Warning....I am not typically one to chime in on political discussions. But I feel like this issue has much deeper roots and honestly, I need to process my emotions here.
I have to admit I've really been struggling this week with recent events. The horrific attacks on Paris that have influenced a firestorm of media attention about refugees and religion and safety have shaken me. I am having a hard time making sense of all of the feelings and opinions out there. This is where I'm coming from...
It's scary. I get it. I do. When we moved to Malaysia I thought about it all the time. I'm a Christian in a Muslim country. I'm a minority. I stick out like a sore thumb. I worried about whether I was wearing a cross necklace or shorts. I worried about being in crowded public places especially with my kids. I worried about stopping at hawker centers (outdoor food courts) with all the eyes staring at us. It was unfamiliar. It was different. It was terrifying.
As a American and even in Europe my knowledge and exposure to different religions and cultures, especially Islam was minimal. Muslims were people in long dresses, chanting in tongues, and admittedly maybe dangerous. What I knew of Islam came mostly from the Western media, post 9/11, and the war on terrorism. In retrospect, my exposure was biased and narrow.
But the life that I've found is very different. We've been welcomed here. White, American, Christians welcomed in a Muslim community. I have found kindness in the small village we have begun to serve, sweet in offering for us to join in traditional celebrations. I found have it in the families, stopping to smile at my crazy boys. I have found it in my medical students eager to learn with the same altruistic attitudes I've had. There is no hate. There is no fear. I live my life openly. I wear a cross. I share my faith. I serve in God's name. I am a Christian living in a Muslim country.
I sometimes ask myself why we are living this nomadic life. The mountains in front of me are huge sometimes. And then I remember the necessity. I don't want my kids to know that fear. They don't see differences in color, language, culture or religion. They see people. I wish we could all see that.
I can understand the fierce protective reaction and fear of threats in light of the world today. What I don't understand is how that fear becomes big enough to overshadow compassion. When we come to God, he doesn't ask for background checks. He doesn't judge where we've come from. He doesn't question our authenticity. He opens His arms and loves us. He comforts us when we're scared. He welcomes us with mercy.
I hate labels. I hate how we use those labels to make assumptions and judge. Let's be clear. These attacks have been carried out by terrorists. Period. They may hide behind Islam but they are not Muslim. It doesn't matter what they call themselves or what twisted verses they proclaim. They could call themselves Jewish or Hindu or Christian and it wouldn't change. Their ill intents have nothing to do with religion.
And yet we place people in desperate need of help in the same category. We ask them to wait at borders without homes or schools or safety while we figure out if we should be scared of them. This isn't a liberal argument or American argument or even a Christian argument. This is about humanity. We are all the same. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." Are we comfortable being treated, in our most vulnerable moment, in this way or are we simply so far removed, in our privileged state, from truly understanding the struggle? Even in the face of fear or uncertainty, we are called to love.
God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God and God in them. 1 John 4-10.
Trials and tribulations of a multitasker--- I am a mom, a wife, a doctor, a lover of God, a friend, a runner - sometimes all at once. Sometimes I do it well and sometimes I fail. I'm honest and I try to learn from my mistakes and keep laughing along the way! I have miles to go before I rest...
Friday, November 20, 2015
Thursday, October 15, 2015
My Singapore hospital experience
Several people have asked me about medical care in Singapore. Since I've gotten an up close and personal tour, I thought I would share a few things I've seen with my medical friends.
Singapore is known for its excellent healthcare. It has been a model for efficient and quality service. There are public and private hospitals and both are meant to be very good. I was in a private hospital, so I can't speak to the differences in the public system.
1. In the ER, the MD evaluation is almost more like a triage. Patients are called into a proper doctor office for evaluation. The ER is primarily staffed by house officers, basically graduates that have not chosen a specialty. Residencies are not required. The physician decides how to disposition the patient-either discharge, observe, or admit. Then the patient is moved to that area. The doctor I saw immediately decided I should be admitted and I was moved to a bed. I was admitted directly to the GI specialist who gave orders for initial labs and IV fluids.
2. The admission nurse brought me a list of rooms and prices and asked me to choose my room. It was like a hotel list with room sizes and amenities ranging from double room to extravagant presidential suites. I ended up in a basic suite where my specialist was already there waiting for me, even though it was 11 pm on a Sunday night. (He told me he lives across the street from the hospital). The whole process from door to done took less than 2 hours.
