R.I.P.

For f&$#'s sake, I am tired of women (and men, actually) being under the impression that having a baby is this lovely, safe thing, all perfume and roses, 'cause that's just a bunch of shit, really.
I've had many patients die on me before, but this is MY first. My OWN patient that I was taking care of, who I'd been following during her pregnancy. Died over the weekend, and, due to some communication snafus, I only found out about this morning, since I'd stopped by the hospital. I cried and cried and cried in my car on the way to the clinic.
Cause she didn't have to die. Oh dear God. Baby's got no mommy now. Fuck this; I am so tired of people thinking it's all lovely, to be pregnant and all, that they pay no mind to the matter that pregnancy and childbirth are some of the most dangerous undertakings a woman can take...

There's no taste like home...

Remember those old Foodland Ontario commercials from when we were kids? At any rate, I spent some time with a family I know who are apple farmers and was helping them bring in the harvest from among their 17,000 trees (them's a lot of apples)... it's quite something, fruit harvesting. Much more labour intensive then you'd imagine, as each apple has to be individually hand picked from the tree, being careful not to damage the tree, so it can produce again next year, carefully looking over the whole fruit to see if it's 'supermarket grade' or not (you keep the 'non-perfect looking' apples for personal use, which ends up being quite a few of them), and then accumulating them in your bag so that you don't bang them up too hard, so that they cease being supermarket grade. This is on top of a spring of re-grafting and preparing the ground and a whole summer of pruning and carefully tending the orchard every single day (except Sunday). Throw on top of that those terrible storms we had in August (causing one to lose 600 trees for harvest), and what do you get? A lousy 50 cents a kg of apples. And that's in a good year. I think that's appalling. For a whole year's worth of work.
This highlights the general difficulties farmers in our country have. Being undercut by the Chinese (BTW, most of the apple juice sold in Canada is actually from Chinese apples.. Boo!, not our own, not even the USA's), and other imports makes it hard for our farmers to compete. ("But they're so cheap, buying apples from New Zealand..." I hear people saying, "Why should I pay $1.30/lb of Ontario apples when I can buy them for $0.90/lb from NZ or Chile???") I mean, other people have talked about carbon emissions as part of the equation as well (can you imagine having to fly several tonnes of apples all the way from New Zealand?), as well as the freshness factor (again, can you imagine having to fly several tonnes of apples all the way from New Zealand?).
I brought some of the 'seconds' apples to some friends yesterday, and even they could admit the apples were delicious... but of course: They were picked within 24 hours, and only about 80 km away from where they stood....
I'm encouraging us, as much as possible, to support our farmers and to think about food consumption patterns (what a big surprise that that's the big conclusion I come to :P )...

Happy Christmas (War is Over)

I've been mulling over the thoughts of pacifism and, I guess, un-pacifism over the past week.
In the space of less than two days: A discussion about why pacifism is the 'right' way of thinking about engagement in world affairs, the example of Dirk Willems, the discussion over rice rolls of why engagement of oppressors in a Ghandi/Martin Luther King Jr. type manner is the only truly effective method of ceasing strife and promoting shalom. Followed by a rally to support UN resolutions to send troops into the Sudan (OK, so those resolutions have been there for over a year now, but still...)... ironic in that many many many young, impressionable student-types were there, raising their fists in the air and yelling at the appropriate times without thinking, "Hey, troops means warfare means possible (gasp!) Western casualties means possibly people I know means possibly (oh my!) me"... despite Sen Dallaire's skirting around the issue that involvement in Darfur would require sacrifice, would require manpower and troops, would require Western deaths (despite the fact that we have already let half a million Darfurians die, but that's another matter, I suppose some would say)... again, discussing this over herbal tea afterwards, the realization that perhaps pacifism is an easy stance to take in the West, that perhaps when God demands that we defend the defenceless, He means it, that perhaps the assumption that we hold that the corpses in the West hold more value than corpses in the developing world (which we prove over and over again... see Somalia, see Rwanda, see Vietnam, see the teetering in Iraq and Afghanistan...) prevents us from really administering justice. That perhaps pacifism tries to split that 'mean, Old Testament YHWH' from the 'gracious and merciful Jesus', which denies God His dignity, His wrath and His righteousness... That perhaps fear, and categorization of others as "them", and us as "we" makes it easier for "us" to shun the other... This was furthermore followed the same day with the centrality of Jesus, and then, the next day, a discussion with a mission-minded friend about how we poorly prioritize our lives (I owe a huge, long-deferred debt of respect and admiration to this man... yeah, you know who you are...)
Which brings up a larger question: many who think globally consider themselves "global citizens" (sometimes, in my moments of conceit, I would like to think that of myself as well), though it brings back the question: Do we truly consider ourselves fellow brothers with those in the South, in the East? Is it as easy to, say, pay some more taxes to help out more Canadians or volunteer at a local soup kitchen, as it is to actually go and help those who actually starve and are tortured? It shakes me to the core when we, as sophisticated, urban, educated professionals, consider ourselves so enlightened, so engaged, so politically savvy, yet, like the mandarins, sit with our hands folded and nod our heads ever so slightly to demonstrate that we care, that we want to make a difference, while the rice paddy farmers starve and die....

