A very interesting piece in Saturday’s review about medical writers which has fired my fancy to do some more research. It focuses on language and communication and how hard it is for patient and doctor alike. This “language gap” comes about because the patient doesn’t have the language to explain their problem, this leads to doctors failing to understand. Then doctors use language that patients don’t understand, either with regard to any diagnosis, or treatment or both. A litany of tests may elicit greater understanding but may also add to the confusion. What might lead to a better state of affairs is through something called ‘narrative medicine’, whereby patients tell their story of illness and doctors tell theirs to try and understand. Having used narrative for my masters research and been excited by my experience with the group after my treatment there is a distinct possibility of pursuing doctoral research in combining the two. Doctor Duncan eh? Shit, like Mr Angry I think titles a bit dodgy.
But not as dodgy as that supreme example of a klepto mr philip green who as the employees of BHS face being swindled out of their pensions awaits arrival of a boat worth £100m, and called boatymcpaidforoutofstolenpensionsface. The two may be connected and if so the fucker should be jailed.
I can’t believe I forgot to watch or even listen to the match today. Some might question my allegiance to the Leicester soccer team, yet, ever since Nobby Evans shimmied his way past bemused defenders and No-nonsense Nuttall made Norman ‘bite yer legs’ Hunter look like a vicar at a tea party I’ve been a Leicester Luvvie. No matter, the mighty Foxes took another step towards the most unlikely premiership title ever today.
Well as ever it comes down to economics and I’ll be voting to remain as that will mean the exchange rate will be better and we’ll have more euros to spend on holiday. And could you in all honesty vote for leaving the EU when, after a ‘brexit’, negotiations may be led by the likes of boris bunter, gove, grayling, irretrievably dense shit all of whom have had stellar careers in leading government departments and London mayor.
Went to a wonderful pub in nearby Wareham on Saturday, The King’s Arms. Can’t believe I’ve lived in the area all these years and never been there. Kate and I said what a brilliant local that would be, but also very dangerous. We then went to the local cinema, an equally wonderful old style cinema that still has gas lights, only to find it closed for refurbishment. Soon determined that the film we’d come to see was being shown in the parish hall nearby. And what an absolutely wonderful film it was, a French comedy: La Famille Belier. Me and my soppy date were in floods of tears when the heroine sang the following: http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2ky4ap_louane-je-vole-clip-hd_music
Interesting how music moves us so much more easily than the language of words, but get them right together and the magic happens. Maybe patients and doctors could sing to each other?
And I was also moved to floods of tears when I saw a photo of myself. Not only am I cursed with a name that I share with an incredibly duplicitous shit but I also look like the drumf!
Still, off to JC4PM at Bournemouth BIC tonight, should be fun.
Keep on keeping on, love Duncan.