Archive for January, 2010

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My head is really big


My head is so big, it’s practically toppling off my neck at the moment. Here’s why:

An unexpected shout-out!

I like to poke around Girl about O-town’s blog because she always seems to know what new funky things are going on around Ottawa. Not the same ol’ stuff — fresh, interesting stuff! I love admiring great design — paper, home, web — and as it happens, not only does she as well but she also creates a lot too. So much so, she just left her job and jumped out into the brave new world of entrepreneurship as a design coach. Anyhow, back to me … so I go and check out her new post and boom! There is my banner right there, front and centre. Wow, was I flattered! My head expanded just a teeny-tiny bit.

A new blogging gig!

A while back I received an email via my blog. This happens, and people try to sell you their secrets to riches or large penises — whatever you might happen to fancy. But this email was different. It was from a man named Christopher Holt. Unlike the other emails I get, he and his partners had clearly read my blog. And — get this — were inviting me to be a part of a brand new e-magazine. How could I not be flattered by that?

But for me, it got even better … the group starting up this e-magazine, called Life As A Human, are Canadian. A genuinely friendly and earnest group that includes, in addition to Christopher as Vice-President, Gil Namur as CEO and Kerry Slavens as Editor in Chief. The official launch for Life As A Human is February 1st — this Monday! (Before it launches, you can still click on the logo in the right-hand column for a chance to win $250!) So it’s all pretty exciting. This LAAH gang is all out West, so hubby and I are hanging our hopes on its outrageous success so that we can finally move out and buy our Gulf Islands cottage with art studio in the back. Can you hear my head creaking under the pressure?

laah_LIFER_logo
 

 

I’m nominated for a weblog award!

I’ve never been nominated for an award before, so this is super cool! And I didn’t even have to pay anyone off (well, not that much, anyhow). It’s for a 2010 Canadian Weblog Awards! As you can imagine, my head is practically bursting now!

2010 Canadian Weblog Awards Nominee

2010 Canadian Weblog Awards Nominee

2010 Canadian Weblog Awards Nominee

 

But here is how I REALLY know my head is getting out of proportion. Stella made this comment about my head, completely out of no where:

This morning, I am trying to get Max’s attention.

“Huh,” I say. “He just doesn’t seem to want to look me in the eye.”

Stella responds: “Maybe because you’re a medusa. Maybe that’s why.”

Hubby starts backing away out the door, chuckling as quietly as he can manage while still breathing.


media

A pelvic exam without my consent?


As you know, I am now bopping around in Twitter checking it all out and making new friends, er, followers.

Today I started to notice some tweets about women having pelvic exams done to them while they are unconscious in the hospital. Like many bits of way too information that I let into my day, I let it go into my line of sight and then right back out – I easily dismissed it as something pulled from a trashy magazine or something. But the tweets on this kept coming, and then I saw Ann Douglas, a highly respected parenting author and social activist make a tweet on it. What the? Could it really be a real story?

I checked out one of these tweet links, which led me to The Bad Moms Club blog. And it turns out that this story is not only for real, but it’s from Canada. I was utterly stunned. Here is the article from today’s Globe & Mail for you to read for yourself. It begins like this:

Imagine that you are undergoing a fairly routine surgery – say, removal of uterine fibroids or hysterectomy. During or right after the procedure, while you are still under anesthesia, a group of medical students parades into the operating room and they perform gynecological exams (unrelated to the surgery) without your knowledge.

Do you consider this okay, or an outrageous violation of your rights?

Regardless of your feelings, you should be aware that this is standard procedure in many Canadian teaching hospitals.

I want to read the full source article that the Globe’s Andre Picard refers to. To date though, I’ve only found an abstract, which you can read here and which states in part:

Medical students need to undertake supervised pelvic examinations to achieve competence. This experience is freqently obtained by conducting pelvic examinations on anaesthetized patients who are undergoing gynaecological surgery.

I think you’ll agree that the very fact that the study was published in the Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology, published by the Society of Obstetricians and Gynecologist of Canada (SOGC) is really ruining my trashy magazine theory.

So, to get down to the nitty gritty on this … if I go in to the hospital to get my tonsils taken out, I’m not going to have a pelvic exam unknowingly done on me while I’m unconscious. But, if I go into the hospital to have a gynecological surgery of some sort, well, yeah, there’s a good chance that this could happen.

The actual SOGC Clinical Practice Guidelines on “Pelvic Examinations by Medical Trainees” is available in full here. It states:

For most pelvic surgeries, it is important for the members of the surgical team to examine the patient under anaesthesia to confirm the suspected patholody and the initial steps of the surgical approach. As part of the description of the surgical procedure, the surgeon should inform the patient that she may be examined by a trainee at the beginning of the surgery.