Sanctus, sanctus

I am thinking that somehow I'm gradually becoming the patron saint of teenage pregnancies of Brampton. Which is so weird, as I'm trying very hard to find something redemptive in that. But it's quite difficult, looking down the barrel of what the future holds for BOTH children (mom and babe inclusive). I suppose also that there is some cosmic irony in there too, which I find amusing, but it still does not bode well for the future of our nation...

Thinking about Noam Chomsky, oddly...

One of the things that I do when I meet new patients is to ask them their ethnicity. Not only is that important in helping delineate certain diseases that they may be more susceptible to, but also, I'm just interested in knowing where people are from, or how they identify themselves. And it's quite wonderful: I have people in my practice spanning the globe, from Jamaica, Trinidad, Mexico, El Salvador, Ghana, Nigeria, Iran, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, China, The Phillipines, France, Romania... it's quite something. There are several things that I find very interesting (or disturbing, depending on how I look at it on any given day). One is, Newfoundlanders see themselves as a distinct ethnic group, which always makes me smile. Secondly, I find that white people, unless they are recent immigrants themselves, don't understand the concept of ethnicity. Most of them look at me blankly, always asking me to clarify what I just said. When they understand, they tell me that they are 'Canadian'. When I push further, ie. Do you have Scottish/English/Irish/German blood in you? most have no idea, and insist that they are 'Canadian', and nothing more.
This makes me ponder: Canadian in what way? Are us hypenated Canadians less Canadian because of that? Do 'Canadians' consider us less Canadian than they are, then, by extension? Do the 'ethnics' hold on too tightly to their culture? Do the white people not hold tightly enough?
The lines around nationalistic pride do need to be watched carefully, that being said. Nationalism, at its extreme, whether your adopted or inherited nation, certainly is very dangerous. To find full identity in where the 'motherland' is is also a dangerous thing. It certainly contributes to a feeling of 'us' vs. 'them'.
Is there perhaps a middle ground? To segregate, to differentiate, to exclude or include based on some conception of where 'you' are from, being different from my roots, is problematic. However, to blankly not recognize them either, to gloss over and deny the variant nuances, denies the richness of who we, as people, are...

FFT

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God; But only he who sees,
takes off his shoes - The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.
-Elizabeth Barrett Browning

(Thanks Bob!)

FFT

That God does not exist, I cannot deny. That my whole being cries out for God, I cannot forget.
-Jean Paul Sartre

...how it gently lifts me...

One of the wonderful qualities of the people of God is the tangibility of their prayers. Some prayers feel like gossamer wings, some feel like shields of steel, others feel like shafts of light coming through the clouds, some like strong towers... Even others feel like wailings in the night, others shake like belly-dancers, and others leap over buildings in a single bound... It is humbling; humbling to hear, humbling to sense, humbling to know.
I hope, in some small way, that my prayers are heard in the Most High, even if they are made of styrofoam, or are the size of a sandcastle... to become a true prayer warrior, to be a regular sender and recipient of knee-mail (thanks Q), is, I think, a tremendous goal... now praying that I might have the fortitude to take that as my own...

Big, bouncy baby boy!

Hooray! Hooray! A chunky-monkey boogaloo! At 8lbs 6oz! Hooray! Love you all!!!

Excuse me, but are you Sook-Yin Lee?

