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November 24, 2009

Dedication to the craft

Work this past week took me to Long Beach, California, and then off to Cleveland the day after. Unfortunately, several broken airplanes and 8 hours of delays waylaid my plans, and I spent the night in Denver. Then, today, as I again attempted to get to Cleveland, another plane broke. Now, I'm in Newark, New Jersey, still trying to get home. Don't ask.

When I was in Denver, I picked up the Denver Post, and read this interesting article:

More than one nervous medical student has entered Robin Mulroney's hospital gown from the bottom to listen to her lungs.

Aspiring doctors also have been known to forget to release blood-pressure cuffs after taking the vitals of their "patient." And there was the time a student inserted a speculum upside-down during one of LoriLynne Lawson's many pelvic exams endured in the name of training future physicians.

The days when medical students learned how to examine patients just by watching real doctors in action and then trying it themselves are now supplemented by people such as Mulroney and Lawson: "standardized patients" who are paid $20 to $50 per hour to let students poke inside their ears and tap on their stomachs.


These fake patients, many of them professional actors looking for extra money, can cry on demand when they are "diagnosed" with cancer or Alzheimer's disease. Strong memorization skills are a must: Patients have to stick to a script saturated with family history of disease, medications, sexual history and surgeries.

This strikes me as extremely undignified, yet noble. Like a janitor, or gravedigger. I don't know. $50 an hour to get probed all day is not a bad chunk of change, but I don't know if I could tolerate it. I suppose one eventually gets used to it.

Anyway, this picture reminds me of a very cool book I found. Dissection is a study of medical schools in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. It focuses on how schools acquired cadavers, and how students entertained themselves with the cadavers. Obviously, students nowadays treat their cadavers with much greater dignity. Rightfully so, I think.

Posted at 05:50 PM | Comments (0)

November 18, 2009

A rocky relationship

This is your typical, run-of-the-mill assault case, until one reads the fine print. First, here's the basics of the story:

Authorities said Armando Almaraz, 35, was charged Monday afternoon with felony aggravated assault with a deadly weapon and criminal property damage, a misdemeanor.

Who, pray tell, was the recipient of such anger? Why, your friendly traveling burrito salesman, of course!

Almaraz allegedly got into an argument with the burrito salesman at West Side Recycling on Monday, according to documents filed in court by domestic violence investigator Bo Nevarez. Almaraz allegedly grabbed the salesman by the neck and chased him away from the business.

Nevarez said Almaraz doesn't work at West Side Recycling, but his family does.

Almaraz allegedly picked up a rock and threatened to hit the burrito salesman with it, but instead kicked the salesman's parked Toyota truck, leaving a dent in the door, according to two witness statements — both actions Almaraz denied.

The argument started, Almaraz told investigators, when he told the burrito salesman he wasn't wanted on business property. Almaraz alleged the burrito salesman threw a rock at him, striking him in the torso, and produced a box cutter during the fight.

I don't much care about this for the rock-throwing part, as much as the concept of a traveling burrito salesman. What the heck kind of a job is that? Does he fill his car up with burritos on Monday ,kiss his wife goodbye, and travel all throughout the Southwest convincing people his burritos are the best? (Such a strategy would probably fail after Tuesday...) Is he selling frozen burritos? The possibilities are endless!

Maybe he's like the Tamale Guy. All I know is if I see a man walk up to my door with a box of roundish things wrapped in foil, I am demanding lots of free samples.

Posted at 04:30 PM | Comments (0)

November 17, 2009

Way to go, Oxford dictionary

I salute the Oxford New American Dictionary, I really do. They try to drum up support for the ever-evolving English language through their "Word of the Year," which almost always has something quibble-worthy about it.

Last year's word was "hypermiling," which is cool and all but is not exactly something a lot of people say. Another dictionary named "truthiness" as its word of the year a few years ago, again despite the fact nobody really says that. Same goes for "locavore."

This year, the dictionary chose "unfriend," which of course is the act of erasing somebody from one's Facebook or Myspace list of friends. Now, again, here's the problem: nobody says unfriend. It's "defriend."

This is a serious breach of protocol by the dictionary people. I would assume the average person views a dictionary editor as nerdy, out-of-touch, and decidedly uncool. So what better way for dictionary folk to get hip than to start tossing around the newest slang?

