How should you pronounce the acronym SHRM – of the Society for Human Resource Management?

The American Society for Personnel Administration (ASPA) was founded way back in 1948. (Its two-vowel acronym might be pronounced ASS-PAW). Then, in 1989, the organization changed its name to the Society for Human Resource Management. That is an unpronounceable acronym consisting of four consonants. An implicit vowel (red) has to be added somewhere between them to get a pronounceable word, as shown above. The best choice is an E – resulting in the nickname for Sherman, SHERM, as shown in green. That’s what appears in a recent ‘HR Experts’ TV commercial on YouTube.

But another choice is SHRUM, or ‘shroom, a contraction representing the noun mushroom. Mushroom Management is a derogatory phrase usually defined by something like:

“Keep them in the dark, feed them sh*t, watch them grow, and when they’ve grown enough can them. “

An image of mushrooms was adapted from one at Wikimedia Commons.

Pearls Before Swine cartoon about acronyms for the fear of missing out (FOMO), and four other fears

On November 10, 2018 there was a Pearls Before Swine cartoon about five acronyms. As shown above, one was FOMO, which really does mean the Fear Of Missing Out. The other four were humorous but commonly refer to something different.

FOBO refers to Front Office Back Office rather than Fear Of Being Oblong. FOCO refers to a business that is Franchise Owned (and) Company Operated rather than Fear Of Carefree Otters. FODO really is the Fear Of Disappointing Others rather than Fear Of Demoralizing Oatmeal, although there is another cartoon called The Oatmeal. FOFO means to Find Out For Oneself rather than Fear Of Family Occasions.

I easily came up with another three (shown above). The usual source for an urban legend is a Friend Of A Friend.

Troubleshooting the Magic Mouse for my iMac

Back in 2009 I bought an iMac computer which came with a sleek bluetooth wireless Apple Magic Mouse. On the bottom are an on-off switch, a green pilot light, and a cover for the battery compartment. (At Ifixit you can see a teardown revealing what is hidden inside).

When the cover is removed, I can replace the two AA batteries, which needs to be done once or twice a month. (I use Energizer rechargeable Nickel Metal Hydride batteries). Yesterday I replaced the batteries, but afterward the mouse did not work. What went wrong?

I had never ever cleaned the terminals in the battery compartment. The protruding, spring-loaded ones (yellow arrow) that touch the flat negative contact on the bottom of each battery are wiped clean when a new battery is inserted. But the recessed ones that touch the protruding positive contacts on the top of a battery just sit inside crevices (red arrows). Apparently enough dust had accumulated on those terminals to insulate the positive contacts. I got out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and moistened some cotton applicators. After I cleaned the terminals the mouse worked again.     

I found some bad advice when I looked up Magic Mouse problems. One thread suggested scraping with a scalpel, a second thread suggested rubbing with a pencil eraser. Both are way too aggressive and could damage the plated surfaces.

A 1960s Halloween superprank in a computer center

Telling scary stories is a favorite Halloween activity. This year the Shark Tank blog at Computerworld told one titled Little IT Shop of Horrors III: The eyes! The eyes! from the mid-1960s about the first supercomputer, the Control Data Corporation 6600.   

The control console on the CDC 6600 had a pair of large, round, green, display screens that typically were used to display text, as shown in an image from a linked article. But those screens also could display graphics, as is shown above.

AT 2:00 AM the operator on duty saw those screens “wake up” to first display a pair of closed eyes. Then the eyes slowly opened, looked to the left, looked to the right, and stared straight ahead. Finally the eyes closed, the display went blank, and right back to displaying text.   

An image of a CDC 6600 originally came from Wikimedia Commons.

A very competent and cheerful medical center

For 21 days, from late October to mid-November, I was a patient at Saint Alphonsus Regional Medical Center here in Boise. On October 24, 2018 I had routine abdominal hernia repair surgery at Saint Alphonsus Regional Medical Center. I came in at 5:30 AM and was sent home in mid-afternoon.

But by late the next morning I had not urinated. I called the surgeon’s office, and was told to come to the emergency room (ER). (I thought that overnight my bladder had overfilled, and simply inserting a catheter would drain it). In the ER they ultrasonically scanned my bladder and found it was empty. They told me my kidneys had shut down (renal failure), and admitted me. (My digestive tract also had stopped moving, which is called an ileus). Soon my kidneys started up again, and eventually my digestive tract began moving. Finally I was moved to rehab, and stayed for eight more days.

On November 19, 2018 I blogged about Communicating during a personal medical crisis. In that post I described interactions with physicians who led my care. This post is about the rest of that impressive team – who were both highly competent and very cheerful. There were very few glitches.

At my bed there was a controller for the television (with a speaker) and three call buttons for contacting the nurse’s station. A large button was for general use, and two smaller buttons had symbols for medication and toilet.   

Two key team members are the nurse and nursing assistant. They introduced themselves at the beginning of each shift. The assistant helped me get to the bathroom and back using a walker, and got me a glass of ice water for at my bedside table. Twice a day the assistant scanned my patient id bracelet, and took vital signs (blood pressure, pulse, oxygen).  

The nurse handled intravenous and oral medications, and injections. When I was moved to a room in rehab the nurse noticed that the lower control on the hospital bed for raising my knees was not working, and had the bed replaced by one that was. While moving the bed back toward the wall she bumped the connector for the call button, and it disconnected. I was out of contact for a half hour until someone stopped by.  

