I'm glad to report that my experiences with my new dentist and the swine 'flu jab this week have been positive. The dentist, John, was genial and even reckoned I've done quite a good job at cleaning my teeth. I've become so used to being told off for not doing it properly that I made my apologies in advance. Anyway although I've got lots of fillings he said I kept them surprisingly well. And I didn't need treatment, apart from some scaling. He didn't recommend Corsodyl which I'd been told to use previously - discolours your teeth apparently. Just use salt and water. The best thing is that the practice is disabled friendly, and they're used to dealing with people like me. It was a good find.
As for the 'flu jab, I had my favourite practice nurse who was kind to me. She confirmed that I only need one jab. In the event I've not had any side-effects, no sore arm and fluey symptoms. Amazing. Rachel suspects my nose might be changing shape....
On Wednesday evening we went to the annual social of the Oxfordshire MNDA at the Bear and Ragged Staff in Cumnor. Jan and Joanne were there, and we had a good chat with them. So were a lot of other people, quite a number with MND too, and some who have got involved because of partners or relatives who have died from it. It was good to get to know a few more, though my conversations in a crowded pub are a bit limited. Chatted to Rachel Marsden, the nurse i/c of Oxford's MND Centre, about a meeting we're both involved in on 28 January for vicars-to-be about disability and terminal illness. She is an amazing person. Anyway it was a good evening.
PS The title of this blog comes from Shakespeare....
Showing posts with label Swine flu. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Swine flu. Show all posts
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Tuesday, 28 July 2009
Have you heard...?
the one about swine 'flu:
I rang the swine flu hotline today, but all I got was crackling.
And the one about life:
Life is a sexually transmitted disease with a terminal outcome.
I'm grateful to a research doctor for the first and a retired professor for the second.
I rang the swine flu hotline today, but all I got was crackling.
And the one about life:
Life is a sexually transmitted disease with a terminal outcome.
I'm grateful to a research doctor for the first and a retired professor for the second.
Sunday, 26 July 2009
Friends and family
Oh no, 'Lord of all hopefulness' sung by a choir dressed all in black - Songs of Praise has done it again.... Interviews all right, the ones I saw, but oh dear! No wonder it's rated at a measly 5.4 in my television guide. Whereas there was rather a good morning service on Radio 4, this morning, with a particularly good talk from Amy Orr-Ewing (http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00lr14n/Sunday_Worship_26_07_2009/). I recommend a listen.
We have spent a very happy couple of days with our family from 'up north' and at various points all the others. Faith was teething which disturbed her night's sleep, and her parents', of course. But we enjoyed our time in the park with the three girls, and hopefully Paul and Penny were able to get SOME rest. It's a full-on job being a parent.
On Friday afternoon, we went to the Oxfordshire MND Association Friends' meeting at Millets, our local garden centre. After wandering round for a bit, we ended up in the restaurant and were given a huge and very good cream tea. A number of us with MND were there, representing three of the four variants, I should think. It was nice to meet them, and the 'visitors', as well as some of the committee. Being with others who are in the same boat helps.
I was naturally disappointed to hear the news on Saturday morning that the Royal College of Nursing had changed its official line on assisted suicide to a 'neutral' one, after polling from 1200 of their members. The percentages were 49% were in favour of assisted suicide, and 40% opposed. To my calculation that's under 600 of their total membership of 400,000, hardly a resounding mandate. But, as I've said before, this is not a matter of numbers; it's a matter of deeply complex issues which need the wisest of people to discuss. It's not just to do with individual choices; it's to do with the kind of society that is best for humans to live in. I'm inclined to agree this much with Dr Peter Carter, RCN's general secretary, that a Royal Commission would not be a bad idea, BUT it would need to address fundamental issues, not just the presenting symptoms.
