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self_made_human

Kai su, teknon?

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joined 2022 September 05 05:31:00 UTC

I'm a transhumanist doctor. In a better world, I wouldn't need to add that as a qualifier to plain old "doctor". It would be taken as granted for someone in the profession of saving lives.

At any rate, I intend to live forever or die trying. See you at Heat Death!


				

User ID: 454

self_made_human

Kai su, teknon?

10 followers   follows 0 users   joined 2022 September 05 05:31:00 UTC

					

I'm a transhumanist doctor. In a better world, I wouldn't need to add that as a qualifier to plain old "doctor". It would be taken as granted for someone in the profession of saving lives.

At any rate, I intend to live forever or die trying. See you at Heat Death!


					

User ID: 454

And here I am, stuck in the middle.

Honestly, it's a miracle more people don't die, but apparently you can get used to anything. Not that I want to get used to this, it seems to give everyone a terminal case of road rage.

In India, and I didn't expect the trial by fire would be quite so literal, with how abominably hot it is. It's been consistently in the middle 40s in Celsius, and it's only April.

Trust me, you have no idea the depths of depravity traffic can stoop to, I'm modestly grateful that I'll only be here long enough to become semi-competent at the whole not running people over thing, and thus not have the worst habits ingrained in me. If I can navigate a busy road here and not die on the highways, I'll consider the UK to be a paid vacation.

Whether I'll be a menace to the other people on the streets? Too early to tell, but at least I know they're not that keen on sending me to the ER, my ex works there.

Missives from Indian Streets

I've had two learners licenses expire on me so far. I'd like to argue, if pressed, that I was too busy to give the driving exam at the end, with other, far more important medical exams pressing. The truth is I was simply too lazy.

But now, finding myself in actual need of one, since the NHS accepts "sorry boss, dunno how" as a poor excuse for showing up late to an emergency, I paid a good chunk of my own salary to one of the driving instructors at one of the more reputable companies around (they own a car brand, though they were mildly put out because I made it clear I wasn't a prospective customer).

The last two times, my dad coughed up the change, but this time, both actual enthusiasm and hard cash were transferred from my far more empty wallet. You'd think his modestly justified annoyance at me having wasted the money before would be outweighed by paternal pride and affection at his son adding more alphabet soup behind his name, but alas.

Up till this point, my instructors had been bad, to put it lightly. And the extent of my experience on the road was driving through quiet suburban streets and doing my best to weave through parked cars and avoid the odd cow or pedestrian.

This time, well, I got what I paid for. Far better tutors, 5 whole lessons in a simulator running Windows 10 but using software probably written in the early 2000s. Unfortunately, today I braved the midday sun in an exceedingly long walk to the motor training school (for obvious reasons I can't drive there) , I can't call myself an Englishman quite yet, but mad dog? The heatstroke left me panting.

To my chagrin, it turned out that my last simulator class was supposedly a two-in-one affair, and they expected me to hit the road again, for the first time in several years.

At high noon. On the main road carrying half the city's traffic, a fucking arterial line spewing motor oil and NO2 emissions, a far cry from the sedate streets I feel quarter comfortable in.

I didn't let on that my inner self was kicking and screaming, and followed the instructor to the awaiting training car with barely repressed terror.

It wasn't that bad. The car, that is. No obvious dents, the air conditioning and power steering worked, a far cry from the broken down beater they'd seen fit to hand me at the previous place.

The driving? Talk about being thrown in the deep end. I swear I don't feel that level of hyperfocus even the odd time I'm dragged in for a surgery. Because after all, what's the worst that could happen there? The patient doesn't make it. Whereas I'm too cute to die, and I have a lot to live for.

Miraculously, despite hitting 55 km/h on some of the busiest roads I've had the misfortune of seeing, I made it through mostly unscathed, even if the gearbox didn't.

That's it. I'm buying an automatic. I modestly hoped that self driving cars would be common enough that I could always procrastinate learning to drive to the distant future, or preferably never. Sadly the distant future is today, and the odd car that can plausibly be said to drive itself is far outside my budget.

Instead, I'm buying a Porsche, a Mustang, nah, a plain old horse. Runs off renewable energy. Confuses the meter maids enough that I might get away with it if I can't find free employee parking. Fully self driving, or good enough cruise control and lane keeping to make sure my sorry ass makes it home from the pub.