Well, way to go, they even messed that up. Their choosing unfriend instead of defriend is akin to walking into a party, and asking for some "reefer." Nobody says reefer anymore! Thus, that particular partygoer has given himself away as hopelessly uncool, or possibly a narc. Obviously the dictionary isn't in the business of narcing, but you see my point.

You suck, Oxford Dictionary.

Posted at 12:08 PM | Comments (0)

Way to go, Oxford dictionary

I salute the Oxford New American Dictionary, I really do. They try to drum up support for the ever-evolving English language through their "Word of the Year," which almost always has something quibble-worthy about it.

Last year's word was "hypermiling," which is cool and all but is not exactly something a lot of people say. Another dictionary named "truthiness" as its word of the year a few years ago, again despite the fact nobody really says that. Same goes for "locavore."

This year, the dictionary chose "unfriend," which of course is the act of erasing somebody from one's Facebook or Myspace list of friends. Now, again, here's the problem: nobody says unfriend. It's "defriend."

This is a serious breach of protocol by the dictionary people. I would assume the average person views a dictionary editor as nerdy, out-of-touch, and decidedly uncool. So what better way for dictionary folk to get hip than to start tossing around the newest slang?

Well, way to go, they even messed that up. Their choosing unfriend instead of defriend is akin to walking into a party, and asking for some "reefer." Nobody says reefer anymore! Thus, that particular partygoer has given himself away as hopelessly uncool, or possibly a narc. Obviously the dictionary isn't in the business of narcing, but you see my point.

You suck, Oxford Dictionary.

Posted at 12:08 PM | Comments (0)

November 10, 2009

Warms my heart

I'm kind of a newspaper fiend, so much to the point that when I first moved to Chicago, one of the first things I did was set up a newspaper subscription. That was seven years ago, but since then I have woken up in the morning - sometimes in the afternoon, admittedly, to find a new Tribune waiting at my doorstep. Sitting down to breakfast, lunch, or some Starbucks, my newspaper was always there to entertain me. When I go on vacation, I always seek out a newspaper. I'm pretty crabby if I don't get it. That's why the subscription is essential.

Now that's all thrown off. Since I moved, I've had a problem with my newspapers disappearing. I never was too sure what happened to them, but I figured it was because I live on a fairly busy street, the papers get left on my doorstep, and some ne'er-do-well is swiping them.

So, this Sunday, when I ambled downstairs around 10 am, my Tribune was nowhere to be found. I called the Tribune, told them I never got my newspaper, and please send me another one. They sure did, and I very much enjoyed it.

You can imagine my delight when the following notice was stuck to my Monday newspaper. The Tuesday newspaper was there, as well. Will Wednesday's also arrive? Time will tell.

Posted at 10:40 PM | Comments (1)

November 05, 2009

A real tragedy

Hello dear reader. Well, as I may have mentioned, I moved. My memory is not so good, now that I am almost 30 years so, so I forget if I said that.

I have a nice and big apartment. It's not what anyone would call luxurious, but I'm no Donald Trump and it suits my needs perfectly.

Of course, during the move, certain things get misplaced.

To wit: a couple days ago, I tried to do some cooking. As part of my meal, I wanted to open up a nice can of Busch's Baked Beans. Shut up, they're good. They're way better than those horrible Van De Kamp beans.

My plan was foiled, however, because my can opener did not make it out of my old place. I do not know what happened to it, except that I was can openerless, and my beans would have to wait. Eventually I went out and plunked down the $4 for a new can opener, and the problem was solved.

(I didn't actually plunk down $4, I charged it. Or debit carded it. Whatever. So I don't think you can plunk plastic. Say that five times really fast.)

However, to me this was indicative of a larger problem - in those few days I didn't have a can opener, what would have happened to me if any number of crises hit? We live in a dangerous world: swine flu, nuclear attacks, terrorists, melting polar ice caps. And here I am, with enough food to sustain my life, yet no can opener to access it. I would have shriveled and died, all because I didn't have a can opener. My lack of preparation is astonishing.

I'm also pretty sure I ripped the no can opener idea off from The Far Side. Sorry about that, Gary Larson.

Posted at 04:09 PM | Comments (0)