It occurs to me that The Times poll, published the same day, and commissioned in the immediate aftermath of the much publicised deaths of Sir Edward and Lady Downes in Zurich, is rather like patients diagnosing their own symptoms. The newly opened swine flu hot line crashed on Friday, I gather, because it was overwhelmed with 9 million calls on its first day. I also gather that in the west Midlands, when they were still testing for swine flu, only half the tests turned out to be the virus. We are easily frightened by things outside our control, and that's most true about suffering and dying. If only we could control it, we'd be happier, we suppose. The Times poll purported to show, besides a big majority in favour of legalising assisted suicide, that people were quite sophisticated in the understanding of the issues. Well, I wonder: for example they were asked whether they favoured assisted suicide for the terminally ill. There was no definition of 'terminally ill'. Am I terminally ill? In one document, I recall, the MNDA warned us not to describe ourselves as with a terminal illness when applying for holiday insurance. Is cancer a terminal condition? MS? And so on. I suppose technically I have a terminal condition, but it doesn't often feel like it and I don't intend to dignify it with the label. As Paul said to me on Saturday, life is a terminal condition. Sorry, but it's true.
Which set me thinking on two lines. One is that the difficulty of defining 'terminal' should be a warning against weakening our present prohibition, because of the shadowy territory we would enter. And the other is, why should it be more legitimate to take the life of a terminal patient than a non-terminal one? Is that life of less value? Because it's shorter? Because it's hard? Because it's costly to maintain?
We have spent a very happy couple of days with our family from 'up north' and at various points all the others. Faith was teething which disturbed her night's sleep, and her parents', of course. But we enjoyed our time in the park with the three girls, and hopefully Paul and Penny were able to get SOME rest. It's a full-on job being a parent.
On Friday afternoon, we went to the Oxfordshire MND Association Friends' meeting at Millets, our local garden centre. After wandering round for a bit, we ended up in the restaurant and were given a huge and very good cream tea. A number of us with MND were there, representing three of the four variants, I should think. It was nice to meet them, and the 'visitors', as well as some of the committee. Being with others who are in the same boat helps.
I was naturally disappointed to hear the news on Saturday morning that the Royal College of Nursing had changed its official line on assisted suicide to a 'neutral' one, after polling from 1200 of their members. The percentages were 49% were in favour of assisted suicide, and 40% opposed. To my calculation that's under 600 of their total membership of 400,000, hardly a resounding mandate. But, as I've said before, this is not a matter of numbers; it's a matter of deeply complex issues which need the wisest of people to discuss. It's not just to do with individual choices; it's to do with the kind of society that is best for humans to live in. I'm inclined to agree this much with Dr Peter Carter, RCN's general secretary, that a Royal Commission would not be a bad idea, BUT it would need to address fundamental issues, not just the presenting symptoms.
It occurs to me that The Times poll, published the same day, and commissioned in the immediate aftermath of the much publicised deaths of Sir Edward and Lady Downes in Zurich, is rather like patients diagnosing their own symptoms. The newly opened swine flu hot line crashed on Friday, I gather, because it was overwhelmed with 9 million calls on its first day. I also gather that in the west Midlands, when they were still testing for swine flu, only half the tests turned out to be the virus. We are easily frightened by things outside our control, and that's most true about suffering and dying. If only we could control it, we'd be happier, we suppose. The Times poll purported to show, besides a big majority in favour of legalising assisted suicide, that people were quite sophisticated in the understanding of the issues. Well, I wonder: for example they were asked whether they favoured assisted suicide for the terminally ill. There was no definition of 'terminally ill'. Am I terminally ill? In one document, I recall, the MNDA warned us not to describe ourselves as with a terminal illness when applying for holiday insurance. Is cancer a terminal condition? MS? And so on. I suppose technically I have a terminal condition, but it doesn't often feel like it and I don't intend to dignify it with the label. As Paul said to me on Saturday, life is a terminal condition. Sorry, but it's true.