Before rehab, at about 5:00 AM a lab person came by to take a blood sample. A couple times she sighed, changed which of my arms to try, and then got done quickly and almost painlessly.   

When you are lying in a hospital bed, meals are a highlight of the day. Around 8:00 AM, noon, and 5:00 PM someone from food service delivered them. Just one time I received an inedible serving of underdone butternut squash. Also a few times a condiment like a butter pat or jam serving was omitted.  Otherwise every meal was good or excellent. The grilled halibut and salmon were very tasty. I also really looked forward to a visit from another food service person who came by to let me place my (soft diet) orders for the next day.

The environment services people who cleaned my room also were cheerful.

Physical therapy (PT) and occupational therapy (OT) also came to visit. PT got me out of bed with a two-wheel walker - first just moving around the room and later going down the hall. OT helped me shave and start brushing my teeth after meals. They got me thinking about how I was going to manage when I got back home.

When I got to the rehab, I had 1-1/2 hours a day each of both PT and OT. I told OT that at home we already had a $ 70 four-wheel walker from Harbor Freight with a seat and basket (as shown above). They told me that was not their preferred design, but to bring it in and work with it, since it was what I would be using. Eventually I was allowed to get out of bed and move around the room on my own with that walker.

At night a medical center is not a restful place for a light sleeper like me. The Life Flight helicopter ambulance typically took off or landed at least once. One time it came at 3:00 AM and 3:25 AM. (My wife described the sound as like what you’d hear if you leaned over a lawnmower while it was running). Usually I got the nursing assistant to leave the room door closed, and the nurse to put the cover over the display for the computer work station. 

An image of a Cheerful Nurse came from Openclipart.

Toastmasters refocuses on having just one group at LinkedIn for members

In March 2017 I searched groups at LinkedIn, found there was one called The Official Toastmasters International Group (currently with 31,518 members), and joined it. After a few more months I found a post asking why there were two groups, and found there also confusingly was The Official Toastmasters International Members Group (currently with 48,824 members). These groups have useful discussions of topics such as the Pathways program. (I discussed my June 26, 2018 blog post on Another overview of Toastmasters International’s Pathways paths and projects).

Recently Toastmasters decided to keep the Members group and discontinue the other. A post from their Social Media Strategist said:

“A reminder, on November 30, 2018 The Official Toastmasters LinkedIn Group will no longer be active due to redundancy. If you are a current Toastmaster, please join The Official Toastmasters International Members LinkedIn Group. If you are not a Toastmaster, we welcome you to follow the Toastmasters International company page. We look forward to getting social with you. Thank you."

Communicating during a personal medical crisis

This Thanksgiving I am thankful for being home again after spending 21 days in the hospital here in Boise. On October 24, 2018 I had routine abdominal hernia repair surgery at Saint Alphonsus Regional Medical Center. I came in at 5:30 AM and was sent home in mid-afternoon.

But by late the next morning I had not urinated. I called the surgeon’s office, and was told to come to the emergency room (ER). I thought that overnight my bladder had overfilled, and simply inserting a catheter would drain it. In the ER they ultrasonically scanned my bladder and found it was empty. They told me my kidneys had shut down (renal failure), and admitted me. My digestive tract also had stopped moving, which is called an ileus.

I was put in Telemetry, with EKG chest leads, needles for intravenous (IV) fluids in both arms, a nasogastic tube (with suction to keep my stomach empty), oxygen via nasal cannula, and a Foley catheter for urine. My kidneys started up again, and eventually my digestive tract began moving. Finally I was moved to rehab, and stayed for eight more days. The day before I went home (last Thursday, November 15th) they finally removed the catheter.

During my regular stay two staff internal medicine physicians (hospitalists) -  Dr. Lisa Nelson and Dr. Carolyn McFarlane managed my care. Both did a wonderful job of communicating ‘we’ve got this.’ They told me about my current condition and treatments, what they knew, what they didn’t, and what tests were next to find out more. It was very reassuring to know where things were, and how I was improving.

     

I texted my sister Ellen (who has a Ph.D. in Biology from Princeton and once was a Research Fellow at Merck for six years) about those conditions, and she replied:

“Acute renal failure (ARF) occurs in a small % of people undergoing abdominal surgery. Some people suffer ARF following any surgery involving general anesthesia, A few suffer irreversible RF; and a few go into coma following general anesthesia. Shutdown of GI tract (aka ileus) is a more common complication following abdominal surgery, especially in older patients.

Lots of garbage on the internet: need to look at reputable sources (e.g. Merck Manual; Mayo Clinic, various NIH sites).”

The Merck Manual of Diagnosis and Therapy is a standard medical reference book. At home I still have the 13th edition from 1977, which has 2165 pages of nine-point type, is 5-1/2” wide by 8” tall by 2” thick. The entry for ileus in the web version says:

“Ileus is a temporary arrest of intestinal peristalsis. It occurs most commonly after abdominal surgery, particularly when the intestines have been manipulated. Symptoms are nausea, vomiting, and vague abdominal discomfort. Diagnosis is based on x-ray findings and clinical impression. Treatment is supportive, with nasogastric suction and IV fluids.”

Both the Mayo Clinic and Medline Plus have pages about kidney failure that have less jargon. 


One positive outcome from my stay in the hospital was losing weight. In August I had weighed 205 pounds, but when I got home I was down to 190.  

An image of a man in a hospital was adapted from Openclipart.