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| EDIT January 30: The email below was not in regards to my blog, however, I am being cautious in view of some recent rumours I have heard.
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...because I am going through 4 years of internet readings in view of a recent directive from the postgrad office. I basically undertook to remove anything that I have ever written about patients, positive, negative, or otherwise (and of course, even though it is anonymous, I have removed it nonetheless.) See below. If I ever start posting about medicine again, it will be a completely anonymous blog. You will hear from me. I do wonder how much of this is a violation of our rights as citizens. I mean, if we talk about patients anonymously at a party or even on a street corner with a colleague, that is our perogative, right? I do feel that this is an attempt by the postgrad office to regulate our behaviour outside of the workplace as well... where does one draw the line? The infamous e-mail: Dear Residents & Fellows,
The use of internet health care services by consumers is on the rise. I wish to remind you that the provision of services over the internet or by email is outside the parameters of your certificate of registration issued for educational purposes by the College of Physicians and Surgeons of Ontario and will be reported to the College and may lead to suspension. A policy applicable to all trainees will be developed in 2008. In the meantime, please be aware that internet postings where details of patient contact/medical practice are described may be a breach of the Ontario Human Rights Code, and the Faculty of Medicine's Standards of Professional Behaviour for Medical Undergraduate and Postgraduate Students which may lead to dismissal from your residency or fellowship. Please see link:
http://www.facmed.utoronto.ca/students/calendar/regulations/undergrads.htm
Sincerely,
Vice Dean
Postgraduate Medical Education
University of Toronto | | |
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The intersection at Bay and Queen Streets in Toronto is usually a maddening mess of activity. Streetcars trundling by, clattering along tracks. Cabs and cars dodging pedestrians. Perhaps the odd busker or two that's playing their instrument of choice, while people hustle out from the poor excuse for a square that Nathans Phillips Square is. Shoppers from the Eaton Centre talking on their cellphones, and above the hustle and bustle, the blowing wind, and the occasional chimes from the clock tower of Old City Hall towering above a small tower of its own. It stands there, silent, most of the year. On it is inscribed names of foreign places, probably incorrectly pronounced by our Anglo-minds as we wander past it. It stands there, stark grey in the midst of a swirl of colours - orange and green, red and white, and a kaleidoscope of jackets, caps, bags, and briefcases. The memories it holds, however, are not very silent at all. In fact, the men and women veterans who served and those who died probably didn't have much silence at all. They slept fitfully, doing their "jobs", moving when told to move, struggling with the emotional turmoil of being far from home, killing another human being, feeling an ever dropping morale. They probably didn't think too much of their own future, let alone the one we inhabit today. They just wanted to serve, and to live, and to die, for what they believed in. So the cenotaph stands there, much like the other cenotaphs in the rest of the country. The three iron-framed words - "LEST WE FORGET" - not silent. Passionate. Compelling. Commanding. The noises wax and wane. In the morning, sunlight filters through the clouds at the end of Yonge Street, and passes overhead until the last of its glow eerily passes below the horizon beyond University Avenue. At times, the cacophony of horns followed by an engine revving up overwhelm the tromping of boots. Business people head south to the Financial District in the morning, and walk the exact same steps back home north to the sedate condo district after dark. And the cenotaph is there. Silent. But again, the memories are not silent. The memories of hundreds - thousands - millions of Canadian war dead. The soldiers who serve as peacekeepers today. The cries of millions in the world who still do not enjoy the same basic freedoms we take for granted. There are few things in this world that can encompass all that in just a two-second glance. But I would wager that anyone who has grown up in this country, who understands the meaning of Remembrance Day and of the sacrifices made, will - somewhere, for some in the deepest, darkest recesses of their mind - remember, or at the very least, wonder why. Silence is powerful. It's a tool that is used in negotiations; in relationships; in social situations. It makes people uncomfortable. People struggle to fill silences with inane things. Silence often implies someone is thinking - implies that someone is working things through. Silence is an outward reflection of inward reflection - it challenges you to interrupt it - what could possibly be so important? Yet at the same time, silence can also be the wrong response. No one should remain silent to injustice, to deliberate affronts to one's liberty, to greed, to untruths and half-truths. We have values that we share as a human family - values whose violations which should never remain silent to. The cenotaph is silent behind a backdrop of noise for most of the year. Yet, for two minutes every year, it is joined by hundreds, thousands more of us, who choose to remain silent because it's the right thing to do. In doing so, we are transported 70 years back in time to a time where silence would have been the wrong thing to do - at least, in the eyes of those who sacrificed their lives, who believed that their lives were worth the cause. The lost Canadians were a high price to pay. But the cost of silence might have been even higher. For those men and women who fought in the trenches, defending what we believe today. For the lives lost. For two minutes a year, may our lips and hearts fall silent for those who knew none. Lest we forget. | | |
