Reinventing Me

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Aneurin Bevan, The National Health Service, and a Trip To The Doctor

Statue of Aneurin Bevan in Cardiff Queen Street

The collective principle asserts that... no society can legitimately call itself civilised if a sick person is denied medical aid because of lack of means.

That's a quote from one of my heroes - Aneurin Bevan, voted in an online poll as the number one Welsh hero, beating out competition even from luminaries such as Tom Jones and Richard Burton. Bevan had worked as a coal miner since the age of 13, and as a union official found himself leading the local miners in the 1926 General Strike. Three years later, he became the Member of Parliament for Ebbw Vale, a post he held right until his death in 1960. He was known for his supreme oratory, regularly exchanging verbal blows with his long-time political enemy, Winston Churchill.

But Bevan's enduring legacy is the formation of the United Kingdom's National Health Service, achieved when he became the Minister for Health and Housing in Clement Attlee's Labour government after the conclusion of the Second World War. He saw "the sale and purchase of medical practice as an evil in itself" and sought instead a program that was "free on the point of delivery". Ninety-seven percent of the British public were signed up within a month of 5 July 1948, the date when his National Health Service Act came into force. While the NHS has often been under attack, most particularly in the past thirty years and especially since healthcare reform has become a topic for discussion in the US, it has endured. In general, most British people are content with their system; during 2009, Professor Stephen Hawking went on record saying that, without the NHS, he wouldn't be alive today. In recent comparisons with six other wealthy nations, the United Kingdom's healthcare system ranked second overall, and number one when it came to efficiency. (The US, the country with the most expensive healthcare system in the world ranked last overall, and at best next to last in any of the dimensions of the study).

OK, I've made my point. I'm a product of that healthcare system. It was there for me when I came into the world; it saw me through my first 25 years as, overall, an exceptionally healthy individual. It's the reason both my parents are cancer survivors. And yet, it seems nobody can even mention healthcare without it becoming political. Why is that? You wouldn't expect your doctor to talk about politics, would you? Today, though, that's precisely what happened. I did something today I have never been able to do since moving to the United States. I went to see a doctor, without actually being ill - well, except for some little minor annoyance. (Cooties, I'm sure. Girl cooties, no doubt. Or her dog. Or her cat.) Why have I never been able to have preventive medical care up until now? Because, quite simply, I couldn't afford it. The last thing I wanted to hear this morning was a treatise about how "socialized" healthcare basically can't get to you until you're about to kick the bucket, and about the superiority of a system for which your insurance would "probably" pick up the tab, and if not, there were plenty of other programs.

He's absolutely right, of course. This is indeed a free market economy, and, as such, standard rules apply. As a paying customer, I am this doctor's employer. I was dissatisfied with his work, and I didn't think he was right for the job. So I did what any free market employer should do with that kind of employee. I fired him. I'll be seeing another doctor for my next visit.

He didn't even address my cooties either, but did suggest I could invest $110 for a slip cover for my bed sheets.

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Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Two navigation technologies, three centuries apart

This blue plaque remembering John Harrison is ...

Image via Wikipedia

(Disclaimer: Although I am employed by Telenav, Inc., a company specializing in GPS applications, there is nothing proprietary included in this article - it is all information readily available from sources such as Wikipedia).

Navigation has changed quite significantly over the years. For quite some time, mariners have been able to calculate their latitude - their distance north or south of the Equator - with reasonable precision; just measure the angle of the sun above the horizon when highest in the sky, adjust for the tilt of the earth and the progress of the seasons, and, with a considerable bit of geometry (quite literally) out comes the result. It takes quite some effort to compute by hand, but such an essential requirement at sea deserves that much attention.

Establishing longitude, however, is a considerably more challenging proposition. In theory, it's quite simple, provided you can accurately tell the time. The notion of time zones is familiar; with every degree of longitude one travels east or west (about sixty nautical miles at the equator), the times of sunrises and sunsets shift by four minutes. In other words, if an accurate clock was set in Greenwich and taken on board a ship, observing the sun at noon and checking the time difference gives the longitude. The problem, though, is to find an accurate timepiece, particularly one that would operate satisfactorily on a ship with wide ranges of temperature, humidity, rough seas, and so on. Measuring longitude precisely was so important to navigation that the British Parliament passed an act in 1714 establishing a prize, worth millions in modern terms, for anyone who could suitably make progress in this field. John Harrison was a man who dedicated his entire life to this problem, making succession after succession of better and better chronometers; quite a tall order for the times. The terms and conditions of the prize required an accuracy better than sixty miles for an Atlantic crossing before any money would be paid; as mentioned above, that requires the clock stays within four minutes of true over the entire trip.

