How many of you are wearing shorts today as you shop for Christmas gifts, a tree, or just meeting friends for lunch?  Okay, I know some you might but you get the the idea.  Did you ever think how many of our Christmas traditions are based on snow, on cold weather, or visiting cold places?  And think of our carols:  GKW: “as the snow lay on the ground, deep and . . . ..”  Or “Sleigh Bells”, “Winter Wonderland”, and “White Christmas”.  And what the heck are the reindeer doing down here?  Pulling a sleigh thru sand?  Poor Rudolph will die of heat prostration.  And Santa in his fur-lined outfit (not to mention obesity)? 

      About twenty years ago I was in Miami for Christmas with my GF’s family.  It was about 80 that day and I remember thinking how strange that is.  So, what they did was turn the AC down to about 60 early in the morniing; by evening it quite chilly and so we started a fire in the fireplace and made it seem a bit more traditional as we opened gifts.  [Why do they even have fireplaces in Miami?]

     So, what DO the Aussies sing about during this season?  Glad you asked.  They do sing carols but they’re a bit different and include a few different animals, including our ‘Roos.  And, anticipating your unquenchable curiosity, I’ve transcribed several for you.  Some are based on our familiar carols, others are completely original.

1)  White boomers are special kangaroos that Santa uses in Australia instead of a traditional reindeer team.  Boomers are stronger than reindeer so Santa only needs six of them to pull his sleigh.

Early on one Christmas Day a Joey Kangaroo,
Was far from home and lost in a great big zoo.
Mummy, where’s my mummy? They’ve taken her away.
We’ll help you find your mummy, son. Hop up on the sleigh.

Up beside the bag of toys little Joey hopped,
But they hadn’t gone far when Santa stopped.
Unharnessed all the reindeer and Joey wondered why,
Then he heard a far off booming in the sky.

Six white boomers, snow white boomers,
Racing Santa Claus through the blazing sun.
Six white boomers, snow white boomers,
On his Australian run.

Pretty soon old Santa began to feel the heat,
Took his fur-lined boots off to cool his feet,
Into one popped Joey, feeling quite okay,
While those old man Kangaroos kept pulling on the sleigh.

Six white boomers, snow white boomers,
Racing Santa Claus through the blazing sun.
Six white boomers, snow white boomers,
On his Australian run.

Joey said to Santa, Santa, what about the toys?
Aren’t you giving some to these girls and boys?’
They’ve got all their presents, son, we were here last night,
This trip is an extra trip, Joey’s special flight.

Six white boomers, snow white boomers,
Racing Santa Claus through the blazing sun.
Six white boomers, snow white boomers,
On his Australian run.

Soon the sleigh was flashing past right over Marble Bar,
Slow down there, cried Santa, it can’t be far,
Come up on my lap here, son, and have a look around.
There she is, that’s Mummy, bounding up and down.

Six white boomers, snow white boomers,
Racing Santa Claus through the blazing sun.
Six white boomers, snow white boomers,
On his Australian run.

Well that’s the bestest Christmas treat that Joey ever had,
Curled up in mother’s pouch feeling snug and glad.
The last they saw was Santa heading northwards from the sun,
The only year the boomers worked a double run.

Six white boomers, snow white boomers,
Racing Santa Claus through the blazing sun.
Six white boomers, snow white boomers,
On his Australian run.

2)    Want something more traditional?  Something you can actually sing?  Then this is for you:                       

Dashing through the bush, in a rusty Holden Ute,
Kicking up the dust, esky in the boot,
Kelpie by my side, singing Christmas songs,
It’s Summer time and I am in my singlet, shorts and thongs

Oh! Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way,
Christmas in Australia on a scorching summers day, Hey!
Jingle bells, jingle bells, Christmas time is beaut!
Oh what fun it is to ride in a rusty Holden Ute.

Engine’s getting hot; we dodge the kangaroos,
The swaggie climbs aboard, he is welcome too.
All the family’s there, sitting by the pool,
Christmas Day the Aussie way, by the barbecue.

Oh! Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way,
Christmas in Australia on a scorching summers day, Hey!
Jingle bells, jingle bells, Christmas time is beaut!
Oh what fun it is to ride in a rusty Holden Ute.

Come the afternoon, Grandpa has a doze,
The kids and Uncle Bruce, are swimming in their clothes.
The time comes ’round to go, we take the family snap,
Pack the car and all shoot through, before the washing up.

