saúde and ciência


Parents beware. It seems that young children, rubber clogs and escalator is not a good combination.

Yesterday, here in Singapore, a one-year old boy’s foot was stuck in an escalator. Writhing and wailing, he caught the attention of a passer-by who hit the e-stop in the nick of time. The boy was rushed to the hospital, was treated for minor injuries and discharged on the same day.

Some were not as lucky.

Like this 8-year old boy who needed ten stitches to close the gash so bad that the bones were showing. Or this 2-year old girl whose big toe was ripped off by a similar accident last year.

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Today not only marks the start of gst (goods and services tax) increase from 5% to 7% here in Temasek which spells gloom for consumers, at least for foreigners like who won’t be enjoying the corresponding offset package. It’s also day of jubilation for non-smokers like me as the ban on smoking inside pubs, clubs and bars takes effect today. If you insist to still inhale those carcinogens while pubbing, you can either go out and do it alfresco or be inside a claustrophobic room (provided by the establishment which should not be greater than 10% of their total area) with the rest of the smokers which you might as well call a gas chamber.

Albeit there is always the fear of the unknowns and of the future, I have no qualm about growing old. I just hope that I would be given enough playing time by Almighty Coach to fullfil my destiny–whatever that is.

Not that my joints are squeaking and seem to require WD40 like a rusted hinge (nor my spare tire begins to manifest slowing down of metabolism, nor my muscles begins to sag like a laundry on a pole), in fact I never felt healthier. I can still **** like a stallion (remember Demi describing Robert in Indecent Proposal?) . It is just that gray hairs begin to unabashedly show here and there. But who cares anyway? Que sera sera !

*******

After much deliberation and lobbying, lumabas na rin ang pinakakaasam-asam at pinakakaabangan-abangan kong promotion. It’s long overdue btw, I should have had it months ago. I’m a step higher into the foodchain and much closer to pan. Resilience is one of my virtue and I know I can stand the heat. I just wish that ingrained dirt and soot in the system don’t really rub on me.

If you ardently believe that an apple a day keeps a doctor away, hear this: two glasses of beer a day promises eternal life. At least that’s what the Hoegaarden brewer from Brussel, the beer capital of the world, claims when visited by the thirsty traveller.

I’ve been drinking beer since time immemorial (in moderation that is) but only few days back that I come to know that Brussel is the place to go if you’re goddamned crazy about the beverage. Beer is literally the air that they breath in this face of the earth. Yeast is in the air and can be added to the beer by simply exposing the brew to the atmosphere. I wonder how it affects feminine hygiene?

The place boasts of 80 (brands or types?…I’m simply can’t recall)! No other country, even those with far more breweries, has among its native styles of beer such diversity, individuality, idiosyncrasy and colour. Nor does any other country present beers so beautifully. Belgian brewers often use wired and corked Champagne bottles, and serve each beer in its own shape of glass, ranging from flutes to snifters and chalices. It is something of a Belgian speciality to bottle beers with a sediment of live yeast, so that they can be laid down to mature. This technique is usually indicated on the label by the phrase “re-fermented in the bottle”.

They even have a patron saint for brewers, Saint Arnould. He was Bishop of Metz, a neighbouring place. During a cholera outbreak, he suggested drinking beer instead of water, preventing further spreading of the disease. St-Arnould’s day is July 18. Remember to tip your mug to him on that day!

I remember working in Pinas where the ability to drink seems to be a requisite, at least for the company that I worked for. We had this chauvinistic, silly toast to liven up the crowd, especially when most were tipsy. Most often than not, bottoms up follows.

To the wound that never heals!

My multiphasic executive health screening report is already out. I felt relieve and very thankful as the result, in a nutshell, says I’m essentially healthy. Fit as a Gurkha! It’s not surprising though as I’m living a generally healthty lifestyle: strength training twice a week, good cardio exercise by shagging at least 3 times a week either by playing basketball or jogging 4 km or so aweek and though I’m not shying away from any food, I make it a point to watch what I eat and strike a good balance.

This health screening, which is considerably comprehensive and also expensive, is one of the perks of being part of the management team. Some people (a few close to me) I know try to avoid this even if it’s free and gives you a full day off as it is OB (official business). It amuses me to no end that these people are simply too scared, not of the the needle or the procedure where the doctor sticks her (yes, the doctor was a she) lubricated instrument to your ass to analyse tumour markers for prostrate and all, but for the chance of possibly knowing that there maybe something skewed with their system.

Scaredy cat, huh!

I don’t like the feeling of not being in control, not even with regards to my health. If there is really something wrong with me (…knock on wood!), I want to know it as early as possible. I’m not a medical practitioner but I know for a fact that the odds are with you once that dreaded something is detected at an early stage.