Sunrise Balcony

 

 

BMJ. 2006 Dec 23;333(7582):1291-3.

Hospital Clinic, University of Barcelona, 08036 Barcelona, Spain.

atrilla@clinic.ub.es

OBJECTIVES: To test the hypothesis that, on average, male surgeons are taller and better looking than male physicians, and to compare both sets of doctors with film stars who play doctors on screen.

 

DESIGN: Comparative study.

 

SETTING: Typical university hospital in Spain, located in Barcelona and not in a sleepy backwater. PARTICIPANTS: Random sample of 12 surgeons and 12 physicians plus 4 external controls (film stars who play doctors), matched by age (50s) and sex (all male). INTERVENTIONS: An independent committee (all female) evaluated the "good looking score" (range 1-7). MAIN OUTCOME MEASURES: Height (cm) and points on the good looking score. RESULTS: Surgeons were significantly taller than physicians (mean height 179.4 v 172.6 cm; P=0.01). Controls had significantly higher good looking scores than surgeons (mean score 5.96 v 4.39; difference

between means 1.57, 95% confidence interval 0.69 to 2.45; P=0.013) and physicians (5.96 v 3.65; 2.31, 1.58 to 3.04; P=0.003). Surgeons had significantly higher good looking scores than physicians (4.39 v 3.65; 0.74; 0.25 to 1.23; P=0.010).

 

CONCLUSIONS: Male surgeons are taller and better looking than physicians, but film stars who play doctors on screen are better

looking than both these groups of doctors. Whether these phenotypic differences are genetic or environmental is unclear.

3 more days till my flight!!

I am headed for China on the 24^th.  The thought of spending over 20 hours in an uncomfortable coach seat does not excite me.  I am just praying that I will not be packed next to stinky diapers, overtly affectionate newly weds, argumentative aunties, or chatty realtors that shove their cards in my face even though I’ve got student loans written all over my blank stare.  If I had it my way, I would be sitting next to a cute, nerdy young physicist (mathematicians and biologists are also acceptable) who enjoys writing and photography on the weekends… and he had better come bundled with some serious biceps…

Dad comes in with a huge frown and demands to know what nonsense I have been up to (translation: he is anxious about my upcoming trip, but his Y chromosome prevents him from properly processing that emotion).  I read him the above passage to assure him that I am not scheming against him in any way.  He listens intently and thoughtfully informs me that nerdy physicists are not cute, and if they happen to be cute, they definitely are not equipped with biceps.  Sigh. Either Dad has been paying too much attention to young physicists or he may be trying to tell me something about my approach to the opposite sex.  But a girl has to the right to hope, doesn’t she?

Anyway… I won’t have the opportunity to blog again for some time.  I will first arrive in Beijing, where I will spend 3 or 4 days getting lost by myself (yay!). Then I will take a train down to Yancheng, a small coastal city where the grandparents live. Hopefully once in Yancheng, I will be get my grandparents’ place wired up so that I can access the internet and update you all my latest mischief. So please stay tuned! And if any cute nerdy physicists w/ biceps happen to be reading... look for a cute nerdy gal reading the Elegant Universe in the coach cabin ~

Another beautiful autumn day. I am too tired to elaborate on the various sights and sounds that crossed my way, so here is a quick list of the more interesting parts.

 

1) Drove past a field where a little red fox was playing.  At first I thought it was a dog, but its graceful, vigilant, and almost catlike demeanors (crouching, pouncing) made me think twice. I got out of the car to have a better look - and a fox it was, with an exquisite red coat that was glistening under the sun, and a tiny tuft of white on the tip of its tail! It noticed me and appeared to be highly suspicious of my intentions, but didn't run away immediately. Instead, it took a few steps backwards, checked me me out again, nodded (or appeared to), and took a few more steps backward. We just stood there checking each other out for what seemed like 2 or 3 minutes. Then it decided that I was no longer dangerous or interesing enough to warrant further attenion and retreated to the woods.

 

2) Went to the Northshire bookstore, ordered and consumed a gigantic sandwich named the "yellow submarine" plus a slice of carrot cake (this was 2 hours after I had brunch at home). When I asked for the "yellow submarine", the girl that was taking my order chanted "sky of blue", which was promptly answered by "and sea of green" from another dude behind the counter, and the chanting continued with "in our yellow -- submarine". Subsequently, all I could hear in my head "we all live in a yellow submarine" over and over and over.

 

3) Eavesdropped on the conversation at the next table where a wedding photographer was promoting her work to a couple, presumably getting married soon. Her base price was apparently $1500. 

 

3) Bought a book titled "Mozart's Brain and Fighter Pilot", another one titled "Conscious Dreaming", and another called "Elder Rage".

 

4) Uncovered a big fat lie.

