Kusanagi’s back

Went to see Ghost in the Shell / Innocence last night. I have to admit that Batou is one of my all time favourite manga characters, although his sidekick, whose name I can never remember, is pretty cool as well – very Japanese Keanu Reeves. The film is visually stunning, full of really bizarre philosophical discussions, equally bizarre characters and LONG pauses and not too hokey or violent shoot em ups. My favourite scene was the parade. I have no idea what it was doing in the middle of the movie, or what the significance of the burning dolls was, but it was an amazing image.

Very nice intermixture of CGI and hand drawn cels.

The most amazing thing about this movie was not the movie, which was pretty cool, but the fact that all four of us went out and watched it together. We haven’t gone out and done a family movie since the last Lord of the Rings, unless my memory cheats me.

Close to the end of the movie Kusanagi’s downloaded herself into a naked, not quite complete sex droid (she’s an anatomically incorrect life sized jointed doll), and she’s fighting back to back with Batou. Once he recognizes her, he drapes a vest over her; partly to upgrade her to ‘human’ and partly so he doesn’t shoot her by accident because apart from style it’s hard to tell her from all the other sex droids, which are energetically trying to kill him. She says, “You haven’t changed,” and I just melted. I love guys like that.

As I feared, my left arm is a collection of pain and weakness this morning. I always get like this from a flu shot, although from what I hear you really don’t want the flu that’s going around. If the company is going to give it to me for the price of a latte, you’re damned straight I’ll take them up on it.

When we got home, Kate and Keith and I sat around the puzzle (beer cans from the US…) and finished it. Keith and I had been working desultorily on it for a couple of days. Next I’ll pull out the other puzzle I acquired recently, which is a whole bunch of Route 66 signs from the US. Anything that puts us in the same place and time without fighting. Or spending money.

I am so happy to be wrong about the post election riots I can’t tell you. I am glad the losers are deciding Don’t Get Mad Get Organized.

Pic shown isn’t from the movie, but it is Kusanagi…. and whatever you do, don’t Google pix for Kusanagi without specificing Ghost in the Shell, unless you want to see a LOT of pictures of an extremely attractive naked woman, because Kusanagi (which means Grass cutter) is one of Japan’s biggest porn stars. Not that I’m encouraging you to look or anything. It was a BIT of a surprise at 6:50 at the morning. Okay, my eyes ARE open now….

yuk

A LINK WHICH NO LONGER WORKS

I don’t know which is funnier, the picture or the thoughtful disquisition on the picture. Made me laugh though, which just goes to show you that PMS doesn’t make me lose my sense of humour. Grrrossssss!!! ha ha ha. Some of the other signs are pretty good, but this one was the best I saw.

Lessons from Madrid (triage)

From Eurekalert. Just remember, when the crap hits the fan, it’s triage that counts. Remember also that Spain has had multiple bomb attacks before from the Basque separatists, so they knew right away what they were dealing with and HAD PROCEDURES IN PLACE. It was also very nice of the terrorists to schedule the blast for when there was the largest number of medical personnel available. (This is called black humour….)

I was introduced to the notion of triage by my parents when I was very young, and I have found it a useful concept throughout my life. It comes from the battlefield. You divide the wounded into three piles. This one can be saved if I attend to him right away. This one will die no matter what I do. And this one will live until I can get to him.

Not to be an armchair strategist or anything, but I’d LOVE it if we went through our product line at work with red crosses painted on our foreheads.

Dealing with casualties from a terrorist attack

Lessons learnt from the Madrid bombing

Doctors from one of the two hospitals closest to the Madrid bombings have described their experience of March 11th, 2004 in an article published today in Critical Care. Dr Gutierrez de Ceballos and colleagues explain how they organised the hospital to deal with the influx of casualties, as well as analysing severity of injuries and survival rate. The lessons they learnt are invaluable while future terrorist attacks remain a threat. Dr Gutierrez de Ceballos and colleagues are based at the Gregorio Mara��n University General Hospital (GMUGH), the largest public hospital in Madrid. Their article warns that overtriage can inundate hospitals, compromising care of those who need it most. They also demonstrate how immediate organisation to evacuate patients and setting up triage and information centres helped prevent medical staff being overwhelmed, enabling them to save the lives of more than 80% of the critically injured.