Nowadays, with atomic clocks and GPS, it seems the problems of three hundred years ago are far behind us, but in fact, even GPS depends on something very similar to the longitude problem. While most people have some ideas exactly how GPS works, there may be some surprising details. Basically, GPS satellites transmit time signals. A receiver can read the time signal, compute exactly where the satellite should be at that time based on its known orbit, calculate the time the message took to arrive and hence the distance to the satellite, and, with a bit of triangulation from multiple satellites, work out exactly where on the Earth the receiver is. At least, that's the theory - but, with a little thought, you'll realize that can't possibly work.

Radio waves travel at the speed of light, three hundred million meters per second. Even if time measurements for GPS were accurate to a millionth of a second, that's three hundred meters - hardly the sort of accuracy everyone expects from their navigation devices. And the quartz crystals in our mobile devices - yes, those very same quartz crystals that were vaunted for their accuracy when they were included in digital watches - are nowhere near as accurate as that. (The important thing about quartz crystals is not their accuracy - it's that they're ridiculously cheap). If the clocks in the mobile devices drift, it would be very difficult to compute a position on Earth; in fact, the position calculated would be thousands of miles off and maybe not on the planet at all. So how can GPS achieve the results with the accuracy we're used to? Is there another John Harrison who found a way to measure the time more accurately?

Almost. Instead, the problem is solved in a slightly different way. Instead of using GPS to locate our position in three dimensions (which would in theory take three satellites), we have to also locate ourselves in a fourth dimension, time, which takes four satellites. In essence, while our devices will incorporate an error in any time observations, that time error should be pretty much the same for all of the GPS satellites that are being observed. The time error produces what is known as a dilution of precision. The more satellites that can be seen, the more precise the calculable result. Although it might seem that your GPS device or navigation program can position you precisely, it requires a considerable number of measurements from ever-moving satellites to get that precision, not to mention a fair amount of mathematics. Something worth thinking about, when you find yourself literally holding what was once a secret Department of Defense technology in the palm of your hand.

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Infographic: Travel and Vacation Statistics

Source:Online Classes

Infographic: Online Schooling - Visualizing Pi

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Wednesday, January 12, 2011

A Better Way Of Doing Business

Day 040/365 - The First Circle of Hell: Greed

Image by Great Beyond via Flickr

In the build-up to the holiday season, I was fortunate enough to be following a sneak peek preview of a most intriguing novel, Steve McAllister's The McAllister Code. I'll try to describe the book here, but that won't do it too much justice. Simply saying "It's about two wise-cracking aliens who visit Steve and convince him to write a book that will turn his hometown of Sarasota, FL into a marketing mecca" seems like it wouldn't achieve too much, but that's exactly what the book is about.

Or rather, that's what the book isn't about. There are several other recurrent themes throughout it, some striking, some novel, and some that will strike a chord with many readers. (There's my plug: go buy the book as I intend to, and tell @inkensoul I sent you). One theme Steve reiterates is something that I have believed for a long time. Businesses can be successful without being evil. For a long time it has been held that the "greed is good" images perpetuated in the Nineties were the model of how businesses should compete; win-lose, zero-sum games, triumph or die. One of Stephen Covey's seven habits is often quoted as "strive for win-win" yet only recently have companies appeared that can actually thrive on that model. It takes a huge amount of nerve to be the first adopter of that kind of policy and exchange short-term gains for long-term successes for all. It seems to be the sort of strategy that is only successful, once everyone accepts it. Although I was intrigued, I must admit, I had my doubts that such businesses could be successful. Yet, even as I read the daily excerpts from Steve's book, I ran into the following three quite remarkable examples.

Firstly, I'd like to mention Qualatek, right here in Hollister, California. My change in circumstances recently meant that C and I ended up sharing a laptop for a little while. This was quite an enlightening experience for C, as, suddenly she discovered that sharing a computer with a code monkey is quite a proposition as the poor machine begins to grunt and groan under the strain. I believe it lasted somewhere around a week before the monitor gave up the ghost. A quick peek inside seemed to confirm that it was a worn-out cable; it also confirmed what I believed about the interior of laptops. Nobody in their right mind should try to get inside one. It takes a can opener, and the number of bits and pieces is simply mind-boggling. Hence I started on my search for a repair professional, which is relatively easy, provided you don't mind being treated like dirt. Typically, computer repair folks will charge you the earth for an initial 'diagnosis', after which they'll then tell you what you might expect to pay should you decide to repair it or not. You're out of pocket immediately. Both C and I have had bad experiences this way that have left a terrible aftertaste. Enter Nick from Qualatek, who quite happily accepted my initial diagnosis, sat on an eBay auction for the missing part over the Christmas break, ordered it without even setting eyes on the machine, took the machine to fit it, and let me know that didn't cure the problem, then ordered a new display - all without any strong-arm or hard sales tactics. The whole experience has built such a level of trust that I know he is going to fix the problem, competently and economically, and I won't hesitate to recommend him to everyone. A wonderful way of doing business.

