Friday, September 14, 2012
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Dr Kien takes a break for a couple of weeks
I have to take some weeks off work. Sorry about that.
Two weeks ago I was riding my bike and on a hill suddenly I did not feel that great. Normally I would push myself a bit more but on that day something told me I should rest. I went to have a stress test and my cardiologist booked me in the next day for a coronary stent.
Apparently the one of the few main arteries supplying blood to my heart was totally blocked!
It was a big shock. I don't smoke. I only drink socially. I knew I had high cholesterol and have been taking my cholesterol-lowering tablets regularly. Apparently, that wasn't enough to combat my moderate appetite for eclectic cuisines and, worst of all, my family history.
But I now am glad that I had the stent put in. Had I not listened to my body (and my wife), I'd be having a heart attack on a bike track in the middle of nowhere.
I am doing pretty well, coping fine with rather strict diet.
Two weeks ago I was riding my bike and on a hill suddenly I did not feel that great. Normally I would push myself a bit more but on that day something told me I should rest. I went to have a stress test and my cardiologist booked me in the next day for a coronary stent.
Apparently the one of the few main arteries supplying blood to my heart was totally blocked!
It was a big shock. I don't smoke. I only drink socially. I knew I had high cholesterol and have been taking my cholesterol-lowering tablets regularly. Apparently, that wasn't enough to combat my moderate appetite for eclectic cuisines and, worst of all, my family history.
But I now am glad that I had the stent put in. Had I not listened to my body (and my wife), I'd be having a heart attack on a bike track in the middle of nowhere.
I am doing pretty well, coping fine with rather strict diet.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Saturday private billing
After our recent doctors' meeting, it was decided that from Saturday 04 August 2012 all consultations on Saturdays at Avoca Street Medical Centre will be privately billed. This is an important step to reduce the workload for the only doctor on duty on weekend.
We understand this would put moderate stress on our clients who due to work can attend our practice only on weekend and we apologize for such change.
Clients with valid medciare number can claim back rebate on the spot using credit card accounts.
We understand this would put moderate stress on our clients who due to work can attend our practice only on weekend and we apologize for such change.
Clients with valid medciare number can claim back rebate on the spot using credit card accounts.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
Telstra Part II
"Your handset has been returned today from Telstras Repair Centre to the Telstra Shop. When convenient please visit the store to pick up".
OK. Great. My dodgy iPhone is repaired, I can come to and get it now ...
Bzzzzz ... flash back ... 6 weeks ago, the HOME button on my iPhone is dead.
I take it to the Apple shop in Castle Hill. Just outside the shop door, the stupid button suddenly is alive again, so I go home - kinda am pissed off at the waste of time, but also happy that the gadget works.
Three weeks later, the button is REALLY dead. The iPhone is HOMEless. I cannot get out of an App. I have to turn the phone off.
I take the phone to Apple Store, the "Genuis Bar" attendant tells me I need to pay $179 for a new replace phone because they don't fix buttons! The genius then tells me to seek .... Telstra's help. OMG! That would make me go back to that stupid shop on which I posted a scathing attack before.
Telstra's HELP? That's pretty funny, mate.
But I am calm, I have learned Zen meditation. Deep breathing, counting diaphragm movements etc ... I go to the shop.
The queue is 4 people long. The guy in front of me keeps shaking his head. There are 3 shop assistants hebind the white desk, their head are hidden behind the computer monitors. The people they are serving also shake their heads intermittenly. The guy in front turns to me and says: "You wouldn't come here to buy anything, would you? Just look at this shop, all these off-the-shelf items and not one helper on the floor, they all stick behind that desk!"
30 minutes later, still no movement. The only movement is from the people behind me leaving, mumbling some rude words ...
50 mintues later, the guy in front of me finally gets to the desk. He says the modem they sold him failed within 2 weeks.
"OK, we'll replace it!" - the shop assistant goes to the back room.
Ten minutes, later she comes back ...
"Sorry, we don't have it here. We'll have to order it in. My manager says we can't help you!"
"WTF!" The guy leaves the shop, mumbling some more rude words ...
I am a bit nervous getting to the desk, but I know I have to. I show the girl the message on my old phone.
"OK, please wait here!" - the shop assistant goes to the back room.
Ten minutes, later she comes back ... "How do you spell your name?" - she asks.
"C for cry, A for ache, O for Oh My God, X for execute me, U for useless, A for ache, N for nasty!"
"OK, please wait here!" - the shop assistant goes to the back room.
Fifteen minutes, later she comes back ...
"Sorry, we don't have it here. My manager says we can't help you!"
Now I know what WTF means ...
"So I see ... you sent me this SMS as a **** joke?" - I leave the shop mumbling some more rude words ...
I don't think the manager is in the back room at all. That back room is where these workers go for a smoke and have a good laugh at their poor customers.
OK. Great. My dodgy iPhone is repaired, I can come to and get it now ...
Bzzzzz ... flash back ... 6 weeks ago, the HOME button on my iPhone is dead.
I take it to the Apple shop in Castle Hill. Just outside the shop door, the stupid button suddenly is alive again, so I go home - kinda am pissed off at the waste of time, but also happy that the gadget works.
Three weeks later, the button is REALLY dead. The iPhone is HOMEless. I cannot get out of an App. I have to turn the phone off.
I take the phone to Apple Store, the "Genuis Bar" attendant tells me I need to pay $179 for a new replace phone because they don't fix buttons! The genius then tells me to seek .... Telstra's help. OMG! That would make me go back to that stupid shop on which I posted a scathing attack before.
Telstra's HELP? That's pretty funny, mate.