3. Being a private hospital, a deposit or insurance was required on admission. I asked what happened if you are unable to pay and was told you are discharged to the public hospital. Every test was discussed associated with a price. Every test from routine bloodwork to colonoscopy was a choice with agreement on the price. It reminded me a bit of a car mechanic. The mechanic calls to tell you what they found and how much it will cost to fix each thing. It was odd but honest. Luckily, our overseas insurance takes good care of us and we had no concerns.
4. That being said, few tests were done. The only bloodwork I had done was on admission. No cat scan. Only the basics. When I would ask something specific, my doctor relied on the good ole physical exam to lead his decisions.
5. Back to the room choosing, the first night I heard a baby crying. I asked the nurse about what I heard and she told me the woman in the next room had just delivered. So there's obviously no separation of wards. Not sure how I feel about that-a brand new baby next door to a terrible infection and common nurses caring for both. Infection control is obviously a necessary priority.
6. The nurses on the ward work as a team instead of assignment to a patient. Each nurse has a role-medication nurse, vitals nurse, discharge nurse, etc. The medication nurse wears an orange construction looking vest that says "do not disturb" and makes rounds dispensing all medications from locked cabinets in each patient room.
7. This may be related to my suite, but my experience was like staying in a hotel. Food comes on tableclothed trays, coffee maker and hair dryer in the room, even high end toiletries in the bathroom. Amenities including reflexologist, masseuse, and acupuncturist are available as well (I did not partake.)
8. On discharge, patients are expected to make their payment in full. No billing. No outstanding debts. Private local insurances aren't a thing here so there are no insurance company talks, except for pesky expats like us. Prices are prices and are non negotiable. Simple.
Overall being the hospital sucks but this was the best of a bad experience. Maybe my experience is specific to my quirky, sweet Dr. Leong, but I felt very lucky to be cared for here. It's a different system, but it seems to work well. Singapore is small, so it's difficult to argue that some aspects could be applied on a larger scale, but interesting to see there might be another way.
Singapore is known for its excellent healthcare. It has been a model for efficient and quality service. There are public and private hospitals and both are meant to be very good. I was in a private hospital, so I can't speak to the differences in the public system.
1. In the ER, the MD evaluation is almost more like a triage. Patients are called into a proper doctor office for evaluation. The ER is primarily staffed by house officers, basically graduates that have not chosen a specialty. Residencies are not required. The physician decides how to disposition the patient-either discharge, observe, or admit. Then the patient is moved to that area. The doctor I saw immediately decided I should be admitted and I was moved to a bed. I was admitted directly to the GI specialist who gave orders for initial labs and IV fluids.
2. The admission nurse brought me a list of rooms and prices and asked me to choose my room. It was like a hotel list with room sizes and amenities ranging from double room to extravagant presidential suites. I ended up in a basic suite where my specialist was already there waiting for me, even though it was 11 pm on a Sunday night. (He told me he lives across the street from the hospital). The whole process from door to done took less than 2 hours.
3. Being a private hospital, a deposit or insurance was required on admission. I asked what happened if you are unable to pay and was told you are discharged to the public hospital. Every test was discussed associated with a price. Every test from routine bloodwork to colonoscopy was a choice with agreement on the price. It reminded me a bit of a car mechanic. The mechanic calls to tell you what they found and how much it will cost to fix each thing. It was odd but honest. Luckily, our overseas insurance takes good care of us and we had no concerns.
4. That being said, few tests were done. The only bloodwork I had done was on admission. No cat scan. Only the basics. When I would ask something specific, my doctor relied on the good ole physical exam to lead his decisions.
5. Back to the room choosing, the first night I heard a baby crying. I asked the nurse about what I heard and she told me the woman in the next room had just delivered. So there's obviously no separation of wards. Not sure how I feel about that-a brand new baby next door to a terrible infection and common nurses caring for both. Infection control is obviously a necessary priority.
6. The nurses on the ward work as a team instead of assignment to a patient. Each nurse has a role-medication nurse, vitals nurse, discharge nurse, etc. The medication nurse wears an orange construction looking vest that says "do not disturb" and makes rounds dispensing all medications from locked cabinets in each patient room.
7. This may be related to my suite, but my experience was like staying in a hotel. Food comes on tableclothed trays, coffee maker and hair dryer in the room, even high end toiletries in the bathroom. Amenities including reflexologist, masseuse, and acupuncturist are available as well (I did not partake.)
8. On discharge, patients are expected to make their payment in full. No billing. No outstanding debts. Private local insurances aren't a thing here so there are no insurance company talks, except for pesky expats like us. Prices are prices and are non negotiable. Simple.
