Healthcare

The sun had barely kissed Melbourne’s horizon when Zarlo was back on his quest. Inspired by yesterday’s revelations, he decided to further delve into the mysteries of the human shoulder. While elbows were fascinating, shoulders, he believed, held the true key to Earthling supremacy.

Zarlo’s Pleekonese translator device was in overdrive as he scrolled through Earth’s digital knowledge realm, what humans charmingly called the “internet.” That’s when he came across a fascinating procedure: shoulder replacement. “Ah-ha!” he exclaimed, tentacles flailing in excitement, “So Earthlings can get upgrades just like the Pleekonese MechWarriors!”

With a new mission in mind, Zarlo, wearing an oversized hat and sunglasses, went on to find the finest expert shoulder surgeon close to Melbourne. Dr James Parker, renowned in the city, found himself face to tentacles with the most unusual patient he’d ever seen.

“Doctor,” Zarlo began, “I wish to understand the intricate technology behind replacing the Earthling’s shoulder apparatus.” Dr Parker, having seen many a strange thing in his long career (though nothing quite like Zarlo), cleared his throat and began explaining, “Well, it’s a surgical procedure where the damaged parts of the shoulder are removed and replaced with artificial components.”

Zarlo’s three eyes widened. “Astounding! So, humans can shed old parts and install new ones? Like a modular spaceship!”

Dr Parker chuckled. “Not quite. It’s a complex procedure done to relieve pain and improve mobility. But the general idea is to help the patient regain a better quality of life.”

Excitedly sketching diagrams and jotting down Dr Parker’s words (often misinterpreting them wildly), Zarlo was in awe. He believed he’d stumbled upon the Earthlings’ secret: their ability to adapt and renew.

As the day concluded, Zarlo addressed his spaceship’s log: “Day Two – Earthlings have the astounding ability to refurbish themselves! Their resilience is a testament to their strength. Tomorrow, I shall explore more wonders of this incredible species.”

And as Melbourne slept, the stars twinkled knowingly, eagerly awaiting Zarlo’s next shoulder-inspired escapade.

There’s a lot to be said about feet, but the main thing is this: they’re where they belong. Probably my favourite thing about the human body is that feet are kept well away from me, down on the ground where I can tread on them day after day, and that’s where they should be, because they are gross. They do their job, but so do self-serve checkouts, and they definitely shouldn’t expect any respect from me. 

So that’s the way the cookie crumbles, but now my feet are crumbling, metaphorically, and I have to get myself a podiatrist. A foot specialist. A Cheltenham foot specialist. And that…is terrible. Well, no, it isn’t…I can go to Southland, maybe pick myself up a latte, see if Insanitary is selling the season 564 DVD of Week of Our Lives, and you know I never get to go shopping. I could take the day off work and have a lovely day trip.

But anyway…seeing a podiatrist. There’s a dichotomy there: my respect for people who’ve dedicated their lives to dealing with other people’s feet (and for this, I will eternally thank them), and also my trepidation going into a building that is dedicated to people taking off their shoes. Not only that; it’s a place where people take off their shoes so that they can have various foot ailments dealt with. Sometimes, those ailments include…ugh…fungus. I have to go and wash my hands after typing that.

…

Okay, I’m back. My hands smell like honey and jasmine, because I splash the cash for the really high-quality hand soap, but more importantly, I am cleansed. Maybe, when I book an appointment to get some kind of arch support insoles to fix what ails my ankle slaves, I’ll pay in both money and some really amazing hand soap recommendations. 

I’m just assuming, like all trained professionals, podiatrists would like to wash their hands fairly often. 

-Ilia

My grandma is pretty tech savvy for an 87 year-old. Not only does she own a full suite of interconnected devices, she also knows how to use them. She even managed to troubleshoot an issue with my tablet that had me stumped a few months back, and she’s forever recommending new podcasts. She loves them because they keep her in touch with current affairs and happenings that aren’t always adequately covered in the traditional news.

The latest show she’s been listening to is about emerging innovations in the health sector. Not surprisingly for someone of her age, she has a mounting list of assorted complaints that all require management, and she’s keen to be ahead of the curve. “You know how GPs are,” she’s always saying. “Lovely people, but they don’t know everything.” Well, of course they don’t know everything. I think I get what she means though. It probably becomes pretty apparent once you’re more than half a decade senior to your doctor.

Anyway, the latest episode of this show was an interview with an expert on hyperbaric medicine. Melbourne, the interviewer states in the introduction, is starting to see more of this particular type of therapy, which has been used to treat conditions ranging from decompression sickness to gangrene. Basically, it’s used where there’s an insufficient supply of oxygen to an area of the body’s tissues.

Now, one of my grandma’s health complaints is type 2 diabetes, and she’s been advised that she could be at risk of developing a foot ulcer – the prospect of which, understandably, deeply freaks her out. Obviously, managing her diabetes is the key thing to do, but she was interested to hear that there are treatments of this nature available should the necessity arise.

Having listened to the interview, I still don’t completely understand what the therapy actually entails, but it something to do spending time a chamber that has an ambient air pressure three times higher than the norm. I’m sure grandma could tell you the ins and outs – she kind of puts me to shame on these things.