finesse is more than compensated by the brilliance of his invention. As it floats to its conclusion, ''The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle'' includes an almost Joycean range of literary forms: flashbacks, dreams, letters, newspaper stories and transcripts of Internet chats. And no matter how fantastical the events it describes may be, the straight-ahead storytelling never loses its propulsive force. By the book's midway point, the novelist-juggler has tossed so many balls into the air that he inevitably misses a few on the way down. Visionary artists aren't always neat: who reads Kafka for his tight construction? In ''The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle'' Murakami has written a bold and generous book, and one that would have lost a great deal by being tidied up.
When the phone rang, I was in the kitchen, boiling a potful of spaghetti and whistling along to an FM broadcast of the overture to Rossini's 'The Thieving Magpie,' which has to be the perfect music for cooking pasta.
I wanted to ignore the phone, not only because the spaghetti was nearly done but because Claudio Abbado was bringing the Long Symphony to its musical climax. Finally, though, I had to give in. It could have been someone with news of a job. I turned down the gas, went to the living room, and picked up the receiver.
"Ten minutes, please," said a woman on the other end.
I'm good a recognizing people's voices, but this was not one I knew.
"Excuse me? To whom did you wish to speak?"
"To you, of course. Ten minutes, pleasse. That's all we need to understand each other."
And so begins The Wind-up Bird Chronicles, by Haruki Murkami. It is a mesmorizing book written in the first person, of the strange life of Toru Okada. It all starts when the cat disappears. Was that the cause of it all or just a point of reference? Searching for the cat leads him into a well, and into himself. In the middle of all this, his wife disappears. In order to find her, find the cat, and even to find himself, he meets strangers who are drawn to him. There's another world of meaning and explanations behind this one and the question is - is a dream or is it real?
I liked the quote on the process of Murakami's writing at the bottom.
Some links to Murakami sites:
Biography: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haruki_Murakami
Main "official" website: http://www.murakami.ch/main_2.html
The Year of Making Spaghetti, a short story: The Year of Making Spaghetti
Another short story: http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/content/articles/050926fi_fiction
Random House website (This is cute because the web page opens on to his new book Kafka on the Beach, and has cats walking back and forth at the bottom of the page): http://www.randomhouse.com/features/murakami/site.php?id=xml/books/kafka/about.xml
Interview at Salon, in which he talks about alienation, influence of the West, and how he is intrigued by writing genre fiction, particularly the form of mystery: http://www.salon.com/books/int/1997/12/cov_si_16int.html
New York Times Book Review: http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9800EED9133EF931A35752C1A961958260
Quoted from the review:
''The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle'' does have its flaws, principally in its uneven design. Murakami has said that he does not plot his novels beforehand but lets the story reveal itself to him as he writes: it shows, especially in the way that neither Toru nor the novelist seems to know or care whether Toru's adventures are real or illusory. And the juxtaposition of the harrowing, all-too-real war stories with the marvelous, supernatural events in Toru's quest feels contrived. The war narratives were almost certainly composed separately and then inserted into the novel to support its grand aspirations.
Yet what Murakami lacks in finesse is more than compensated by the brilliance of his invention. As it floats to its conclusion, ''The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle'' includes an almost Joycean range of literary forms: flashbacks, dreams, letters, newspaper stories and transcripts of Internet chats. And no matter how fantastical the events it describes may be, the straight-ahead storytelling never loses its propulsive force. By the book's midway point, the novelist-juggler has tossed so many balls into the air that he inevitably misses a few on the way down. Visionary artists aren't always neat: who reads Kafka for his tight construction? In ''The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle'' Murakami has written a bold and generous book, and one that would have lost a great deal by being tidied up.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Prompts from Daily Life
Walking around Bangkok is a prompt in itself:
Signages -
Massage parlor - "Thai Foot Aroma Oil Massage"
Restaurant - "Birds-eye View Eating-house."
Rental apartment - "Fully Furnitured."
Tailor - "The Bespoke Tailoring"
There are so many more. For fifteen years, I've been telling myself to remember to write them down, but if I have bags in my arms, it's difficult. It's like I've always wanted to get a picture of six on a motorcycle - there they go, down the soi - father driving with a kid balanced between his thighs, mother sitting sideways, baby in arm and two kids squeezed between her hip and the father's back. Never have a camera ready at those times, never.
Signages -
Massage parlor - "Thai Foot Aroma Oil Massage"
Restaurant - "Birds-eye View Eating-house."
Rental apartment - "Fully Furnitured."