I have always failed to understand the interest, verging on obsession, in celebrities (that being said, when I get holed up in the middle of Bruce County in a snowstorm, I like flipping through old issues of People as much as the next person).
Case in point, as we are currently in the TIFF. Admittedly, I was wearing Shiz's earrings, with my hair flipped and sunglasses on, but come on now! That doesn't mean that I automatically am someone famous.... walked into the Bay/Bloor Indigo, and was stopped SIX times in less than ten minutes by sales clerks in the store... when the heck do you get offered any help in an Indigo? Asking if I wanted help, was I sure, did I want something to drink (???what??).... I was thinking to myself that perhaps they were all blind or something, as I didn't have a little puppy dog sticking out of my purse, and my shirt, though linen, was kind of wrinkly... oh well, I suppose it's nice to think that I was vaguely fashionable on a Toronto weekend...

Things that make you go 'hm'...

Is it just me, or is there something contradictory about how Jack Layton wants Canada to have troops in Lebanon, but wants our troops out of Afghanistan? The way that our troops have been labelled 'terrorists' by the NDP (now since retracted)? The way that our soldiers fight to defend something that they believe in, yet we want to suppress their valour and bravery? That Canadians get all hyper that five of our guys die, but hardly bat an eyelash when hundreds of 'them' do? I find it very strange, that even with the all the discussion, all the rhetoric, even all the warnings from Romeo Dallaire, we, the elite who can comfortably sit at home and criticize, without even having all the facts, can simply make sweeping statements about who and who should not die. Which mainly draws the lines around 'we' should not die, and 'they' can simply go f*#^ themselves...

... and crisp apple strudel...

Things I am quite enjoying lately (not that I haven't before, just that I've been particularly enamoured of some foods of late): Fair Trade mint chocolate, apple crumble yogurt, pesto made with ingredients from my backyard, goat cheese, artichoke and asiago dip, hand-picked berries, portobello mushrooms, Ontario lamb from the farm next door to the dining room (super yum!), Tina's apple pie with apples from her orchard, fresh Ontario corn and peaches.... yum....

FFT

If you faint in the day of adversity, your strength being small;
if you hold back from rescuing those taken away to death, those who go staggering to the slaughter;
if you say, "Look, we did not know this" - does not He who weighs the heart perceive it?
Does not He who keeps watch over your soul know it? And will He not repay all according to their deeds?
Proverbs 24: 10-12

The boredom of anticipation

So, this is my third day of 24-hour call in the past four. I'm a little bit bleary-eyed, not so much b/c I've been run off my feet, per se, but, I think, b/c of the erratic bouts of sleep. And, I think, there's a component of cabin fever, when you're stuck wandering hospital corridors for that much time in a row. Especially when nothing in particular is going on, and one is sitting around, waiting for disaster to strike...

The Great Wall causes division...

OK, seriously now, what the hell is wrong with Chinese people? I haven't been able to figure it out, frankly. This is truly getting beyond ridiculous...
Compare: http://www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/RTGAM.20060824.wxchina24/BNStory/International/home
to:
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/RTGAM.20060824.wchinactivist0824/BNStory/International/home

FFT

It is curious how people take it for granted that they have a right to preach to you and pray over you as soon as your income falls below a certain level.
-George Orwell

Rock-a-bye baby

You know, there is something about the non-drug-induced stupor that a good Mennonite bed, fresh country air and cooking, and being gently awoken by the lowing of cattle that lets you go on and on like a Sleeping Beauty....

East or West, left or right?

I think musing on the diversity of the 'faith spectrum' has taken up my thoughts of late. I often wonder how Jesus did it. Besides the fact that He's God and could see in to the heart of man and know what he thinks. And the fact that He's omniscient and omnipotent. And that He's God. I think if I had X-ray vision like that, instead of seeing life in all its glorious messiness, it might just be incredibly despairing. But I digress.
Where are our lines drawn? Is it right to draw them? Is that Biblical? Certainly, lines drawn in indelible ink cannot be so. However, lines in the sand, that shift and change to acquiesce to everyone, in the hopes that each has some of the 'Truth' in them, that also cannot be so. The road is straight and narrow. I don't think it is easy, with paved asphalt and good signage, but I don't think it is also so obscured that anybody and everybody has some sort of toe-hold on it. I sometimes worry that in the West, in our good-hearted desire to love everyone in grace and mercy, we forget that our God is also a God of righteousness and holiness. Do we then become agents of God's wrath on others when we don't clarify and teach others about God? How will we stand in front of Him if we lead others to think that they are merrily skipping down the same road as we?

