X-RAY STORIES

Sink or Swim?

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Tue, 26 Feb 2008 22:07:00 +0000

Would you ever throw your child into a lake without a life preserver? I think that's the way we often treat new technologists. Sink or swim. Do or die. Baptism by fire. Send her to the ER by herself and leave her until she either quits or begs for help. Then when she does ask for help, humiliate her by telling her that maybe she's not "cut out" for this kind of work. Far fetched? Believe me when I tell you this happens where I work. It seems like they want to see you fail instead of succeed.

And then there's the OR. Every hospital has one or two surgeons that seem to take out their frustrations on the circulating nurse, the OR tech or the x-ray tech. After working in x-ray for fifteen years, there are still occasions I am subjected to verbal abuse by a surgeon. This happened again recently and this time I took my complaint as far as it would go. Now, a month later I still don't know what was done about it or if anything will change. Where's the support from management?

I've seen so many good people bail out of x-ray because of both these issues. Why? What happened to helping each other, team building and moral support? It's no wonder that techs get so hardened and end up hating their work. There's the attitude that "I had to pay my dues (I got screwed) and so do the new people." Now then, would you throw a poor swimmer into a lake and hope they'd make it back to shore? Or would you throw them a line?

Grand Tour

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Fri, 31 Aug 2007 14:33:00 +0000

I gave a tour through the hospital for all the new radiography students the other day. I first took them down to the huge x-ray archives in the basement. Of course it's locked, which brings to mind the increased importance of patient privacy laws. The archives are also thinning down as each year passes since we went to PACS. This shows real change made by our use of technology. But the fact that struck me was how the x-rays that we take are part of a patient's record and in some cases (legal, for example) are not "ever" destroyed. An x-ray that you took several years ago may be pulled for reinterpretation. Your best and worst work doesn't really disappear after they are first read by a radiologist. I'm not sure if the typical seventh year (now they are purging 1999) will be applied to PACS. What do you think?

CAUTION: TECHNOLOGY TRENDS

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Mon, 20 Aug 2007 17:55:00 +0000

A cautionary tale about buying merchandise from a website… I ordered a video camera from Fotoconnection.com and three days later, instead of receiving the camera, I got a call from an aggressive and obnoxious salesman who made me suspicious of this company. When I got off the long phone call with this individual who didn’t know the meaning of “No, I only want the camera”, I googled them – and went to a website that rated online electronics retailers. On a scale of one to five they got only ones from dozens of unhappy customers with similar stories and worse—not receiving the merchandise promised. Immediately, I called Fotoconnection back to cancel my order. They refused to cancel it, even though the camera had not yet been shipped! Now I am in the process of disputing the hefty charge through my credit card company. I should have checked this company out first! Ultimately, I purchased the camera from a well known retailer with a website—no problems. As a side note, I discovered that this camera and so many others are not available in stores. I’m passing this on to those in Radiology because so many of us have to keep up with the technology at work and school. Our “hobbies” like photography can be an enjoyable way to help us stay current.

What I Learned

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Thu, 21 Jun 2007 20:38:00 +0000

What I learned from writing a book:
1) How inexact my knowledge was of the things I saw every day in the ER or the OR, like the names of drugs, medical conditions or equipment
2) That writing is a very inexpensive hobby—maybe the cheapest of all!
3) That writing helps your thinking—it’s entertaining, adds to your vocabulary and brings situations into focus
4) It can broaden your knowledge of current events and technology
5) That if going to write a book you better write something that you enjoy reading because you’re going to read it at least five times.
6) Find someone to help you (P.S. thanks to Carolyn and Yonathan)
7) And that it feels really good when you know that you’ve done the very best you could

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Thu, 24 May 2007 16:27:00 +0000

How to talk to your Clinical Instructor

1) Ask only one question at a time. Listen for the complete answer before jumping to the next.

2) Try not to preface your question too much with things like “I always thought that…” Get to the point.

3) Wait to ask a question when the individual really is able to answer it. Consider timing.

4) Speak up! Make eye contact. Stay in one place.

By the way, there’s so much knowledge and experience that doctors and nurses have. I continue to ask them questions myself. Hope you do too. Good Luck, Tim.

Don't Forget Your History

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Wed, 02 May 2007 14:20:00 +0000

A radiologist called into a radio show I was listening to. He expressed concern over the limited history information he would get before he had to dictate an exam. Whether it be an MR, CT, sonogram or radiographs, he implied that technologists need to do more at pinpointing patient symptoms while in the exam room. Sometimes, he said, that’s all the radiologist will have to work with.