Tailor - "The Bespoke Tailoring"
There are so many more. For fifteen years, I've been telling myself to remember to write them down, but if I have bags in my arms, it's difficult. It's like I've always wanted to get a picture of six on a motorcycle - there they go, down the soi - father driving with a kid balanced between his thighs, mother sitting sideways, baby in arm and two kids squeezed between her hip and the father's back. Never have a camera ready at those times, never.
Monday, November 21, 2005
A long time since the last time...
Haven't been posting very often here, but I'm still alive, still living in Laos. Took a trip to the US during October and spent some time in the Eastern part of the country - Boston, Chicago, Atlanta, NYC, upstate NY and then left from Boston. Although I grew up in New York, I spent most of my last years in the US on the West coast and whenever I go to visit the US, I usually land in Seattle, and head down the coast, crashing into Merced before I bounce back up to Seattle in time to catch the plane back here.
I missed the boat racing festival, not only for Vientiane but also for my village. It's fun when it happens but the build up is kinda agonizing - during the final month before the Big Event, there are many Bouns in the temples, big merit-making ceremonies. At the same time, the villages along the river have their races to select the boats for the race in Vientiane. These are accompanied by a lot of drinking and traffic accidents. That's not fun.
For those who follow the weather, it is now the dust season - a cold wind comes from the north. The mornings are cold and foggy and once the sky clears, it's an incredible shade of blue. It may seem strange that it would get cold in a tropical country but the temperatures can get below freezing in Xieng Khouang, and considering that there's no indoor heating, that can feel pretty cold.
I missed the boat racing festival, not only for Vientiane but also for my village. It's fun when it happens but the build up is kinda agonizing - during the final month before the Big Event, there are many Bouns in the temples, big merit-making ceremonies. At the same time, the villages along the river have their races to select the boats for the race in Vientiane. These are accompanied by a lot of drinking and traffic accidents. That's not fun.
For those who follow the weather, it is now the dust season - a cold wind comes from the north. The mornings are cold and foggy and once the sky clears, it's an incredible shade of blue. It may seem strange that it would get cold in a tropical country but the temperatures can get below freezing in Xieng Khouang, and considering that there's no indoor heating, that can feel pretty cold.
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Landmines Conference
I noticed that I haven't posted for quite a while. I've mostly been writing on my Livejournal pages where my daily journals are on public access. I also have stories and stories fragments on my friends list.
I've been in the US for a week, which has been useful. I worked at my home office for a few days in Boston but have been in Chicago since Weds. I've been attending a conference on landmines.
My next stop is Atlanta, followed by New York, then returning to Boston before returning home.
I've been in the US for a week, which has been useful. I worked at my home office for a few days in Boston but have been in Chicago since Weds. I've been attending a conference on landmines.
My next stop is Atlanta, followed by New York, then returning to Boston before returning home.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Some photos
We returned from Xieng Khouang on 31 July, a drizzly cool day in the mountains. Mists streaming through the peaks, like a river of air. We stopped at a Hmong mini-mart to buy corn and cucumbers, not only the special of the day, but the only things they were selling that day. The Hmong are mountain people, and prefer to live along the sharpest ridges which have the most spectacular views, and with the solidity of the mountain behind them. Sometimes, the view isn't so great.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Rainy Season Doldrums
At the end of the hot season we all wished for rain to break the relentless heat. Now, we're experiencing the relentless gray and rain of the monsoons. The Mekong surged during the week I was up in Xieng Khouang. When I returned, it looked like it had moved up the side of the levee by about two meters. The water looked like a brown liquid metal as it slid past, carrying trees, styrofoam, and things we don't want to know about in plastic bags.
But the rain. I feel lazy when it's time to wake up and the water is pounding on the roof. The clothes on the line are lazy to dry. I would like to ride my bicycle but I'm lazy to get wet.
This is also the season called khao phansaa, the Buddhist Lent. Monks are supposed to return to their home temples and not to travel around. In the past, monks often went on pilgramages where they set up a small mosquito net tent in the field, and talked to the villages, giving teaching and also learning about the hardships. In the monsoon season, they are supposed to stay in the temple and focus on learning and memorizing the scriptures. Another reason for the monks to do this is that they avoid stepping on the life that is re-emerging from the mud such as snakes, eels or frogs.
For Buddhists, the monsoon season is the time to attend to the crops. Also, people are supposed to be reflective and to follow the ha sinh, the Five Precepts - try to avoid drinking, telling untruths, sexual misconduct, killing or stealing. During this time, one should not have loud parties or weddings - and if someone has a wedding, everyone avoids mentioning that it is an emergency situation.