Oh! Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way,
Christmas in Australia on a scorching summers day, Hey!
Jingle bells, jingle bells, Christmas time is beaut!
Oh what fun it is to ride in a rusty Holden Ute.

3)  Okay, one more.  Now what song is more representative of this season than, “The Twelve Days of Christmas”?   

On the first day of Christmas
My true love sent to me,
An emu up a gum tree.

On the second day of Christmas
My true sent to me,
Two pink galahs,
And an emu up a gum tree.

On the third day of Christmas
My true love sent to me,
Three kookaburras laughing,
Two pink galahs,
And an emu up a gum tree.

On the fourth day of Christmas
My true love sent to me
Four koalas cuddling,
Three kookaburras laughing
Two pink galahs
And an emu up a gum tree.

On the fifth day of Christmas
My true love sent to me
Five kangaroos,
Four koalas cuddling,
Three kookaburras laughing,
Two pink galahs,
And an emu up a gum tree.

On the sixth day of Christmas
My true love sent to me
Six brolgas dancing,
Five Kangaroos,
Four koalas cuddling,
Three kookaburras laughing,
Two pink galahs,
And an emu up a gum tree.

On the seventh day of Christmas
My true love sent to me
Seven possums playing,
Six brolgas dancing,
Five Kangaroos,
Four koalas cuddling,
Three kookaburras laughing,
Two pink galahs,
And an emu up a gum tree.

On the eighth day of Christmas
My true love sent to me
Eight dingoes digging,
Seven possums playing,
Six brolgas dancing,
Five Kangaroos,
Four koalas cuddling,
Three kookaburras laughing,
Two pink galahs,
And an emu up a gum tree.

On the ninth day of Christmas
My true love sent to me
Nine wombats working,
Eight dingoes digging,
Seven possums playing,
Six brolgas dancing,
Five Kangaroos,
Four koalas cuddling,
Three kookaburras laughing,
Two pink galahs,
And an emu up a gum tree.

On the tenth day of Christmas
My true love sent to me
Ten lizards leaping,
Nine wombats working,
Eight dingoes digging,
Seven possums playing,
Six brolgas dancing,
Five Kangaroos,
Four koalas cuddling,
Three kookaburras laughing,
Two pink galahs,
And an emu up a gum tree.

On the eleventh day of Christmas
My true love sent to me
Eleven numbats nagging,
Ten lizards leaping,
Nine wombats working,
Eight dingoes digging,
Seven possums playing,
Six brolgas dancing,
Five Kangaroos,
Four koalas cuddling,
Three kookaburras laughing,
Two pink galahs,
And an emu up a gum tree.

On the twelfth day of Christmas
My true love sent to me
Twelve parrots prattling,
Eleven numbats nagging,
Ten lizards leaping,
Nine wombats working,
Eight dingoes digging,
Seven possums playing,
Six brolgas dancing,
Five Kangaroos,
Four koalas cuddling,
Three kookaburras laughing,
Two pink galahs,
And an emu up a gum tree.

Yet another bored reader

    We in Emergency Medicine often complain that we work in a fishbowl: everyone sees what we do and if we make a mistake (often), it’s never a secret (as opposed to those who work in the operating room, or an office, etc.) but is broadcast throughout the hospital.  So we as a group are often seen as inferior, or mistake-prone, or just lousy Docs.  And what we do is examined more closely than Docs in other fields.  Part of this is that we’re always the first to see the patient so every Doc “downstream”  puts our actions under a microscope. Not fair, but comes with the territory.

     Well, my experience down here leads me to extrapolate this scenario to the whole United States.  We literally ARE on a stage, a world stage, and we live and act and elect and politic and, yes, err,  in a world fishbowl.  And we, too, are examined more intensely than other countries.  This occurred to me while at the medical conference in Wellington, NZ, I mentioned in an earlier post.  I was at a leadership workshop and the subject of political leaders came up.  Now this crowd I was in was not made up of just Aussies and Kiwis, but of about 10 other nations, including India, Pakistan, China, Indonesia, Africa, and a few mid-east countries.  And they started using US presidents as examples.  I was amazed how much they knew of our history.  They knew not just names but characteristics of presidents going back 30 and 40 years!  I KNOW that that group knew more American history than many Americans (sad, isn’t it?).  Maybe that’s why we get so much world criticism, so much ill-will, so much scrutiny.  I don’t know if it amounts to being held to a higher standard or just the fact that we’re so visible and, therefore, vulnerable.  As with ED Docs, we certainly never get the benefit of the doubt.