I saw God, today. He was wearing a seat belt. So should you.

My condolences. It sucks to meet someone you really like, and then have circumstances drag you, or them, away.

I find myself in much the same position as she does, in that I'm about to uproot myself from all I've known, loved and hated and fuck moving states, I'm moving States.

That bodes poorly for things with the several really nice women I've encountered while running Bumble and Hinge's unpaid psychiatry services, some of whom I genuinely wouldn't mind getting serious with, were that an option. (The long list of absolute crazies deserve their own post).

But hey, I made it clear I'm here for a good time, not a long one, and make it a point to remind them not to get too close because soon enough I'll be gone; and I doubt that 3 months is nearly enough time for someone else to also decide to drop everything and move for someone they met on a few dates.

But in your cases, all you should feel is mild regret. You didn't do anything wrong, nor did she, and you'll find someone not inclined to wander away sooner or later.

There's addiction and there's addiction. I know plenty of patients who were addicted to drugs and no longer are, in the sense that they have no more physiological and psychological cravings.

There are, of course, many different kinds of drugs. Getting over a hankering for coffee or nicotine is a whole different kettle of fish compared to meth or strong opioids, or benzos.

Hold down or slide on the notification to go to the notification controls for that app. There, you should ideally have an itemized list of notification categories and you can switch them or just disable all of them for that app.

You can look for the app in the notification manager of the android settings too.

Biological experiments? Hardly. It's not like there's a One True Guide To Parenting, so everyone has to figure it out as they go. It's no bigger a deal than getting them glasses, feeding them plenty of leafy greens and so on. It just sounds unusual and strange to you, but you're not a decoupler.

I have their best interests at heart. I wouldn't do anything to them I didn't want done to me.

I wish I could say that every parent wants the best for their kids, but in my case, it's true as far as I can tell.

Blonde women are rated hotter. Hence so many fake blondes. Women with bigger breasts are more attractive, hence boobjobs. Taller guys are the same, and well, at least their height won't be "fake". So it goes for athletics, education and everything else a parent thinks is optimal for their child.

I don't expect my kids will work for a living. I don't expect anyone will. But to the extent that I'm not nearly 100% confident in that hypothesis, well, it's my job as their future dad to do everything I can for them.

Hmm.. I do kinda agree with you.

I just spent a while speaking to a suicide survivor. Well, he's hardly out of the woods yet, given that he was in the ICU. But he wasn't my patient in the first place, and I might not be done with psych training, but by god I was the best one I know available at that time, and I walked the dude through a very bad place. And then made sure the cops didn't make things worse, while probably doing better than the poor bastard actually responsible for that particular HDU.

And I talked a suicidal girl I met on a dating app out of it, back to back.

Maybe I do like psychiatry because I see so many psychiatrists doing a fucking terrible job, and I'm confident I can do better. I actually probably can, but perhaps that's only true in India where standards are lower. But I'm heading abroad to learn my shit.

And you're absolutely correct that I wrote my novel because I was pissed at perceived inadequacies and flaws in otherwise decent ones, and thought I could do better.

So, going back to whether adderall causes anxiety--I'm not sure. To me, the anxiety is already there, and adderall just helps me channel it.

I've heard of much worse. If it's not obviously making you anxious, then it's likely a better drug than methylphenidate/Ritalin. And when Scott did a survey on the topic, users ranked it higher, though it's been a long time and I can't remember what the post was.

Undoubtedly, but that would only make his YT spicier.

Fish's Clinical Psychopathology, and the Oxford Handbook of Clinical Psychiatry.

The latter, while still quite dry, has informed me that the piccolo gene is implicated in depression, which given what I remember from watching DBZ as a kid, is quite accurate.

The former is indeed about humans, my concerns about how to apply an MSE to a fish are dispelled, though it took a while. I'd be very concerned unless it was a talking bass, or a very particular kind of sushi place, but then again, I don't eat fish.

Seconded. It really is a hoot. If the guy had been alive today his YouTube channel would be popping.

Well, I guess the reduction in salt intake is good for my BP.

How'd it go again "Great minds think alike, and fools seldom differ?".