Corpus - conversations about medicine and life

This week – 7-15 April – is Dunedin Pride Week. Every year, during Pride celebrations across New Zealand, people ask why we still need Pride. Why do we still celebrate it after marriage equality? Why be so loud? What does Pride even mean? There isn’t a straightforward answer.

Pride means different things to different people. For some, it’s a time for finding or discovering representation. For others it’s about commemorating all those who actively fought (and still fight) for LGBTQIA+ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer/Questioning, Intersex, and Asexual) people to be recognized as citizens with equal rights in New Zealand and around the world.

[Read more…] about On Pride

In the poppy corridors

9 April 2018 3 Comments

Graham Matrix

Today at work I arrived early, changed my shirt, tied my hair. I ate an apple in the break room before handover at four o’clock. It’s time to go, three of us carers on this shift. In the nurses’ station we get a list and a walkie talkie.

Then we’re off and running. Nurse reminds me not to leave towels in the sluice room. That’s fine – I can definitely not do that. I go up the No.2 Wing, get my bearings for the shift ahead, reminding everyone to come to dinner at five o’clock, pulling curtains and closing doors.

Why do doctors write? Admissions of a former gynaecologist…

9 April 2018 2 Comments

Mira Harrison-Woolrych

After almost thirty years as a doctor, I have started writing fiction. I have recently completed a collection of short stories called Admissions which includes tales of eight different women working in the same crumbling public hospital in the far south of Aotearoa. Sounds familiar? For those of us who have worked at the coal-face of clinical medicine, my stories may not surprise or shock, but I hope they are tales of our common humanity and shared experiences. Perhaps this is the main reason I write: I want to tell stories which unite us.

An apple fall: Easter downunder

2 April 2018 Leave a Comment

Sue Wootton

Corpus is taking a bit of an Easter break. We’ll be back next week with three fresh articles. Meanwhile…

Easter: whatever your stance on the religious reason for the season, it’s hard to miss the spring-associated symbolism in all those foil-wrapped chocolate eggs and bunnies. Which is a bit weird, really, for those of us in Aotearoa/New Zealand, for whom Easter marks the turn towards winter. It’s the end of daylight saving; it’s goodbye to a long hot summer and (speaking from Dunedin) those lovely lengthy southern evenings. For us downunder, it’s autumn and it’s harvest time. Open the Corpus Easter egg to read a poem by the aptly named Robert Frost that celebrates nature’s abundance and that also says: sometimes, hands off – just let be.

[soliloquy id=”5914″]

Free with his fists: trying to make sense of it (Part Two)

26 March 2018 5 Comments

Carolyn McCurdie

(Read the first part of Carolyn McCurdie’s reflections on this topic here.)

There are many, many victim-blaming questions that are asked. Most of them arise from cultural assumptions and I’m as much a product of this culture as anyone. There’s no blaming that anyone could do that I haven’t done to myself. One that caused me years of soul-searching is: but didn’t you see the signs? Surely you should have known.

Yes and no. With hindsight and maturity I can see that he was extremely narcissistic. Everything was about him. I didn’t recognise that. He was a heavy drinker. Every young man I knew was a heavy drinker. I wasn’t alert for trouble. I didn’t know I should be. There was no violence at all. This didn’t begin until about a year into the relationship. By that time I was committed.

So why didn’t I leave? Such a common question, and one much easier to answer.

The people are fighting back – with coffee cups

26 March 2018 Leave a Comment

Paul Sorrell

At a time when communities are being fragmented, human relationships increasingly commodified and people alienated from the political system, signs of resistance are springing up, often in unexpected places. In Dunedin, and particularly in North East Valley, close to where I live, community gardens and self-help groups are burgeoning.

And so is the morning tea movement. Eleven ago, however, when a friend and I started walking up the Bullock Track and along Highgate to a café in Roslyn, we never suspected that we might be a part of something bigger. In danger of burning out from a high-stress job, my friend took the sensible first step of shaving two days off his working week. The next “step” was the walking cure – a brisk uphill trek ending in a caffeinated reward.