     Another part of this I didn’t understand when I first began living here is the defensive posture I take when the US is mentioned.  It’s as if I have to explain and defend what the US or its people do, and justify the actions of my country.  Now I’m a dedicated critic of all things American; it’s our birthright, almost a duty, and certainly a priviledge. And now I feel I have to defend her?  Do other ex-pats do this?  I’ve gone from critic to apologist.    And, at the risk of getting maudlin, it feels kind of good.  I think its the same as a family: we aggressively attack each other in the home, but once outside, we defend without regard to right or wrong.

      I listen to the news here daily and a major part of it pertains to the US.  Yesterday, at lunch, the major point of discussion was the bailout of the car guys.  And all there were quite conversant with the arguments for and against.

     Here’s an interesting fact for my conservative friends: we subscribe to “Foxtel” the major/dominant satellite TV service (no cable down here).  And of course, Fox news runs 24/7 (don’t have to miss O’Rielly :<)).  No CNN, no MSNBC, no liberal bias here.  So at least the Aussies get the straight stuff, right?  Okay, okay, you can listen to NPR twice daily if you need your daily radical fix.

    BTW, down here his name is pronounced, “Barrack (think army) Obamer”.  The Aussie’s put an “r” on the end of every word that ends in a vowel.  And they love Hilliary.  Didn’t get that from watching Fox, that’s for sure!  And they’re all happy with his election and are hopeful that the US will turn from its current direction and rejoin the rest of the nations and not try to be such a maverick and go it alone.  They really feel strongly about the US and want it to be successful and maintain its hegemony in the world. 

     I take that as a compliment.  And so should you.

Cheers!

     While driving north on our second day it was quite cloudy but we often thought we could see a mountain in the distance.  Trouble was, with the low clouds (you’ll recall, this is the country of the “Long White Cloud”) we couldn’t tell what was cloud and what was mountain.  And, this is summer.  Why would a mountain be white, in summer?  Now, the latitude of Wellington  is about that of Chicago (and I KNOW what Chicago is like in the summer!), and the latitude of the southernmost part of New Zealand is that of Quebec, Canada.  But, still, snow?  Below, left,  is a photo of this apparition, this mirage, as we approached.

Cloud? Mountain?

Getting out the map, we saw that it might be Mt. Taranaki but we couldn’t be sure. We continued driving and it became more cloudy so we thought that it was a hill with overlying clouds.  But then we broke out onto a plain and there it was.  WOW!

look familiar?

Well, at this point, there was no doubt.  It WAS a mountain. But . .  .didn’t it look like another, an iconic, mountain?  Sure did to me.  First thing we both said as we broke out into a plain was . . . . what?  Can you guess?   Yep, you’re right.  Looks like Mt. Fuji.  So conical, so symmetric.  So we continued on to the B&B at the foot of this mountain and mentioned this to the proprietor.  We asked her about the resemblance.  She looked at us like a couple who just fell off the turnip truck; duh, that’s why they used it for the movie, “The Last Samurai”.  Well, excuuuuuuse me.  Which begs the question: wouldn’t it be easier to go to Mt. Fuji than all the way to NZ?

     Another discovery in our first few days of driving was the greater number and variety of traffic signs, particularly those related to speeding.  And there were far more “Highway Patrol” cars out there, more like the US than Australia.  Here’s one of my favorite speed limit signs:

A few other speed signs:

Be Patient, Don’t be a Patient!

It’s a limit, not a Challenge.  

[Next to the speed limit]

The Faster you go, the Bigger the mess.

Drink & DrIvE  (drink and die)

My favorite:  STOP!  Have a wee.

And here’s a few other signs we ran across:

And isn’t this RR crossing sign much more pleasant than the ones in the US?

How quaint is this?

I should mention, while we’re on the road, the difference in rental cars in NZ and the rest of the world.  Usually when you rent a car, you get a recent/late model small car with low miles.  Right?  Hasn’t that been your experience?  Well, here in NZ, we rented three different cars.  The average ‘mileage’  was about 100,000 miles!  These cars had squeaks, rattles, and a certain “flexibility”  that gave one pause in trusting it for long distances.  Of course we had an “800″ number to call for help but that gave little comfort in a mountainous land with limited cell coverage.  But it did make driving more exciting.

 Back soon.

 Cheers!

