The Citizen, 2010-01-07, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, JANUARY 7, 2010. PAGE 5.
Bonnie
Gropp
TThhee sshhoorrtt ooff iitt
Let’s have some new clichés!
– Samuel Goldwyn
Owayfaring strangers, cherished
colleagues, friends and neighbours
and, it goes without saying, my
nearest and dearest.
It warms the cockles of my heart to arrive at
the realization that we are gathered here
together for one common purpose on this day
of all days. For truly it must be said that we
find ourselves, citizens of a grateful nation, in
a land of plenty, nevertheless poised on the
brink of perilous yet challenging times.
The torch has been passed, the gauntlet
thrown down, the challenged issued.
To wit: what can be done about the cliché?
The truth is, it is hard not to write or speak
in clichés, because clichés have one abiding
asset: they are extremely apt – or at least they
were when they were first born.
And we find them everywhere. Look at how
we plunder our fellow creatures to mine
clichés. Virtually everything with fin, fur or
feather has been usurped.
We even double-down our clichés by turning
them into cliché/similes. We can describe a
fellow human as sleek as an otter or fat as a
pig, dumb as an ox or sly as a weasel, eagle-
eyed or blind as a bat.
Humans can be turned into fish in a barrel,
ducks in a row, birds on a wire or monkeys in
the middle. We have wise owls, dumb bunnies,
old trout and young bucks.
And a fly on the wall tells me that you,
gentle reader, have at various times in your life
been described as a dirty rat, a dog in the
manger, a snake in the grass, a fox in the
henhouse and a cat amongst the pigeons.
Even our moods are animalized. It is
possible to be happy as (a) a clam, (b) a sheep
in clover or (c) a pig in…ah, but that’s a horse
of a different colour.
The problem with clichés? Shelf life.
Some of the most lacklustre, dreary clichés
in the language sprang from the quill pen of
the best writer we ever had. He was a tower of
strength who could have you in stitches, set
your teeth on edge, leave you tongue-tied with
knitted brow and bated breath. He could make
you vanish into thin air or not budge an inch.
He could render you white as the driven snow
or dead as a doornail.
All of those expressions would earn you a
groan from a high school English teacher, but
they were, ahem, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed
when William Shakespeare first coined
them.
It’s not Shakespeare’s fault they now sound
trite. The Bard hasn’t set pen to parchment for
over four centuries yet we’re still recycling his
best stuff.
But clichés go back way beyond
Shakespeare’s time. A bird in the hand, an eye
for an eye, a thorn in the flesh and a lamb to
the slaughter – all come from the Bible.
And that old chestnut ‘bite the dust’. Who
first said that – a long-forgotten baseball
umpire? Ronald Reagan playing a U.S.
Marshal in some spaghetti western?
Not even close. Homer coined that phrase
more than two millennia ago.
The most enthusiastic cliché spouters these
days?
Jocks, I think. There must be a school that
hockey defensemen, football linebackers and
basketball sharpshooters attend to learn
phrases like: “we’re gonna play them one
game at a time” “we gave a hunnert and 10 per
cent”, and “we need a total team effort”.
Clichés owe their existence to the simple
fact that at one time, somewhere they were
perfect and brilliant and fresh. But, like
chewing gum, clichés go flat through overuse.
Then they become the refuge of the lazy, the
brain-dead and politicians. (But I repeat
myself.)
Politicians adore the cliché because it’s safe
– all voters put their brains on idle when they
hear phrases like ‘bipartisan solution’,
‘leadership by example’ and ‘level playing
field’. The effect is hypnotic, not to mention
stupefying – and it’s a tactic that shows no sign
of giving up the ghost, kicking the bucket,
cashing in its chips or joining the choir
invisible.
But the cliché is merely a wrung-out figure
of speech. A dead metaphor, if you will.
All any decent writer has to do is put his
nose to the grindstone, roll up his sleeves, set
his shoulder to the wheel, pull himself up by
his bootstraps, fix his eye on the prize, keep a
stiff upper lip, throw his back into it and
resolve to stop using them entirely.
Now you know. Go and sin no more.
And metaphors be with you.
Arthur
Black
Other Views The corn was as high …
If you feel you and your doctor don’t
understand each other, you are
not alone.
Ontario’s doctors believe about half their
patients lack the literary skills needed to
communicate adequately their concerns to
them and follow the advice they give.
This means among many implications
patients are not being treated as well as they
should and a huge amount of money the
province spends on healthcare, which
soon will be half its budget, is going down the
drain.
The Ontario Medical Association, which has
made the groundbreaking diagnosis, says
more research is needed, but “about half of
Canadians have literary skills that are
considered insufficient to function well in
society.
“People with this level of skill can read and
understand only material that is simple, laid
out clearly and in which the tasks are not
complex.
“For some patients, documents such as
patient education brochures, informed consent
forms, notices regarding privacy protection
and pill bottles are too complex for them to
understand.”
Such patients, it says, have difficulty
understanding labels or other written
information provided with drugs that
describe treatment options and possible side
effects.
Some lack basic skills in arithmetic needed
to assess the correct doses for children based
on age and weight.
Some have difficulty providing vital
information about their own health history on
forms doctors provide.
