數學遊戲兩則

我和Tina開車在路上,需要決定晚餐去哪裡吃。到最後有兩個選擇,一是BBT,二是暱稱「漫畫店」的茶棧。

「好,我知道了。我們各想一個數字,誰大就贏。你贏就去漫畫店,我贏就去bbt。」她提議。

「呃,ok好。」我說。

「想好了嗎?不能改喔。這遊戲靠的是良心喔。」

「Ok。想好了。」

「好,那你先說。」她說。

「兩兆。」

「……噗哈哈哈哈…我想九十九。」然後Tina就一直說只有我這種人才會想到兩兆這種數字。

而我就很開心的開到了漫畫店,吃之前還看了幾頁柯南。

吃飽以後,還有頗多蝦仁煎沒吃完,這時候大小姐又突發奇想了。

「好,這次只能猜1到100的數字,大的人贏,輸的人吃。」

我馬上說:100*\(^o^)/*

Tina:(; ̄O ̄)不算,你這次要用想的,還我用說的,而且你不能猜100了。

然後就連她都覺得太好笑了,我們笑成一團。

我說:好啦,我有一個遊戲。你我各猜個數字,加起來奇數我贏,偶數你贏。

然後我竟然連贏三局,真的是運氣很好。不過我很尖頭鰻,最後幫她吃完。

我說:其實我有必勝的方法,剛剛才想到。要不要試試看?

她說:好啊。

我說:好,想好數字了嗎?一二三!

我:三萬兩千…
她:二十。
我:…三百二十一。贏了。

Tina: (O_o)

我:(^з^)-☆

我:我還有另一招必勝的方法。想好數字了嗎?一二三!
Tina: 五萬四千…
我:x + 1, where x = Tina 的數字。
Tina: …三百二十。
我:我贏了。
Tina (做完加法):(°_°)那三百二十一。
我:那我x+1=三百二十二。相加得奇數。(⌒▽⌒)

最後今晚的數學遊戲就在Tina解出她的必勝數字後圓滿告一段落。試問,她要說什麼數字才會必勝呢?

Please don’t play mind games with your doctor

I have taken this sad truth as a fact of life: most patients that I interview have an incomplete idea of many crucial aspects of their health. They don’t know what tests have been done, what they are for, what medications they are on, what conditions they have… And the list goes on.

Take for example, several weeks ago I interviewed a relatively well educated and intellectually intact patient, and this is how it roughly went:

Me: sir, what medical conditions do you have?

Patient: nothing, I have been healthy.

Me, knowing any question worth asking once is worth asking twice: any medical problems in the past?

Patient: nope.

Me: ok… What about your heart?

Patient: oh yeah, I had a heart attack and almost died 5 years ago.

So I went through the rest of his body systems one by one to help him remember other things like heart attacks that are generally considered “past medical problems”.

Me: ok, sir, do you take any medications?

Patient: no.

Me: nothing? No medications?

Patient: no.

Me: what about the diabetes and high blood pressure you told me about?

Patient: oh yeah I take metformin, metoprolol, candesartan, aspirin, Lipitor…

Me: orz…

Why did you say “no”? What did you think my question meant before? What if I was less patient or busier, and believed your answers when you so definitely gave them?

I don’t think the patients meant to do this on purpose. Usually it is simply miscommunication or something being lost in the language barrier. And sometimes we are at fault for asking unclear, ambiguous, or misleading questions.

But every so often, I can’t help but imagine a patient must be pulling a prank on me when I take a history. Maybe one day I will ask someone about their surgical history and they will say: “nothing, doc.” “And what’s this beeping in your chest?” “JUST KIDDING! I have a robotic heart! :D GOTCHA!!!”

Only in Taiwan

have I seen the following senario so widely accepted to be the norm:

My grandma, who is a happy and pretty healthy 82 year-old, recently had a cough. She has been afebrile, and maintained good hydration and appetite. She has no constitutional symptoms like malaise and weight loss either. Her cough is productive of some yellow phlegm, and it’s been going on for about a week, so she was prescribed some antibiotics and some antitussives, and was asked to follow up in the clinic in 3 days.

Bread and butter primary care, right?

Except she went to a pediatrician‘s office.

And the thing is, I would not have thought twice about this situation a few years ago, because that is really normal in Taiwan where I grew up. There are virtually no family docs (and no patient knows what family docs do even if they see one) on the streets where medical clinics tend to cluster and where patients go see doctors. There is no concept of longitudinal care either; if the doctor in this clinic isn’t helping, patients will go to the next one down the street. (And if all else fails, or if the patients decide the problem is serious enough, they will present to the best tertiary hospital they can get to.)

So that’s what my grandma did after seeing two different pediatricians and still had the cough. She went to an ENT surgeon’s clinic.

Yes. Ear, nose, and throat surgeons who went through years and years of extra surgical training to operate on some of the most vital (airway) and aesthetically important (face) areas of the body are common go-to doctors for mild URTI in Taiwan.

Imagine the hilarity if that happened in Canada. If a 82 year old woman is referred to a pediatrician for a case of mild URTI or bronchitis? Or, heaven forbid, an ENT surgeon? The primary doctor who made the referral would not even be taken seriously enough to be yelled at. The pediatrician’s or ENT’s secretary (or medical office assistant) would probably politely talk to the primary doc’s secretary and ask him or her to check the correct addressee.

Now, this is not a criticism of the patients or the doctors in Taiwan. Both parties are doing what everyone is doing, in a way how everything has been done. In other words, this is the current medical culture of Taiwan, and no one can be faulted for doing things in the most culturally accepted way.

But just because something has always been like that in the past doesn’t mean it should alway be the same in the future. Think about the downside of having streets of medical clinics run by specialists, advertised to be the former attending doctors or even heads of departments of prestigious tertiary hospitals and academic centers, to whom hundreds of ill patients and their worried families present any condition under the sun. The patients have only their understanding of the specialty title to base their self-referral on. “ENT? Sounds like a good doctor for coughing which is kinda in the throat.” “Stomachache? Probably like the ones I had when I was a kid. Let’s see the nice pediatrician who saw little Johnny last week.”

Well, for starters, the specialists would either go mad and burn out (“WHY AM I SEEING 30 CASES OF VIRAL DIARRHEA A DAY AS A COLORECTAL SURGEON!?”) or become content with being a GP. There goes years of intense, valuable specialty training. Also, the patients are probably getting suboptimal care because of their inappropriate self-referral. They can decide that an internist is the best for their child who is vomiting, but the internist may very well not know the complete list of differential diagnoses of pediatric vomiting by heart.

I can probably go on with the problems with the current medical model in Taiwan, but I think you get the idea. The bottom line is, this model probably poses a serious drain on the health care dollar, creates unnecessary confusion and suboptimal care for the patients, and leads to much headaches and burnouts for the doctors.

The big question is, how do we change it?

That, my friend, is a good question. If you can answer it well, you should consider becoming Taiwan’s health minister.

As for me, I just ordered some delish Chinese take out and will be too distracted after the break :)

Yum yum yum yum.