All Full Up

I never realized how valuable a female GP would be in a city like Hamilton. With a population of about 160,000, I thought there would be plenty of female colleagues. I was wrong. Apparently it’s such a novelty that the neighbouring chemist placed a self-paid advertisement on the radio, unbeknownst to the clinic, just to notify of my presence. As a result, in my short stint at Dinsdale Medical Centre, there have been floods of patients wanting to transfer into the clinic simply because there’s a female GP (with some contribution to lower cost funding). Somehow, there’s a perception that the double X chromosome makes one more compassionate and caring. Not having seen my male counterparts work, I can’t really comment. What I can comment on is the amount of work that has followed my entrance. Not only did I inherit the patient panel from the last female GP at the clinic (admittedly a number of patients transferred out after her retirement), but also a good majority of the new patients coming in. I guess I should be flattered by the reputation I’ve obtained in such a short amount of time. Unfortunately, the workload has shadowed the compliment. So, in recognition, the clinic decided to close my books to new patients as of January 1st. Amazing to me that in only five months I’ve reached closed status. In an age of equal opportunity employment, I realize females rule the roost in this town, as far as doctors go. I suppose I should have asked for a raise.

Message in the Music

As one of my birthday presents Jason purchased tickets to the Police reunion tour that was playing in Auckland. I was totally excited to get the gift, although Jason was not when I guessed the prize upon arrival in the mail three days post my birthday. I have always been a Police and Sting fan, having attended a Sting concert while living in North Carolina and spending many hours listening to both groups over the years. Even those who admittedly don’t like the bands will easily recognize their tunes when replayed on the radio. The Police are renowned, well respected, and popular even after their breakup, something very evident when thirty thousand fans turned up to watch them perform this past Saturday in Auckland. There was barely a spare space on the grassy hill of our general admission seats as we waited patiently through two frontline acts and a forty minute interlude before the band came on. Initially playing some of their lesser known tunes, I could hardly contain myself when the greatest hits began, even though I may have done no more then seat dancing. It was a great night and fortunately didn’t rain as predicted. It now adds to the list of concerts I’ve attended, and starts a newly realized tradition of attending a major concert in each city I’ve inhabited. Thanks, Jason, for a most memorable birthday present.

The Power of Natural Energy

For two years I have quaffed at the kiwi tradition of hanging clothes out on the line to dry. As a good American, I’ve learned to rely on the energy wasting dryer. It works well, makes my clothes fluffy, and can even replicate the natural fresh air scent through addition of an unnaturally scented dryer sheet. What more could I want? Well, natural energy, and perhaps to help with the global warming crisis. So last night I decided to try this new fangled form of drying and actually hung my clothes on the line out back. To my amazement, I returned 40 minutes later to find all my clothes completely dry, naturally scented and soft from the calm breeze of the day. All at the cost of…nothing! Perhaps these kiwis are on to something. I am now a complete convert to this natural form of drying. At least until winter comes around.