Sunday, February 1, 2009

Volunteer Virgin Exchange Program


I would not like anyone to think I'm taking the war on terrorism any more lightly than I took the war on drugs. No one doubts drugs or terrorism are problems. What has always been at doubt is whether the government takes them seriously. The government 'strategy' in the war on drugs ironically did nothing to reduce drugs but bought a whole lot of bullies new bully bling in the way of helicopters, fast boats, missiles, and such. It further destroyed confidence in government, terrorized the population and removed most fundamental freedoms of a democratic society. The war on terrorism with it's continued insistence on fighting violence with violence has destroyed international confidence in western governments, reintroduced torture a la mode, destroyed the economy of the western world and done nothing to reduce terrorism. Ironically the terrorists always appear to have hand me down second hand bully bling which makes one wonder if stopping new bully bling might not do wonders for reducing the supply of terrorist bully bling.


Consequently I gave some thought to the problem. The terrorists, mostly sexually inexperienced moslem bombers, appear to be blowing up the world for their masters to get virgins in heaven. Kennedy asked the country, to consider not what it could do for the people but what the people could do for it. In Victorian times, mothers told their daughters to lie back and think of England.

Would it not be possible to offer therefore a Volunteer Virgin Exchange Program for any sexually inexperienced moslem bomber's bombs. The government might consider further compensating the virgins with American real estate considering what deals they could get at this time thanks to previous government fiscal programs.

As I see it virgins who would agree to be with these sexually inadequate men in exchange for their bombs obviously would have to set a minimum limit on the size of bomb which warranted the exchange. This would naturally require some show and tell and perhaps smaller bombs might be exchanged for perhaps more dubious virgins. Government beaurocracies could well work out the details so that very soon terrorists and virgins could be together wholly distracted by toddlers and teen agers living heaven on earth.

As a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush I believe this would be a much more sensible and likely to succeed program. Further once a terrorist has one virgin it's very unlikely that he'll want a whole lot more but will indeed get a job like most married western men to have an excuse to get away from the home.