The guest on the show (not the caller) was Dr. Jay Grupman (sp?). He talked about his new book How Doctors Think. I haven’t read it, but from the interview, it sounds interesting. He focused on what a patient should do when symptoms don’t go away and he referred to a sort of cascading diagnosis that sometimes happens as people latch on to a diagnosis too soon. This can happen very quickly in an emergency room setting when everyone is in a rush with a lot of distractions.

I have a list of pertinent histories that are appropriate for chest x-rays, abdomen series etc. I show these to the x-ray students. I have to admit, however, that when I got this list from the radiologists, it seemed to me the emphasis was on coding and reimbursement rather than on narrowing down a patient’s condition. Now I try to place emphasis on just communicating with the patient to find out exactly what they’re problem is. Maybe chest pain is a little vague? And how long have they been S.O.B.?

Art and Artifact

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Mon, 09 Apr 2007 22:34:00 +0000

My book is now available through LULU.COM, Amazon.com and Borders, ($12.99) just go to http://www.lulu.com and search by my name "Timothy Kerr" or "Art & Artifact" and your copy will be mailed to you. Read on.

Behind the lead-lined doors of the Radiology Department of All Saints Hospital, most x-ray technologists toil to provide the best possible patient care and patient imaging. Most, that is, but not all.

Coming from half a world away, Tesfaye Ababa feels every mile of it while he strives to fit in. But fitting in becomes secondary to just getting through a workday as a new x-ray tech. From impatient surgeons to hysterical patients, each day brings new challenges.

Follow Tesfaye through the chaotic corridors of All Saints Emergency Department during a crisis that strains everyone’s capabilities – but especially the Radiology staff.

Look over Tesfaye’s shoulders as he positions patients, reveals anatomy and uncovers secret CT scans. Now he faces questions more ancient than his homeland of Ethiopia. When do you accept what goes on around you? When do you simply walk away? And when do you do all that you can to stop the mistreatment of others?

The Presence of Pain

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Fri, 16 Mar 2007 00:32:00 +0000

Chew on this. A stranger is the x-ray technologist. You are the patient. You have the worst pain that you've had in your entire life. Now, what's on your mind? Maybe you're thinking, “I hope she makes this quick. I don't know if I can do what she asks.” You may also be thinking, “Will I be able to care for my children with this injury? When will the pain stop? Will I have to undergo surgery? Missing weeks of work will make me broke. Who will cook my meals, wash my clothes, do my shopping and drive me to my doctor appointments.” Pretty depressing, huh? But that's not my goal here, because we, as technologists, aren't out to solve a patient's problems. In fact, it's often useful to remind yourself of that fact. Also, I think it is important to remind yourself that your patients are often going through a really tough period in their life, frequently involving pain.

As technologists, our occupation is not unique in that we are in the presence of those in pain. Still, the questions I have are these: What does it mean to be in the presence of pain? It obviously varies from one health care worker to the next and one patient to the next. But does it eventually harden you to another's pain; make it easier to block it out? Or, can you develop an increased awareness or sensitivity to degrees of pain? Can you work to have empathy for every injured individual? What happens when they lash out at you because you just made their pain increase by changing their position? Does caring for those in pain take a toll on you over time? Or does it wash away just like the next rainstorm cleans the streets? One last question: is there really such a thing as a high tolerance for pain; and if that’s true than what is an average tolerance? Sorry to be such a pain… photo of my house from October '06 storm with collapsed tree

X-RAY COWBOY

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Mon, 26 Feb 2007 21:12:00 +0000

The following story is mostly fiction -- but not all.

