I get all kinds of mail at the Volusia County Health Department. Most of it is quite pleasant to read. There are letters that flatter me personally and the department as a whole. I also see the thank you notes from grateful community partners. But every now and then something comes across my desk that is truly bizarre.
My recent article about events in Iraq brought forth a host of letters. They were eloquent statements of shared fear and common horror, of the need to seek solace in the small while striving toward the grand. I truly cannot do justice to them, so I won't even try. Res ipsa loquitor let them speak for themselves.
A book called The Music of the Primes recently crossed my reading table. It s the tale of how millennia of mathematicians have tried to unravel the mysteries of prime numbers. I m not a math guy whatsoever, but the book was interesting in that it showed how mathematicians think and that many of them are just plain nuts.
This past week I had nearly finished a new set of writings for the JEMS Web site. The pieces started out describing an evening on a gambling boat and led to a discussion of why both casinos and EMS managers need to think of people as numbers. It seemed a decent concept as it came to life on my computer, and someday it still may be.
We know that training students in clinical procedures is a difficult issue. Even if we ignore the problem of too many students competing for too few procedures, concerns about liability, supervision, reimbursement and technical problems remain.
From time to time, I like to pretend that I'm still in academics. That's why I was excited when my friend Dr. Dennis Vincenzi, assistant professor of human factors and systems at Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University, invited me out for a beer a few weeks ago.
Last week in part 1 of this series, I introduced the topic of perception, as discussed by Dr. Edward Racht, EMS medical director for Austin/Travis County, Texas, during the 2004 CHANGES Conference in Augusta, Ga.
In March, I found myself cruising west over the South Carolina Midlands toward the Georgia line. It was a misty day, eerie, with small patches of clear sky only at the peak of the rolling hills. From the CD player, Glen Campbell was wailing in his best Jimmy Webb mode; and as I crossed the Savannah River, I found that Gov. Sonny Perdue was glad I had "Georgia on my Mind."
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