japanese quirks

vending machines. i know it's common knowledge but the i didnt appreciate just how many of these things there are. it's staggering. they are quite literally on every street corner. and they are usually accompanied by a bin for recycling bottles and cans. a nice touch. smokes, beers, soft-drinks, tea, coffee, soups, batteries... the selection is endless. however, i am yet to see one selling underwear, new or used (maybe its an urban myth).

restrooms. do japanese people have weak bladders? or is the number of public restrooms a necessity resulting from mass consumption of beverages readily available at the above mentioned vending machines? each temple has at least three and each garden half a dozen. castles have almost as many toilets as towers and turrets. it's crazy!

smokers. restaurants and trains still have smoking sections. it seems like half the people i see on the streets have a durry in their hands. isn't this unusal for a people so mad about health and fitness? or is this phenomenon a mere reflection of their tolerance of other people's bad habits?

boxy cars. they are abhorrent looking things. small and ridiculously angular, even the vans and utes are tiny. given the narrow and winding nature of their streets, i can sympathise with the need for compact vehicles. but do they need to look like lego-mobiles?

pot plants. i love the little pot plants crowding the entrances and windows of japanese homes. they are all very well looked after and neat, complimenting the meticulously clean doorways and driveways. the japanese are a very neat people indeed!

snow at last

seeing snow falling for the first time, mums behaviour regressed to that of a four year old girl. it was mildly embarrassing to see her jump up and down in front of nagoya station, waving her arms towards the sky. it also makes ones heart fill up with warm and fuzzy feelings, doesn't it?

highlights of the last few days have been visiting the castle at inuyama (unlike most castles in japan, this was an original, rather than a concrete replica); seeing a crowd of japanese girls dressed up in punk gear lining up to see a pop band; walking around hida-no-sato, which consisted of a dozen or so farmhouses, each of them centuries old, transported from all over the countryside and reconstructed to form a village in takayama; the train ride from takayama to toyama, the tracks crossing over jade-green rivers and tunnelling under tree-topped mountains heavy with snow; and the town of kanazawa - galleries filled with beautiful pottery and calligraphy, the gorgeous kenroku garden, the wonderfully preserved streets of the geisha and samurai districts. too bad we only planned to stay one night there!

its been good and bad travelling with mum. shes happy to go along with pretty much whatever i suggest (we do have pretty similar tastes), and we've been doing a lot of catching up; at the same time she is even worse than me at reading maps, so we often spend ages stuck in the middle of the sidewalk, with traffic forced to divert around us, while we argued about where we were and which way we're supposed to be going. she also has a tendency to walk in front of oncoming traffic, which is rather unsettling.

hibernation

i have been eating pretty much non-stop since i landed on friday. only sleep manages to punctuate my perpetual feasting. the chinese new year gorging has been supplemented by the required tasting of all the foods i haven't had for ages that i must have before i leave again. i don't even need to go on the hunt - the horde of circling relatives ensure i have all sorts of tasty treats within my reach. my abdomen is ballooning out, growing in size daily. and nothing satisfies more after stuffing my face than a long snooze in a warm, dark place. after all it's winter here in taiwan. and soon i will be on the move. only three more days of gorging before my plane leaves for nagoya. kampai!

highway 39

my last days at the rat were filled with those wonderful people who had made the last two years special. ange and george stole a pickup stick from work and made a cd recording of themselves saying random things; went over to clare's house for dinner with aaron, heath, weif and dom; had dinner with my allied health 'harem'; paul helped me move all my stuff into storage; nurses baked cakes for us and the boss took us out for lunch; had a weekend away at carolyn's grandma's beach house at walkerville with brumbles and alison; a couple of parties and numerous afternoons at the pub lingering into evenings...

despite the stuff-ups with my visa applications and the stress of packing and moving, despite the going away drinks and the hugs and goodbyes, the reality of going overseas and driving around australia still seem a distant one, a daydream to play with when im bored then put away for later. i don't feel like im in the middle of an excellent adventure; i don't even really look forward to it that much. what is wrong with me?

a bit of my new reality began to sink in as i drove between ballarat and brisbane. the newell highway, highway 39, departs shepparton, victoria and stretches the entire length of country new south wales until it arrives at goondiwindi at the queensland border. somewhere after dubbo, the tall gum trees lining the road, the rolling foothills of the great dividing range, the field of morning fog hiding emerald paddocks, the countless passing highway towns, each with its own farcical claim to fame... all blended together to leave a sense of wonder threatening to burst from my chest. between goondiwindi and warwick, sheets of rain collapsed around me, lightning thundered too close for comfort, and peering intently into the five metres of water in front of me, i rediscovered the jolt of fear and exhilaration that i last experienced when i entered a train compartment on the new york city subway, late one night in july, to suddenly realised that i was the only one on board who wasn't black. it's moments like these that make one feel incredibly alive.

momento mori

the man in room 15 presented with a three-month history of hoarse voice, lethargy, anorexia and weight loss. CT chest showed a left hilar mass and mediastinal lymphadenopathy. Bone scan revealed widespread metastases. CT brain, abdomen and pelvis lit up liver mets, adrenal mets, bone mets, pleural effusions, the works. We are waiting for his CT-guided lung biopsy results to come back from the lab. But he is a sitting duck. We all think he is fucked. I'm sure he can tell from our voice and our eyes.

I hae been telling him to eat, to get out of bed and mobilise, in order to maintain his weight and muscle bulk, so he can remain fit for chemotherapy. It's war, I tell him, and you must be fit. You've got to buff up so you can fight it. But what is it all for?

I have seen his family. Met his anxious wife and daughter. They have no idea what he is in for. Will I be seeing them in day oncology in two weeks' time? Will they be like all the others, giving up their own lives to extend his? Will it all be worth it?

The woman in room 18's blood films came back confirming her neutrophilia. Toxic granules and band forms. She has a serious bacterial infection and we are giving her ciprofloxacin. She was asymptomatic so we sent her home. But we haven't found a bug. Perhaps we should bring her back in and scan her head to toe. An abscess, a fistula, anything. Her grandchildren were clueless and a little intimidated by all the goings-on of an acute medical ward. Will they lose their grandmother because the doctors couldn't find bacteria?

The pathologists' middle son got married the other weekend. His eldest has just become a father, and his youngest is graduating from physiotherapy school this year. I was going home on my afternnon off, and he was strolling back to work afater lunch at home, so we were both having great afternoons.

They have all delivered their genes successfully to the next generation. I have only my patients.