Saturday, January 31, 2009

Vancouver China Town


China Town. The lease on my office near Vancouver General Hospital is up in a couple of months. They’re tripling the rent. The last time I had to move my office from Broadway and Granville, a friend called to ask if I would come to Northern Marianas Islands. Next thing I had solo sailed Giri with my cat and dog across the eastern Pacific to Hawaii in the winter of 2004. From there we flew across the western Pacific to Tokyo then on to Saipan. For the next year and a half I’d be a psychiatrist in the islands having the privilege to work at the Commonwealth Hospital of the Northern Marianas Islands with the incredible staff and people. Scuba diving, making music, dancing, playing golf, attending churches, meetings on palm beaches, good friends and awesome food, it was a dream come true.
This office was devastated early by tragic staff problems that we barely survived thanks to the honesty and hard work of others. As a business though it was a loss due as much to the contempt of government for medical doctors and the truth as the spiraling overhead costs. Even the parking lots around the hospital gouge the sick and prey on those that care for them. The most stigmatized are the mentally ill and the emotionally disturbed, loosers in the eyes of prevailing Social Darwinism.
As arrogant governments steal to pay for their mismanagement and sickeningly gross corruption tax collectors rape the middle classes to pay for the services the criminals en mass participate in for free. More and more are above or below the laws police no longer uphold. A famous study showed that the mentally ill of asylums voted identically to the general population explaining finally community insaniety.
My work, once devoted to simple and gracious neurotics, has been increasingly involved with angry hurt addicts, the complex brain injured and the disheartening defensive traumatized who find themselves victims in a society that celebrates victimizers. Where once my patients had one disease and maybe one medication today so many are aging and chronically medically ill with multiple medications for multiple illnesses. The pay and time allotted for patients remains the same but all the ‘cream’ of business has gone to the highly lucrative alternative health care and wellness clinics. The severely sick and disabled can’t afford to be ill. Increasingly my patents need a lawyer just to get their life saving medications paid for by public institutions that pride themselves now on being “for profit”.
It’s a cold city that celebrates a 2010 winter Olympics none of us can afford to participate in. Already many of my patients are facing homelessness as everyone fears the congestion that will make traffic unmanageable. Gunfire of road rage has already erupted.
I wonder if I should move to Nunuvut. I loved the north and the cost of living makes work there attractive. Maybe a Harley engine in a snowmobile would go with ice sailing. I have been in contact with eastern jobs where the pay is three times what is offered here and costs manageable. When the BCMA polled doctors locally nearly a half said they wished they’d chosen another career.
Given the government disdain for psychiatry and utter ignorance coupled with arrogance I sometimes think of returning to family medicine with it’s 7 minute visits and quick fix answers. Nothing I do is apparent except lives change for the better. When I do my work really well they all believe I wasn’t even necessary. It’s all in the pill isn’t it? I was amused to see that the pharmacists figured they could prescribe as well as doctors but now see even they aren’t willing to accept the responsibility for prescribing psychiatric medication.
Some days I miss the knight in shining armour role I gave up for the court jester. Yet Shakespeares kings listened to no one else and only the fool told the truth. "The truth shall set you free."
But I like my life here. I enjoy my patients. I’ve always enjoyed my patients. There’s no money or time for the complexity but the challenge is certainly there. I read at night to keep up with advances and enjoy that. I’ve never been paid for any of my education beyond general practice. There’s no reward in Canada for higher education and certainly little support for specialization or subspecialization unless it involves a procedure you can grandstand with. I offered to take over the defective police tazers and provide a cosmetic service for the S&M crowd but my insurance wouldn’t go for it.
Still I love the multiculturalism of my referral base. My friends are here though my family is back east. My sailboat needing repairs always calls to me and I really wouldn’t want to leave without the rising debt. There is sophistication in the east and more honesty in the north. Occasionally now that Obama is president I even think of journeying south.
Other days I miss the country. Most free weekends I’m hunting, fishing, hiking or motorcycling back roads. I used to be sailing but my boat needs an xray and I can't even get my boat an xray.
A night at the Ballet makes all the city ugliness worth it. Yet this year this extraordinarily exceptional company couldn’t meet it’s costs. In contrast a little town like Rossland supports an Opera Company while Qualicum supports a theatre company. Vancouver prefers free heroin.
So here I am in China Town. I like the feel and vibrance of Main street. Costs are reasonable but I can imagine daily fresh produce.
My life is so busy that laundry and shopping are the greatest enemies of leisure. I work 5 days a week and usually Saturday and Sunday I'm doing support activities. I’m aging and must somehow incorporate exercise into the 10 hour work days. I imagine more walking during the week with so much to see.
There’s a real diversity here with community and people living and working as such. Asked where I’d like to live and work in Vancouver I really had to admit that my first choice after the west end was this area.
My friend wants me to come to the north shore. Right now my boat is there. I’ve applied to work in Abbotsford and Chilliwack but they don’t want doctors. A lot of the public face is ‘shortage’ but when it comes right down to having a doctor in the eyes of government that would raise health care costs. Waitlists and doctor shortages are lucrative to politicians who don’t have any reason to keep their promises. It’s been easier to get work in foreign countries than to meet the demands of beaurocracy locally. All my Canadian training and experience is for naught.
My foreign friend says they like him better because they know he won’t question the authorities because they won’t let his family join him if he does. Canadian born I still believe in civil liberties, human rights and freedom of speech all no longer available to doctors whose livelihood hangs by a thread the minute they question.
As many days I want to go back to the country or the north I’d like to stay here but that brings up getting another less expensive office and where. On the other hand, I ran away to sea last time my office life was disrupted. Maybe this time I’ll wait till a circus is passing through town.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Mountains and Valleys




This is a society of terror.


Everyone has a lawyer, a knife or a glock.


Hair trigger middle fingers and rights.


Nobody is wrong.


Democratic or totalitarian, the citizen is collateral damage.


Called 'friendly fire' when the Government does it


Terrorism if anyone else.




I climb the mountains of the working man's week,


Cresting Wednesday on a prayer.


Longing for the contented valley of the weekend


As I stagger down to Thursday,


Almost tasting Friday


Remembering Saturday's meadows


And hoping for Sunday's cool clear waters.




Without expectation I have no resentment.


Beneath your contempt I know your fear.


It is lonely in death


Knowing no life but for grasping.




Was it trillions you owed


Jean Val Jean still in jail


For a crust


And a child?




Where will you be


With the stem cells of abortus


Spare parts and botox?




When I hear an old love song


Played on a banjo


In the husks of a corn field,




As caribou paw in the snow to the north,


And crocuses awaken to promises of daffodils




Even you too are loved as we all are


How else could it be?


My enemy, my friend.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Daniel Kalla


I love Daniel Kalla's writing. It's just so good to find an author you enjoy and have him write book after book that entertains. Pandemic was a rush of a read. I was absolutely spell bound by Resistance. Rage Therapy got only better. Now I'm half way through Cold Plague and can't put it down. These are real medical thrillers and the medicine is terrific. The characters are people I've met in hospitals, waiting rooms and board rooms. Some are my neighbours. Everything is so real. And the plots as ominous as they are really do uncover the source of the disease. One can't help but compare him to Michael Creighton but there's just as much Bill Gibson in the spin. The characters are deeper and richer than those of most thrillers and everything builds and relates. So that's what I'm doing tonight. After a bone weary day in clinic. Reading Kalla. A doctor's doctor book.