When I got off the stagecoach at Guthrie, Oklahoma, I thought it was as boring and flat a piece of land as I had ever seen. The soil looked like rust off some old piece of junk and the sky stretched on forever with little white puffy clouds. But at least there was a town there, and a bustling one at that. You see, I had come from back east, Philadelphia, in search of adventure in the land of cattle, cowboys and gold. I needed the town of Guthrie more than it needed me. I planned to ply my barbering trade just to earn enough to continue heading west to Los Angeles. My only brother lived out there and he told me I could get rich out there just cutting beards and hair.
The first thing I did in Guthrie, after of course stopping by the saloon, was to inquire about renting a chair from the barber next to the general store. Hank Butkins, the barbershop owner, and I did a fair amount of dickering before coming to a fifty-fifty arrangement. Hank drove a tough bargain and would keep half of what I made.
After a few days in this hot and stuffy shop, I met a man that changed my whole life. I had done enough book-learnin’ to carry on okay in the art of conversation. This helps the barberin’ business, you know. Well, as I was conversin’ with old Doc Roberts, he seemed mighty impressed with what I remembered from encyclopedias about the human body. I also put in my two cents on the subject of electricity and the like. Well, wouldn’t you know it, Doc Roberts asked if I would stop by his office to help him with somethin.’ He said he had some new glass tube device from Germany that could make pictures of bones right through the skin, and he thought I could set it up with him.
So that afternoon, I left the barbershop early to head over to Doc’s office. As I crossed the dusty street, I nearly got runned over by some long bearded fool on a liver colored horse. At Doc’s office, we set about putting together the pieces of his new contraption he called an X-rayomatic. Wouldn’t you know it, all the instructions were written in German. Doc and I mixed some photographic chemicals and painted them onto glass plates. When we thought we had every thing right, I set my hand on one of these plates. Doc turned on the glass bulb for five minutes. Then we dipped the plate in more chemicals until a fuzzy image appeared. It showed the bones of my hand along with my ring. We spent the entire night making these bone pictures of each other with the X-rayomatic.
The next day, Doc stopped by the barbershop actin’ kind of upset and in a hurry. He asked, ‘Could I come over and make some pictures with the X-rayomatic for him?’ A cowboy had been shot twice and he wanted to find the bullets in his chest.
So, we rushed outta there like two wild animals and went across to his office. Harry Colton lay on the examining table looking white as a ghost. I recognized him by his long beard as the wild rider of the liver colored horse that almost trampled me the day before. I brought around the X-rayomatic and had Colton lay on a large prepared glass plate.
“What in tarnation? What’s that thing?” he asked.
“It just makes a picture. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you,” I replied.
“Well, it can’t hurt me anymore than what I’ve done to myself,” said Colton drifting off.
“What are you saying?” I asked.
“Nothing. It’s just I have a bad habit with pickin’ fights with the wrong people,” he said.
When I got done with the two pictures, Colton sat up. His color had gotten more pink. The pictures showed only one bullet along his spine.
“Can’t go after that bullet,” said Doc, “Too dangerous—don’t want to end up a cripple, do ya?”
“Naw. I’ll just have to tough it out,” said Colton.
After Doc cleaned and sewed up the hole in Colton’s back, I handed Colton his denim shirt from the chair. Colton headed toward the door. Then I noticed a silver neck chain on the chair. Picking it up, I saw it had a large bullet-shaped pendant hanging from it.
“Wait a second,” I said. “This wouldn’t be yours. Would it Colton?”
“Ah. Thank you kindly, sir. I almost literally left my brother behind.”
I heard what he’d said, though I didn’t understand it. I was just about to let him go but then I just had to know what he meant by that odd statement.
“Mr. Colton. I’m sorry. I didn’t quite get that. Did you say that you almost left your brother behind?” I inquired cautiously, not wanting to upset a wounded ranch hand.
“Yeah, you got that right,” he said as he took off his hat to put the chain back around his neck. “You see, my brother got killed just three weeks ago. Maybe you read about it in the Guthrie Gazette. They found him along a dried streambed two days ride from here. The marshalll said he died of thirst, but when I saw the boot marks on his head, I knew he had taken a beatin’ and been left to die. I suspect the marshalll had somethin’ to do with it, but what can I do? My brother wasn’t perfect, but he didn’t deserve to be left to the buzzards like that. Anyway, he had always told me that if he died before me, then he wanted his remains put into a bullet. So, when I was at that funeral parlor down the street making arrangements for his cremation, I asked the owner if it could be done. Then he pulls out this big catalogue from San Francisco. And sure enough, there is a drawing of this here urn shaped like a bullet,” Colton said proudly, holding up the shiny silver and brass pendant for me to examine.
Not knowing how to respond I simply said, “That’s quite a story. You take care of yourself now, sir.”
He looked at me with narrowing eyes, put on his hat and said, “It ain’t a story and I will take care of myself – cuz sure enough nobody else will!” And with that, Harry Colton left Doc’s office. I never saw him again but I heard he’s in a prison somewhere in Arizona. As for me, in about a month’s time I’d saved up enough to buy a ticket to Los Angeles, where I now sell the X-rayomatic to doctors on the west coast.