Okay, it’s getting a bit more clear for me now … If I go in for a gynecological surgery, chances are that I will require a pelvic exam as part of the surgical process. If the surgery is taking place in a teaching hospital, a medical trainee may be the one to actually do the pelvic exam. If a medical trainee is involved in my surgery, I will be informed in advance and my consent secured. I can refuse consent. Okay, I’m all good with that.

The pelvic examination is a component of the surgical procedure. Consent for a pelvic examination by medical trainees who are a part of the surgical team is therefore implicit [emphasis mine] when consent for participation in the surgical proceudre by medical trainees is obtained.

But here’s where it gets a bit gray: Do all gynecological surgeries require a pelvic exam? It seems not because later in these same clinical guidelines it states:

As pelvic examination under anaesthesia is a component of most [emphasis mine] pelvic surgeries, consent for pelvic examination by medical trainees is contained within content for a surgical procedure.

So from reading the above, it seems that a medical trainee may undertake a pelvic exam on a unconscious patient for “education purposes” — purposes that have nothing to do with the surgery. Yet, as the patient, I am completely unware that this is being done because consent is considered “implicit.”

Huh. Please tell me how consent — by its very definition — can ever be implicit? One cannot consent to something if one doesn’t know it’s happening!

I’d like to see these clinical guidelines changed to ensure that there is explicit consent, wouldn’t you?

An extra note: Not surprisingly, women are up in arms about this practice. Since last night, tons of new posts have gone up on this issue. You can add a comment to this post “Dear Nether-probers, we the undersigned, say STOP IT” in support of ending this practice.


living
family
travel

An Ode to a Teacher


If you live in Ontario, you still have a few days left to submit a nomination to the Premier’s Teaching Awards for Excellence. Just being nominated means the world for a hard-working teacher!

Below is my nomination and a public shout-out to a special teacher in our daughter’s life. Please feel free to use my comments section to share your thoughts or memories of teachers that have made an impact in your life or the lives of your children.

*******

They’re rare. But if you’re lucky, your child’s school has one. That teacher who despite decades of experience still bounds down the hall with a sparkle in her eye. That teacher who young students rush up to and can’t help but throw their arms around her. That teacher who arrives home, prepares dinner and cares for her own children before returning yet again to yours with extra hours of tireless preparation in the evening. That is the teacher that students remember. And that is the teacher that parents are grateful for.

It is this quiet grace that I hope you might acknowledge — the teacher who demands nothing more than her own satisfaction for a job well done, that simply does her job so well and with so much joy that the extra hours, the intelligent learning strategies, and the intense commitment to each and every child can be taken for granted. This teacher is Ms. Stefanie Young, elementary school teacher at [school name].

I am but one parent who is grateful to her and to her contribution to my child’s love of learning and self-esteem. And as such, I will share with you our story.

Our daughter Stella is now seven years old and in grade two. Since a very young age, she has been remarkably articulate and inquisitive. She can, however, be on the tad eccentric side. For example, she was so taken with the character mascots for the Olympics that she refused to wear any other shirt than an Olympic shirt for close to an entire year! As parents, we all have high hopes for our children and want to see them reach their potential, but I found myself deeply disappointed after her first year at school. She was bored, uninspired and had not been welcomed into her peer group. Although I am a working parent, I came into the classroom as a volunteer every two weeks, so I witnessed this first-hand. I considered and consulted with a number of alternative and private schools. It was of utmost importance to me that my daughter, who was so naturally passionate about learning, did not lose this passion – and especially at such an early age.

Then our family life took an interesting turn. My husband was accepted for a one-year work contract to Australia and we were to depart at the end of January. Since our daughter would only be attending a Canadian school for half a year, I chose not to change schools and instead stick with the familiar to make our upcoming exchange as comfortable as possible for our daughter.

The choice to stay at [school name] was definitely the right one. Stella had Ms. Young as her teacher. Her father and I noted the difference in her attitude towards school. She no longer complained about going and instead went excitedly to the bus stop. She also came home overflowing with stories of learning and her day. And, what was most gratifying for us, she spoke of new friends and the activities they did together. We thought perhaps it might have been a developmental thing for Stella, but we soon realized that it was her teacher that had cultivated this positive environment for our child.

How did she do this? I don’t know all of the countless ways she must have done this, but I do know that:

  • The work that came home was clearly integrating and linking her specific interests to the learning lessons.
  • Stella, who has always preferred to play with the toys in the class traditionally coveted by the boys such as dinosaurs and blocks, was encouraged and welcomed into the boys’ circle of play where before she had been shunned.
  • Stella developed a number of close friendships with the boys in her class and ultimately I was able to extend this beyond the classroom through notes facilitated by Ms. Young to book playdates outside of school.
  • Whatever unusual things (such as plastic insect replicas or volcanic stone from family a trip) Stella chose to bring to school to share with the class were celebrated and shared, rather than ignored.