Overall being the hospital sucks but this was the best of a bad experience. Maybe my experience is specific to my quirky, sweet Dr. Leong, but I felt very lucky to be cared for here. It's a different system, but it seems to work well. Singapore is small, so it's difficult to argue that some aspects could be applied on a larger scale, but interesting to see there might be another way.
Monday, January 26, 2015
Mile 10
My favorite teen show was Beverly Hills 90210. You might remember that Dylan McKay had some recurring family drama that left him living in the Beverly Hills Hotel for much of the show. I always thought that seemed so exciting and glamorous. Let me just say that Dylan did not have three young children. He did not accurately portray the difficulty of homework, laundry, or living with no space. Annoyances of loud nights, housekeeping schedules, and full parking lots were not adequately expressed. I'm disappointed, Dylan. Hotel living is not all it's cracked up to be.
Luckily, as of today, we've graduated to "house camping" as we like to call it. We have 4 mattresses to sleep on (3 that we needed to buy here and 1 borrowed from a new friend), a plastic card table and 5 metal folding chairs, a tv, and another borrowed twin mattress functioning as our living room couch. Our sea shipment is continuing to float somewhere off the African coast and will not arrive to us for another month. The house itself is mostly ready. We are waiting for mosquito screens for the open bathroom windows (and so are sleeping covered in Bug spray with citronella candles everywhere), ongoing electric issues when we try to run all the air conditioners at the same time, and setting up internet. My frustration is high and patience is low. Regardless, we have a secure space, great neighbors, a pool in the yard, a kitchen and a washer/dryer. Things are slowly looking up.
I apologize that this post is sounding a little whiney and pitiful. I readily admit that these are first world problems. I know how lucky I am. I constantly remind myself that we are healthy, safe and happy. We have a place to sleep, food, a great job and school, and family and friends that we love. I don't equate my situation to any real hardship.
But this is the hard part. It's like a marathon. I started out excited and full of adrenaline and determination. Now, 10 miles in, I'm questioning what I'm doing. I'm exhausted. I'm beat up. I can't see the finish line......but I know it's there. I have to remember how great it will be at the finish. It's worth it. A friend once told me that the transition and settling phase is the sacrifice we make for this life. If that's true, then I will happily continue to pay my dues.
So I keep pushing through right now. I am leaning on God and my faith in his plan. I am not strong or brave or good at this part. But I don't have to be. I only have to be faithful. I am not a believer in the saying that God never gives you more than you can handle. He absolutely does. He gives me more than I am capable of time and time again. And He does it to remind me that I need Him to handle it. I am not in control. I can't do it alone. So I remain joyful even when I'm frustrated or scared or stressed. These trials are temporary but His love, and my faith in it, are eternal. My work is keeping my eyes on Him in the middle of race. Some days it's hard work. It's never ending work. It's the only work that matters.
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. James 1:2-4.
Luckily, as of today, we've graduated to "house camping" as we like to call it. We have 4 mattresses to sleep on (3 that we needed to buy here and 1 borrowed from a new friend), a plastic card table and 5 metal folding chairs, a tv, and another borrowed twin mattress functioning as our living room couch. Our sea shipment is continuing to float somewhere off the African coast and will not arrive to us for another month. The house itself is mostly ready. We are waiting for mosquito screens for the open bathroom windows (and so are sleeping covered in Bug spray with citronella candles everywhere), ongoing electric issues when we try to run all the air conditioners at the same time, and setting up internet. My frustration is high and patience is low. Regardless, we have a secure space, great neighbors, a pool in the yard, a kitchen and a washer/dryer. Things are slowly looking up.
I apologize that this post is sounding a little whiney and pitiful. I readily admit that these are first world problems. I know how lucky I am. I constantly remind myself that we are healthy, safe and happy. We have a place to sleep, food, a great job and school, and family and friends that we love. I don't equate my situation to any real hardship.
But this is the hard part. It's like a marathon. I started out excited and full of adrenaline and determination. Now, 10 miles in, I'm questioning what I'm doing. I'm exhausted. I'm beat up. I can't see the finish line......but I know it's there. I have to remember how great it will be at the finish. It's worth it. A friend once told me that the transition and settling phase is the sacrifice we make for this life. If that's true, then I will happily continue to pay my dues.
So I keep pushing through right now. I am leaning on God and my faith in his plan. I am not strong or brave or good at this part. But I don't have to be. I only have to be faithful. I am not a believer in the saying that God never gives you more than you can handle. He absolutely does. He gives me more than I am capable of time and time again. And He does it to remind me that I need Him to handle it. I am not in control. I can't do it alone. So I remain joyful even when I'm frustrated or scared or stressed. These trials are temporary but His love, and my faith in it, are eternal. My work is keeping my eyes on Him in the middle of race. Some days it's hard work. It's never ending work. It's the only work that matters.
