Showing posts with label BMJ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label BMJ. Show all posts

Saturday, June 5, 2010

This week's compendium

Here’s this week’s compendium. This week…

1. I was sorry to read Al and Tipper Gore are separating after 40 years of marriage [1]. Big pity.

2. I was also sorry to read that Art Linkletter had died [2a]. Michael Schildberger too [2b]. I grew up with Art’s TV show People are Funny [2c]; and I attended the same synagogue as Michael.

3. treehugger reported on an electric car that went 623.76 miles (1,003 kilometres) on one charge [3]. That’s so impressive.

4. the BMJ reported that infrequent tooth-brushing’s linked to a higher risk of heart disease [4]. Apparently it’s an oral hygiene issue. At least twice a day’s the go, folks.

5. the BMJ also reported that active elderly people who wear multifocal glasses reduce their risk for falls if they use single-focus, distance-vision lenses during outdoor activities [5]. Makes sense to me.

6. I read this item about bald guys [6a]. I’m okay being one [6b].

7. treehugger reported that German researchers are using shark skin-like paint to make wind turbines more efficient [7]. It has implications for cars, planes, boats etc.

8. Nutrition Diva told us all we need to know about salt [8]. Including that we should all eat less of the stuff.

Finally, I wish you, dear Farmdoc’s Blog readers, a wonderful week.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Beds and bugs

I’m thinking of retiring from medical practice in 2012 – on 9 June (i.e. my 65th birthday) or 30 June (i.e. the 2011/2 financial year’s end). It’s not that I’m not doing good work – I reckon my work currently is as good as it’s ever been. Rather I’ve had enough of The System. Greedy governments, mad medical indemnity insurance, crazy continuing professional development decrees. And on it goes. Bureaucrats, bean counters and other assorted apparatchiks have gotten the better of me. They’re all bastards. They’ve worn me down. Smooth as a river stone. I’ve done my best. Held out for as long as I can. But two more years will see me out. Maybe I’ll change my mind. I doubt it, though.

At least I no longer do hospital work. Thankfully. I’ve previously written of hospital bans on lab coats, ties, below-elbow sleeves, watches, and even long fingernails [1]; also bedside flowers [2]. The latest news from the UK – which has lost the plot as a nation – is a ban on sitting on patients’ beds. The response to this lunacy from near [3] and far [4] is negative. Vehemently so. I agree. Some of my best hospital work occurred during quiet chats with patients – with them in bed, and me sitting on the bed holding their hand.

But, I know, I’m a sheep man in cattle country. And yesterday’s man. Or if I’m not now I will be in two years time. Ho hum.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

farmdoc's blog post number 644

Sometimes I come across a headline or title that’s so brilliant it makes me nod in wry admiration. Literally so. In last 16 December’s BMJ issue this article’s title: ‘Wards of the roses’. It reports on the upsides versus the real and imagined downsides of flower arrangements in hospital rooms. The BMJ’s website’s policy of allowing non-paying punters access to only the first 150 words, is circumvented by this piece offered gratis courtesy of the Guardian. The Guardian item's so well laid out and thus so easily assimilated that there’s no need for me to paraphrase or summarise it. Suffice it to say that the upside of flowers wins – because the downside factors don’t hold water. A linked editorial in the same BMJ issue has an equally captivating title: ‘Where have all the hospital flowers gone?’ Its first 150 words are here. In it, medical anthropologist Simon Cohn says that whilst hospitals’ technical efficiency and greater bureaucracy have elbowed flowers out of the way, gift giving’s important to patients and visitors alike, so flowers should be considered part of hospital care. That sounds reasonable to me, especially since the downside risks of flowers are imagined and not real. Me? I think fruit’s a better gift. But if flowers are your thing, the five bullet-pointed guidelines at the end of the Guardian article are sensible.