I
slept like a log last night, and woke after nine hours in my pit, which was
something of a result. I was strangely disappointed that yesterday’s flu jab
seems to have had no lasting effects whatsoever. I have a vague memory of having
been poorly after a flu jab once (many years ago) but these days it
seems everyone else has dibs on reactions to immunisations.
I took the puppies out
into the garden and had my second disappointment of the day. It was raining.
Having a morning free I did have a plan to take the dogs (and “er indoors TM”)
to the woods for a walk. We could have gone anyway, but where’s the fun in
getting soaking wet?
Whilst
the puppies snuggled with “er indoors TM” I made toast and
had a look at the Internet. There was a lot of talk on-line about how the Pope
is asking people to pray for retired Pope Benedict XVI who is incredibly ill.
I *really* don’t understand the entire concept of “prayers for the
dying”. Are the prayers supposed to encourage whichever god it might be to
stop the people dying? Don’t pretty much all the religions have us believe that
when we croak we go to a better place? As I have said before, back in the day I
was *incredibly* religious (I used to be a Steward in the
Methodist Church)
and one thing which made me see sense was the fact that pretty much everyone
with whom I went to church was terrified of dying even though the whole concept
of the church was that we really were going to a far better place when we
croaked.
I
also saw that I had an invitation to a masquerade party at the Dorchester hotel
in London for tomorrow night… I say “invitation”; invitation to buy a
ticket” was the actual truth of the matter. At over five hundred quid a
ticket (and a room in the hotel being extra) I replied suggesting that
they weren’t reaching their target audience.
With
the rain getting heavier I then looked at writing up a little CPD. One article
I found caught my eye. The article is written by someone who does the same job
as me, but in the USA where they don’t have free health care. You can read it by clicking here, but it is heavy
going. Just skip to the last paragraph:
“I
can’t help but think about the disparities associated with cancer and the
inaccessibility of potentially lifesaving or life-prolonging treatments. … what
if we had equal access to cutting edge, personalized therapies? What if the
only therapy available was too costly to bear? Just because a cancer might be
rare… it doesn’t mean access to a proven
effective therapy should also be rare. Even with drug assistance programs, so
many patients face the harsh reality of tapping into their life savings to just
to save their own life… Now, it’s time that pharmaceutical companies and our
healthcare system as a whole work together to provide high quality, low-cost,
readily accessible and personalized treatment options to every patient. They
deserve that chance to overcome or at least manage their cancer”
We’ve got this in the UK right now, and have had for over seventy years.
When I took scouts to America I was told that the NHS was a “commie-pinko
set-up” but it would seem that there are those over there who are coming to
realise the value of what we’ve got. But for how much longer? Rather than
standing on the doorstep clapping like things possessed, write to your MP about
the slow insidious selling-off of the NHS that has been going on for ages, and
still is.
I
then spent a few minutes messaging fellow hunters of Tupperware about
tomorrow’s geo-meet. A year ago I wrote “I’m hoping that we might re-boot
the noble and ancient art of rummaging under rocks for film pots”, but
sadly it didn’t happen. Might we re-enthuse people tomorrow?
As
I pootled on-line so the dogs played with their Christmas toys. “Played”
being “ripping the stuffing out”. “er indoors TM” had
got the room looking immaculate yesterday. This morning there was stuffing
everywhere.
I got to work just as the rain was easing off, and rather
sulked as I worked. Back in the day the days between Christmas and New Year
used to be incredibly quiet with pretty much no one at all wanting any sort of
medical interventions, least of all a blood test. As a lad I was told that
taking leave at this time of year was a waste of leave as it was so quiet.
Sadly that mind-set has stayed with me over the years, and these days I
subconsciously expect a very quiet time when in fact work really is as busy as
ever.
I
came home via a little diversion to Bethersden to collect “My Boy TM”
and his tribe who had been partying all evening.
Next
year I’m going to book time off work… if I haven’t retired by then.
And
today would have been Sid’s twelfth birthday…