Bethena's Crystal Ball

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Sun, 04 Feb 2007 14:35:00 +0000

I went to visit my old friend Bethena, High Princess of the Cherubs. I sought her out in order to find the future of x-ray, say 20 years from now. She asked, "Why now? Why do you care?" These questions caught me by surprise. So, carefully, I attempted to answer. "Now, because there is no now. And care because there are those who don't." I thought that was pretty clever, but she scoffed at me. "Ah, these things you already know, you have eyes but you cannot see," she said.

"Think of things in threes, it will be easier for you," Bethena claimed. "People, places and things. People will still need x-rays. Little people and big people. Very big people, ENORMOUS people. People that will test you and your equipment's limits." "Okay, I think I got the point. I am seeing more and more really big patients," I said. "Then there will be old, very old, ancient people to x-ray. Over 95 years old will be common. And lots of them," she continued. "Because less people are smoking? Because the baby boomers will be old then?" I asked. "Don't bother me with the details. Then, there will be a variety of peoples: cultures, races, religions; workers and patients too. Diversity of all kinds. You better get used to it," Bethena warned. "And competition for work. Gone are the days that any warm body with an RT diploma will be granted a job," she said. "You mean no more staff shortages?" I asked. "No, not that. Think outside your box. Think globally. You will be competing with the rest of the world."

"Sobering. Tell me about places," I asked. "Places are gone," she started. "Places homogenize through technology and travel. Everything gets standardized. Everything looks alike. Walmart health care centers. Internet education. Teleradiology is the norm. Advanced x-ray degrees. Budgetary constraints. Aging infrastructure. Remember time changes places," she projected. "What about things?" I asked. "Constant adaptation to new technologies, software updates.Wide-touch-screen monitors, fingerprint security scanning, CT domination. CT C-arms in the OR. Digital portable technology. Elimination of work steps. Employee tracking through smart badges. Higher efficiency. Be ready to relearn almost everything except anatomy and positioning. It's all here in my crystal ball."

As I walked away, I was a little confused about what the High Princess told me. It seemed some of it was contradictory, like high technology and budgetary constraints. But then again, her crystal ball was a little cloudy.

Radianna the X-ray Doll

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Tue, 30 Jan 2007 20:37:00 +0000

Babies, Babies, Babies. Walking into a hospital carrying a life-size plastic baby doll made me feel slightly conspicuous, but I think it was all worthwhile. We immediately put her to work in the department as a model for proper x-ray positioning. As the students and I went through the steps necessary to produce images such as pediatric chest, abdomen, and foreign body exams, I learned that teaching about the radiography of children involves a lot of “finesse”. You have to “finesse” the child away from the overprotective parent. I do this by introducing myself, asking if that’s “Baby Jane Doe”, then inquire about the injury/illness with an a concerned look. I tell them we’ll just be taking a few x-rays and I’ll bring them right back. Then I immediately outstretch my arms right up to the baby to indicate that now is the time to give him/her up. I reassure them that I already have a helper and that it will only be a few minutes wait. If they don’t give up the baby, insisting right away that they must come in, I consider that a new situation. In that instance I don’t argue, I just stand there for a moment – possibly adding that we have a lot of experience with children and there’s no need to worry. Often they’ll change their mind and relinquish the child. If they still don't give up the baby – I sometimes walk away saying I’ll be right back. If I’m able, I’ll get reinforcements, like a supervisor or a coworker. It’s true that sometimes you can’t avoid bringing a parent in the room. But it’s also true that I have seen parents freak out in the x-ray room. They’re shocked to see any form of restraining immobilization device. Many times, the child will be more upset with the parent there. Lastly, parents often don’t make good helpers, they are unable to hold that leg or arm still, for instance. You can’t forget the goal is make diagnostic quality x-rays, not just to get it done. So, it can be a challenge, but I try to recognize that each situation is different – that hard and fast rules don’t apply except on the technical end of x-ray creation. By the way, if you see me carrying a doll, be sure to say hello to “Radianna”, my newest teaching tool. Special thanks to Eileen for being the volunteer student radiographer in this photo.

Wait Til The Chicks Hatch

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Mon, 15 Jan 2007 21:18:00 +0000

I've noticed that technical competence gained early has its own risks. First, a student starts to think that they're already an employee of the clinical site. This can lead to a lot of heartache when they look at their bank account. But seriously, one risk is that they no longer see the value of what they're learning in class. Second, they've locked themselves into the way things are done at just one institution -- one which they may or may not get a job. It's nice to feel loved in a workplace but its better to actually have graduated and passed the registry before you start worrying about that. Third, it takes three to five years (at least!) of working in the field to gain the confidence and poise that you need to handle everything that is thrown at you. The learning continues because a lot can change -- the procedures, the technology and even you.