    But then add to this magical land . . .  roads;  not just any roads, but roads from the 1950′s.  Two laned roads which go through each and every one-horse town, which are constantly under repair, and which have no straight segments longer than a half mile.  Voila!  Welcome to NEW ZEALAND!

     We just spent a fortnight in this wondrous land and have already made plans to return while we’re still in the Southern Hemisphere.  If you look at a map of NZ, you’ll see the two islands each about 500 miles long [The whole country is about the size of Italy.].  So we thought, small islands, we’ll just rent a car and drive both islands and  see everything, right?  Oh, we were so wrong.  After three days, we had seen nothing except the atrocious roads.  One cannot go any distance and average better than about 70 kmph (40mph)!  [See above comments.]  So on the fourth day, we turned in the rental and headed for the airport.

     The history of New Zealand is intriguing: it was uninhabited until about 1000 years ago when the polynesian diaspora reached it as part of the polynesian triangle.  They called themselves the Maori (Mow-ree) and were the only humans until Abel Tasman, a Dutchman, landed there in the 1600′s.  Captain Cook arrived about 1750, and thereafter  European settlement increased rapidly. [The name, New Zealand, originated with Dutch cartographers after the Dutch province of Zeeland.]  The relationship of the Kiwi’s to the Maori’s is much different from that of the Aussies and the Aborigines.  Look at the place names in NZ: most are Maori.  In Australia, most are English.  I was told part of this is that the Maori’s were warriors: they actively fought the caucasian invaders whereas the Aborigines generally were much more passive.  This may have been because the Aborigines had been alone for over 60,000 years; perhaps they lost the driveor need to defend.  (I don’t know.)  Also, in a treaty with the Maoris in the late 1800′s, the settlers agreed to treat them as equals.  That didn’t actually happen for almost 100 years but gradually over  the past 30 years, places are  being renamed.

      The geological history is equally intriguing (well, to me it is, and it’s my blog!).  NZ was originally part of Gondwana and split from Antartica about 100 million years ago (give or take).  And actually what we see is just the highest elevations of Zealandia, a continent only a bit smaller than Australia. It sits on both the Pacific and Indo-australian plates which began to pull apart about 25 million years ago, thus separating the islands.

    The four main cities of NZ are Auckland (1.2 M pop), Wellington, the capital (400,000), Christchurch (300,000), and Hamilton.  Queenstown is the city famous for the first bungie jump and now considers itself the adrenalin capital of the world.  We were there, ostensibly, for a medical meeting in Wellington (Australasian College of Emergency Medicine) but took a full two weeks around the conference.

     So what the heck did we do there?  We had, of course, a check list of stuff to do and that changed daily.  Now, those of you who know me, understand that I’m not a planner; when I travel I rarely know where I’ll stay until I get there.  Suffice to say Anne is the opposite and any conflicts resulting from that dichotomy will not be discussed here. [But "Black Belt Magazine" has a good account.]   I mention that because once we started, we just figured it out on a daily basis. So, after landing in Wellington, we rented a car and started North. On the second day we ended up at the Waitomo caves, made world famous by a special on Discovery Channel about their “Glo-worms“, bioluminescent creatures on the roofs of the caves.  In order to see them, one commits to a 90 minute inner-tube floating tour of the caves.  We were each given wet suits and then had to select an inner tube to fit our bums.  [Remember, with all photos, scroll across photo, then click on the pop-up image.]

Trying on tubes

  So, having my bum/tube  ratio approved by the leader, an attractive kiwi lady of about 22 (making this even more embarassing–I kept wanting to say to her, “you should have seen this bum 30 years ago–now THAT was a bum!”), off we went into the caves.  This began with a jump from about 3 meters, backwards, bums to the water, and then letting the current take us in to the caves.  Well, it was dark, really dark, and cold, really cold, and we saw the ceiling of the caves covered with the glo-worms, not unlike the starry skies on a clear night.  It was, like so many “touristy” events, a bit of a disappointment but we’re not unhappy we did it and we couldn’t do this anywhere else in the world.

