Tenofovir Vaginal Gel prevents HIV infection. Is this a good idea? Really?

Now before I get cut down like tree in the Amazonian rain forest, hear me out.

Firstly, let me congratulate the developers and researchers on producing a microbicide vaginal gel that reduces the transmission of HIV by 50%.  That’s great. That’s a huge leap forward, considering we had nothing before. So having moved from Zero to One is great in that respect.

What gets my goat is how this has been touted as “finally there is hope for women”.  Finally, women have something to fight the risk of HIV infection.

Now let me clear something up.  This isn’t a quick fix solution.  The gel has to be applied 12 hours before intercourse, and then within 2 hours after intercourse to have the stated efficacy.

Hmm…lets think about that….the woman has to apply it 12 hours BEFORE she will be forced/urged/coerced into having UNPROTECTED intercourse.  How will she know this?  And if she knows she’ll be doing this, shouldn’t she be encouraging her partner to use a condom? 

To me, this isn’t going to empower women, its going to further entrench the fact that many women are in abusive relationships and we’re going to condone it.  Not only are we going to condone it, but we’re going to give them something to feel better about it.

Bottom line is this.  If your partner doesn’t respect your wishes and fears enough to A. get tested for HIV, and B. wear a condom (which is both contraceptive and protective against STD), then drop him like its hot, and move on.

Lets be clear.  The Vaginal Gel is a poor choice in the Fight against HIV.
Follow the A B C rather.  Abstain.  Be Faithful. Condomise.

Thats my 2 cents.  What’s your comments?

I ❤ my Mac. I really do.

I’ve been a geeky computer user since the age of 6. My first computer was a Commodore CBM. It used BASIC as a language, had no hard drive and was completely text based, with a monotone green screen. If you wanted to play a game on it, you had to enter the programme line by line. You used to get books with prewritten programmes that you would just copy line by line in. Some games were simple. it only had 1 A4 sized page of programming lines. Others were more complex, and had 10. The crappy bit was that after spending days entering the programme data, you’d play the game and either discover the programme was faulty or that the game was crappy. Mostly the game was crappy.

A few years later, when my cousin was getting married and needed extra money, my dad bought his computer over from him. It was a quantum leap in computing, an XT, with 20meg Hard Disk, a CGA monitor, and 640kb of memory. It was The screen showed 16 colours, it ran MS-DOS. Wow. this thing was the shit.

Then 286, 386, 486, Pentium I, G3 Mac Pentium II, Viao P3, G4 Quicksilver Mac, each one was a masterpiece of computing power in its time.

Now, I use a macbook, but the sobering thought is that in 2 years it will be redundant too.

Is this what happens to people? Do people become redundant in this way? Will we oneday be nothing better than doorstoppers? Or will we leave a lasting legacy? I guess the choice is yours. Create your legacy the way you want to. Be the person you want to be remembered for.

Or you could be like Capt. Jack Sparrow and take what you can, and give nothing back.

Been a long time….

It’s been a long time…but I just saw this hilarious pamphle and I just had to share it. Now we’ve all seen these pamphlets by so-called doctors that claim to be able to cure everything from money problems to impotence….but never have I seen one worded so hilariously!

I especially like: “Just bring your penis to me. I will work on your penis and you will leave with a surprise”

Old Town vs New Town

Change is inevitable.  People change. Places Change. What’s sad is when things change from old and authentic to fake and superficial.

For me the old parts of the city of cape town that had always been rich in history is changing but not for the better.  Everything looks like a fusion of old with splattering of new-age chrome and plastic, all aimed at appealling a certain crowd.  You know what crowd I’m talking about, young people in their mid 20’s to mid 30’s who are still hedonistically going through life with no cares about tomorrow, or the plight of  their fellow man.  Double incomes with no kids.  And in some cases, particularly in the case of a place like The Cape Quarter, it goes even further to attract a really more specific crowd, ie. rich couples with money to burn.

But the rich history and culture of the city and it’s people are being thrown to the wayside in favour of these consumers who don’t live in the real world.  It brings to light the stark contrasts of the country we live in. That with the space of 10 km, you can find multi-million dollar palatial residences right alongside communities of people living below the breadline.

What are your views on places like these in your city?

Karma

I’m a firm believer in “what goes around comes around”.  And up until 20 minutes ago I was thinking to myself I must have done some cosmically shitty stuff recently cos the day I just had, had to be the worst in recent history.  (When I say recent, i really only mean the last 6 months).

So lets start at the beginning.  It’s wet. It’s rainy.  And everyone that owns a vehicle is using it today, so you know what the traffic is like.  So today of all days I need to be on the road driving from one hospital to the next.  Except it wasn’t raining when I left home, so I didn’t take a jacket with me.