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. James 1:2-4.
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
First impressions
Today marks the 1 week anniversary of our recent closed eyed high dive into Malaysia. It's been a whirlwind but I can say that I think we're holding our own. With the boys now at school and Micah starting work today, I've been left alone with my own thoughts for the first time. It's crazy, a little scary and a lot overwhelming. I wanted to try to organize the huge whirling mass of experiences and first impressions in my head. So here goes...
The trip
The travel was generally easy, other than the stress that comes with a family of 5 living out of a hotel for 2 weeks now. Flying on the heels of another air tragedy, my anxiety was at a high, but I made it onto the plane, which I consider a win. The boys were troopers, as they've proved they always are and took full advantage of their bumped class status. Tyler repeatedly came back from the plane toilet heavily scented as he was impressed with the complimentary cologne. Owen enjoyed every button a million times over, reclining his seat, closing his window shade, raising the pod divider, etc. The electrical system functioned well under strain. Barrett enjoyed the air sickness bags, as is his reponse to total exhaustion due to marathon movie watching and refusal to sleep. Luckily, it only began the last few hours of the final flight and passed that evening.
The area
So I must admit, I was a little (very) on the fence about Malaysia. Singapore, yes, no problem but this just over the border thing had me worried. I had read and heard some expat remarks about the border town stereotype that left me uneasy. We have only just begun to explore, but so far it is amazingly beautiful. It's quiet and green and warm. We've seen monkeys on the side of the road like squirrels, pass a coconut plantation of endless palm trees just next to the school, and watch the harbor boats sailing by. I can't complain. I still do have a level of uncomfortableness from a health background. Raw chicken, barefoot stores, mosquito armies, stray dogs have me seeing salmonella, hookworm, dengue fever, and rabies. That takes some getting used to.
The food
You can smell it when you step out of the airport. It's a mix of salty sea air and spices. It's powerful. It's very tasty. Considering that we are without a kitchen, we've been solely eating out. The older boys have been adventurous finding favorites with mango curry and laksa. Owen is a but pickier, true to form, but has found rice and noodles are always options. The biggest change coming from Norway is the price. A dinner of all five of us runs about $30. Crazy!
The school
The school is a British establishment's international campus. It's huge, like college campus huge. Multiple buildings, boarding options, a pool, track, climbing wall, art and drama building, etc. It is very proper with strict uniform requirements, merit and demerit systems, and house affiliation (as in House of....we are Hunt as opposed to Seymour, Chichester, or Merlin). Honestly, it feels like we might pass Harry Potter at any time. Fun fact, the school was actually the inspiration for JK Rowlings' Hogwartz. All that said, the teachers and kids are friendly and welcoming and the boys all came home smiling. They have a long day, until 4:30, but have private instrument lessons, sports, religious education, and design technology as a part of their school day along with the academics including Mandarin Chinese. It's intense but my boys do best with structure and clear guidelines so hopefully it will be a good fit for them.
The house
The house is perfect for us (and I will make sure to credit Micah with the housing choice. He's 2/2 folks). It's a brand new house so right now there are several small kinks to repair, but nothing major. It has a lot of outdoor space and pool and a neighborhood park next to us. It also has 2 kitchens and a maids quarters (the boys are currently calling that the time out room as that has been its major function thus far). Concrete and modern, it is polar opposite from our Norway house, but it will be a comfortable home. Many of the school families live in the same neighborhood so the boys will likely have close friends. I am anxious for our furniture to arrive so we can begin enjoying it.
The people
This has been my biggest surprise. I suppose i grew accustomed to the eye diverting non small talking of Norway, so smiling, nodding, and speaking to strangers has caught me off guard. We look different here, of course, so there is a lot of staring, but somehow it's not at all rude. People have been very friendly and helpful for the most part (and we tend to look pretty in need of help at times). The expat population is close knit and have already included me in gym class, coffee morning, and grocery store expedition offers. I appreciate the hospitality.
Overall, we're off to a good start. I am relying a lot on my Norway experience. When moments are difficult, I can remind myself that it was so hard in Oslo in the beginning as well. We are just at the beginning of this adventure, I know there is so much more to see and learn. Not everyday will be easy. I won't always love it. Sometimes the sacrifice is really glaring. But I also know that there will be moments when I will say "oh, okay God. Now I get why I'm here." Patience and persistence, trust in Him. That's my mantra. Now, I need to go repeat that a thousand times before I venture out to drive to pick up the boys again. Time to be brave.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)