Hazards Of An Occupation

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Mon, 01 Jan 2007 16:05:00 +0000

The following is a work of fiction.

September 10th, 1994

Tom Connors swore under his breath upon seeing the bloody, torn skin on Gordon McCoy’s elbows. The injury occurred as the eighty-eight-year-old McCoy rolled from his side to his stomach repeatedly on the hard x-ray table. As a new x-ray technologist, Connors struggled to limit the patient’s discomfort while taking the final films. Through his mind flashed thoughts of compassion and self-control, but mostly of the steaming anger he felt at the radiologist who just put him in this situation. That six-foot four-inch swaggering and belligerent doctor, the terror of the department, had outdone himself this time. Upon entering the fluoroscopic radiology room, the outpatient had launched a verbal attack at Dr. Jonathan Halpern, “Why have I had to wait so long? This is ridiculous. Where have you been?” Halpern fumbled with excuses, then stormed from the room in exasperation, slamming the door behind him. Knocking on the lead-lined door’s small window, the fuming radiologist motioned for Connors to step into the control hallway. “I refuse to do this person’s upper GI study. Here’s what you’re going to do: lay him down and take drinking films of his esophagus. First a right lateral, then a right oblique, then a prone film. Then roll him on the table a few times to coat his stomach. Have him drink more, then repeat the same projections centered on his stomach. When you’re done, show me the films before you let him go. I’ll be in my office.” Though just out of x-ray school, Connors, at thirty-five, was no kid and knew he needed this job to get back on track. With a wife and their first child on the way, now was not the time to think that his two-year course in Radiologic Technology had been a mistake. What else could he do in this rusting northern city? He couldn’t go back to what he was doing before.

Connors shook the barium sulfate “milkshake” one last time before filling a cup and handing it to the elderly McCoy. The explanation he gave for Halpern’s brusque departure was that the radiologist believed that only a few images were necessary and that Connors could do them. Producing good drinking films without fluoroscopy would mean that Connors would have the feeble McCoy lie down on his side, take a large sip through a straw and hold the barium in his mouth. Connors would then run behind the control panel, call out loudly for the man to swallow, and make the exposure. Knowledge of anatomy, good centering and timing were critical. Concentrating as best he could on the task at hand, his blood pressure at its peak with his anger at Halpern, he completed the study, bandaged McCoy’s elbows and took the completed films to the radiologist for review.

Fifteen minutes later, Connors greeted the next outpatient. “Welcome to All Saints Hospital, Mrs. Blackburn. My name is Tom and I’ll be starting your upper GI series with Dr. Halpern.”

Crossed Fingers

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Wed, 27 Dec 2006 20:34:00 +0000

"Good luck in the New Year", they say... I don't really believe in "Lady Luck". Although I like fortune cookies like the next guy and wouldn't throw out a stack of lottery tickets if they were given to me, I think this "concept" has not been useful to me. When doing any medical procedure, it's not a good idea to expect or wish that you are lucky. Imagine a surgeon who says: "Let's keep our fingers crossed that these screws are in the right place!".
I've often emphasized being prepared and having a checklist for xray students. Then I tell them don't rely on luck -- that there is no luck involved here -- when there are so many factors effecting the quality of the final image. Like my Magic Forest painting here, the hidden specters in the rocks and the trees are always out there to get you -- to prove that you don't know what you're doing.

Your Big Day

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Tue, 26 Dec 2006 18:16:00 +0000

When you "sign on" to work in health care, you're most likely going to work some holidays. New Year's eve and day aren't exceptions. I admit, it feels strange to work when so many are partying, but then there's always next year. You arrive at the Xray department and it's just another day. For the patients, that's not the case at all. I've "xrayed" people in the first moments of their lives and the last. It's been the day of their daughter's wedding or even the bride in her wedding gown who slipped on the dance floor. It's been a child's first time skiing or a woman's last run down the slopes (by the way --it's always the last run down the slopes for that particular day!). More than once, I've taken a patient's xrays before, during and after surgery. There are many big days in a person's life and often someone from radiology has been there. For those taking the xrays, it's just another day. Or is it?
Painting: Dawn at Sprague Brook by Timothy Kerr.

