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| I'm too sexy for my socks |
Yesterday I had minor surgery to remove uterine fibroids (one the size of a golf ball), hopefully saving much future menstrual agony, and leading to this oh-so-sexy surgical-socks-and-painted-toenails combo. Him Indoors was unintentionally hilarious when he said, "You look like you've been in a period drama." My, how I laughed. But I sincerely hope my period drama is over.
It has taken me 35 years of nausea, cramps, excessive bleeding, low iron counts and a general lack of energy to have this taken seriously. I'm so glad it finally has been, and I hope that by talking more to our young women we can prevent them suffering the pain that we have tolerated because we've been told things like, 'that's just the price you pay for being a woman'. Let's not even start getting into the issue that medical practitioners might be less inclined to be so dismissive if it effected men. I'll get to that elsewhere.
What I would like to acknowledge is how well the process was handled. From the admission staff to the nurses, doctors, wards-people, surgeons, and anaesthetists, everybody was efficient, understanding and compassionate. I am impressed and awed by the service and care I received. Of course, I have some pain now (as is only to be expected after things have been scraped away from my insides), but I have been given drugs to manage it with clear instructions, a follow-up call this morning, and a routine check-up in a few weeks' time.
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| Scooter |
While I was in the hospital, being hooked up to machines and having all my vital signs monitored, I was of course transported back to eight years ago today, when I lost my best friend to cancer. I still miss him every day, but, although my heart aches, I am able to think of him and smile rather than cry these days. I have so many memories of happy times, and also, obviously, sad ones as we saw him lose his sparkle. But even as his physical form was shrinking before our eyes, the palliative care he received was incredible. The kindness of the medical staff who managed his pain and saw him to the end of his life was humbling. They were wonderful to him, and to his family and friends, who visited him in hospital and stayed with him when there was nothing further that could be done, except let him leave with dignity. I thank them all.
In the UK, some people want to sell off the NHS. It is baffling beyond belief that anyone would actually choose a system like the one that exists in the U.S.A. A recent video released on the Common Dreams website shows the shock with which British people heard the costs of basic healthcare (childbirth; ambulance ride; asthma inhalers) across the Atlantic. I don't want to get political here, but, seriously, how could anyone with a conscience vote for a party that would allow this to happen? Healthcare should be not be optional; it should be available to all; and it should not be monetised.
I know the NHS is a creaking organisation and one which desperately needs funding and a massive overhaul. I'm not ignorant - I realise that people are ageing and that medical procedures are becoming more expensive and more in demand. I understand that we can't continue the way we're going as the population continues to both age and increase. What we need is measured and considered discussion and respect. What we do not need is privatisation.
And the people who care for us; the people who listen to our complaints and assuage our pain should be respected and rewarded - not penalised, underpaid or stressed beyond breaking point. They are literally (and I don't use that word lightly) our saviours. In fact, I'll finish with a quote from the late, great Jeremy Hardy, who also passed away this year, who had an enviably incisive way with words, and is also sorely missed.
