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Sailing away
CHRONICLES OF SMALL BEER
sare Gianturco and Julio Palmez developed stents, closely followed by many others. What is the role of radiology teachers in these dynamic times? Do aspiring nucleons or cardiovascular imagers need instruction from radiologists? Has the time come when radiology programs should drop cardiovascular imaging because their graduates will not be doing any of it? These questions are not mine to resolve. I know that they are matters of concern to those who read this publication. During the radiology centennial celebration in 1995, we asserted that the role of radiology in medicine was beyond challenge. Then, we paused and said that the role of radiology specialists was less certain in the next century. A decade later, that observation is even more valid. Otha Linton, MSJ Potomac, Md
SAILING AWAY I was sitting in a fancy French restaurant listening to the waiter explain that black caviar is better than red, when the restaurant began to roll gently. We all ignored the motion because the restaurant was on a cruise ship slogging its way down the west coast of Mexico out of Los Angeles toward the Panama Canal. To some people, the incongruity of haute cuisine and pampered living on the high seas is the appeal of cruising. To others, the appeal is detachment from responsibilities and problems at home. And to some, the very concept of going to sea implies a modest level of adventure which is intended to stop short of actual challenge of peril. Anyhow, there we were, Diana and me, committed to 14 days of pampered life at sea, with no responsibilities except to show up for abundant meals three times a day. We could go to lectures, bridge or chess lessons, work jigsaw puzzles, watch entertainers, play shuffleboard, swim. On 6 of the 14 days, when the ship stopped, we could sign up for local tours. For the most part, we could read or do nothing. I have been a sailor for a half-century, owning my own boat for most of those years. I have spent thousands of hours sailing a boat on the Great Lakes, on other inland lakes and streams, on the Chesapeake, and occasionally in salt water. I have spent hours waiting for some wind to arise and other hours waiting for too much wind to abate. We have chartered in the Virgin Islands and taken other cruises on rivers or seas. But this one was different. There were 600 passengers and 450 crew, most of them tending to the food and hotel functions. Most of the passengers had Medicare cards or the equivalent from 16 other
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Academic Radiology, Vol 14, No 4, April 2007
countries. They were repeaters, veterans of the Sybaritic sailing set. The first question when we met someone was not “where are you from?” but rather “how many nights have you had at sea?” That is important, because the cruise line rewards repeat customers. One woman, admitting to age 91, told us she spends 10 months a year at sea because she likes marine pampering better than she does her titular address in a retirement home in Santa Barbara. Another new friend, a career Navy man who got rich, was staying aboard for a second leg of 51 days for a circumnavigation around South America. In the fall, he is signed up for a jaunt from Seattle to Japan and Hong Kong. Another woman offered the thought that she would be happy never to set foot on dry land again. For an information junkie like me, the abrupt cutoff of news left a void in my thinking. We were out of television range most days and the videotape library had mostly old movies. Our conversations with new acquaintances about American politics were discreet. Those to whom I admitted my Washington background would ask what I thought of the current government and then tell me what they thought before I could answer. There was one retired surgeon who was horrified when I observed that the Democrats traditionally are more supportive of health care spending than the Republicans. He also was horrified when I explained the shortcomings of the new Medicare part D pharmaceutical coverage. We had no sense of confinement about being on a 700-foot ship. Twelve laps around the track on the upper deck was a mile. If it was too rough, six laps around the hall on the eighth deck was also a mile. I read six books including the 1000-page David McCullough biography of Harry Truman. We sat in the top deck observation lounge, helping the helmsman, whether he knew it or not. Even when I mentioned my thousands of hours steering a small boat to the captain, he refrained from assigning me a wheel watch. When I saw the bridge and its array of ultrasophisticated electronics, it would have taken the voyage and then some to figure them out. Contrary to the indolence thrust on the paying passengers, the crew worked very hard. For several decades now, the effort of American unions to curb working hours and improve wages for crews has resulted in the loss of American-flag cruise ships and freighters. Our ship was owned by an American company, but was registered in the Bahamas. Most of the crew worked 5 months on and 1 month off. No days off at sea. No time and a half after 40 hours a week. No unions for the nice young people from the Philippines who waited our tables or the eastern Europeans who tended our cabins. Being a passenger was much better than being a crew member. For most of us, the interesting day was our passage through the Panama Canal. This involved three locks to lift the ship from sea level in the Pacific, a 40-mile cruise across the isthmus and three locks to drop us to sea level in the Atlantic. The locks are the original ones completed in 1914. They still work
CHRONICLES OF SMALL BEER
Academic Radiology, Vol 14, No 4, April 2007
just fine, but now many ships are too large. A new set of larger locks is to be constructed in the next few years. All in all, our jaunt was very relaxing. I doubt that we will join the hard-core cruising set. Next time, I will take some work to do. But when the waiter brought us samples of
red and black caviar, we did agree that the black had a finer taste. And so away, a sailor’s life for me. Otha Linton, MSJ Potomac, MD