FFT

When I was in my first year of medical school, one of my relatives approached me with a health problem. In this I know I'm not alone; every medical student has been in a similar position, and it continues after graduation. In my case it was my sister who sought my advice, and I learned from the episode to never give casual medical advice, no matter how harmless it seems.
My sister came to me with a concern about her son. She told me that he went to bed with terrible headaches, headaches so severe he couldn't get to sleep unless his mother was nearby. He would also complain of headaches at other times, like when he was being disciplined or during meals. She told me that she had been to her pediatrician several times, but that each time she was just given reassurance, that the pediatrician didn't think tests were necessary. She asked me a simple question: Do you think anything is going on?
I then did what to me now is unthinkable: I urged her to return to her pediatrician and insist on a CT scan. I said I do think something is going on.
What on earth was I thinking of? I had just finished studying anatomy and metabolism, there were five more units that year to go, I had never touched a kid in a professional manner, I had no pediatric training or even inclination. Even so, I felt qualified to interfere. I probably amplified my sister's anxiety by a factor of ten, and I potentionally compromised the future care that my nephew would receive. My sister would always have a voice in her head telling her something was probably the matter with her child, and that voice would be mine.
Looking back, I recognize that my nephew was just acting out. The pediatrician's advice was wise, and mine foolish, perhaps reprehensible. Later I heard from my sister that she pushed the doctor to order a CT scan and the report came back normal. When she gave me the news, she actually thanked me for my advice. I don't think she knew what I had put her and her son through.
I simply don't do it anymore. I don't offer advice to friends or family - for the reason that, based on the evidence, I am spectacularly bad at it. I feel that if I were to say anything that would contradict what they would hear from their treating physician, then that dissonance would taint any future care they might receive. Well, that's not what my nephew/brother/son, a doctor, said, they might think.
Sometimes my gentle refusal becomes a firm refusal. Some people want an explanation for their symptoms, they feel I'm qualified to give it, and they don't understand when I say no. So they ask again, or they rephrase. To them I say no again and in a different way. I am always careful to advise them to speak to their own physician about such matters.
I know that people make their decisions based on a variety of influences and I don't mean to overstate my own importance. I know that a few casual words would, in most cases, not harm anyone. But primum non nocere is our code and without a physical exam, without followup, without the necessary objectivity, a lot of harm could potentially be done. I could inflict a diagnosis or a prognosis on an acquaintance or a loved one at a party or picnic, oblivious of the consequences and context, and setting up their own physician in the process.
I save my doctoring for the office.
-Dr. Ursus

Life is a highway...

I must say, riding round these roads, the dynamism and change that is inherent in a city that is alive, that breathes, is palpable. That being said, the difficulty fraught in a city this large also leads to homogeneity and urban despair.
Cases in point: have recently gone by a childhood church, and saw that it was completely gone. An overgrown plot, surrounded by chain-link fence, awaiting re-development into a townhouse complex. Sad. Stood clinging to the fence for a while, peering into my imagined church, remembering learning how to use the stairs there and awaiting retreat buses...
Another friend actually has bought a place just steps from where I grew up. Haven't walked by there for years, perhaps even well over a decade. Going by and pointing out where we used to play hopscotch and imagined that we were pirates and pioneers was something...
On the other hand, recently drove from Brampton to Markham along Highway 7. Now, -that- is a loooong pit of despair. Mile after mile of Mr. Subs, Mr. Lubes, Esso stations, HBSC banks, McDonalds and Pizza Pizzas over and over and over and over again, without remittance and without pity... This, I thought, is supposed to be the epitome of civilization? This is what we aspire to achieve? This is supposed to be called 'progress'?
Also was trying to kill a couple of hours the other day, so went with some friends to a nearby mall. We nearly died of boredom (to be fair, none of us had gone there specifically to purchase/consume anything, thus completely defeating the purpose of going to the mall in the first place). Ambling up and down the hexagonal/triangular/oblong-shaped units, the sheer homogeneity of the place was staggering. We could've been in any mall in the city, in any mall in the country, in any mall in the Western world, and we would not have known. Aisle after aisle of clothing and shoes... the palpable pressure of looking good/fashionable/sexy and keeping up with what -they- think we should look like... bah.
But on the third hand, I have been caught up in the middle of a miracle. That's always cool. Watching a church grow, develop, bloom... seeing its brickwork and beams come together for something that is far greater than simply a Sunday building... now that is progress...