 

let's start with a discussion on the partnering of chopsticks. When it comes to chopsticks, promiscuity is tolerated and celebrated, as long as they belong to the same clan (inbreeding only, if you will...), i.e. they are the same length, color, material, etc. In other words, they are not perpetually paired to another chopstick, but they are bound to their clan... imagine eating with an ivory chopstick and a wooden one... it may work, but it would take a lot more fine motor control and the mouth tends to get impatient in the process.

 

About the type of material... I will just use my family as an example. We use a set made out of red wood. These are pleasant to the eyes, wholesome and organic to the touch, and they can be engraved with intricate designs. This set is very expensive and the only reason we have it is because it was given as a present. In our pre- redwood days, we used a combination of ivory (fake, I think) chopsticks and white wood chopsticks.

 

About maintanence: Personally nenver tried to wash them in a dishwasher not because that's not doabe, but because when I am on my own, doing dishes consists of rinsing off a fork and a plate.  My parents believe dishwashers are for decoration. They refuse to trust the machine for any real human work. So that's that.

 

About storage: Again, I will use my parents as an example since my knowledge is limited. At their house, chopsticks are stored in an utensil drawer along with forks and spoons and knives. The chopsticks live in a chopstick slot happily and quietly, right next to the knife country. Here is a perfect example of East meets West - each respecting the other's uniqueness, each proud of its own. Occasionally, we mix them up, but they never seem to mind. If only the world at large could be the same...

So my ticket to China has been bought and confirmed.  I will spend the next 2 and half months in China with my aging grandparents. This is the first time in my adult life when I get to spend a significant amount of time with them. In the past, I had always visited in a rush while hopping between research and play.  This time, it is finally decided - I am going solely to be with them, and I have promised Grandpa to finish writing a memoir of his life.

Grandpa is an amazingly courageous, idealistic and gifted man who has experienced and achieved so much more than I could ever dream of. I still shudder in horror when relatives talk about how he was tortured by his own party members during the Cultural Revolution. He suffered in the hands of idiots and opportunists because he would not tolerate hypocrisy and corruption.  He was beaten and humiliated by brainwashed teenage red guards because he refused to tell vicious lies about good people.  Mom used to tell me stories about him coming home late at night after a day of violent interrogations – he would be in blood soaked clothes, hungry and exhausted, yet he never uttered a word about his pain. He would smile to his children and go on playing his flute as if nothing ever happened.  What brought me to tears one time, though, was his response when I commented sharply on the stupidity and ruthlessness of the red guards -  “They were not stupid.” Grandpa shook his head and said this about the people that had tortured him for years, “They were confused but adorable children.  They thought they were righteous. It was very cute.”   

Yet these days, he struggles with the most basic tasks, and he cries out of pain and loneliness. His biggest pleasure is envisioning the day when all his children can reunite at his house, and when his grandchildren can finally produce some great grandchildren for him to spoil.  “I always daydream what it would be like when you and your cousins bring me 3 fat babies. We would line them up on the floor, and I would slap their chubby little butts, one by one!” Grandpa told me over the phone. He chuckled at his own silliness. But I could not make myself laugh.

We had started the memoir project during my last visit.  But because I was in a hurry, the process was disorganized and I had not advanced much beyond the initial note taking. This time, with luck, I shall finish the notes, complete the bilingual writing, and capture video clips of Grandpa speaking into the camera to go along with the stories, in documentary style. Who knows, this may turn into something that I can pass down through the generations. Even if it ends up nowhere besides my own memories, it will be worth the effort.

Someone posed these 2 questions at our dinner party tonigt:

 

1) If you are driving and you see five people straight ahead, all of who will surely be crushed to death if you don't turn, yet if you do veer to the side, you will surely run over one individual and crush that person to death - what would you do?

 

2) You are on an overpass, you see a train speeding on the track underneath. The train is headed straight into a group of 5 individuals and all five will be killed if nothing is done. There is a large individual standing next to you. The only thing that can prevent the death of those 5 people is if you push the said individual so that his body falls onto the track and stops the speeding train. However, that course of action will surely kill the person that you push over. What do you do?

 

Gruesome and difficult questions. Yet they are interesting ways to assess how one values life and what one is willing to do to preserve life.

I find myself spending October in Vermont.  That is a good thing for me.  I gather there is no other place that embraces the season with as much passion, no other place that flaunts nature's palette as dashingly.  Here in my small room, I need to lift my head only an inch to catch a brilliant mix of fiery red, tame but warm orange, soft and transparent yellow, all on the same brach, all dancing against a background of the clearest azure sky. 

 

Once outside, everywhere I look, I am moved, almost shocked, by the beauty that simply exists, however so quietly or transiently.  Here, nature's logic is painted onto a strand of grass, sewn into a petal of the tiny yellow crysanthamum, woven impeccably into a beautiful silk web that dances in the sunset, and even in the still of the night, condensed into a drop of dew that, upon awakening, finds within its arms a tiny shimmering rainbow.

 

I really have no reason to indulge in doubt and sadness when the world around me is so perfect.