Monday, January 26, 2009

The Chameleon Sings




Ben Nuttall-Smith's, The Chameleon Sings, Surviving and Healing from Childhood Sexual Abuse, a memoir, Trafford Publishing, 2007 is a truly remarkable testament to the human spirit. Sexual abuse is a very small part of this remarkably understated tale of survival. Childhood is spotted with off hand remarks like "one night an incendiary bomb dropped on the barn", and "we carried gas masks everywhere " and "One night...part of the flat was blown away." At another time they have to change schools because the last one blew up. Escape to Canada brings physical safety for this English boy but is replaced by the bullies of Quebec who so hated the English especially one who didn't punch back. Touching stories of loving relatives safe from the front are contrasted with the conflicted mother's story whose wealth and priviledge are lost to the war along with the men of her youth. I loved his tales of the Navy even if his gentle character caused him to fail as a Korean war hero but lead to his joining the Catholic Christian Brothers where he served as a music teacher for 12 years. Love, family and music are there in the recent history of much that I have myself known but seen from a perspective so very different Ben's is a unique voice. I shared his married life, the building of homes, the raising of chickens and the desire to please the unpleasable in laws. Jack Nicholson's Schmidt character is echoed by Ben's Willie Loman teacher self in a BC school system that overnight cared less for humanity, arts and common sense than it did for dollars and cents. At home his life of love and labour are cast aside as his landscaping art is destroyed, the traditional mowed down before modernization. The mystical threads wrap around him and his long lost Catholic father. In Sechelt he finds fellow men who support him and a psychiatrist who helps him through the tortorous jorney of trauma's nightmares. From the ashes the phoenix rises and love rekindles with a new found partner. To this day art spills over and his children share his love and loves. It's so touchingly real for a fellow survivor, who in my therapists role have also walked along side so many who make the sweetest proverbial lemonade from the most bittersweet lemons indeed. I am really thankful for such a good and inspirational read. It's impossible though that the white haired respectable gent on the back cover could have been the long side burned hitchiking folk singing 60's Brother Bonaventure, (shown in the black and white photo pages) who rebelliously taught the nuns guitar to the horror of Mother Church!

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Vancouver Motorcycle Show




The Vancouver Motorcycle Show is an annual event that takes place at the Tradex in Abbotsford. Last year I drove the truck and it snowed. This year I drove the 63 kilometers on my 1200 Harley Roadster. The temperature was negative 2 degrees and the wind was 17 mph. Despite long johns and leathers the windchill at 110 km on the freeway was righteous. By the time my partner and I arrived at the show we were more interested in warmth and coffee than the incredible selections of 2009 motorcycles. Harley's Ultra Classic was my favourite but my friend found Yamaha had produced several Star series bikes perfect for her short lets. Alot more women are getting in to motorcycling and it was clear from the Bitchin Gear, pink leathers and helmuts that retailers were taking notice. The Buell's certainly are sexier than ever. Honda's Goldwing is threatening to drive itself with all the accessories even an airbag. I fell in love with the Yamaha offroad TW200 enduro. It's the one place you can sit on a lot of bikes and feel what's right. For looks Azkikar choppers are outrageous. Always the campers, the trikes and side cars are there to engorge the wishlists. We had a terrific time before heading back in the dying sun to beat the icy streets, thankful for the warmth of home after a bit of extreme motorcycling.

Robbie Burns Dinner







A grand night at Banff, Moray Nairn Society's Robbie Burns Dinner at the Scottish Cultural Centre!

To a Haggis (1787)

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the puddin' -race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o' a grace
As lang's my arm.

It begins with the Piping in of the Haggis and then of course the Robbie Burns poem "To a Haggis", then the Toast to the Lassies and the Toast to the Laddies. Then there is the eulogy about Burns himself. Finally the Star of Burns is sung. Of course there's the glorious eating of the haggis too. Some must drink a fair bit of scotch to get up the courage for the event and some indeed down a fair bit of scotch to get the haggis to stay in place, but there are indeed those who take their haggis straight up. It's a night to remember. Dancing and bag pipes and tonight, the Pepper Pot all the way from Scotland with their hilarious entertainment. They had everyone up dancing and laughing. Many of the laddies wore kilts while the lassies were decked out in gowns and sashes. A fine night indeed!