Before embarking on our overseas trip, my husband and I had some questions about how to transition Stella from her current Canadian senior kindergarten class, to a class in Australia, and then back to what would be a Canadian grade one class. We were not sure if we should enroll Stella into kindergarten or grade one in Australia and what curriculum gaps might exist between what was taught in Canada and what was taught in Australia. We met with Ms. Young and raised these concerns.

We were astounded by her helpful response. She went through the entire Canadian curriculum for both years and the entire Australian curriculum (which we had a copy of) and compared the two. She returned a copy with highlighted areas in the curriculum where there might be gaps and that as parents we could work on independently at home, as well as a recommendation that we enroll Stella into grade one in Australia. This would ultimately mean that Stella would complete an entire grade one year in Australia and return back to Canada to a half a year of grade one again. In doing so, she could reconnect with her Canadian peers socially without the academic pressures of trying to catch up on learning. This made excellent sense to us since it was her social skills not her academic skills that we were most concerned about as parents. Ms. Young had a strong understanding of Stella’s social and academic skills and understood that if there were going to be challenges, they were going to be social. I can only imagine how much time Ms. Young must have spent to provide us with such detailed and well-researched advice.

Before leaving on our adventure, I shared my contact information and email with Ms. Young. To my delight, I received emails from Ms. Young checking in on how Stella was doing. (From the time stamps on the emails, I knew she was doing this during her own personal time.) Further, she sent me a package that included a photo of Stella’s Canadian class and suggested that we do a letter exchange between her Canadian class and her Australian class.

I brought Ms. Young’s letter into Stella’s Australian teacher as well as the photos. Both the teacher and students were fascinated because none of the children in Stella’s class had travelled to North America before and also because Australian children all wear uniforms to school so they found the clothes worn by the Canadian kids in the school picture really interesting.

I returned the favour to Ms. Young and sent a letter explaining what we had done on our family school holiday to the Cape Tribulation rain forest and the Great Barrier Reef. I also included some photos and postcards. Ms. Young took this material and laminated the letter and photos into a book that she read to Stella’s Canadian peers and then left in the classroom for the children to look at in more detail during free time. In doing so, Ms. Young created both a fantastic learning opportunity about the flora, fauna and geography of Australia but also kept Stella’s presence in the minds of her peers so that when she returned, they would not have forgotten her and thus make her social transition easier. We continued the package exchange during the year, with Ms. Young sending a package of Canadian pencils and stickers for Stella’s entire Australian class. Stella’s classmates were so thrilled that many parents told me that their children were still cherishing their stickers and pencils even weeks later. Ultimately, this kind of package exchange enabled a learning experience not just for Stella — the individual child — but for two entire classrooms in opposite ends of the world! (And she did all of this on her own time and with her own money for packaging and Canadian souvenirs.)

Upon our return to Canada, the subtle — but very clever — work of Ms. Young was clearly successful. Stella’s peers remembered her and excitedly spoke of the animals she had seen and welcomed her back into the snowy winter of Canada, which they knew she hadn’t seen for more than a year.

We feel fortunate that our child is healthy and does not have to face the very real challenges of a learning, physical or vast cultural difference or obstacle. But she is still an individual child with individual needs and Ms. Young recognizes this for each and every child that crosses her path. And for that, I think she is exceptional. It is a rare teacher that can take the common day-to-day tasks of a job and consistently apply excellence.

We are very grateful to Ms. Young. She had faith in our child and her unique traits and we in turn have faith that Stella feels a sense of strong belonging to [school name] as a result. Ms. Young demonstrates holistic learning in the true sense and is an example of all that is right and wonderful about our Canadian public school systems.

Do you have a teacher like this when you were growing up? I bet you still remember them fondly! How about your child … do they have a favourite teacher that gets them excited about learning?


living
family
travel

I buzzed over to Montreal this weekend


To push myself up into the higher ranks of the Mother-of-the-Year contest, I took Stella to Montreal this weekend. Yes, we went shopping and got Mommy & Me pedi’s & mani’s!

Did I have you convinced — even momentarily — on that one? Okay, okay. We know my Stella would never entertain such notions. But I did go to Montreal.

And I just may be up for Mother-of-the-Year, too! Because, surely, spending the weekend looking at tarantulas, cockroaches and giant beetles has to count for something. (Please, please tell me it counts for something!)

