![]() ![]() Unfortunately, the commercial rapid urine analysis tests that exist today can only go so far-this is where the promise of microfluidic devices lies. Urine has great promise for being a key resource for health monitoring unlike blood, it can be collected effortlessly on a daily basis without pain or the need for special equipment. A promising solution to this challenge is low-cost continuous health monitoring this approach allows for effective screening, analysis, and diagnosis and facilitates proactive medical intervention. Next-generation technologies will be the key to developing affordable and accessible care, while also lowering the costs of healthcare. However, this transition will only be made possible through scientific innovation. They watch together as it drifts on the breeze, beyond the fence, unrestrained.A transformation of the healthcare industry is necessary and imminent: hospital-centered, reactive care will soon give way to proactive, person-centered care which focuses on individuals' well-being. A feathery white seed from a willow tree has captured his attention. She tries to meet his eyes, but they too have escaped the bounds of school. It bore no resemblance to the green leafy campsites and hotel pools that other children drew. Glancing down at his jet-black hair she remembers with a jolt the scribbled picture he drew that morning with bars of dark colour thrusting up spear-like and tiny triangle shapes beneath. She wonders what skies, what dark clouds, what fires Sama has seen. Cloud shadows scud across its blackened turf, like memories of last summer’s fires. Her eyes are her escape, they lift her to the rooftops, beyond the mills then to the flank of Winter Hill. Miss Taylor, joining him, lets her gaze wander beyond the fence, past the car park and along the road. Other children see the game, and rush along the fence, tap tap tapping to the speed of their feet, pushing past Sama when they get to his bar. With his cheek to the metal, he feels the vibrating railing. He wanders to the spike-topped fence, picks up a stick and begins ringing the rhythm of some distant place. Other children rush and screech, chase and race but Sama shifts nervously when he sees his teacher watching. Only Sama sits alone on a bench fingering the tiny apple seeds in his pocket. Miss Taylor releases the children into to playground, catching their sense of boundless joy. The moment is cut by the sound of the bell. There is no tick box for sensitivity, she notes. She notices Sama touching the scar of the apple blossom, reluctant to throw his core in the bin. Eyes open wide, small fingers probe stalks, then tongues suck at juice that once fell as distant rain. She passes round apples and tells of a tree, conjures its blossom in spring in an orchard far away. Ticks for assembly, for science and for art.Īt last Miss Taylor is free to go beyond ticks, books and screens. Then ticks for the spelling test, for grammar, maths. ![]() She lists the children, a tick for each name on the register screen. Thirty uniformed five-year olds sit in restrained silence. The receptionist, human after all, chats as she shows the way to Classroom One. She’s admitted, to the inner sanctum of the school. Tick- ID, tick- photo, tick- to supply teaching agency verification, tick school pass print-out. She attempts a ‘hello’ through a Perspex screen, and the receptionist tries to apologise, pointing to the computerised arrivals system. The gate swings closed behind, and the door opens with a belch of deodorised air. Security cameras lock onto her face then a catch is released with a beep and a click. Miss Taylor arrives, her entry steel barred. ![]()
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