Jeepers Peepers

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Mon, 25 Dec 2006 17:29:00 +0000

Have the "eyes of medicine" become the "eyes of security"? It would seem so, if you read the Associated Press article in today's paper. An X-ray security scanner designed to detect weapons through a person's clothing is causing quite a controversy. This comes to no surprise to this X-ray technologist but not for the privacy concerns described. Sure, you can often see delicate anatomical details on an X-ray image that you wouldn't want most strangers to see. The real issue to me is the practicality of it. Consider the "simple" case of trying to determine if your kid's Halloween candy is sabotaged or not. Look at this simulated set of three x-rays. Each shows an object from a different perspective in two dimensions. Would you be able to guess from the top image that you're looking at a lollipop? In your mind, overlay this with other pieces of candy and you can imagine the task at hand. Now, think of an airport security situation where you'll be instructed to turn sideways for additional images to be analyzed. I hope the security officer is well trained. I'm skeptical but it would sure beat a cavity search!

The Shadowmakers

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Sat, 23 Dec 2006 15:25:00 +0000

You're doing a crossword puzzle and the clue for 52 across is "xray technologists". I'll give you a moment to think of the answer. It's twelve letters long and evidently found in crossword puzzle dictionaries according to a patient

I xrayed yesterday.

The answer is (drum roll please):"Shadowmakers". I like the simple, low-tech and mystical sound of it. Radiography does share many qualities to cast shadows, such as elongation and foreshortening. Every time you position the xray tube you are controlling this Invisible Sun (the name of a song by Sting?). You set the angle and distance that the beam intersects the patient's anatomy. You can also peer around bony obstacles. Look at these two lateral elbow images. The nontraditional method on the bottom allows you to see the radial head without superimposition by the ulna. The tube angle is set at 45 degrees. I use this axial projection only when a patient can't be convinced to extend his or her arm for the normal positions. All radiographs have distortion and generally it's something to avoid, but when you need to provide one more image -- a little angle goes along way. By the way, don't be surprised if I answer the phone at work with "Hello Shadowmaking Department, Tim speaking, how may I direct your beam?".

Tech Tribute

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Fri, 22 Dec 2006 13:58:00 +0000

Growing up in the 1960's, I had a fascination with Africa. I think a large segment of the US population must have had similar romantic notions about it. Movies back then included Born Free -- about an unlikely family who chose to move to the savanna and make lions a big part of their daily life. TV shows included Cowboy in Africa, where Chuck Connors lassos wildebeests and ostriches, ostensibly to save them from themselves. Daktari (Swahili for Doctor?) was part comedy revolving around a white veterinarian who chose to "talk to the animals" and make them better. And who could forget the National Geographic Specials? My family even had the Catholic Mass sung in Swahili on a record sent from a missionary. I ate this stuff up. I wanted to go on safari.

Years past and somehow famine, wars, plagues, Ebola virus and AIDS made Africa a little less desirable as my next sunny vacation spot. I did keep up with things African to a degree -- by things like listening to the BBC on the radio (just like my father did!). Now, thirty-five years later, I have the pleasure of working with one of the most patient and reliable persons I have ever met. I'll call him "Outa Afreeka", because he truly is as an immigrant from Ethiopia. "Outa" has a wisdom beyond his years, he thinks before he speaks. His patience is exemplary -- he once had a speeding ticket reduced because the judge was so impressed that Outa had sat waiting for three and a half hours for his turn to be heard. We often talk about Africa: its past and present, its cultures and geography. I told him the story of the explorer Dr. Livingstone. He told me of falling into a construction pit and nearly drowning. I introduced him to liverwurst, he brought me some flat bread. And so it goes. You never know where your life leads to. Kudos to this "Buffalo Soldier".

Rectus Abdominus and Artimus

noreply@blogger.com (Tim Kerr) — Thu, 21 Dec 2006 14:31:00 +0000

During the course of any day at work, there is always something else going on. One day it's a blizzard outside, another day it's the melodrama of daily life. Some diversions are created intentionally.

One day I decided we all should have gladiator names. I had seen the movie Gladiator (where Russell Crowe plays a human veggiematic -- slicing and dicing his way to stardom in ancient Rome). We discovered that medical terminology worked great for gladiator names -- one full bellied tech became Rectus Abdominus. I was then designated the title Artimus by that same tech, a fusion of my name with my extracurricular activities. Unfortunately, not everyone appreciated their gladiator names. Would you like being referred to as Crowe Magnum? In any case, it helped get us through the day -- laughing as the "bus let out" into the Radiology Department.