Yours Toothfully by Dr Chan Joon Yee

Conjunctivitis is due to fire in the liver. Backache is due to weakness in the kidneys. Yes, we used to laugh at such ideas, dismissing them as ancient myths, but right now, I’m reading 黄帝内经, an ancient Chinese medical text that reminds me of some of the things that mother and grandma used to say. I can’t laugh at these concepts anymore. I need to take an exam that will test me on the highly complex and seemingly absurd associations between “organs” in the body.

But make no mistake about it, my mother will not pass my exam. TCM is a highly complex study of non-anatomic “organs”, meridians, their non-physiologic functions and highly complex, convoluted interactions in the course of diseases and cures. The ancient Chinese texts are all very thick books not to be trifled with. But just as Buddhism has its many levels of worship and practices, (some of which are not really authentic/orthodox but popular amongst the peasantry), TCM concepts and principles are often quoted by hawkers and shoppers in the markets when they recommend miracle cures.

To the credit of these laymen and women, some of their recommendations are good. But without a complete understanding of TCM, many practices and prescriptions handed out in the noisy wet markets are totally baseless and sometimes even harmful.

I’ve had the character 虎 drawn on my cheeks when I had mumps. Kids with illiterate parents had it worse. The face of a tiger was drawn on their swollen cheeks. My mother and their mothers heard from market grapevine that mumps 猪头皮 had a porcine element to it and a tigery element would banish it. Many bitter, obnoxious concorctions obtained from neighbours, elders, village wisemen, wisewomen and other “experts” had caused me to vomit my guts out or break out in raging rashes. I’m not sure if other kids had it worse. My only pleasant experience was with the tuina fellow who greatly relieved the pain from my dislocated elbow.

With so many people in my generation experiencing the same suffering from the malpractice of TCM, it’s not surprising that we once regarded TCM as pure rubbish. Whenever Mom gave me health tips based on her understanding based on what the auntie upstairs (or was it the one downstairs?) told her, I would trash it like spam.

Of course, the real TCM is nothing like what you hear in the markets. Just because the pork seller’s daughter’s pimples were cured with Formula A doesn’t mean that the fishmonger’s son’s pimples will benefit from Formula A. In TCM, different illnesses can have the same manifestations. The qualified practitioner is one who has been trained to recognise the underlying cause and prescribe a suitable treatment. A person not trained in diagnosis has no business prescribing or recommending a cure.

With legislation and regulation, the standard of TCM will certainly rise. The English-educated public is now more and more receptive and there are even foreign doctors in my TCM class. However, just like dentistry, it is important to note that educating practitioners is only half the job done. The consumers must also be educated. Many of today’s medical halls sell and recommend bird’s nest, ginseng and other “tonics” that generate the most income for these businesses.

But the same expensive tonics will not be beneficial for everybody. Not too long ago, I went to a well-known chain of Chinese medical halls and asked for 荆芥. I’m sure they had it in the store, but none of the assistants knew what I was talking about. Pharmacist out for lunch. Everybody else only knows the price of ginseng and bird’s nest. Or how about some 石斛? The herb rumoured to have cured our PM’s lymphoma. Sure, we need a little hype and sensationalism to promote TCM, but the facts need to be sorted out. One should not be branded as a TCM heretic just because he dismisses the tales from the wet market.

From someone who used to mock at TCM practitioners as moronic alchemists trapped in a time warp, I’m now studying to be a TCM practitioner myself. I have no problems adjusting to the totally new mindset to look at illnesses from a TCM point of view. In fact, I’m loving TCM more and more. Yet, I see no conflict in dismissing Mom’s advice and recommendations. Don’t draw another tiger on my face please.

I saw this coming. Ris Low is not going to hide her face in shame. She is now facing everyone with the real Ris Low that goes f*** and knnbccb… I must admit I nearly fell out of my dentist’s stool when I heard that. But Ris Low’s marketing strategy is not surprising these days. What happens when you can’t win due to some weaknesses? Well, you capitalise on those weaknesses and become an instant hit with folks who are simply too bored with everything prim and proper.

Boomz T-shirts are flying off the shelves and very soon, we’ll have Shingz T-shirts. I’m wondering if Boomz is now copyrighted. If not, I’m going to come out with a Black Boomz Bra that is going to wake the dead when worn to a funeral.

Who knows? I may make a fortune on this and won’t have to look inside people’s mouths anymore. But the one with the biggest last laugh has to be Ris Low herself. I can’t imagine her respectable replacement in the pageant becoming half as famous or earning half as much.

Like many impoverished Hakka people in Guangdong Province, my grandparents fled from a turbulent China and settled down in a little village near Ipoh. With hardly any formal education, they worked as tin miners, toiling in the sun and the mud from dawn to dusk. Seeing little future in Malaysia, my parents came to Singapore to work during the 50s. Having found better job opportunities in Singapore, they decided to settle down here. I was born into the “State of Singapore” in 1964. A year later, Singapore became a republic. As my parents maintained their close ties with Ipoh, we never really lost touch with our uncles and cousins in Ipoh. Over the years, some of my cousins in Ipoh followed my parents’ footsteps and came to Singapore to work. Some started their own businesses, married and had children here. Most of them were happy as permanent residents of the lion city.