Anyway, at my office, we are being good this year - no alcohol. A group of us is trying to lose weight. Another group is supposed to organize Friday afternoon games for motivation. We're trying to get people to pledge money to motivate the people in these groups - the pledges will go towards our fund for the medical care of people injured by unexploded ordnance (UXO). And if the groups don't make their goals, at the end of the three months, the members of the group will donate money into the UXO patients fund.
Anyway, it's what we call "Fun Raising."
But the rain. I feel lazy when it's time to wake up and the water is pounding on the roof. The clothes on the line are lazy to dry. I would like to ride my bicycle but I'm lazy to get wet.
This is also the season called khao phansaa, the Buddhist Lent. Monks are supposed to return to their home temples and not to travel around. In the past, monks often went on pilgramages where they set up a small mosquito net tent in the field, and talked to the villages, giving teaching and also learning about the hardships. In the monsoon season, they are supposed to stay in the temple and focus on learning and memorizing the scriptures. Another reason for the monks to do this is that they avoid stepping on the life that is re-emerging from the mud such as snakes, eels or frogs.
For Buddhists, the monsoon season is the time to attend to the crops. Also, people are supposed to be reflective and to follow the ha sinh, the Five Precepts - try to avoid drinking, telling untruths, sexual misconduct, killing or stealing. During this time, one should not have loud parties or weddings - and if someone has a wedding, everyone avoids mentioning that it is an emergency situation.
Anyway, at my office, we are being good this year - no alcohol. A group of us is trying to lose weight. Another group is supposed to organize Friday afternoon games for motivation. We're trying to get people to pledge money to motivate the people in these groups - the pledges will go towards our fund for the medical care of people injured by unexploded ordnance (UXO). And if the groups don't make their goals, at the end of the three months, the members of the group will donate money into the UXO patients fund.
Anyway, it's what we call "Fun Raising."
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Back again?
What's the story? The Flying Dutchman, where the ghost ship appears and disappears and then reappears? So I guess I should rename this blog the Flying Blogman. I don't have much to say that I haven't already written in the Mekong River Reviews, so I'll just upload some recent pictures.
Lao people are becoming more interested in health, as public health improves and the average life expectancy rises. Recently, the National Rehabilitation Center had a health fair, and a lot of folks came for the music provided by the students at the School for the Blind, the handicrafts sale, and for basic health checks and health information. It was fun as well as useful.
Lao people are becoming more interested in health, as public health improves and the average life expectancy rises. Recently, the National Rehabilitation Center had a health fair, and a lot of folks came for the music provided by the students at the School for the Blind, the handicrafts sale, and for basic health checks and health information. It was fun as well as useful.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Visible again
OK, so things seem to be working again. The road crew blocked my road into my house because they finally put the coat of tar down. My cat already gave birth to 3 orange kittens by the time I got home, alleviating my fear that she would give birth in a neighbor's attic and then get locked out (happened with the last set of kittens). My paraplegic patient may have decided to accept vocational training. And Blogger seems to be working now.
Some of the other links that I like on Blogger, which I can now view:
No Star Where - about the life of an expatriate in Vietnam: http://nostarwhere.blogspot.com
Linksaplenty - where to go if you need to look at something new to stimulate your mind, writing, or whatever: http://linksaplenty.blogspot.com
That's enough for now. My alternative blog is:
Mekong River Review
Some of the other links that I like on Blogger, which I can now view:
No Star Where - about the life of an expatriate in Vietnam: http://nostarwhere.blogspot.com
Linksaplenty - where to go if you need to look at something new to stimulate your mind, writing, or whatever: http://linksaplenty.blogspot.com
That's enough for now. My alternative blog is:
Mekong River Review
Monday, June 06, 2005
Hot Times
I finished my first exam today. I feel better already. Health management on Wednesday, and then I can return to worrying about the other things in my life. Will my pregnant cat have her kittens in an appropriate location (not in a neighbor's attic)? Will the village ever finish the paving of the side streets (they started after the rains started so they are often working in knee deep muck)? When we will be able to start work on the new project? Oh, the list goes on.
Right now, the sky is clearing. After the test, I sat by the pool for a while, then as I was riding my bicycle home, the sky opened up. I ducked into an internet cafe for an hour until the rain stopped and the mists started to rise from the pavement. Now the sky is clearing and the sun's starting its descent to the west. The Mekong is brown and flat.