But I am calm, I have learned Zen meditation. Deep breathing, counting diaphragm movements etc ... I go to the shop.
The queue is 4 people long. The guy in front of me keeps shaking his head. There are 3 shop assistants hebind the white desk, their head are hidden behind the computer monitors. The people they are serving also shake their heads intermittenly. The guy in front turns to me and says: "You wouldn't come here to buy anything, would you? Just look at this shop, all these off-the-shelf items and not one helper on the floor, they all stick behind that desk!"
30 minutes later, still no movement. The only movement is from the people behind me leaving, mumbling some rude words ...
50 mintues later, the guy in front of me finally gets to the desk. He says the modem they sold him failed within 2 weeks.
"OK, we'll replace it!" - the shop assistant goes to the back room.
Ten minutes, later she comes back ...
"Sorry, we don't have it here. We'll have to order it in. My manager says we can't help you!"
"WTF!" The guy leaves the shop, mumbling some more rude words ...
I am a bit nervous getting to the desk, but I know I have to. I show the girl the message on my old phone.
"OK, please wait here!" - the shop assistant goes to the back room.
Ten minutes, later she comes back ... "How do you spell your name?" - she asks.
"C for cry, A for ache, O for Oh My God, X for execute me, U for useless, A for ache, N for nasty!"
"OK, please wait here!" - the shop assistant goes to the back room.
Fifteen minutes, later she comes back ...
"Sorry, we don't have it here. My manager says we can't help you!"
Now I know what WTF means ...
"So I see ... you sent me this SMS as a **** joke?" - I leave the shop mumbling some more rude words ...
I don't think the manager is in the back room at all. That back room is where these workers go for a smoke and have a good laugh at their poor customers.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
2012 HOLIDAY TRIP
I just got back from over 2 weeks away to Singapore and my fatherland, Vietnam. It was one of those trips that make you feel great to be home ... in Australia, I mean. The heat was a killer!
However, I managed one of my prime goals: taking my son Liêm to Nghệ An. The Cao-xuâns, my great-grand father, my grand father and my father, were all born there. During the uprising against the french occupation, the Cao-xuân family was scattered everywhere. My siblings were born in Huế, Rạch Giá, and I, the youngest, was born in Saigon. My late father often spoke fondly of his homeland - which we could not visit because of the Vietnam Civil War. I first visited the shrine and graves of my forefathers in 2001. Ten years later, I brought along my 8 year old son. I was impressed that he understood the meaning of the trip, and he never once complained during the horrible bus rides between Hà Nội and Nghệ An - six hours each way.
A week later, we also brought him to visit the graves of my wife's ancestors in Nha Trang.
Many of my friends and relatives did not get why we did this. They all thought I was nutty. To them a holiday must be all for fun and pleasure. The "family duty business" is too difficult to combine with other "fun" events. Perhaps, they were right, but I don't mind being called sentimental.
My frequent response : "The only differences between a trip to Vietnam and a trip to France are the language and the ancestral graves. Good meals, good drinks, 5-star hotels, swimming pools, great services ... you can buy the best anywhere."
(OK. I hear you. The croissants in Saigon and the bánh xèo in Paris are not the same. But you get my drift.)
I also attended a dinner where I met my old highschool friends. Some I haven't seen for over 38 years. Each now has his own agenda. While the chatting went on with the iced beer, the much expected nostalgia was not there. They all have changed, due to the constant stress of the country's poverty and the brainwashing of the ruling regime. It seemed for some the main aim in life was to survive and take as much as quickly as they can: pleasure, money, personal favours, political gains, ... anything.
Afterwards they asked me to join them going to the local brothel.
"But you're all married!" I objected.
"We all do it as a routine here ...", said one I used to have respect for.
Flabbergasted, I left the group with a bad taste in my mouth.
The food wasn't that great either.
However, I managed one of my prime goals: taking my son Liêm to Nghệ An. The Cao-xuâns, my great-grand father, my grand father and my father, were all born there. During the uprising against the french occupation, the Cao-xuân family was scattered everywhere. My siblings were born in Huế, Rạch Giá, and I, the youngest, was born in Saigon. My late father often spoke fondly of his homeland - which we could not visit because of the Vietnam Civil War. I first visited the shrine and graves of my forefathers in 2001. Ten years later, I brought along my 8 year old son. I was impressed that he understood the meaning of the trip, and he never once complained during the horrible bus rides between Hà Nội and Nghệ An - six hours each way.
A week later, we also brought him to visit the graves of my wife's ancestors in Nha Trang.
Many of my friends and relatives did not get why we did this. They all thought I was nutty. To them a holiday must be all for fun and pleasure. The "family duty business" is too difficult to combine with other "fun" events. Perhaps, they were right, but I don't mind being called sentimental.
My frequent response : "The only differences between a trip to Vietnam and a trip to France are the language and the ancestral graves. Good meals, good drinks, 5-star hotels, swimming pools, great services ... you can buy the best anywhere."
(OK. I hear you. The croissants in Saigon and the bánh xèo in Paris are not the same. But you get my drift.)
I also attended a dinner where I met my old highschool friends. Some I haven't seen for over 38 years. Each now has his own agenda. While the chatting went on with the iced beer, the much expected nostalgia was not there. They all have changed, due to the constant stress of the country's poverty and the brainwashing of the ruling regime. It seemed for some the main aim in life was to survive and take as much as quickly as they can: pleasure, money, personal favours, political gains, ... anything.
Afterwards they asked me to join them going to the local brothel.
"But you're all married!" I objected.
"We all do it as a routine here ...", said one I used to have respect for.
Flabbergasted, I left the group with a bad taste in my mouth.
The food wasn't that great either.
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