That "change in circumstances" I mentioned above was finding myself unemployed just before Christmas. Of course, everybody makes a comment that it's a terrible time to find yourself out of work, as if there was ever a good time, as if your sudden lack of a paycheck would overshadow the festivities and that would be the only thing on your mind. Of course, it's true it isn't a good time to be looking for work - but for many other reasons. So many corporate HR departments and recruiters are taking time off for the holidays that getting a response from anyone is difficult in itself. In December, I made something like sixty submissions to many and varied companies in the area, using the big-name job search sites that everyone has heard of. In the midst of all this I discovered Jobfox, and can certainly testify to its effectiveness. Like the other sites, there are benefits for premium membership, offers for resume writing services, and so on - of course, the companies have to make their money - but I was most surprised at the level of questions required during my initial sign-up for an account. As a result, the opportunities I was offered, which from the other sides were simply the same old stale postings that I'd seen throughout Christmas, were new, fresh, and more importantly, precisely targeted to my skills. The other sites had been fruitless for a month. It seemed within a week of Jobfox, I was well on my way to securing my current post. (Another mention here of course goes to my new employer, who distinguished themselves by acting surprisingly quickly over the Christmas and New Year break while other companies and recruiters let the holiday slip by).

Finally, one more mention of how human ways of doing business really make all the difference. We ate at Flames in San Jose after one of my job interviews, and were amazed at the friendly atmosphere, quality (and quantity!) of food on offer. We had a good conversation with the table server about where I had been that day, and wishing me good luck in my search. Of course, a recommendation for a restaurant always comes with a risk. You wonder whether or not your experience was a one-off; whether next time you go there it will not meet expectations, or worse, you take someone else there and things are terrible. C and I decided we were going to take two of her sisters there for their dinner after arriving in San Francisco airport last week. Fortunately, the food quality met - no, exceeded - our previous expectations, everyone enjoyed the food and the atmosphere. The biggest surprise though was most unexpected, the table server from our previous visit recognized us, asked me very directly and specifically about whether I had had any luck in the job search, and remembered so much from our previous visit. He surely had served hundreds of people in the interim, yet remembered everything, treated us well, and of course earned his tip. That's service, and that's a better way of doing business for everyone.

The coconut pie was wonderful, too.

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Sunday, January 2, 2011

It's No New Year's Resolution, It's More Than That

Image via Wikipedia

Oh, there were so many blog posts to read in my reading list yesterday, all with so many familiar titles. It doesn't matter the style of the blog; the commercial, the personal, the fiction writers; one subject dominated over and above anything else yesterday. New Year's Resolutions.

I suppose I ought to get one thing straight before marching on. I'm all for any exhibition of resolve, a commitment on the part of the individual to achieve something, ambitions, affirmations. By all means, make promises to yourself for the coming year, and if January 1 is the trigger that's needed to make that happen, so be it. But there's an implicit assumption in that "New Year's Resolution" phrase; The whole concept is weighted down by the cynicism that, in all honesty, the resolution won't be kept. There are plenty of statistics to bear this out; about one-fourth of the resolutions are broken within the first week, and over half don't make it past the first six months. On the plus side, it's generally considered better to try and fail; going through the motions of setting a resolution does improve your chances of achieving something; setting concrete, measurable goals (such as an amount of weight to lose by a given time) makes success far more likely as well.

I haven't made resolutions officially for many years; not since I was a child. The nearest I got to a resolution was a commitment to keep the diary filled out that my grandmother had given me for Christmas. The realization that my twelve-year old life wasn't all that exciting meant this was one of those resolutions destined not to make it past the first week. This year, I did toy with the idea of resolving to update my blog daily. It's now January 2. Whoops. The important part though about a resolution shouldn't be whether it's tied to a date; it's something you can choose to do, any time. I chose to stop smoking, and that had nothing to do with the calendar. I chose a gym membership and I chose to go there and exercise. (I have also chosen not to go there on many, many mornings). The element of choice is important. Even when circumstances seem beyond your control or are outside your sphere of influence, you do have a choice whether you wish things to stay that way.

