
There are several joys of getting older in medicine. First there are more stories to tell the ever-rotating batches of juniors, usually relating either to hours on call, which are prefixed with ‘When I was an SHO’ or to cases seen when it’s ‘I remember a patient with’. Then there’s the freedom to care less…
You soon learn there are hidden dangers for us western folk in super-hot Yangon. First, you never text while moving. If on the pavement, you’re likely to disappear 4 feet down into the mosquito larva encrusted sewerage system because there is the occasional missing paving stone; veering slightly off course onto the road means a…
So week 4 is nearly underway. Of course, anyone reading this may think I’m off my trolley working in such a challenging environment at such an advanced age when I should be sipping a mature Chateauneuf du Pape, doing the Times crossword (which I can’t do anyway), and thinking about what time the cricket starts…
In a bus station sweating profusely, drinking excellent Myanmar beer having survived the first week, eaten every local street food that looks edible and suffered the consequences and now about to start on a 10-hour overnight bus journey to Bagan, home of the temples (picture). Now I have been and worked in many places but…