And it’s just my luck that on the days I get to work at a hospital close to the waterfront, very close, that it should rain and howl.  I mean, why couldn’t I get the summer days?  (The whole reason I am here today is because one of my colleagues is ill in bed.  Why’d he have to get ill in the middle of winter?  I hope it’s swine flu.)

But I first had to go to my office at the other hospital.  I went there, did the work I needed to, packed my case, and made my way to the car.  By now it was pouring.  so it was a mad dash to the car.  At the car, I discovered that I had left my keys in my office.  FUCK.  So mad dash in the rain back to the office.  Soaking wet, I discovered that my keys were not in the office and the only other place it could be was in the ward.  I retrieved it from the ward and made my way back through the pouring rain to my car.

On the road now, travelling at snail’s pace towards the hospital. And there is only shit on the radio.  And on talk radio is only a bunch of idiots talking and complaining about how some doctors charge more than others.  And the damn Deejay was the one saying it, yet when challenged by a caller that his argument actually held no water, since another DJ may charge more than he does to MC an event………anyways…..thank goodness for MP3’s.

At the hospital. Had to park 4oom away from the hospital entrance becuase the construction of the GreenPoint Stadium was causing havoc even there.  400m Dash in the rain.  Pouring Rain.  Usain Bolt eat your heart out.  I must have been faster over 400m than you are over 200m.

(Running in the rain should be an Olympic Event)

Now apart from this hospital being close to the waterfront…..theres isn’t anything good about it.  It’s run down, it’s overcrowded.  And worst of all a significant female from my past works there.  Not only works there, but is part of the team I have to oversee.  And how significant?  Let’s just say I asked a question and she said no.  So yeah, I’m only doing it cos I have to.

So after my Usain Bolt beating dash for the door, it looked like I had of course not driven to the hospital but instead swam over.  Given the proximity to the sea, this does not seem that unplausible.   I got some theatre scrubs and donned them, and left my clothes by the heater in the on call room.

Some things seem like a good idea at the time.  But really they’re not.  Hindsight is 20/20.

In Grey’s Anatomy (TV Show), the On-Call room is often the scene of some heated “fireworks”.  No such luck in my world unfortunately.  Only Fire. FIRE.  FIRE!!!!  ALARM!  EVACUATION!

Shew ok, not that bad.  but it seems that leaving wet clothing too close to a heater is really not a good idea. even if it’s not a bar heater.  So the clothing caught fire.  And there were screams of FIRE EXTIGUISHER!  and the smell of burnt clothing could be smelt down the corridor.  On my arrival at the on-call room all I saw was the haze of the fire extinguisher and a smoldering mess on the floor of the on call room, and ash everywhere.!!!!

Of course no one was pleased initially….but later….I couldnt stop laughing.

Because the irony was…..today is that hospital’s 150th birthday

I could see the headlines now….”Visiting doctor burns down hospital on its 150th birthday!” with a subtext…..”doctor rejected by hospital employee”

I can laugh about it.  I can.

And up until 25 minutes ago I thought I must have done something to deserve this.  Something bad.

But then something else happened. Someone else told me they had had a bad day.  And I told them that today I burnt my clothes.  And made them forget about their bad day for maybe a minute.  I got to be there for someone going through something I went through 18 months ago.

And 18 months ago, someone else was there for me.  It was full circle.

Karma.

Four Fueds and a Funeral

Gosh Darn.

Relatives. You gotta hate ’em. Or do you?
I’m not so sure anymore. I used to be.

I’ve been meaning to blog in a while, and well I haven’t been feeling very motivated in the last two months. However, reading about Aasia’s recent loss brought it all back to me. I recently lost a close uncle. When I say close, I mean my mom’s youngest brother. The sad thing is, I can’t remember when the last time was that I saw him alive.

And the reason is that I had been in a self-imposed exile when it came to family, as a result of feuds and bitterness within the family circle. I had resolved to take the higher moral ground, and not interact with the relatives in question, but this by extension caused that I did not see my close relatives often. And this was fine by me.

Until my uncle passed away suddenly and with much emotional trauma. I was suddenly thrust into the forefront of dealing with family disasters, and often had to address gatherings of my extended family, and all looking at me for guidance. Suddenly selective interaction became extremely difficult.

And when it came to preparing my uncles body for burial, that’s when it struck home. A few of us were assisted by gentleman whom Aasia refers to as a Toekamanie (Malaysian terminology for a person who bathes bodies in preparation for burial). Between those few men in that closed room a unspoken bond occurs sharing this experience. Whatever occurs in that room, you don’t speak about to anyone else. It remains a secret which you take to the grave.

Here is the part that shook it all up for me. One of the guys in that room, was the very person that I had been avoiding for the past few years. And I just thought….to hell with it. You can’t hate a guy who has bathed a body with you. You just can’t.

I wanna just thank those people who helped me cope during this time, and they know who they are. It was an awful load to carry, thanks for letting me share the load.