     We next decided to drive down to Christchurch and it was while en route we realized this “road trip” wasn’t the best way to see this amazing country.  When we arrived in Wellington, we dropped off the car and rushed to the airport to fly to CC.  The next 5 days were perfect: little driving, lots of events, shopping, and we were able to continue our research into the wine industry of NZ.  You laugh?  We actually switched to Aussie and NZ wines about 2 years ago as we found their whites, particularly the Sauvignon Blanc, was much tastier than the Italian Pinot Grigios we had become accustomed to.  To be sure, the SB’s were a bit more complex and spicier, but nothing approaching the Chardonnays we disliked intensely.  There are two main wine regions in NZ (one on each island) and both are world famous for good reason.  Try it, you’ll like it!

starting point

Much nicer than the Peqoud

     And then the WHALE surfaced!  Good thing someone was there to tell me because I wouldn’t have noticed it.  Look at the photos.  Again, I’m thinking the glory of Discovery Channel and I’m seeing this brown line in the sea.  I paid $200 for this?  And we all know that the iconic photo of a whale is the large fluke when he dives.  Problem is, we’re all waiting for this to happen for about an hour and then it occurs in a split second and everyone misses it.  Besides, half the batteries were dead by that time.  The only way to really catch this would be on film and then take frames from that. If you’re really interested in whales my advice is to watch the Discovery Channel.

had to sit and wait for almost an hour before they were sighted.  Apparently, they’re very curious so, in general, they will come to you.  And come they did.  What delightful little creatures!  They’re a water equivalent of Terriers.  Three or four or five of them would swim through our group, jumping and diving and leaping and squawking and splashing and then swim off 10-15 meters, then abruptly turn and charge us again.  We weren’t allowed to touch them but I could have, on occasion.    We were all giggling with delight throughout this experience.  Now this was an experience worth twice the price! We’ll never forget this. I should add that these dolphins are an endangered species; only about 8,000 are left.  These guys  are of the same species as whales.  They need help! Click here for more info.  Now, being quite far South, you might wonder if the water was cold.  Two words: penguins (swimming around us), and Antarctica, just South of here (okay, maybe 2000 km, but let’s not quibble).  But treading water in a wet suit for 90 minutes keeps one pretty warm (No, we didn’t pee in them).

Here I am watching the dolphin

    We spent 4 days Christchurch, 2 days on the above adventures (such as they were) and 2 days just exploring the city and shopping.  As you may know, CC is also referred to as the “Gateway to Antartica” as they have regular flights down there as part of the support for those lost souls on ice.  In fact, most of the folks staying at the B&B with us were part of that system.  One guy, pale and gaunt (and really weird), had just returned after 6 months, and there was a group of 5 who there to put in a bid for the support services (from Raytheon).  They also have an “Antartica Center”; it’s pretty cool (no pun intended).  Part of it serves to give one a feeling of how it is to live there; they have one chamber which replicates a storm: gets to 60 below with a wind of about 120 mph!  A summer day in North Dakota.

I’ll stop for now but there’s much more to come from New Zealand, a land of the most beauty, the best people, and the worst roads (Oh, did I mention that?).

Cheers!

This first photo [remember to left click once on every photo] is taken downstream with a telephoto (by me) and was my first look at what I was about to attempt.  What kind of fucking idiot jumps off something like this?  (see below for answer)

Jump off this?! Are you shitting me?!!

    So the next step was to drive around to the entrance and see what it looked like from the jumpers point of view (and check the cost). They have an observation deck near the platform so I stood with an Irish couple contemplating a jump. It seems he had done it but she had . . . ahem . . . “taken it under consideration”. I watched a few guys jump, summoned all my courage and then decided to watch a few more. Another 30 minutes passed, no one had died (yet) so I went into the hut to reserve my jump. I was told to come back in 2 hours as they (the staff) were going to lunch and they had a group coming at 1 pm.  

    “But,” I protested, “I’ve gotta go now! I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it then.”
    She shrugged. “2:30,” she repeated.
    Easy for her, I thought. She hasn’t been thinking about this for 15 years, since I read about it in Outside Magazine, and I vowed I would do it . . . someday. What did she know about being a 50+ guy struggling to hang on to his fading physical assets, knowing this might be the “Last Hurrah” for his claim to membership in the testosterone fraternity. This would be Viagra for my waning machismo, a slap in the face of those who would act their age. And she would deny me this? Apparently, yes.
    Okay, then, I sought another outlet. They call this area the “Adrenaline Capital” and for good reason. There are many activities here which normal people only read about and discount as being activities for the “fringe elements”. But by joining the “fringe”, maybe I could recapture my youth, maybe I could return to the invincible days, when I was simply immortal and had nothing to fear but zits and girls. Time was short so we raced to the jet boat port and got a seat on the next ‘flight’.

