She's a nurse!

This past August, Asia, if not the world, was seized by the news of the Hong Kong tourists held hostage by a dishonorably discharged policeman in the Philippines. Now, we all know that it ended up as a tragedy, with eight Hong Kong citizens being killed. As I write this, we are still not sure whether they were killed by the gunman or by the rescuers, the Philippines police force having been shown to be disappointingly deficient in resolving a hostage crisis.

Well, all this is in the past, but there was one particular event I would like to mention here. Before the gunman lost control of himself, some hostages—seniors and children—were released.

About 90 minutes into the crisis, a woman called Tsang Yee-lai was told to leave the tour bus with her two children, ages 10 and 4. Tsang told the gunman that another boy on board the bus, 12-year-old Jason, was her relative; she asked to take Jason, too. The gunman agreed and so Jason was freed. Jason, of course, was not her relative.

The people of Hong Kong praised Tsang for her calmness and sharpness in saving a life. Her heroic deed saved Jason, but she lost her husband, and her children lost a father. Jason’s older sister, age 15, was saved, but both of their parents were killed. The incident has been emotionally draining for the people of Hong Kong.

Tsang is a geriatric community nurse working at the Kowloon Hospital in Hong Kong.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Seniors and fast food

As a Hong Kong Chinese, I did not associate seniors with fast food until about 10 years ago, when I moved into an apartment from which, if I needed to get to the train station fast, I had to take a short cut through a McDonald’s.

Every morning I made that trip, the scene never failed to amaze me—lots of seniors having breakfast at McDonald’s. Maybe it is a myth, after all, that Chinese people are particular about food. My—or our, if I can claim that I represent a certain segment of our society—belief used to be that Chinese seniors would not like fast food. They preferred congee to burgers, jasmine tea to coffee. But, obviously, I learnt something new when I moved into that apartment.

When I was taking a course for my doctoral program, my professor told me that she had been to Hong Kong and that both she and her husband were totally surprised to see that McDonald’s was such a favorite spot for children in an Asian city. She predicted that this generation of Hong Kong youngsters would have the same kind of cardiovascular problems as those in her country, the United States.

When I saw the large number of seniors having breakfast at McDonald’s, I remembered what she had said and thought, not only will we have a generation of young people with cardiovascular problems, we will also have a generation of seniors with those problems, as in Western countries.

I remarked about this to a friend, and she suggested it could be the free coffee refill that attracts seniors. This may be one of the reasons, but probably only one. To this day, although not so amazed as before, I am still puzzled. Maybe one day, I will do a survey on this, trying to find out seniors’ perceptions of fast food, and why they patronize these restaurants.

My speculation is that fast-food restaurants treat everybody the same. Our seniors enjoy the same kind of “freedom” as anyone else. They can sit for as long as they like, in spite of buying little, and not be driven away or given strange looks by waiters and waitresses. They don’t have to abide by the rules of a regular restaurant. This, then, is a good aspect of fast-food chain restaurants. They are a place for any age group; there is no age discrimination.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Life and death in education

I am still into experiential learning. My definition of experiential learning is that someone has actually gone through an experience; not a simulated experience, such as just pretending you are blind by putting on a blindfold.

One thing that bugs me is the tendency of the social and health service sectors in Hong Kong to be crazy about getting into the latest trends. First, it was reality orientation (RO) that became really popular. Every agency was trying to conduct RO. Then it was reminiscence, life-story work, music therapy and so on and so forth. The latest is horticultural therapy. Once a craze begins, everybody tries to get a head start.

As a researcher and educator, I am appalled at the lack of planning for all of these activities. Because the trend in question is not well understood and has not been studied, it leaves little room for researchers to examine whether there are therapeutic effects from these interventions. And if there are, what are they? In what ways do they have an impact? These questions often remain unanswered, because there are no baseline data. Also, it is hard to “unteach” myths and misconceptions about what certain therapeutic interventions can or cannot deliver. People have gone too far to embrace the ideas.

But I digress. Another trend of the city’s health and social service sector is life-and-death education. I recall a news item about schools cooperating with non-governmental organizations (NGOs) to organize experiential learning on life and death for elementary school children. They go into a psychedelic (my description) space (room or passage) and play games that ask spiritual questions about life and death. Supposedly, it is thought provoking for the youngster, so that he or she will not shy away from matters of life and death, and accept them as a part of life.

How odd and unnatural for school children to learn about life and death in this manner! How artificial our society has become. Everything has to be structured for our learning. Do we really believe that our children will better grasp matters of life and death after going through this kind of exhibit?

I believe our youngsters would learn a lot more if they had more opportunity to grow up with their grandparents and their grand-aunts and -uncles. Wouldn’t it be nicer to have carnivals to bring generations together? Life-and-death education is something I have learnt about experientially. My friends’ and relatives’ deaths have taught me about life. I believe in learning in a more naturally occurring context. Of course, core family units in today’s highly mobile society are scattered far and wide, with some family members miles apart from others. But the Internet, Facebook, Skype and other technology applications can keep us together. Learning about life and death cannot be left to exhibitions and teachers alone. It has to come from those who really “live” with us, and have a place in our hearts.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.