Scrubs

I saw them on the T in Boston. I see them crossing the street in Seattle. And it makes me wonder: why do people wear medical scrubs out on the street?

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought the whole point of scrubs was to have a cleaner set of clothes when interacting with patients, to keep the hospital clean, to be easily tossed in the wash and replaced when things got a tad too messy in surgery.

Doesn’t wearing scrubs on the street negate all that? They pick up the dust from home, the pollution from the roadway, the sneeze from the guy on the bus. And they bring all these goodies in close contact to the vulnerable patients needing care.

I can only speculate why people do this. One hypothesis is that the doctors and poor med students are pressed for time, and it’s such a time savings to not have to decide what to wear, only to get to the hospital and have to change into scrubs. Why, just wear scrubs all day and be done with it!

Maybe hospitals don’t have enough lockers for all the personnel to change into medical uniforms. Or maybe it’s a money-saving measure to have them launder their own, since the hospitals already have to deal with other biohazards and patient gowns and what have you.

Or maybe it’s a status thing: “this is the uniform I wear all day, so I might as well wear it on the street, and oh-did-you-notice-that-I’m-in-medicine?” Not that there’s anything wrong with that; we all want recognition and appreciation, and we all seek to identify ourselves as members of one group or another, whether it’s working for a Good Internet Company or being a policeman or participating in a group ride.

But still, seeing scrubs on the street irks me as a subcultural fashion statement that undermines putting the patient first. (That said, it seems that the lab coat may be on its way out.)

If you read this and you wear scrubs, I’d love to hear your side of the story.

Rapt

I recently finished reading Rapt: Attention and the Focused Life by Winifred Gallagher. It talks about why paying attention is good and shapes your life experience, and offers a few reminders as to how to do so. It was OK reading, though I expected it to be either more of an analysis of the state of rapt attention itself, or a book explaining how to pay attention better. It’s not quite either of those. It wasn’t a waste of time, but it certainly wasn’t as enthralling as I had hoped.

STP 2009


View Larger Map

This weekend, Knox and I rode the Seattle to Portland Classic. Doing it at least once is de rigeur if you call yourself a biker in the Northwest. In fact, it was the one big ride I wanted to do this year; all the other ones we just added in our cabin-fever enthusiasm this past winter.

I enjoyed the ride very much. For the most part, it wasn’t terribly scenic, though we had magnificent views of Mt. Rainier as we rode towards Renton, and traversed some pretty farm country in southern Washington. There were thousands of riders, in all varieties: the super-fast cyclists, of course, as well as families with kids, folks with physical disabilities, and occasional riders who were struggling in pain the whole way.

In a ride of this size, one didn’t really have a chance to pretend to be riding alone, but people were well-mannered for the most part. I had to chuckle, though, about the various archetypes that manifested themselves:

  • those with the need for speed, passing constantly on the left with nary a heads up or a gap between themselves and the slower bikers

  • the wanna-be bike teams, often a collection of the above, riding back-tire-to-front-tire, as though this were a race where drafting mattered or made much of a difference

  • the social butterflies riding two or three abreast in spite of the rules, taking up the whole wide shoulder and making it hard to pass

  • the super-conscientious bike-citizens, gesticulating wildly now with their left hand, now with their right, at every single minor bump, pothole, and grating on the road

  • the citizen’s posse, a collection of the above, who would emit a chorus of “stopping” “STOPping” “stooopping” “stopping!!” followed by “going!” “Going!” “GOOO-ING” “going!” at every stop sign. The imp in me was very tempted to see whether I could start a chorus of my own by infiltrating them and yelling out “farting!”

Cascade’s support was really good, I thought: the food was ample and delicious (the best PB&J I’ve had, and some delicious turkey wraps). There were long lines for food and water at several of the rest stops, though; I wonder whether there’s a way to organize that better.

We’re thinking that the next time we bike to Portland, we’ll do it on our own, but I was glad to get this ride under my belt. It was the first time I biked two centuries in two consecutive days!

In Defense of Food

Who would have thought food needs defending? And yet Michael Pollan manages to do just that in his acclaimed book In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto. The book’s recommendations appear in the first sentence (and on the cover): “Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.”

