Due Care and Attention

Due Care and Attention

I lead an active life

But I’m very clumsy

And I bruise easily,

like when I give blood,

or bump into furniture,

or trip over uneven paths.

He always comes with me

And waits while I’m treated,

like when I fell off my bike

and smashed my front teeth,

or skied into a tree

and fractured my arm,

or tipped over the roast pan

and burned the skin off my hand.

Today I played netball,

collided with a player,

and broke my nose.

The nurse looks at me

and at him, waiting,

and she asks, quietly,

“Is that netball?”

I say yes. Out loud.

For the first time ever.

What happens

Now?

Health Care

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. 

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.

A matter of life and death

I don’t know why I read the newspapers sometimes – they just wind me up.
 
Last weekend I read about the moronic behaviour of boy racers in Christchurch. While trying to evade the police, some lowlife hit a power pole and killed his front-seat passenger. He himself suffered serious head and chest injuries and underwent intensive surgery.

A mother in Invercargill resorted to crushing the car in which her 19-year-old son and his two 16-year-old passengers died instantly to prevent his ‘friends’ taking parts as keepsakes. She was understandably upset as she admitted her son was responsible for the deaths – he was drunk, speeding, and driving an unsafe vehicle.

On the next page, there is a story about an Auckland teen fundraising to buy a $217,000 microscope that Middlemore Hospital can’t afford. He needs it for his treatment after he received an electric shock seven years ago that blew his left hand off and ruined his right arm, knee and liver. The 15 year old has had over 40 surgical procedures and multiple skin grafts.

People injured in car ‘accidents’ of their own making are taken to hospital where they face lengthy operations that cost thousands and occupy doctors and nurses for hours – that’s their job; their Hippocratic Oath prevents them from picking whom they care for. They don’t choose who deserves treatment and who should be left on the gurney. I haven’t taken such an oath – I know what my decision would be. I’m just saying...

Cat care

Chester has hurt his tail. We have only been back for a week and he has got in a fight. I suppose boys will be boys, and cats will be cats, and boy cats will fight in your back garden. He came in all subdued and smoochy, which is a sure sign that he has done something wrong, got hurt by it, and now wants comforting (see what I mean about boys?).

So I took him to see the lovely people at Remarkable Vets. He has been a kitty client of theirs before. They were pleased to see him. I think this was because they genuinely think he is a cool cat but the fact that he keeps incurring vet fees can't do him any disservice.

He was less pleased to see them. They injected him with anaesthetic, shaved off his fur, sliced and drained an abscess and patched him up with a poultice bandage. As you can see, he is unimpressed. The vet tells me that as the injury is to his tail, this probably means he was running away. Wounds around the head are more likely to indicate that the cat was the aggressor. I always knew he was a lover; not a fighter.

The bandage was meant to stay on for 24 hours, but he was relentless until he had chewed it off. I guess it lasted about 20 hours though, so that's not too bad. He is now on a course of antibiotics which, fortunately, we can disperse into his food. Have you ever tried to give a cat a pill? It's not easy. They don't understand it's for their own good, and they are damn sure that it is going to hurt you at least as much as it hurts them.

Chester is not quite a million-dollar moggie, but he's getting there. In his short life he has been savaged by a dog, hit by a car, sliced a tendon in his paw and now been in a cat fight. I expect there will be more. I keep telling him that his behaviour is unbecoming to a pedigree, but he's not having any of it.

Interestingly, the vet bill was broken down into individual costs for the drugs, surgery and care. None of this stuff comes cheap. I'm not suggesting we should pay for health care as humans, but sometimes I think, if it weren't for the administration costs, it wouldn't go amiss to actually see how much each hospital visit costs. Someone has to pay for all that, and it comes out of your taxes. It might help to know what you're paying for, and perhaps we would make better, and more appreciative, patients, who take control of our own recovery - Chester will certainly be keeping his wounds clean.

And maybe, just maybe, teenagers would think twice before hurtling drunkenly towards each other at speed if they knew how much it costs to deliver them from each smouldering car wreck. But then again, maybe not. After all, boys will be boys...