Originally, the purpose of this series of blog posts was to track significant changes in my life, opinions, and environment, to see how they affected me personally and professionally. I'm just beginning the third year of that change; I could never have foreseen any of this. It started in 2009 with a commitment to expand my horizons; push myself professionally; try some new ventures; start writing and blogging the way always said I would; meet some new people. It was all a question of outlook; diverting my gaze somewhere other than the navel I'd been focused on, seemingly for years. I didn't commit to any particular change, but change did indeed happen. There were professional successes, and more than one or two destabilizing events at work. There was a fair amount of self-improvement; I read more, I studied more, I played more, and, quite unexpectedly, my world changed virtually overnight as my partner and I found each other. 2010 began with promises to each other; dedication to face the hardships and obstacles ahead, to get through them together, to make the journey next to each other and to experience so many 'firsts' together; birthdays, Christmas, and New Years.

And now, 2011. There are still challenges to be faced. These are new challenges brought upon by these still recent, astonishing changes; few of them have been easy, some have been painful, and others are accompanied by hostility. On more than one occasion, and from more than one direction, we have felt ill at ease; believing that forces outside us were at work, pushing against us, putting our resolve to the limits, and sometimes leading to disagreements. We never thought we would be immune from argument, but were resolved to keep communicating. Between ourselves, we manage just fine. When it comes to others, it is more difficult. We discussed this in detail yesterday morning. No matter what darkness, what wickedness, or what other feelings of opposition get sent our way, we will send them back. With love.

It's no New Year's Resolution. It's more than that.

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Thursday, December 16, 2010

The Leftover At The Bottom Of The Sink

Image via Wikipedia

It was always the same.

Loading the dishwasher was never a glamorous job, but it was something I'd learnt to make the most of. I felt something of a oneness with the dish brush, the handle filled with the vivid purple soap, dispensed through its all-too-worn brushes with a squeeze of the handle. I'd joked that I wanted a new one of these for Christmas. In a way, though, I'm not sure if I could handle that. This brush and I have been through a lot together. A lot of cups with all manner of clabber at the bottom of them; plates with remnants of food I can't even remember eating; cereal, stuck to the bottom of bowls with incredible resolve. They ought to stick those heat tiles on the space shuttle using soggy corn flakes. They'd never have any problems with them coming off, then.

The top shelf was always the easiest. First the cups, once, of course, they'd been retrieved. The ones that had been sipped out while watching TV, left on the coffee table; the ones on the bedside tables that had held our midnight sleepytime drinks; those which had inexplicably ended up in the other room and been forgotten about, sat there abandoned. There was surely some moral about what labor-saving devices had done to our society, here. That so few of us could completely fill a top shelf with soiled cups from one load to another? That seemed something like inordinate extravagance. I remember the "good" old days, only having one cup, one bowl, one plate. If they were clean, I ate. If they were soiled, that was a meal I missed. Nothing was more encouraging than hunger to make sure the chores got done.

The bottom shelf followed, by now, I was well into the swing of it. The plates, encrusted with the remains of the meals, got a cursory rinse and scrub with the brush before getting loaded in, then the various kitchen miscellany; the mixing bowls, the measuring containers, the smaller saucepans, the cheese grater, all jiggling and jostling for position between the tines of the lower rack. A small optimization exercise; it was surely possible to get them all in, get the entire sinkful done in one go. It just needed a bit of creative packing, that's all. This smaller container could go under this larger one; there, plenty of room. Next, the utensils, an easy enough job. Picking them up, meticulously yet subconsciously sorting them, putting the forks into this side of the basket, then the knives, then the spoons.

There it was again. As always, the same leftover in the bottom of the sink. The unidentifiable lid, seemingly always filthy. It must be part of the food processor, but I never knew where it belonged. I scrubbed it briefly with the brush, placed it in an empty slot on the top shelf, put the soap tablet in, closed the lid, and started the machine.

It was always the same. But perhaps this time, I would learn something new.

Unloading the dishwasher was never a glamorous job, but it was something I'd learnt to make the most of. The organizing, the putting away, the making the most of the space we had, all seemed to bring its own reward. The cups and glasses never seemed to fit back in the cupboard where they belonged; the plates balanced precariously; the storage containers were just squeezed in wherever space remained. One day I'll reorganize this cabinet. Not today. And last, but not least, the leftover. The curious lid. I took it and placed it next to the blender. Someone else would know how exactly it fit.

"It's very clean," the familiar voice uttered. "You do such a good job with that, every time."

"Thanks, love," I replied sheepishly. "I still don't know where it goes, though."

"Back in the sink. It's the plug to the waste disposal."

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