Last night some old friends came round for dinner. We gave them a nut roast, prepared from the hazel nuts garnered from our own tree last autumn. But in the event, though everyone else seemed to relish it, with my teeth in their current diminished state it proved an absolute nightmare. I kept hurting my gums, trying to chaw where I had no business to be chawing. Finally I resorted to using the middle front 6 incisors only, a ludicrous, but necessary step. Terrible. From now on, until I have had all my implants inserted and they have finally settled down, which may be up to 6 months from now, I'm going to stick to the good old comfortable modge I am used to.
COMMENT
Al Jazeera has released their "Palestinian Papers", leaked documents of hitherto secret negotiations held between the Israelis and a Palestinian delegation. Mark you, the word "negotiation" itself is something of a misnomer. It emerged that the Palestinians were prepared to make huge concessions, concessions which would doubtless have appalled many of their own countrymen had they known what was going on. They were even willing to contemplate the handing over of East Jerusalem to the hated Jew, a "sacred zone", close to the very hearts of all Arabs, in exchange for a promise from the Israelis to stop the settlement building on the West Bank. The Israeli's response: they just say no. No, no, no.
Talk about intransigence. If you can't make concessions, you can't make history move forward as it should. But I believe one day they will, though probably only when they have to. But don't rule it out. It happened in South Africa, even though it didn't seem possible at the time. And if it happened there, it can happen here.
Saturday, 29 January 2011
Tuesday, 25 January 2011
it's good to be back
It feels a bit strange not to be posting on a daily basis, having donated 365 (almost) consecutive dispatches into the ether of the cyber universe in the past year.
So, what to report of my first full week of retirement? One thing is becoming clear: I'm enjoying it. Having worked my usual full day yesterday, it feels immensely satisfying not to have to worry about working again for a whole week. Having said that, I shall be going in on Thursday afternoon to cover a partner who is having the day off to celebrate his birthday (a piece of self indulgence of which I do not not necessarily approve, by the way). Still, one-offs like this don't really count in the grander scheme of things- it will feel more like a fun distraction- plus the £200 will not go amiss.
I have several big projects out there. First, I am in the process of editing all my blogs, just to eliminate stray typos and brush up the language a little, ie only small changes, designed to make it a more pleasant read. Be assured I shall not alter the content in any way, or add anything new, in order to preserve the "freshness" of the original posts. It's time consuming work, which I expect to take at least 2 months. Second, this afternoon I will begin work on my new essay "A View from the Hill", a 6500 word piece which will be an over view of my medical career, ending with a call to bring supervisiobn into the appraisal process for doctors- a widespread practice in most other health professions but currently exchewed by most doctors as being "irrelevant". As if doctors are immune to developing emotional problems as a result of their work! My plan is to present it as a lecture to the GP tutors in our region later this year.
Saturday night ego trip
Invited to a small party on the weekend to people known to my wife, though not to me, I noticed a number of hula hoops behind a sofa, including a large one about 1.3 metres in diameter. I asked who the hula expert might be, and was told that no one was, but the host(ess) was responsible for making them out of plastic tubing. I asked if I could have a go in the garden, and the host accomapnied me, slightly seceptically, to monitor my performance. But I've hula'd for years, and got the big hoop under control immediately. I didn't attempt any tricks, just kept it going smoothly and effortlessly. She looked on in amazement. I have to say it was a delightful moment for me, an old git mightily impressing a young woman. Then I invited her to demonstrate her skill, but she declined, admitting with some mortification that neither she nor her flatmate had cracked it yet. She then gave me the hoop as a sort of prize, and I promised to scour the web for useful tips to get started.
But, as I feared, I found little of any real value. The hula hoop is one of those purely experiential skills, that is to say, it's something which is hard to teach. Basically, you just have to keep doing it until you can do it (I seem to remember it as being about as hard to learn as juggling 3 balls, ie requiring about 2-3 hours of hard work) It's harder than the yo-yo, say, but easier than keepie-uppies. In other words, they just hadn't put enough work in yet.
So, what to report of my first full week of retirement? One thing is becoming clear: I'm enjoying it. Having worked my usual full day yesterday, it feels immensely satisfying not to have to worry about working again for a whole week. Having said that, I shall be going in on Thursday afternoon to cover a partner who is having the day off to celebrate his birthday (a piece of self indulgence of which I do not not necessarily approve, by the way). Still, one-offs like this don't really count in the grander scheme of things- it will feel more like a fun distraction- plus the £200 will not go amiss.
I have several big projects out there. First, I am in the process of editing all my blogs, just to eliminate stray typos and brush up the language a little, ie only small changes, designed to make it a more pleasant read. Be assured I shall not alter the content in any way, or add anything new, in order to preserve the "freshness" of the original posts. It's time consuming work, which I expect to take at least 2 months. Second, this afternoon I will begin work on my new essay "A View from the Hill", a 6500 word piece which will be an over view of my medical career, ending with a call to bring supervisiobn into the appraisal process for doctors- a widespread practice in most other health professions but currently exchewed by most doctors as being "irrelevant". As if doctors are immune to developing emotional problems as a result of their work! My plan is to present it as a lecture to the GP tutors in our region later this year.
