Translation

It was a busy Saturday. The next minute after I finished with the College meeting, I found myself hurrying to a small street in Jordan. It was the final examination of Euterpe’s singing class, and the time was just about right to pick up my princess.

 Vivian was also there. We eagerly thanked Miss Ki – the music teacher of Euterpe. Time flies; my daughter has been attending this weekend class for two years, and she certainly enjoyed it very much.

*******************************

On our way home, Euterpe pointed to a signboard and asked, “Daddy, why should the Chinese and English names of this place both pronounced as Lam Tin (藍田)?”

“My dear, that’s because the English name is merely the phonemic translation of the Chinese one.” I explained.

“That’s commonplace. For most of the places in this city, the English name is derived from the Chinese one.” Vivian added.

“But I must say this kind of translation is nothing but sloth,” I remarked, “It is to the least romantic, and also confusing for native English speaking people.”

“Alas, do you mean we should call this place Blue Field?” My wife smiled.

“How about Beryl Field?” I said to myself.

Change

Shortly after our discussion on the allocation of teaching hours, I attended a College meeting on the arrangement of membership examination.

I shall not elaborate what we did. It was a Saturday afternoon and many of us were only interested in finishing the discussion early. After some exchange in opinion on various matters, a senior consultant from a peripheral hospital remarked, "Don't you all find the questions we put up rather boring? There are no more than a handful of topics that we can examine!"

"Exactly. In fact, it is very easy for a pragmatic candidate to prepare for the examination," another consultant agreed eagerly, "One does not need to know very much about medicine; all he needs to be familiar with are a couple of scenarios!"

"That's why the College has to change the format of examination once every few years. It's not for improving the system, but, if we have to examine our candidates on different topics, we have to keep changing the system we use." The professor from the other side of the harbour said.

I consider that remark illuminating.

Hours

(Our lunch time discussion went on.)

It took me quite a while to pull myself together.

“That sounds an important topic,” I cleared by throat, “although I cannot quite imagine how anyone on earth knows this topic in such a great detail that he could continue to talk about it for two hours. It probably takes no more than 40 minutes to read out that particular chapter in Harrison’s. Well, maybe your best teacher is going to talk about the specific features of lipoma over the neck, back, arms, legs, and each and every specific site of the body!”

“Maybe, I’m not sure – nor could I say I’m interested,” my colleague was obviously not amused, “The real problem for me, as the coordinator of teaching matters of my division, is, if I agree to put up two hours for lipoma, how could I cut down the hours for sebaceious cyst, freckles, and wrinkles?”

“Quite true,” I nodded, “But I must say I tend to agree with your delinquent best teacher. After all, if our curriculum assigns seven hours for the physiology of prostaglandin, it is really difficult to justify not having two hours for lipoma!”

Cut

Met a colleague of mine during lunch.

“KL was looking for you the whole morning.”  One of us around the table told the late professor.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Got to be the teaching hour business,” my colleague said calmly, “You know, KL was very eager to have every division cutting down the amount of seminar teaching, but not everyone of my team agree to cut short their own bit. And, you known, I am not in the position to order them what to do – after all, I’m just a small potato!”

I tried my best not to laugh – at least not aloud, “I could understand your difficulty. So, what’s the problematic topic?”

“Em… the one about lipoma…” my friend hesitated – I fancied my colleague’s face turned red, “Our best teacher insisted that he needs two hours for the topic.”

Thank goodness I had no food in my mouth – otherwise I’m sure I would have choked to death.

Conclusions

(My discussion with CB continued.)

“So, did you guys arrive at any conclusion?” I asked.

“Far from any,” my friend sighed, “How about yours some weeks ago?”

“Oh, we did. In fact, I’m afraid we have too many conclusions.” I put up a curious smile.

“What do you mean?”

“To me, the incident that I was asked to investigate was hopelessly simple, and the cause could be conveniently summarized into the name of one person.” I explained.

“Yes…?”

“However, after a four-hour investigation and questioning of each and every person involved, it is always possible for the chairman to find a dozen of other contributing factors and all parties seem to have a hand on the matter, directly or indirectly. As a result, the conclusion is always one full page – if not more – of single-spaced bullet points in the font Time New Roman #10. As Agatha Christie pointed out (in The ABC Murders), the best place to hide a pin is in a pin-cushion. To our friends outside the solar system, this book has become The ABC of Murders!”

Root

Some hours after our lunch, we met CB during our evening grand round.

He appeared desperate and exhausted.

"My friend, what's wrong with you?" I said, "By the way, I did not quite see you around since this morning."

"Alas, I was having a root cause analysis meeting for that medical incident since this morning," the consultant nephrologist put up a bitter smile, "Yes, it is 4 p.m. now - and I did not have my lunch yet!"

"Poor, poor," I tried to sooth my friend, "Do you need something to eat before the round? But, by the way, I must say I now realize our extra-terrestrials have been treating me very well. You know, when I was attending another RCA meeting last month, it only took four hours!"

My friend was not amused.

Learn

After AC gave her own account of the new house officers, I shared my own story on the lunch table.

"You know, I was seeing a consultation in the gynecology ward this morning, and the conversation I overheard between their on-call medical officer and the labour ward nurse really amazed me." I said.

"What's that all about?" The others asked.

"The poor doctor told the nurse that the on-call house officer does not know how to do stitches, and, if there is any, the nurses need to call the medical officer." I explained, "Remind you, it is almost a week after the new shift of houseman began!"

"How could that happen?" LS said, "But I don't think the medical officer was doing a right job either. She should teach the houseman on how to do the stitches, rather than doing it all by herself."

"Quite right," I nodded, "Nonetheless it illustrates the problem over the other side of the coin - the houseman obviously does not think that acquiring that skill of doing stitches is an essential part of his job, and he certainly holds the idea that if he does not know how to do something, you guys should find someone else to do it, rather than he has to learn how."