Recession!!!

Now I know we’re in a recession….

Nestlé is now producing a ONE-FINGER kit-kat.

One Fingered Kit Kat

DAMN!  How is ONE-FINGER supposed to give me “a break?”

The Spawn Shall Know These 10 Things.

Dearest Kay tagged me.  Now firstly, I don’t do tags.  Ok maybe that’s a lie.  I did it once.  But then I think I did it so bad, that no-one bothered to tag me again.

Things I’d want my unborn child to know, I’d want them to know practical stuff.  But at the same time I’d want them to know stuff that it took me years to figure out.  Stuff that no-body ever told me. Like for instance:

• There are better ways to make money than being a doctor.
• Or that being a doctor is not about making money.

See, for sheer practical advice, then the first bit works brilliantly. But then it took me a few years to figure out, that the reason I kept on doing it was for the second part.

Practical Advice

1. Righty Tighty.  Lefty Loosy.
2. Don’t run with untied laces.
3. If you get chased by bullies, drop the book-bag, it’ll only slow you down, and your lifes not worth it. Also, see point 2 above.
4. If she’s smiling at you, make sure it’s not because there is spinach in your teeth.
5. If you’ve only stayed in the Airport parking less than an hour, make sure you have banknotes smaller than R200, or you’ll never need to make small change again. ever.
6. If you notice a defect on something you’ve bought, take it back as soon as you see it.  And not 3 day’s after the warranty expires.
7. Do not buy clothes that are slightly tight in the anticipation of expected weight loss. That’s money wasted.
8. Brush twice a day, floss, and use mouth wash.  You’ll thank me in 50 years.
9. Do not carry an expensive fountain pen in a tight jeans pocket.
10. Do not spray lighter fluid on an open flame.  If you forget this part, and the bottle catches alight and falls to the floor, DO NOT try to douse it with your foot. Especially if the foot is attached to a leg wearing shiny flammable trousers.

Mmm.  Now the other stuff:

1. Be God-fearing
2. love unconditionally
3. if you find someone you love. fight for them.
4. do things because you enjoy them, not because it’ll make you rich.
5. that said, find an easy way to make money so that you can spend more time doing things you enjoy.
6. be a good friend and sibling
7. be an example to others of outstanding morality and ethics.
8. don’t limit yourself. there are no limits to what you can achieve as long it’s done with 7. in mind
9. Sometimes it’s ok to think with your heart instead of your head.
10. Make mistakes, but learn from them

That’s it.  There are loads more I suppose, especially practical tips, but I think that number 10. on the second list is probably the most important thing I would want them to know.

Thanks Kay, this was a good exercise, to let me think what’s important to me in people.

Good day

Just as i left work this afternoon, one of my colleagues offered me one of the best I’ve ever tasted….

I’m in chocolate eclair heaven…

Thanks to Kay, I now know who Sylvia Plath is.  For those that didn’t know, in Dew’s words, she was this awesome poet that gassed herself to death.  Apparently suicide is much more common among female poets, and in fact this has been coined the Sylvia Plath Effect.  But what is it with writers and poets that make them wanna off themselves?  Wikipedia lists about 280 in a category, Writers That Offed Themselves. Or is it that mentally unstable people like to enter the arts, and there products are seen as masterpieces because it is just so outside the box?  And then they off themselves.  Which of course pushes them into the realm of literary superstars. Then they get Wikipedia pages.

No offence to my poetic brothers and sisters out there….I’m talking about you yes, Kay, Nooj, Parasputin. I just don’t get it.  (And no MJ, writing limericks do not make you a poet.)  See, I don’t get why you write them, and then publish them.  I say this because I know they’re not mean’t to be understood fully.  Surely only the poet knows what he means when he writes.

The lay person (me) out there definitely doesn’t understand them.  He tries.  And tries.  And then thinks he does. but he doesn’t!  Sure, he may interpret it in a certain way, but I’m positive that the poet didn’t intend it to be deciphered easily.

I think it’s a big joke.  Seriously.  I think the poet has written himself a private little joke and  is just cracking up at the multitudes on WRONG interpretations made by the readers.  Especially the pseudointellectual readers that think they understand it, and have smug expressions when you look at them and say, “i don’t get it”.  You know the type, they wear black, usually have berets, they gather in dimly lit underground coffee houses, and listen to recitals.  And instead of clapping, they snap their fingers for applause.

If Shakespeare was alive now, he’d be cracking himself up.  All those academics trying to decipher the real meaning of the Merchant of Venice, or The Tempest, or his collection of sonnets and getting it WRONG.

I’ll be honest.  When you guys write poetry, I don’t get it.  And I don’t think anyone else does either! I’m not saying you should stop,  but if you’re making a joke, could you please at least let me in on it!

But maybe it’s just me.