The Madrid explosions injured more than 2000 people, and 312 of these casualties were taken to GMUGH. The authors conclude that this was probably overtriage to GMUGH, which could have been life-threatening if less medical staff were available. They write, “the bombings occurred shortly before the start of a midweek workday when most clinicians and medical personnel were on their way to work or already in hospital, and night shifts were still on duty. This, together with empty operating rooms and personnel waiting for the first scheduled cases, proved decisive for the adequacy of the medical and surgical response at GMUGH and other hospitals. Had the blasts occurred just one hour later, the whole situation would have been much worse and very difficult to handle.”

Eric R Frykberg, Professor of Surgery at the University of Florida College of Medicine and the author of a number of articles related to this subject, endorses their findings in his commentary also published in Critical Care. He emphasises “preventing as much as possible the arrival of so many noncritical victims to a definitive care hospital by performing triage first at outside sites before allowing them to inundate the hospital.”

Of the 312 patients taken to GMUGH, just 91 were hospitalised, 89 of them (28.5%) for more than 24 hours. Sixty-two patients had superficial bruises or emotional shock. 41% of the 243 patients with more severe injuries had suffered perforation of the ear drum, 40% had chest injuries, 36% had shrapnel wounds. Fractures, first or second degree burns, eye lesions, head trauma and abdominal injuries were also common. The pattern of injuries is consistent with other terrorist bombings. One of the unusual aspects of GMUGH’s experience was the large number of blast lung injuries (BLI). The 63% incidence (17 cases) of BLI seen in GMUGH’s critical patients was higher than previously published results, and “probably reflects a bias in triage of many severely wounded patients to our hospital, which was closest to the blasts”, say the authors.

32 victims sent to GMUGH needed 34 surgical procedures on the day of the blast. Twenty-nine casualties (12% of the total or 32.5% of those hospitalised) were deemed in critical condition, and two died within minutes of arrival. Twenty-seven casualties were admitted to intensive care units, and were assessed with the Injury Severity Score (ISS) and Acute Physiology And Chronic Health Evaluation (APACHE) II scales in the first 24 hours. Three patients later died of their injuries.

GMUGH dealt with this influx of severely injured patients “with virtually no warning” by immediately performing all of the “appropriate procedures”, says Frykberg. According to Gutierrez de Ceballos, “Immediate action was taken to cancel all scheduled surgical intervention and 161 hospitalized patients were discharged in less than 2 hours. A number of patients in the intensive care unit and surgical intensive care unit were evacuated to intermediate-care units. The 123 patients under observation at the Emergency Department (ED) before the blasts occurred were either discharged home when appropriate or transferred to the wards, and only 10 of them remained at the ED at 9.30 a.m. All elective diagnostic procedures were deferred. At the same time, the Teaching Pavillion, adjacent to the ED, was set as information center for the families, authorities and the media. Triage was performed by senior faculty at the entrance to the ED, and lasted until around 10.30 a.m.”

The authors conclude, “All in all, common sense, diligence in the triage of patients and serenity seemed to prevail after the initial unavoidable chaos and emotional trauma common to these situations. There was in fact an abundance of medical teams, nursing staff, and resources to treat the critically injured, and no critically injured patient had a delay in treatment.”

question to Wonkette

As a concerned neighbour, what should I do about the noisy domestic dispute currently happening across the border? I am afraid to intervene because I am more afraid of the cops than I am of the neighbours. My conscience is killing me; I am worried about the children and I think everyone who lives over there may all be quite psychotic because the radios and tvs – all 2500 of them – are running at top volume day and night so I can scarcely think! Please advise me, I’m at my wits’ end!

Concerned Canuckistani

I’d be THRILLED if she ran the question… but she’s a little busy today.

ba da boom

Hm. So Washington lost and the Packers won. It’s a wonderful omen… wonder if the GOP is superstitious? I am watching the election hysteria with the powerful calm of a woman with a good prescription (actually that’s not true, I’m not taking anything except vitamins these days). The hysteria at home continues apace. I’d repeat some of the conversations I’ve been having with my spouse, except that it would be abusive merely to report the truth.

I will own that there are times when our house resembles nothing so much as a junk store run by an elderly miser. I will admit that our yard looks like an outtake from a horror movie. I will even admit that I’m not the best housekeeper in the world. But Paul, I can’t do a damned thing about the ceiling height, so I’d appreciate it if you just dropped the subject; short of an explosion, which would be satisfying but temporary, there’s not much I can do about it.

There, that was dignified, and I didn’t even swear.

Must paint house. Slime green walls. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAh !!! can’t deal with the slime green walls any more. Must have fan in bathroom (actually a fan in both bathrooms would be nice, but one thing at a time, dear Goddess). Oh, and I mean fan in the sense of a rotating device for air, not a science fiction fan, although I can count at least three science fiction fans who can adorn my bathroom ANYtime.