Saturday night ego trip
Invited to a small party on the weekend to people known to my wife, though not to me, I noticed a number of hula hoops behind a sofa, including a large one about 1.3 metres in diameter. I asked who the hula expert might be, and was told that no one was, but the host(ess) was responsible for making them out of plastic tubing. I asked if I could have a go in the garden, and the host accomapnied me, slightly seceptically, to monitor my performance. But I've hula'd for years, and got the big hoop under control immediately. I didn't attempt any tricks, just kept it going smoothly and effortlessly. She looked on in amazement. I have to say it was a delightful moment for me, an old git mightily impressing a young woman. Then I invited her to demonstrate her skill, but she declined, admitting with some mortification that neither she nor her flatmate had cracked it yet. She then gave me the hoop as a sort of prize, and I promised to scour the web for useful tips to get started.
But, as I feared, I found little of any real value. The hula hoop is one of those purely experiential skills, that is to say, it's something which is hard to teach. Basically, you just have to keep doing it until you can do it (I seem to remember it as being about as hard to learn as juggling 3 balls, ie requiring about 2-3 hours of hard work) It's harder than the yo-yo, say, but easier than keepie-uppies. In other words, they just hadn't put enough work in yet.
Thursday, 20 January 2011
no lie-in for the lazy
My wife had to take one of our cats to the vet on Monday because he was limping unaccountably, ie I couldn't see anything obvious wrong with the limb in question. Sylvia, our very good Polish vet wasn't sure either, but gave him the inevitable injection of anti-inflammatory and antibiotic (do they ever do anything else?)
On Tuesday he seemed over it; walking and behaving normally, but this morning he was favouring his left paw again. Hence I had to take him once again, a highly traumatic experience for us both. Fortunately, the vet did not think an X ray necessary (they have to be sedated for that), but did recommend a course of oral ABs and anti-inflammatory agents. I absolutely hate trying to give a cat any sort of medication as they seem to have an inbuilt radar for them and put up (at least with me) determined resistance to taking anything they don't like the look of. Damn!
Another day dawns fine and bright, with a heavy frost after a clear night. My barograph is reading 30.6", corresponding with "very dry". We should consider ourselves lucky. Often in the winter, anticyclonic conditions like this leave us with uniformly grey, overcast skies. It's still bloody cold though.
SPECIAL NOTE
This blog is my 365th* Thus, slightly late, I have completed a full year's entries covering my last year of full time work and a little beyond. I had intended for this blog to be my last, but I find myself more than a little attached to the idea of sharing my life on the world wide web. So, with your indulgence I propose to continue, though now I am retired I shall post blogs on a less frequent basis than hitherto. I will, however, continue to post 2 blogs each week, probably on Tuesdays and Saturdays, though more often if anything notable occurs in my somewhat contracted life. Now read on!
* actually not. 2 or 3 were duplicated, putting my figures out.
On Tuesday he seemed over it; walking and behaving normally, but this morning he was favouring his left paw again. Hence I had to take him once again, a highly traumatic experience for us both. Fortunately, the vet did not think an X ray necessary (they have to be sedated for that), but did recommend a course of oral ABs and anti-inflammatory agents. I absolutely hate trying to give a cat any sort of medication as they seem to have an inbuilt radar for them and put up (at least with me) determined resistance to taking anything they don't like the look of. Damn!
Another day dawns fine and bright, with a heavy frost after a clear night. My barograph is reading 30.6", corresponding with "very dry". We should consider ourselves lucky. Often in the winter, anticyclonic conditions like this leave us with uniformly grey, overcast skies. It's still bloody cold though.
SPECIAL NOTE
This blog is my 365th* Thus, slightly late, I have completed a full year's entries covering my last year of full time work and a little beyond. I had intended for this blog to be my last, but I find myself more than a little attached to the idea of sharing my life on the world wide web. So, with your indulgence I propose to continue, though now I am retired I shall post blogs on a less frequent basis than hitherto. I will, however, continue to post 2 blogs each week, probably on Tuesdays and Saturdays, though more often if anything notable occurs in my somewhat contracted life. Now read on!
* actually not. 2 or 3 were duplicated, putting my figures out.
Wednesday, 19 January 2011
pelagius goes green
Adhering to my promise made on Facebook (find me as flint mccray; I tried the oorb, but it wouldn't let me use it), I spent half an hour this morning wandering the streets nearby, filling a green sack with discarded recyclables. The bag was soon heavy with empty cans of, mostly, Stella, Strongbow, and coca-cola (mainly classic full sugar and cherry), though Red Bull and plastic water bottles were also popular. I soon collected nearly 10kg of eminently recyclable waste from just one street and one back alley. Next time I will need to venture further afield.
I've been banging on about recycling since the mid 70s, at which time I was thought of as somewhere between a well meaning (if misguided) idiot and a dangerous subversive. Now of course it has entered the mainstream. As for the other big issue of that era, nuclear power, that too has now become recognised as the potentially disastrous and inordinately expensive millstone round the neck of society that it is, though interestingly the pendulum seems to be gradually swinging the other way, now global warming has eneterd the collective consciousness. Even James Lovelock, he of Gaia fame, has now endorsed it as preferable to the burning of fossil fuels. He's wrong about that, of course. What is needed is not more "nucular" power stations, but more conservation of energy and less waste.