Patients over 65 on average have more
trouble understanding medical information
than those of other ages and are more likely to
have chronic or complex conditions that
require healthcare. But the seniors’ ability
varies considerably. Some are very capable
and those who read regularly are among
patients who understand best.
Other groups who have more difficulty
understanding include some who read less,
have little education or are among the 26 per
cent of Ontarians whose mother tongue is
neither English nor French.
Some of these may need interpreters, or to
bring their children educated here to
communicate with doctors, the OMA says.
Pamphlets that would help them also may not
be available in languages they can read.
Some treatments also require doctors and
patients to work together and patients to
manage part of their treatment, understand and
follow complex medical regimens, plan and
make lifestyle changes, make informed
decisions and know how to access care when
needed.
This is required particularly of over-65s,
who tend to have the most chronic conditions
and some of whom are challenged to engage in
effective self-management.
The OMA concludes cautiously there is not
enough research to conclude poor health
literacy is a cause of poor health, because
many with poor health are hurt by substandard
economic conditions and impaired access to
medical facilities. But there are indications
clear communication between doctors and
patients can improve patients’ understanding
of their conditions.
Some patients also have difficulty
communicating, because they are reluctant to
admit they cannot read well or understand and
wrongly feel shame.
Doctors also may be handicapped in
understanding patients who lack ability to
communicate because such skills may not be
explicitly taught in medical schools.
But the OMA says doctors can help with
such simple acts, for example, as not
asking “Do you have any questions?” but
instead asking “what questions do you have
for me?” which implies the doctor expects
questions.
Doctors also should avoid medical jargon.
Rather than saying “Nausea may be caused by
this medication,” saying “These pills can make
you feel sick to your stomach,” which patients
more readily understand.
The OMA’s study is groundbreaking and in
one sense brave, because it raises the
issue of patient literacy, which Canadians
have been slow to look at, partly because
they may be accused of belittling poorer
residents.
But lack of skills in communicating is
hindering treatment of patients and the
healthcare system should bend over
backwards to remedy this first for their
wellbeing.
Improved communication also would
prevent patients returning endlessly for
treatments and save government huge money
on healthcare – and saving money on
healthcare is as big an issue as there is in
Ontario politics today.
Eric
Dowd
FFrroomm
QQuueeeenn’’ss PPaarrkk
Anew year dawns and with it the time to
take a look at your life and consider
some changes.
A grand holiday behind me, my mind drifted
to the notion of what my New Year’s resolution
could be. But in taking stock I kept coming to,
not my shortcomings, but rather my blessings. I
suspected it was the result of a phone
conversation a few days before Christmas that
had me thinking this way.
The grapevine a while ago had wound its way
to Mark and me, trailing with it information
regarding the health of an acquaintance. We
had known this person and her husband for
many years. The relationship was not a close
one, but far from unfamiliar either. There have
been play dates for our children and we have
shared quiet suppers, as well as many common
interests.
And now we had heard that she had a brain
tumour and the prognosis was dire.
The information was confirmed in a
Christmas card, which precipitated the
aformentioned call. We were fortunate to have
caught her on one of the better days when
conversation was easier for her. With
remarkable serenity she explained she had been
diagnosed months before, surgery had
followed, but the tumour was aggressive and
little could be done.
In both her Christmas note and her
conversation she glowed over the grandbabies
who would be part of this year’s festivities,
grandbabies it now seemed she would never see
grow up.
There were emotions galore after that call.
There was of course sadness, but also anger at
the unfairness, and not for the first time in my
life, a sense of being profoundly humbled by
another human being.
With such tragic news the onslaught of
feelings is pervasive, each equal in depth.
However, as they eased, the one that surfaced
most powerfully was gratitude, for my life and
the blessings it has provided. As a mother and
grandmother my heart aches for her, but I’m
grateful to her for reminding me of what’s
important.
Day to day we scoot, shamble and saunter
through life, blaming busyness and poor
memory for a loss of perspective. For some
strange reason, the traditional ebbs and flows of
living we tend to assume will just keep flowing
along.
We accept the good stuff gladly, but overlook
it too easily when petty irritants drift into our
path. Most of us have complained about the
long line at the checkout, the slow driver in
front of us, or the extra step that we are required
to take because of someone’s thoughtlessness.
And it’s all so silly really, when you think of
the real problems out there.
For a while now, I’ve tried to keep
perspective, by making it a practice each
morning to acknowledge that there are
blessings in my life and that I am grateful for
each of them. What I have not however taken
the time to do is elaborate on what they are.
So now a new year has dawned and rather
than making a resolution I’ll be bound to break,
I have instead resolved to celebrate the life I’m
living. No unachievable dreams, no challenging
promises, no improbable standards this time,
but rather a pleasant self-improvement plan.
With 2010’s arrival I began not just saying
thank you each morning for my blessings, but
easing myself to sleep at night recalling
specifically what they had been that day.
And not surprisingly, I’ve noticed that even
on the worst of them there is still so much to be
thankful for.
The healthcare breakdown in Ontario
Blessed resolution
No one has a finer command of language
than the person who keeps his mouth shut.
– Sam Rayburn
Final Thought