509
sare Gianturco and Julio Palmez developed stents, closely followed by many others. What is the role of radiology teachers in these dynamic times? Do aspiring nucleons or cardiovascular imagers need instruction from radiologists? Has the time come when radiology programs should drop cardiovascular imaging because their graduates will not be doing any of it? These questions are not mine to resolve. I know that they are matters of concern to those who read this publication. During the radiology centennial celebration in 1995, we asserted that the role of radiology in medicine was beyond challenge. Then, we paused and said that the role of radiology specialists was less certain in the next century. A decade later, that observation is even more valid. Otha Linton, MSJ Potomac, Md
SAILING AWAY I was sitting in a fancy French restaurant listening to the waiter explain that black caviar is better than red, when the restaurant began to roll gently. We all ignored the motion because the restaurant was on a cruise ship slogging its way down the west coast of Mexico out of Los Angeles toward the Panama Canal. To some people, the incongruity of haute cuisine and pampered living on the high seas is the appeal of cruising. To others, the appeal is detachment from responsibilities and problems at home. And to some, the very concept of going to sea implies a modest level of adventure which is intended to stop short of actual challenge of peril. Anyhow, there we were, Diana and me, committed to 14 days of pampered life at sea, with no responsibilities except to show up for abundant meals three times a day. We could go to lectures, bridge or chess lessons, work jigsaw puzzles, watch entertainers, play shuffleboard, swim. On 6 of the 14 days, when the ship stopped, we could sign up for local tours. For the most part, we could read or do nothing. I have been a sailor for a half-century, owning my own boat for most of those years. I have spent thousands of hours sailing a boat on the Great Lakes, on other inland lakes and streams, on the Chesapeake, and occasionally in salt water. I have spent hours waiting for some wind to arise and other hours waiting for too much wind to abate. We have chartered in the Virgin Islands and taken other cruises on rivers or seas. But this one was different. There were 600 passengers and 450 crew, most of them tending to the food and hotel functions. Most of the passengers had Medicare cards or the equivalent from 16 other
508
Academic Radiology, Vol 14, No 4, April 2007
countries. They were repeaters, veterans of the Sybaritic sailing set. The first question when we met someone was not “where are you from?” but rather “how many nights have you had at sea?” That is important, because the cruise line rewards repeat customers. One woman, admitting to age 91, told us she spends 10 months a year at sea because she likes marine pampering better than she does her titular address in a retirement home in Santa Barbara. Another new friend, a career Navy man who got rich, was staying aboard for a second leg of 51 days for a circumnavigation around South America. In the fall, he is signed up for a jaunt from Seattle to Japan and Hong Kong. Another woman offered the thought that she would be happy never to set foot on dry land again. For an information junkie like me, the abrupt cutoff of news left a void in my thinking. We were out of television range most days and the videotape library had mostly old movies. Our conversations with new acquaintances about American politics were discreet. Those to whom I admitted my Washington background would ask what I thought of the current government and then tell me what they thought before I could answer. There was one retired surgeon who was horrified when I observed that the Democrats traditionally are more supportive of health care spending than the Republicans. He also was horrified when I explained the shortcomings of the new Medicare part D pharmaceutical coverage. We had no sense of confinement about being on a 700-foot ship. Twelve laps around the track on the upper deck was a mile. If it was too rough, six laps around the hall on the eighth deck was also a mile. I read six books including the 1000-page David McCullough biography of Harry Truman. We sat in the top deck observation lounge, helping the helmsman, whether he knew it or not. Even when I mentioned my thousands of hours steering a small boat to the captain, he refrained from assigning me a wheel watch. When I saw the bridge and its array of ultrasophisticated electronics, it would have taken the voyage and then some to figure them out. Contrary to the indolence thrust on the paying passengers, the crew worked very hard. For several decades now, the effort of American unions to curb working hours and improve wages for crews has resulted in the loss of American-flag cruise ships and freighters. Our ship was owned by an American company, but was registered in the Bahamas. Most of the crew worked 5 months on and 1 month off. No days off at sea. No time and a half after 40 hours a week. No unions for the nice young people from the Philippines who waited our tables or the eastern Europeans who tended our cabins. Being a passenger was much better than being a crew member. For most of us, the interesting day was our passage through the Panama Canal. This involved three locks to lift the ship from sea level in the Pacific, a 40-mile cruise across the isthmus and three locks to drop us to sea level in the Atlantic. The locks are the original ones completed in 1914. They still work
CHRONICLES OF SMALL BEER
Academic Radiology, Vol 14, No 4, April 2007
just fine, but now many ships are too large. A new set of larger locks is to be constructed in the next few years. All in all, our jaunt was very relaxing. I doubt that we will join the hard-core cruising set. Next time, I will take some work to do. But when the waiter brought us samples of
red and black caviar, we did agree that the black had a finer taste. And so away, a sailor’s life for me. Otha Linton, MSJ Potomac, MD
509