    What do you know about jet-boats?  They have very powerful engines which suck up water and thrust it out as jets.  Their draft is about 6 inches and they literally can turn (or do a 360) on a dime.  The boat we took (as shown) had over 600 hp!  The other odd thing about them is that they speed in the opposite direction of the jet spray (I forget which of Newton’s laws that was) and not in the direction of the bow.  This allows for the boat to aim in one direction yet be headed in another. And the pilots were aspiring NASCAR drivers (well, without the unusual family tree, drawls, cigarettes in t-shirt sleeves, etc).  We wore life-jackets and the scared grins one sees on roller-coaster riders.  And very wet clothes.

part way into a 360

Huka falls: 360,000 gals/min!still thinking about the Bungie jump

    Okay, we’re both wet and still giggling from the corporeal pleasures of the jet-boat ride but now I’ve got to put aside my delight and concentrate on the task at hand.  All during this ride, I’d alternate between unbridled joy from the ride and the lurking fear and trepidation awaiting me at the Bungie site.

    Unfortunately, when we got back to the bungie site they were still open.  Bummer.  So, I went and watched a few more jumpers just to be sure it was still safe.  Again, in 10 minutes, no one died.  So, with a deep breath and a VISA, I paid.  Did Marie Antoinette pay for her ride?  That’s how I felt. 

     I walked out to the end of the platform over the river and sat for a moment while the victim ahead of me leaped into space, pale and screaming.  Then, it was my turn. 

     Nice guy that I am, I turned to let the next person go . . . . but no one was there.  I took a deep breath and crept to the “on deck” circle.  There were two guys there, each checking the other on all connections.  I was quite impressed with the emphasis on safety.  Everything was checked twice, aloud, with the other listening.  I was seated near the edge, and each ankle was encircled with nylon webbing which were connected with a locking carabiner, which was was then connected to another webbing which was fastened to the tower (in case I wanted to kill myself by jumping then, I couldn’t).  I did a fair amount of rock climbing (Yosemite area) in my youth and all the devices, fasteners, and ropes/webbing were of the same era and ilk.  So that helped with my sense of safety.  Then I was told to stand up and march to the edge.  Well, with both ankles fastened, it was a “penguin march”.  I was instructed to extend both arms above me, tuck my chin, and fall forward.  Piece of cake, right!  So, I start to lean, look down at 200 feet of space, and, suddenly, 30 million years of evolution kicked in.  My frontal lobe was telling the rest of my brain that I had a rope tied to my feet . . .to no avail. I realized I was going to die and my whole body shut down.  I have never been so scared in my life (a life, may I remind you, which includes kayaking, climbing, rappeling, car racing, and flying which includes several engine failures).  Had there been a way to stop it then, I would have given all my wordly goods to do so.  Nothing.  I fell.  I remember little of the next two hours as I fell until the cord gradually began to slow me and I realized, once again, I had cheated death.  I yelled, “YES!!” as much to congratulate myself as the realization I would never, ever, have to do this again.

Creeping to the edge, trying not to shit myself

I'm going to die, I'm going to die

good form for a dead man, eh?

I realize that only 1-2 seconds pass from leaping off the precipice until the cord catching and stopping me but . . . but . . . I don’t recall that time.  Protective amnesia?

I have no recall of this point

                             

don't remember this, either

                                   

    So, I guess you’ll all be wanting to see the video?  That’s why you’re here, right?  So, click here to watch it on “YouTube”.

    So, what are my thoughts?  Well, this is one of those things which is not fun to do but is great to have done.  Also, I have to say that I’m a bit pleased with myself for overcoming the fear and doing it.  I’ll just have to avoid being a pain in the ass by working this into every conversation: “Oh, okay, maybe a little sore from my last bungie jump.” or “No, I missed that episode while I was bungie jumping.”  And so on.

    Sorry about conning you all into reading this blog.  If you haven’t already, you should go back and read from the beginning (see archives on the right of your screen and read pages from the bottom up).  And come back often.  I haven’t been writing much lately because of some problems down here but will be adding material frequently  (hear about Tasmania, New Zealand) in the near future.

Cheers!

     So I saw that complaint on the electronic tracking board and had the nurses bring him back immediately to examine him.  I introduced myself to him and his Mum and asked him about his testicle.  He had no idea what that was so he looked up to his Mum for help. 

     “Your ball,” she whispered down to him.  Well, he got this sheepish grin and blushed a bit and then shyly pulled his pants down so I could see it.

As I started to examine him, I said, “Know what we call them in America?”

He shook his head.