Here is a highlight from our visit to the Insectarium. This is a praying mantis enjoying a lovely little snack — the head of a live cricket.

mantis sma

Watching this praying mantis with a mix of fascination and horror is my girlfriend Pam, who joined us with her son, who is also 7 years old. You will not be surprised by the look on her face to know that she is saying: “This is SO DISGUSTING! But I JUST CAN’T look away!”

pam sm

Now, as much as you are probably dying to hear more about these sweet little creatures, I don’t want to spill too much. Details will be forthcoming though in articles for the Ottawa Citizen and The City Traveler.

In the meantime, I will share some tidbits with you that are bound to come in handy in the week ahead.

  • There are lots of ants in the world: Only 2% of insects live in social groups, but they represent more than 50% of the total biomass of all insects.
  • Insects are very romantic: When night falls, it’s time for walkingsticks to engage in their two main activities: eating and mating. They even eat while mating, over a period of hours.
  • Humans are weird: Young men in the Waiapa tribe of Brazil are initiated into their tribe with a ritual that involves suffering in silence while they are being stung by ants trapped in wooden tubes against their skin.

And one final, completely unnecessary piece of information:

  • My weight is equivalent to 3.5 million ants.

living
family

Julie visits the ER


greys-private-crossover[1]

It’s not too often that one gets to do something for the first time after 38 years on this earth. But through a combination of good luck and conscientious avoidance, I have never had a visit to the ER. Yesterday, however, I was initiated to life in the ER. I spent from 7 am to 3 pm there — 8 hours of my life I will never get back (or get paid for, for that matter).

I started getting abdominal pains on my right side at dinner time on Tuesday. No biggie I thought. Just a bit of gas. After spending the night awake due to pain, I no longer thought it was gas. So I packed myself up and drove to the hospital first thing on Wednesday am.

It occurred to me that one shouldn’t really be driving themselves to the ER. Arriving with sirens and cute paramedics running alongside my stretcher was the requisite entrance, wasn’t it? I wondered if I was acting like a hypochondriac, and that the people in the ER would nod at me when I described my pain but then turn around and roll their eyes thinking, “oh, another one of THOSE ones.” At this point I was starting down on a familiar self-hating conversational path telling myself to stop being so paranoid … why do you care what people think … yada, yada. But it was a weak debate due to the lack of sleep and the distracting pain, so I ended up at the ER anyhow.

I walked in and looked around. It was remarkably unlike an episode Grey’s Anatomy. There were exactly three people waiting. I discreetly checked them out, but none of them showed any visible signs of injury and left me with nothing to gawk at. There were no knife stabbing victims, men with axes stuck in their head, women giving birth or people burnt beyond recognition. You can imagine my disappointment.

But Grey’s Anatomy hadn’t led me entirely astray. The male in-take nurse could substitute for McDreamy, so that at least was one thing to gawk at. And I eventually did get to see some blood, albeit my own. A nurse that was in training gave me an IV and let me tell you, it was a blood bath (with a lot of “sorry”s thrown in).

That’s where any mild connections to Grey’s Anatomy ended. While Seattle Grace has at least 5 doctors floating about the ER at all times, I didn’t see a single one until 11 am. I don’t know if this is a result of cost-cutting measures or because of doctor shortages or just a fluke of the particular day I arrived. Whatever the reason, it just felt strange. A bunch of us had been divvied out into different cubicles and I could see people wandering out looking confused or exasperated because they had been sitting in there so long. There were lots of nurses though, chit-chatting about cell phone features and trips to Thailand. Intermittently, they would tell those straying out of the cubicles that, “someone will be with you in a minute.” One nurse walked by and noticed me buckled over in pain and closed the door so I could have privacy. No one opened the door again until 11 am, so I could have been cold and stiff by then as far as they knew.

The person who opened the door was a doctor. This was good. She had the results of my blood and urine tests and they showed no signs of kidney stones. From here, my visit became more like an episode of House. It was a mystery to be solved — what was causing this woman’s abdominal pain? Except there was no secluded room with specialists debating my case and I didn’t have a rare, life-threatening illness. Other than those minor little things, exactly like House.

I’ll make a long story short here (because I don’t want to bore you silly and because Grey’s Anatomy is starting in exactly 8 minutes). After blood work, urine work, and two rounds of ultrasounds, there was no conclusive answer to what was causing my pain. Kidney stones got rules out. Gall stones got rules out. Urinary tract infection got ruled out. Flu got ruled out. Food poisoning got ruled out. And finally, appendicitis got ruled out too. However, unlike House, the patient simply packed up her stuff at 3 pm and hobbled her way back out to the parking lot.

Sure, the whole thing was a bit of an exercise in futility. But when faced with the looming onset of frustrated anger or self-pity, I ward it off with an old trick that works every time – I start to count every last one of my blessings that I have to be grateful for.

When I walked out of the ER, the place was packed. And I was grateful to be going home.

(Yes, I’m feeling much better now — thanks for asking!)

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