| 2 August 2007
1552 - Newcastle upon Tyne, United Kingdom Yesterday had the potential to be a disaster, but it wasn't. After catching a bmi flight from Heathrow up to Edinburgh (fantastic service! They even apologised for a 5 minute delay, which is unheard of with Air Canada), I stepped out into the UK proper, escaping from the airport bubble that I'd been in for a while. Instantly it was all familiar again; looking right, the strange asphalt they use in this country, the accents. I was back in Edinburgh. I'd visited 3 years before, and this visit would be a very quick one - a mobile phone call to NCW, my old friend from high school in Malaysia, revealed that he actually was working in Glasgow now. My trip to Edinburgh was taking me onwards to Glasgow, but this meant that I had no reasonable reason to stay in the city anymore. I instead walked from Waverley Bridge, on The Mound, in the shadow of Edinburgh's castle, up the familiar streets to familiar St. Andrew's Square, to the very familiar Edinburgh bus station. Here 3 years ago I had arrived, groggy and sleepy eyed, with mylai from Manchester. St. Andrew's Square actually had a construction barrier around it this year. A lot of traffic changes seem to have taken place, or maybe I'm just more observant of them now - lots of lane restrictions, turn restrictions. I didn't see if our hostel still existed, though I'm sure it might've. Into the bus station, where I learned that my booked ticket was final, so I joined the masses home on a public bus instead of a coach headed to Glasgow. Traffic getting out of the city and into the city. I swayed in and out of consciousness, catching up on sleep, and eventually found myself back at the Buchanan bus station where, a mere three years ago, I had sat on a bench freezing from Scottish weather awaiting my bus transfer to Edinburgh (because I'd lost my bus tickets and mylai had hers and our original bus was full, so I took a different one.) Nippy was there to pick me up, along with his fiance, a Scottish-born Chinese. While catching up work, relationships, common friends, and Nippy's disdain for the UK (he called it the "dirty old man of Europe" and couldn't understand my admiration for the country), we headed out for Chinese food. It all came rushing back to me from my old trip - George Square, Sauchiehall Street, the grid system, driving on the left, Great Western Road. After dinner, Nippy and I headed home and played on his Xbox (and he played Civilization 4 at the same time) while his fiance (I'll call her Dents, because that's what she does... dentistry) fell asleep and eventually headed home. NCW wasn't off until midnight, so we met up slightly after that for a meal at another Chinese place where NCW destroyed two dishes and we sipped tea and watched. Lots of stories from the medical world from all three of us, jokes, laughter, reminiscences, talk of the future. NCW's plan has switched from internal medicine to general practice; Nippy's applying for a job in London and on his way to getting married. Oh, the best part - his fiance actually knows the girl who played Cho Chang in Harry Potter. The Chinese community in Scotland is small. Off to his flat, which is now practically vacated and in a state of disrepair (it seems all of my friends in the UK are starting new jobs and moving flats at this time of the year), where I mercifully passed out late night, and then up again. Moving some of the things into his car, we headed back to the bus station, where I got on a bus here to Newcastle. Newcastle's been pretty nifty. Lots of cool old buildings - the Castle Keep is neat, and the four bridges on the river are all definitely unique and cool. Had a delicious Tortellini Bolognese for lunch on a patio across from the Guildhall, then wandered around the Quayside and up Grey Street to the Grey Monument before going through Chinatown to find an internet cafe and wait for ct. It's fantastic being back in the UK again. It had a different feel from Canada, yet at times it feels so familiar. After having visited NZ and Australia in the last few years I can definitely see some resemblances that way as well, and I understand finally again my affinity for those places. A newspaper article I read yesterday highlighted an interesting quote that came from Bismarck in 1884, when asked about the most important factor in the 20th century - "North America speaks English" - a very astute observation that would highlight the special relationship Canada and the US would have with these islands off the coast of Europe. At the same time, I can somewhat understand Nippy's disdain. It's definitely dirtier; there's lots more drunk and strange people; and things are always congested and busy. Regardless, it's got character, and in some ways, charm. I'm off to meet ct, then down to Manchester to meet up with N-sibbald. | | |
| 1 August 2007
1158 - London The six-hour flight isn't much anymore, especially when you pass out for a few hours; it cuts things down immensely. And when you're flying first-class on Air Canada, that's even easier to do. The new Boeing 777-300 that Air Canada has started service just a couple months ago, and I guess I was one of the lucky people to book the right flight out to get on it. I'd used my upgrade certificate to book myself into Executive Class, and boy, when you're flying England, do they sure know how to treat you right. Chronologically: 22:55 - After lounging around in Air Canada's departures lounge in Pearson (after being "extra screened" at security), I found myself at the gate, which had a specific lane for "priority boarding" - that really did stay that way. The Air Canada stewardess actually told a family off that had young children with them for standing in the wrong line when they were all confused about the pre-boarding announcement - told them to go stand in the normal line. Very impressive. I handed my upgrade certificate over, and then off I was. 23:25 - I sip my pre-flight champagne and read over the menu and winelist. Initially I was gutted because there no dinner, but then again, I'd already eaten. Just a "light meal", to be followed by breakfast. The team was everywhere, handing out toiletries bags, and the like, and asking if I'd like to be woken for breakfast - I answered yes, and asked for the steak and eggs combo. 