Just recently, a member of our family surprised everyone with a heroic deed. My nephew, Kok Khew Fai, better known as the legendary LTA Kok Khew Fai, saved the life of a recruit at a grenade throwing range. He received an award for his bravery. He later applied for and was awarded an SAF scholarship. He is now studying in the UK. We are all very proud of him.

The guy with the moustache is my cousin. We used to go fishing together and we called him by his nickname Ah Chin. You may be able to tell that Cousin Chin is not the sort who is comfortable with neckties. In fact, he and his wife felt a bit out of place sitting with the well-heeled parents of the other SAF scholars. Well, who cares? My only concern is that it’s going to be hard on Khew Fai to keep up the poster boy image. He is going to be brought out repeatedly during important speeches, as a foreigner who not only did his NS to become a citizen, he even saved some Singaporean asses while doing his NS. I’d like to believe that heroism runs in the family. I just hope Khew Fai knows where and when to stop playing hero when he returns from his studies and joins the establishment.

We know exactly what a poster boy ought to and ought not to do or say just by looking at Uyghur poster girl Rebiya Kadeer. One mainland Chinese supporter argued that the very fact that Rebiya Kadeer managed to become one of the richest women in China shows that Uyghur oppression is nonsense. But did this fellow realise that when Rebiya was doing well in China, she was vice chairwoman of the Xinjiang Autonomous Region Federation of Industry and Commerce, and vice chairwoman of the Xinjiang Association of Women Entrepreneurs as well as member of the National People’s Consultative Conference? She not only lost all these posts, she was even imprisoned the moment she spoke out against the Party’s policies.

Poster boys/girls are meant to be there to prove something that the authorities want to show. They are not meant to be heroic and speak their minds.

From poster boys/girls, we move to local innovations. As a Singaporean, I’d be proud of local inventions that make a difference. Earlier on, while commenting on Singapore women’s success on Everest, I’ve said that I’d be very proud of our girls if they had managed to do something that no other women’s team managed to do.

If there’s a dental product developed by Singaporeans and if it is something that no one else managed to do or sell at an agreeable price, I would buy tonnes of the product and use it exclusively. Some time ago, the manufacturers of Alvelac pushed a box of the socket preservation thing as a consignment in my clinic. I didn’t turn them down. One of the researchers who came up with this concept was a senior of mine in dental school. That ought to give me another reason to feel proud.

Looks impressive? Well, just how useful is it? The manufacturer mentioned quite casually that the scaffold must be inserted in the socket, near the edges of the buccal and lingual walls. This means that in order for the product to work, the socket must be completely surrounded by bone. How often do we get extraction sockets which are like that? Make no bones about it, most teeth are extracted because of gum disease nowadays. With gum disease, you will almost never get perfect bone walls suitable for Alvelac.

What if you do get perfect walls? Well, a socket that is perfect for Alvelac would also be perfect for immediate implant placement. Why bother to preserve the socket with something that prepares it for implantation when you can implant and preserve the socket immediately, saving the patient time and money?

Sorry, guys. I would love to support this local product and I would still keep my consignment just in case a patriot decides to insist on the placement on Alvelac, but I will keep patients informed of the much better option of immediate implantation.

Not long after Kaelyn Ong gave a not so flattering review for the cakes and desserts at a shop at Joo Chiat called Obolo in her popular food blog, she received an email from the folks at Obolo telling her to remove the posting or run the risk of being sued.

http://myfoodsirens.wordpress.com/2009/10/02/obolo/

Sued? For what? For not liking their cakes and telling others about it? It doesn’t take an legal expert to see that Obolo may have been a bit ahead of itself. We haven’t heard Stephen Speilberg suing movie reviewers who said unflattering things about his work. Yes, J.K. Rowling has sued people for plagiarism, but I’ve never heard her sue any reviewer or hater who didn’t like Harry Potter. What about Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger? Has he sued anybody for laughing at his acting and his not so intellectual movies? Why are our local cake shops behaving like some of our local politicians then?

Maybe I’ve already answered my own question. But unlike the pitifully tenacious politicians at the receiving end of endless lawsuits, Miss Ong drew a tide of supporters on her side. Obolo was blasted for its bullying tactics. Everyone was calling for a boycott.

So why did Obolo do such a silly thing? Because they thought that as a young undergrad, Miss Ong would get frightened, give in to their threats and do as told? Well, that might have worked with me when I was Miss Ong’s age. But times have changed. Miss Ong’s defiance spoke volumes of the youngsters today. You can’t push them around anymore.

But then again, something didn’t and won’t really change. In spite of all the bad publicity, Obolo is unlikely to suffer much. That’s my prediction. Why? Because foodies are cheap. The endure rudeness, arrogance and profiteering from “good” hawkers just to get their fix. And just before I wrote this blog entry, I was at a noodle stall at Lucky Plaza. I ordered a chicken noodle and it took them ages to deliver. It’s only when i stared angrily at the other customers who got their food before me that they bothered to explain the cause for the delay - by shouting across 4 tables. When my food finally arrived, they didn’t even bother to apologise. In spite of such rudeness and arrogance (and their food is not exactly great), the stall still sees an enless stream of customers. Courtesy and good service are not criteria for success in this food business here. Every successful stall swarming with customers and long queues probably sees itself as a little kingdom and the hawkers running them act like kings.

I dare now imagine how I would be treated if their soy chicken were a bit more tender and their gravy a little more flavourful. The photo below is not taken at the stall I patronised. The last thing I want is to advertise for them.