Right now, the sky is clearing. After the test, I sat by the pool for a while, then as I was riding my bicycle home, the sky opened up. I ducked into an internet cafe for an hour until the rain stopped and the mists started to rise from the pavement. Now the sky is clearing and the sun's starting its descent to the west. The Mekong is brown and flat.
Saturday, June 04, 2005
Health Systems Management
When I visited my old clinic in California, my former colleagues thought I had gone bonkers. I told them that I was working on my Master's degree in 'Health Systems Management.' I have to admit that I agree with them; when we worked together, I just hated the whole concept. I considered myself to be a clinician - willing to work overtime to see more patients, leave my day job to drive an hour to make sure the homeless clinic had a medical provider, set up health clinics at migrant farmworker camps, etc. When we had discussions about financing, quality assurance, and cost-benefit analysis, I went to sleep; it never seemed relevant to me.
Since I've been working in Laos, health systems management has grown in importance for me. I realized - quickly - that if I train medical staff in some skill, and then they can not use this skill, then it's as if they never had the training at all. However, when we have planning meetings, medical staff usually say that they need medical training, and don't address other issues.
An example: One day, in 1998, I was talking with a lab technician in a district hospital. I asked her how many Gram stains they were doing (a staining procedure so you can see bacteria to determine if they are Gram + or Gram - so you can start the decision tree about the probable causitive organism). She said that they didn't do any because she didn't have the chemicals. I remembered giving them a set of premixed chemicals and after rummaging in the cabinet, I pulled it out (unopened!). She then sheepishly admitted that although she knew how to do the procedure, and had the chemicals, the doctors were not ordering it. This led to other discussions that involved changing habits (doctors were not accustomed to ordering other tests because they didn't have the opportunities before) to advocating to patients about the need for the tests to guide treatment.
I quickly realized that upgrading medical treatment is very complex. So to pick up the skills to make the changes in behavior sustainable, I've been working my way through this program.
So next week, I'm taking the exams in Health Economics and Financing and Health Management. For the past few weeks, after studying for an hour, I've been rewarding myself with a half hour of writing. I'm trying to do the same thing this weekend.
Since I've been working in Laos, health systems management has grown in importance for me. I realized - quickly - that if I train medical staff in some skill, and then they can not use this skill, then it's as if they never had the training at all. However, when we have planning meetings, medical staff usually say that they need medical training, and don't address other issues.
An example: One day, in 1998, I was talking with a lab technician in a district hospital. I asked her how many Gram stains they were doing (a staining procedure so you can see bacteria to determine if they are Gram + or Gram - so you can start the decision tree about the probable causitive organism). She said that they didn't do any because she didn't have the chemicals. I remembered giving them a set of premixed chemicals and after rummaging in the cabinet, I pulled it out (unopened!). She then sheepishly admitted that although she knew how to do the procedure, and had the chemicals, the doctors were not ordering it. This led to other discussions that involved changing habits (doctors were not accustomed to ordering other tests because they didn't have the opportunities before) to advocating to patients about the need for the tests to guide treatment.
I quickly realized that upgrading medical treatment is very complex. So to pick up the skills to make the changes in behavior sustainable, I've been working my way through this program.
So next week, I'm taking the exams in Health Economics and Financing and Health Management. For the past few weeks, after studying for an hour, I've been rewarding myself with a half hour of writing. I'm trying to do the same thing this weekend.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Paraskevidekatriaphobia
With all my pictures on the sending of good luck for Lao new year, I forgot yesterday's date. I guess that shows how concerned I was about it.
http://skepdic.com/paraskevidekatriaphobia.html has an interesting set of articles on Friday the 13th, starting off with the following:
"Paraskevidekatriaphobia is a morbid, irrational fear of Friday the 13th. Therapist Dr. Donald Dossey, whose specialty is treating people with irrational fears, coined the term. He claims that when you can pronounce the word you are cured."
Nothing unusual happened yesterday, other than I was able to find time to update my blogs and write some. Of course, as I write this, it's still Friday the 13th in the US!
http://skepdic.com/paraskevidekatriaphobia.html has an interesting set of articles on Friday the 13th, starting off with the following:
"Paraskevidekatriaphobia is a morbid, irrational fear of Friday the 13th. Therapist Dr. Donald Dossey, whose specialty is treating people with irrational fears, coined the term. He claims that when you can pronounce the word you are cured."
Nothing unusual happened yesterday, other than I was able to find time to update my blogs and write some. Of course, as I write this, it's still Friday the 13th in the US!
Friday, May 13, 2005
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