23:27 - Flight takes off for London, only 2 minutes delayed. Amazing. 00:15 - The light meal comes out - scrumptious sandwiches with crackers and cheese, and a delicious piece of chocolate to finish it off. Through it all I sample some delicious wines - so delicious that I've actually kept the winelist to see if I can get some of them when I get home. I think I'm definitely going to hell for enjoying six glasses of booze. After that, I press the little "ZZZ" button on my chair, which brings it all the way down into a full length 6'3'' bed. With my comfy duvet on top, I pass out. 01:00 - 04:30 - I am gone to the world. 04:35 (now 09:35 UK time) - I am woken by the pleasant stewardess and given breakfast - a fruit plate, followed by the steak, eggs and hash browns. My stomach feels bloated from all the booze still, and forcing stuff down it doesn't exactly help much more, but it tastes so good. The immigration form comes, complete with a pink envelope that allows me to use the "Fast Track" lane at Heathrow - only for "premium passengers." This is how med student syndrome develops, I'm sure. 10:45 - We arrive in Heathrow, 25 minutes ahead of schedule. 10:55 - I arrive at Customs and Immigration, hand over the pink envelope, and go into fast track, where instead of 200 people in line, there's... 2. The officer gives me nary a glance, asks me three questions - why are you here, what do you do in Toronto, how long are you staying for? - and stamps away. 10:59 - I'm at baggage claim. 11:05 - My bags arrive. 11:10 - I find myself in Air Canada's Arrivals Lounge, where I fresh up, take a shower, get into some new clothes... and stand in awe at clearing through everything in 25 minutes at Heathrow. Now, it's off to my flight to Edinburgh. | | |
| Dear friends, I am writing this letter to you, as a previous officer, and proud alumni of the IFMSA, but also as a proud Canadian. I write to you in support of IFMSA-Quebec and CFMS Canada's joint bid to host the activites of AM 2008 in Ottawa and Montreal in our country. Canadians have had a long history of contributing to the IFMSA. I can even reflect that before my own personal time in IFMSA, many Canadian delegates have served for years in many different capacities, for many different reasons, as SCOPH-D, President, within PAMSA and all the SCs. We serve because IFMSA is a reflection of home - of the multicultural society that we live in; others see it as a chance for us to share our knowledge and to get some back in return; and throughout it all, Canadians have been involved and committed and serious (though with the odd Canadian joke thrown in for fun). It is with measured sadness, therefore, that I must report one interesting fact: there has never been a GA hosted in this country. Though we Canadians have been privileged to be visitors to many of your beautiful countries, we have never had the opportunity to host you in ours. And to many of us, this seems quite unusual. We have one of the most multicultural populations in the world; streets where you can find Somalian food next to Chinese food and Cuban food. The GAs that we take part in and celebrate with you are a reflection of our everyday reality in Canada. We have a strong and diverse group of medical students from coast-to-coast. From this group, an extremely motivated organising committee has risen out of Montreal, ready to take on the challenge of bringing the world to Canada. And I've travelled every province in this country. We have something to offer to everyone. From the frenetic, diverse metropolises of Toronto and Montreal, to the lush green oceanscapes of the Maritimes, the beaches of the Pacific Coast to the grandeur of the Rocky Mountains and the quiet, calm starry nights on the prairies, Canada has something to offer for everyone. My own personal career with IFMSA might be mostly remembered for my humourous jokes while restructuring PAMSA; of my plenary heckling and joking; but most of my contributions were Canadian ideas. Bilingualism in PAMSA? That's Canadian - taking from the English and French that surrounds our official government papers, our TV stations, our day-to-day life on our cereal box. The Cultural Show? That's also Canadian - celebrating our diversity. The term "multiculturalism" was actually coined in Canada in the mid-70s, and it's been a guiding force ever since. I’m sure all of you know someone from your home country – family or friend – who lives or has lived in Canada. Every day I hear dozens of languages around me. Every day I see in the streets people from all over the world, sharing the space, building a country together, all of us human. And I’ve always believed that this is the essence of IFMSA – dreaming together to build a common future. And while I may have served as the RC of the Americas for the two years preceding this one, my own humble beginnings in IFMSA started with a dream, a dream to bring a GA to Canada - to my hometown of London, Ontario, and the University of Western Ontario.
I have long held that dream, that one day I would see a GA here in my home country - a country where it's a GA everyday; a country that is willing, ready, organised and hospitable - and waiting for you to discover why (literally) hundreds of ethnic groups come here to build a new home. I have long held that dream through my years of service to this organisation... and for some time, I may have started to lose faith; that it may never come true. I challenge you to prove me wrong. Vote Montreal for AM 2008. | | |
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