Pollan book makes the case for these dicta in three sections. The first traces the rise of “nutritionism,” the ideology that what we should eat can be reduced down to a set of studied nutrients, the proper proportions of which will be made known by technocrats. It was in this section that my biggest beef with the book is most prominent: Pollan seems to blame “science” in general for our sorry nutritional state, and in so doing almost appears to have a neo-Luddite reverence for the Wonderful Way Things Were. I think his case would be just as strong if he focused the blame where it belongs: in an industrial era hubris that we were unlocking all the mysteries and could synthesize the perfect way to live, in an industry concerned with profits above all else, and in a government that finds it hard to resist lobbying. That recasting of blame out of the way, his chronicle of the history is informative and his conclusions sensible.

The second section explores what makes the “Western diet” (actually, the typical American diet) so bad. He cites:

  • The shift from whole foods to refined
  • The shift from nutritional and chemical complexity to simplicity: over and over we think we’ve identified all the crucial nutrients, only to find out later that there’s something else, or some unknown synergistic effect that we don’t understand.
  • The shift from quality to quantity
  • The shift from leaves to seeds, the latter of which are more calorie-packed but don’t contain the same diversity of nutrients
  • The shift from food culture (your family and environment telling you what to eat) to food science (the high priests of nutrition pronouncing that you need this or that nutrient).

The third section contains recommendations for the individual food consumer. He suggests that we abandon the “Western” (sic) diet and take the time to get to know, prepare, and savor real food slowly, as other cultures do. Specifically, we should

  • Eat food. This means real food, not “food-like substances”:
    • Don’t eat anything your great-grandmother would not recognize as food
    • Avoid food products containing ingredients that are a) unfamiliar, b) unpronounceable, c) more than five in number, or that include d) high-fructose corn syrup
    • Avoid food products that make health claims
    • Shop the peripheries of the supermarket and stay out of the middle to get the fresh food and avoid the pre-packaged goods.
    • Get out of the supermarket whenever possible and go instead to farmers’ market or your own yard. Get to know your food source.
  • Eat mostly plants:
    • Eat mostly plants, especially leaves. Near-vegetarians are just as healthy as vegetarians. Leaves are less calorie-laden than seeds.
    • You are what what you eat eats too: the value of your own diet depends on the value of the diet that your own foodstuffs consume. Pastured animal foods are much more nutritious than grain-fed animal foods. [And indeed, the eggs that we recently bought at the farmers' market had bright orange yolks from, apparently, the beta carotene in the green grass.]
    • If you have the space, buy a freezer so you can shop in bulk and in season at the farmers’ market and have good food year-round.
    • Eat well-grown food from healthy soils. Organic [is that where the food term comes from?] rather than chemical fertilizers are best for the plants and the entire food chain, including us.
    • Eat wild foods when you can. They have to be versatile and defend themselves from biological predators, and are likely to have a wider variety of healthful nutrients as a result.
    • Be the kind of person who takes supplements (that is, someone concerned about their health), but then save your money (except for a multivitamin as you get older).
    • Eat more like the French. Or the Italians. Or the Japanese. Or the Indians. Or the Greeks. Just eat foods the way cultures generally have, because they have accumulated and tested preparation knowledge over the years that turns out to be quite effective in extracting nutrition from their comestibles.
    • Regard non-traditional foods with skepticism
    • Don’t look for the magic bullet in the traditional diet. Whole dietary patterns appear to matter much more than isolated nutrients.
    • Have a glass of wine with dinner.
  • Don’t eat too much:
    • Pay more, eat less. Quality over quantity.
    • Eat meals. Stop snacking already! Sit down and make the meal a ritual.
    • Do all your eating at a table. A real table.
    • Don’t get your fuel from the same place your car does: no gas stations.
    • Try not to eat alone.
    • Eat slowly, both literally and in the Slow Food sense.
    • Cook and, if you can, plant a garden. Get to know your food.

This was an informative, inspiring, and fun book to read. Recommended.

Beyond greenwashing

Switching to energy-efficient lightbulbs and fastidiously recycling is all well and good at home, but to really effect the urgent change that we need to avert the imminent climate catastraphe, we need to systemically change the way we do things—which means the way business does things. This is the message of Getting Green Done: Hard Truths from the Front Lines of the Sustainability Revolution by Auden Schendler.

Schendler intersperses his call to action with anecdotes from his experience as director of sustainability at the Aspen Skiing Company. Yes, a luxury ski resort that is figuring out that its long-term livelihood depends on the health of the planet!

The book offers insight into what it takes for business to go truly green (beyond “greenwashing”), though I thought it had limited value for me as a consumer. Still, it’s an interesting read, and a necessarily urgent one for businesses and policymakers.