     “Nuts!” I said.   He roared laughing (as did his Mum) so I asked if he’d ever heard that term.  Well, it must a something bad because he looked up to his Mum for permission and then nodded, yeah, he’d heard that in the schoolyard.  So for the rest of the time with them I kept using that term to his utter enjoyment.  I was pretty sure it wasn’t torsion but rather epididymitis (an inflammation of the epididymis, a coiled structure on top of the testis which stores and transports sperm) so I had them come back the next day for an ultrasound.  As they came into the ED the following morning I greeted him with, “Hey, Christopher, how’re your nuts?”

Once again he blushed and giggled.

[US showed only the epididymitis.]

     An intern I’ve been working with mentioned how I seemed to get on with babies and children so I told her the story.  When I first started in medicine, I hated seeing babies.  Yuccck!  I had no idea how to handle them and they seemed to sense that and would cry at the first glance at me.  I was awkward in handling them, and was afraid to touch them. And I hated having a picture of a 2-day old shoved in front of my face so I could gush, “Oh, what a beautiful baby!”  Two-day olds are ugly.  Period.  The miracle is not that we have them but that they eventually turn out so attractive after such a bad start. 

Then dogs entered my life (how this happened is a story for another day).  I learned to love and respect dogs and they became (and are) a most important part of my life.   So one day I was seeing this baby and absent-mindedly (while talking with the parents) began “petting” him on the head.  He immediately stopped crying.

Soon thereafter, I found myself talking and petting babies in the same way I would with my dogs.  [I know, I know you don't talk to your dogs.  Baloney!  We  ALL talk to our dogs (maybe just when no one is around).  Their non-judgemental attention to this is one of their many great qualities, isn't it?]

     It wasn’t more than a few weeks later that the “miracle” occurred.  I went to examine a baby and she put her arms up to me to be picked up.  I almost cried.  Clearly something significant had changed within me and babies were sensing this.  You know, dogs and babies have a lot in common; one thing they share is their ability to read us i.e. they don’t depend on our words but rather they read our actions and judge us.  And in doing so, are more able to see our “truth”.  [I've often wondered if deaf people have the same power to read us.]

So ever since that medical satori, I treat dogs and babies the same and they both seem to trust me.  And, yes, babies still reach out to me.

As an aside, there are a few other things I do with kids which seem to help me.  When I enter a room I always address and introduce myself to the child first, then the parents.  This sends the message that I’m there for them not their parents. I never lie to kids.  If it’s going to hurt I tell them exactly how much and how long.  Some parents don’t like this; they may see it as scaring the child.  But I think the kids  (on some level) appreciate this and they learn to trust me and, importantly, it lays down the basis of trust with future doctors they may see.  We tend to underestimate kids; they pick up on the old, “this won’t hurt a bit” routine very early in life and it engenders a mistrust of those who would attempt to sugarcoat an experience.   During the exam, especially just before getting to what might be the painful part, when the child’s apprehension has reached a point of tears, I’ll tell him/her that I have to count their ribs. This is, of course, concealed tickling, and they’ll often laugh a bit which relaxes them.  This is particularly important when abdominal pain is the issue; it’s impossible to examine the belly of a crying child.  And one of my favorite things to do after a child has had a painful experience, usually suturing, is to say, “I’m sorry I had to hurt you.  Are you mad at me?”

Invariably, they’ll say no.  See?  they really DO understand.

[The above notwithstanding,  I still don't want to see a picture of your new baby.]

**Did you know that there are prosthetic testicles?  If one is removed, they can implant a replica in the scrotum.  Wouldn’t want to lose your balance, now would you?  They come in all different sizes and shapes and you can pick the one you want.  Now if we could only pick a new . . . nah, that’ll never happen.

           This is one of 4 ten hour days in an average week.  I say average because I may work 7 or 8 days in-a-row and then have 4-5 days off but it should all average out to 40 hour weeks.  I also work two 10-hour “clinical” days where I’m in charge of the 40+ bed ED, and another 10 hour “non-clinical” day where I’m free to study, prepare talks, catch up on recent literature, etc.  The idea  is that I’m “paid to learn” so that I can continue  to pass that on.