Which set me thinking on two lines. One is that the difficulty of defining 'terminal' should be a warning against weakening our present prohibition, because of the shadowy territory we would enter. And the other is, why should it be more legitimate to take the life of a terminal patient than a non-terminal one? Is that life of less value? Because it's shorter? Because it's hard? Because it's costly to maintain?
Tuesday, 14 July 2009
Thoughts for the day
Lesley, my physio, came yesterday morning and was quite pleased with how I'm doing. She reckons my speech is no worse and my walking all right. Mark you, I WAS trying to impress her! There's been a delay in trying muscle relaxing drugs, to stop my knees knocking, as there's a warning in the instructions if you have epilepsy. So we're consulting them that know. Anyway she says it's not urgent. Before she left, she asked if we'd thought about what we'd do if either of us, particularly Jane, went down with swine 'flu. I'm ashamed to say that it hadn't occurred to me as a problem. I suppose I think of Jane as indestructible. But it was a good point. I gather I'd be a priority for vaccine when it comes on stream, and one would hope that Jane would be too as I'd be up a gum-tree without her. I'm amazed at how soon a vaccine has been developed, probably being authorised for September. But the point, of course, is that in a pandemic social services would be so stretched that normal emergency cover would be virtually non-existent. We were sent via a friend something from the county council about ''flu friends', which recommends having a number of people you can contact if you're diagnosed (by phone) as having it. They recommend having a number. What a good idea, I thought! And then I thought, That's what the Church is for, isn't it?
I read in 'The Telegraph' today (not my usual paper, I hasten to add) that the BBC in the person of Mr Mark Damazer, controller of Radio 4 - I wonder if that title is meant to be reassuring, shades of Thomas the Tank engine's Fat Controller - is considering axing or altering or 'opening up' Thought for the Day on the Today Programme. Apparently it's too 'religious', and out of place in a flagship current affairs programme. Actually although I'm not a great fan, it would seem to me to diminish the programme to take away the three minutes of reflection from the headlong rush of news and comment. As the Supertramp poet said, 'What is this life if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare...?' Mr Terry Sanderson, militant president of the National Secular Society, is quoted as saying, 'The majority of people are not even religious and they want to hear a point of view that reflects their own.' Hello! Have you read the 2001 Census recently? '14.6 per cent in England and 18.5 per cent in Wales (state they have no religion).' That's a new definition of majority.
I don't want to sound censorious, but last week it was the press's turn, wasn't it? Bit like the pot calling the kettle black, it felt. Having spent weeks telling us how corrupt MPs are, we now discovered that phone-tapping is the stock in trade of the News of the World and, it is alleged, of the press in general. Maybe not directly, but via private eyes.
PS Guess what colour the singers on Songs of Praise were wearing this Sunday!
I read in 'The Telegraph' today (not my usual paper, I hasten to add) that the BBC in the person of Mr Mark Damazer, controller of Radio 4 - I wonder if that title is meant to be reassuring, shades of Thomas the Tank engine's Fat Controller - is considering axing or altering or 'opening up' Thought for the Day on the Today Programme. Apparently it's too 'religious', and out of place in a flagship current affairs programme. Actually although I'm not a great fan, it would seem to me to diminish the programme to take away the three minutes of reflection from the headlong rush of news and comment. As the Supertramp poet said, 'What is this life if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare...?' Mr Terry Sanderson, militant president of the National Secular Society, is quoted as saying, 'The majority of people are not even religious and they want to hear a point of view that reflects their own.' Hello! Have you read the 2001 Census recently? '14.6 per cent in England and 18.5 per cent in Wales (state they have no religion).' That's a new definition of majority.
I don't want to sound censorious, but last week it was the press's turn, wasn't it? Bit like the pot calling the kettle black, it felt. Having spent weeks telling us how corrupt MPs are, we now discovered that phone-tapping is the stock in trade of the News of the World and, it is alleged, of the press in general. Maybe not directly, but via private eyes.
PS Guess what colour the singers on Songs of Praise were wearing this Sunday!
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