I light a candle for Keith, the bus driver and my doctor, all of whom provided personal and substantial help when I had my arrhythmia yesterday. Paul thought I was cracking wise until he took my pulse. My heart was leaping around in my chest like a bass drum being kicked around by teens in army boots and a ‘roid rage. Finally settled down about 10 last night. I woke up a lot last night to check that I wasn’t dead yet and then went back to sleep. Paul sleeping peacefully next to me made that much easier. Now I’m going back to work, where my heart can be still and calm.

I should probably do something about that but when my doctor told me to drink ice water and I immediately felt better… like LOTS better… I figure it’s not even a little tiny heart attack. It’s more like…. middle age. Wish it hadn’t started on the bus though, I feel sorry for the woman who was sitting next to me while I rocked back and forth moaning, Ach, I’m gonna die, and I didn’t do the dishes.

Dreamed last night about a school, run by a married couple, who were trying to run the school and get an acrimonious divorce at the same time, and the school was in a very big house, and I dreamed seeing an old coworker from Montreal who was very underwhelmed at seeing me again, sigh. But her friend was a lot more civilized and bummed me a smoke. And we played with rainbow coloured box kites, and there was a big storeroom full of neat stuff.

I’m off coffee for the duration it can’t be doing anything good for those palpitations. Badaboom!

datura via Jerome

Pic was provided by Brother Jerome – second time he got it to bloom. Lexi is madly allergic to them, so if you’re reading this don’t start sneezing when you see the pic, just enjoy the glorious symmetry and strangeness of the inflorescence.

On a more troubled note….IT WAS SNOWING at the top of the hill this morning. Since I am no longer swearing on my blog, I cannot precisely express the wave of bilious fury which coursed through my body when my brain finally acknowledged that indeed, that white sloppy stuff pasting itself with such vigour to the bus windscreen was NOT Oobleck, but snow. I had the same realization as everyone on the bus, and we all went “EEEEWWWWWW!!!!” at about the same time and volume. There followed a spate of subdued profanity and the sound of umbrellas snapping open. By the way, in Scotland, that’s pronounced Aw Naw, Snaw!

more pumpkins?

The blessing of the animals went extremely well. People talked briefly and happily about their animals, living and dead, and I am very glad I didn’t bring my two in, even in picture form – there was plenty of action anyway. I light candles for Kira and Zeek! who are okay as companion animals go. There will never be another Bounce; all I can do is ask God for a cat that will sit in my lap as I type. About three people commented on my outfit – nothing negative. Jumping Jimmy Christmas, if I can wear this to church, maybe it’s too square for Fet Night? 1 down, 4 openings/closings to go.

Off to Stuporstore soon to pick up supplies. I really feel it when I don’t take my vitamins; missed them last night for some reason.

You won’t believe it, but I found another pumpkin out back. This one’s the size of a soccer ball. I think I’ll just eat it, after I take out the seeds.

And screw grass. I am going to grow pumpkins next year. Everywhere. Off of everything. Whole front yard. And sunflowers. Billions of dem. You will see. It will be a symphony of yellow and orange.

a blogging we will go

Katie was punking me, the little tad, so I am glad I didn’t unleash the full force of my squirrelly wrath. To get the full flavour of this cultural reference, go to illwillpress.com and listen to the squirrel sing about…. ten guesses, squirelly wrath.

I am now working on a routine about tattoos that move. This is because the technology for this is closer than you think and I believe that as a cultural commentator I need to prepare you for the notion that the next time you go down to the swirlpool at the rec centre there will be a guy with a pornographic and moving tattoo. Sitting next to you. You know, two skeletons having sex doggy style and the head keeps falling off the one on top, endlessly looping. (Thanks to Vampire Mamma for providing this image, big wink). It’ll be skeletons because then the guy can tell the cop They’re wrestling, ossifer. Honest. Okay, last bloody Halloween skullington etc reference this year. My children will be amused… yours, maybe not so much. And I can think of other tattoos that move, dogs that bark, devil girls that wink and angel wings that flap. Flags that wave, for those patriotic types. Motion capture of favorite artists dancing or singing or otherwise flailing about. And all run off your body’s electrical system. Yes, I know it sounds bizarre, but it’s CLOSER THAN YOU THINK! I’m going to get a scorpion that waves its front claws and then tries to sink its stinger into you. Hai! Ya harri hoy! Oi! Or maybe I won’t.