Almost fit to practice

Today was my last(ish) occupational health meeting – I got told by the nurse during Freshers’ Week that I was being referred on to discuss the slight stress related dermatitis I get on my hands, but it turned out to be a full health history and review of allergies, dermatology, and the possibly big sticking point of mental health.

The conclusion was pretty much, “well, you seem to understand your health and have plenty of control measures in place, not sure why you got asked to come here”, so all is well there. The last hurdle is to get two MMR jabs, as apparently I’m lacking measles and rubella immunity, but it shouldn’t stop me going out on placement come December. The doctor seemed to think, as I did, that having worked in healthcare for a fair while I should be the best judge of it’s affects on my health, though she did recommend anaesthesia as perfect for a mentalist like me (and suggest that perhaps I shouldn’t head into surgery, with the repetitive scrubbing up).

So just two shots to go. And to convince EEAS that I’m fine too…

I take it back: Anatomy, I love you

Need a way to remember dermatomes and myotomes? Hit play!

I’ve never been so turned on by anatomy in my life. And no, watching Bob Whitaker do something similar in the dissection room doesn’t have the same affect. Not even slightly.

Nutters

There’s little I can add to the whole David Nutt story – if you’ve been living in a cave for the past week or so, Professor Nutt of Imperial College was last week fired from his position as Chairman of the Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs for commenting on the cannabis classification debate. His argument was that cannabis shouldn’t be a class B drug, given it’s health effects, and that this [like the rest of healthcare in this country - Ed] was instead being used as a political tool rather than to protect and care for people.

The blogs and traditional media are ablaze with this. My favourite being the ever trustworthy and reliable Daily Mail with an Independent-like headline of “Yes, scientists do much good. But a country run by these arrogant gods of certainty would truly be hell on earth” about the evils of running our lives in an evidence based way. Hmmm.

The trouble with a ’scientific’ argument, of course, is that it is not made in the real world, but in a laboratory by an unimaginative academic relying solely on empirical facts [emphasis mine]

Good work. The fair and balanced A N Wilson there, everybody.

Seriously though, I implore you all to sign up to the petition to re-instate Professor Nutt. Lets try and keep at least some of healthcare policy evidence based, shall we?

ToneMatrix

There’s no shortage on the internet of simple toys to play with that will fill endless hours of your life. However, if you need a new one, may I recommend ToneMatrix.

Fantastically simple, the track reads from left to right, and you set which of the 16 tones plays in each time slice. Within a few clicks I had something that sounded scarily like the early years of Underworld, and I was hooked, endlessly altering that one note to get just the right beat (that, and it has added prettiness in the background).

So go on, click over there. But only if you fancy losing a couple of hours!

Keep the wolf at the door?

I don’t know why, but I can’t get this song from my head today. Any idea what it’s about?

Heroics

As several Johnnies pointed out to me, and I’ve been telling everyone ever since, my few minutes of fame came last night on Helicopter Heroes. UK people (and those who can play with referrers and proxies) can watch the episode on iPlayer – myself, James and Mr Hough are about half an hour in, at the (second) motorsport crash.

LINKS do helicoptering

I think other than my dopey “I’ve just woken up” chat, SJA came across quite well – we’d identified the problem and extricated and packaged the guy by the time the NHS got there, let alone Helimed 99. And to be perfectly honest, the lad probably didn’t need to fly by helicopter, as his injuries weren’t life-threatening, just concerning. But it is a more comfortable route when strapped to a spine board I suppose, and gives him (and us) a story.

And what impresses me most? We must be the only Johnnies in history to be on TV without our hi-viz jackets on.

Hack ‘em, slash ‘em

I started dissection last week. I feel very lucky to have this facility available – very few universities in the UK still get cadavers (four, I think?) – as it makes learning anatomy so much more real, and hence (hopefully) more likely to stray learnt. It’s also kind of exciting yet humbling at the same time, slicing open a real human body and poking and pulling at the bits inside. I’m very much a “break it and see what happens” type, constantly pulling things apart to see how they work, and given my reason for doing medicine is my sheer inquisitiveness of how a human functions, dissection is right up my street.

However, it has had some negative effects on me. These are:

1. Making me feel old. Not only am I surrounded by people who claim to be eighteen, but look like they’re only just into their teens, I also got told off by one for being disrespectful! Apparently telling jokes around a body isn’t on; I informed him that the jaded cynicism would come soon.
2. Now whenever I look at people I see their anatomy (as well as the usual “Ooo, you have nice veins”). I was looking at Porn For Girls By Girls.com (completely SFW) and found myself commenting on the “ARMS” model’s, which I found fantastic in a great anatomy demonstration way.
3. Eating meat will never be the same again. I was eating a divine steak today (at St John’s Chop House, never heard of it before), but couldn’t help carefully taking out the nerves and fascia to look at. Carving a joint is even worse…

Coming out?

I got accused of being gay yesterday. It happens quite a lot (and not just to me). So here’s a song it made me think of:

Proud to be mad

More quotes:

790,000 BC, give or take a few years – Discovery of fire. Anyone crazy enough to take a burning tree into their cave and find a practical application had to have been dealing with bipolar. So, you nonbipolars out there, listen up: We give you the gift of civilization, and how do you thank us? That’s right. You marginalize us. (By the way, sorry we couldn’t get fire to you sooner.

John McManamy with a rather flippant look at Mental Illness Awareness Week. Americans reading this blog, go hug a nutter!

Why I love medical textbooks

I went to a CPD session the other day run by Ant Kitchener on the acute abdomen – essentially assessing and maybe diagnosing someone with belly ache, the hardest thing to do, in my opinion, in pre-hospital care. So like any good little ETA/student HCP (I love being able to call myself that now!), I went to read up on what we were taught. And I found this in the Oxford Handbook of Clinical Medicine:

Enid Blyton’s Famous Five characters can generally solve any crime or

diagnostic problem using 1950s methodologies steeped in endless school holidays,

copious midnight feasts (always confection laden), and lashings of

homemade ginger beer.

The one insoluble problem was (and is) abdominal distension. The methods

used by the Famous Five actually contribute to each of its causes: fat, fluid,

faeces, flatus, and fetus. If you think it far-fetched to implicate ginger-beer in

the genesis of fetuses, note that because it was home-made, like the fun, there

was no limit to its intoxicating powers in those long-gone vintage summers.

Enid Blyton did her best to minimize the risks of unwanted pregnancies by

gender reassignment (George) and by making one of her characters a dog

(Timmy)—but accidents must have happened. The point is to remember to ask

‘when was your last period’ whenever confronted by a distended abdomen.

Enid Blyton’s Famous Five characters can generally solve any crime or diagnostic problem using 1950s methodologies steeped in endless school holidays, copious midnight feasts (always confection laden), and lashings of homemade ginger beer.

The one insoluble problem was (and is) abdominal distension. The methods used by the Famous Five actually contribute to each of its causes: fat, fluid, faeces, flatus, and fetus. If you think it far-fetched to implicate ginger-beer in the genesis of fetuses, note that because it was home-made, like the fun, there was no limit to its intoxicating powers in those long-gone vintage summers.

Enid Blyton did her best to minimize the risks of unwanted pregnancies by gender reassignment (George) and by making one of her characters a dog (Timmy)—but accidents must have happened. The point is to remember to ask ‘when was your last period’ whenever confronted by a distended abdomen. (OHCM)

To the point, and exceptionally memorable. Plus made me snort tea up my nose at about three am. Perfect.