     Anyway, what started me on this description of a typical day is a thought I had whilst walking down the long hallway from my office to the ED.  All hospitals have those long, long main hallways; late at night I’ve often wanted to roll a bowling ball down them just to see if I could get it to the end without hitting the sides.  En route today, I stopped to chat briefly with four different people, mostly junior docs who worked under me in the ED but who were now involved with other rotations.  Not only were these four from 4 different countries, they were from four different continents!  And what did we talk about?  The world situation?  Politics? Nope.  Just the same everyday stuff you cover with your everyday contacts. ”How ya goin’, what are you doing now, you like it?, how’r the kids, yadda, yadda, yadda.” They’re just the same as we are.  Now I know you all know this but to experience it and to not even notice anymore their clothing, color, accent, is a whole quantum leap into “internationality”.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:  if we all had this experience this world would be a better and more peaceful place.

     Imagine (sorry, John Lennon) you’re at your job and you stop to talk to a Russian, a Chinese, a lady from Iran (in hijab or burqa), and an Indionesian.  And you chat about nothing in particular.  How could you then foster any negative feelings about those countries?  Okay, maybe that’s a bit naive and we all know  it’s the government not the people, but still . . . .if Bush and Putin were talking over the back fence about how their daughters were doing in college, could we still go to war?

      Geez, I’m starting to sound like a “bleeding-heart” liberal and not my usual “hard-ass” conservative; and maybe that’s not a bad thing.

      Perhaps the most humorous cases are the FB’s: foreign bodies you-know-where.  The excuses we hear for how they got up there are so ridiculous; why they don’t just admit to this sexual aberrancy (okay, maybe not in your house, but it is in ours!) and get on with it.  One guy had a TV remote in his rectum. 

     “How did that happen?” I asked, knowing what was coming.

     “Oh, I was watching TV naked and I sat on it.”     Yeah, right.  Lean to the left and get ESPN, to the right and get CNN and if he farts he gets SHOWTIME?? 

     One guy in Alaska on a business trip came in with a vibrator in the rectum.  At least he admitted to being with a prostitute and acting out some fantasy.  But he, and many others, needed to go to surgery to get it out and he couldn’t put it on his health insurance because then his wife would find out.  How do you explain to your boss the extra $5,000 on the expense report?

     Another guy came in with a very swollen and painful penis.  I couldn’t wait!

    “So, what happened?” I asked, hoping for some comic relief.

     “I was vacuuming and it got caught in the tubing.”

     “You were naked?”

     “It was hot.”     Would somebody explain to this guy what a blow job really is.

    The funniest?  Maybe this one:  way back in 1984, I saw a young black female with low abdominal pain.  Naturally, the most important question revolves around the possibility of pregnancy.  Back then (I was young and naive) I used to ask women if it were possible they could be pregnant and actually believe them if they said no.  Now, being older, wiser, and tired of being lied to (amazing the number of “immaculate conceptions” which occur in the ED)  I just get a preg test on every woman of childbearing age.  So I asked her, “Are you sexually active?”

    She looked up at me and said, “Why, no, I just lie there.”   I had to run out of the room.

    The time zones here are a bit odd.  The east coast of Oz is two hours ahead of Western Australia (which is basically Perth and a lot of sand).  But here’s the thing: Melbourne and points north are just 30 minutes behind us!  So when it’s noon here, it’s 11:30 in Melbourne, and 10 am in Perth.  This  has more to do with the unusual population distribution in Australia than geography.

      They have an unusual notation in medicine here to describe length of symptoms.  Instead of specifying the time in words they use a ‘fraction’.  So if an infant has been vomiting for 10 hours they might write, “vomiting 10/24.”  Similarly, they might write, “abdominal pain 2/7″ rather than 2 days.  And, for those of us in the business, we know there’s always that one who shows up at 4 am with chronic pain for months who RIGHT NOW  needs to have it fixed so they’ll write, “pain 6/12″.  Love to see it.

     Way back in April, I talked about some of the new expressions I’ve  learned (you can reread it here).  Here are a few more from the ED:

Acopic: those who aren’t doing well in their lives (not coping).  Now this may be legitimate as a senior having trouble taking care of himself at home; or, more likely, someone who just can’t deal with life anymore.  You know, the stress, poor dears. Give me a break!  Stress is the new word for life and responsibility so build a bridge and get over it, already. Jeez.

Unwell:  it’s taken me a while to get a handle on this word.  It means mildly ill but the meaning can range (depending on context) up to very sick.  One hears, “she’s just a bit unwell” for maybe some flu symptoms but also one might hear, “she’s quite unwell and needs to be in hospital.”  So if you find yourself down here and you get sick, when you see the doctor just say you’re “unwell” and it will be taken at face-value without any explanation needed.