Quick summary: re-use is even better than recycling and: turn that light off if you're not using it!
I've been banging on about recycling since the mid 70s, at which time I was thought of as somewhere between a well meaning (if misguided) idiot and a dangerous subversive. Now of course it has entered the mainstream. As for the other big issue of that era, nuclear power, that too has now become recognised as the potentially disastrous and inordinately expensive millstone round the neck of society that it is, though interestingly the pendulum seems to be gradually swinging the other way, now global warming has eneterd the collective consciousness. Even James Lovelock, he of Gaia fame, has now endorsed it as preferable to the burning of fossil fuels. He's wrong about that, of course. What is needed is not more "nucular" power stations, but more conservation of energy and less waste.
Quick summary: re-use is even better than recycling and: turn that light off if you're not using it!
Tuesday, 18 January 2011
sunny day brings recovery
Skies cleared last night after a prolonged period of deep gloom. For instance, when I went to pick my mother up from her home to attend the wedding, it was so murky the light sensors on our Audi came on automatically, and this at noon.
But this morning dawned in brilliant sunshine, which I understand bathes the whole country as I write. Even better, on phoning my mum this morning, I could tell instantly from her tone of voice when she picked up the phone (promptly; also a good sign), that she had got over her nausea/vertigo/vomiting cycle amd was once again raring to get on with her life. After all, the last time this happened, she persisted in that condition for nearly 10 weeks. Yesterday I had spoken to her when she was still in a parlous state, and put it to her that her dramatic bout of vomiting was about the emotional pain of being at an event that should also have been attended by her only grandson, my son. I had put this theory to her the previous day, but she had stonewalled, but this time she reluctantly acknowledged that this was indeed the case. I had felt it too, as had my wife, but we are made of tougher material. I had distracted myself by taking lots of pictures of the bride and groom, a tactic which was at least partially successful. My mother, however, had no such defensive tactic to call upon, hence her more extreme reaction.
But this morning dawned in brilliant sunshine, which I understand bathes the whole country as I write. Even better, on phoning my mum this morning, I could tell instantly from her tone of voice when she picked up the phone (promptly; also a good sign), that she had got over her nausea/vertigo/vomiting cycle amd was once again raring to get on with her life. After all, the last time this happened, she persisted in that condition for nearly 10 weeks. Yesterday I had spoken to her when she was still in a parlous state, and put it to her that her dramatic bout of vomiting was about the emotional pain of being at an event that should also have been attended by her only grandson, my son. I had put this theory to her the previous day, but she had stonewalled, but this time she reluctantly acknowledged that this was indeed the case. I had felt it too, as had my wife, but we are made of tougher material. I had distracted myself by taking lots of pictures of the bride and groom, a tactic which was at least partially successful. My mother, however, had no such defensive tactic to call upon, hence her more extreme reaction.
Monday, 17 January 2011
stop press: retired man works
Today I did my first day of work as a part-time salaried partner. Showing great grace, my staff treated me as honorary senior partner (the real senior partner doesn't come in on Mondays)
However, any fond thoughts I might have had about avoiding my less prepossessing patients by working only 1 day a week were dashed when they seemed to throng in, minimal symptoms demanding maximum reassurance etc etc. In fact, it kind of felt like the bad old days. But 1 thing has changed: knowing I am only in for 1 day each week has had a favourable effect on my stress levels, and thereby, I fancy, has made me a better (and certainly calmer) doctor into the bargain.
However, any fond thoughts I might have had about avoiding my less prepossessing patients by working only 1 day a week were dashed when they seemed to throng in, minimal symptoms demanding maximum reassurance etc etc. In fact, it kind of felt like the bad old days. But 1 thing has changed: knowing I am only in for 1 day each week has had a favourable effect on my stress levels, and thereby, I fancy, has made me a better (and certainly calmer) doctor into the bargain.
Sunday, 16 January 2011
look out polar bears, BP's coming
COMMENT 1
So. BP has signed a multi-billion dollar "share swap" with Russia's state owned oil company, prior to exploiting the vast oil reserves of the Arctic ocean. BP's safety and environmental record hardly reassures us that they will go about this in a responsible way, and as for the Ruskies...
I found myself thinking of that famous Orson Welles "fairground speech" in "The Third Man", where he invites Joseph Cotten to contemplate the people moving about far below them. "If you had $10,000 for every one of those little dots down there to stop moving forever, how many would you choose?" And then I started to think of the top level oil execs discussing their deal. They could be saying: "If you got a million dollars for every lake of pollution you left behind in the Arctic, how many lakes would you choose, and how big?"
COMMENT 2
Yesterday at the Vatican, 3 Anglican bishops, implacably opposed to the ordination of women bishops, were ordained as catholic priests. But hang on a minute: aren't they all married? Did popey give them some kind of let-out clause to allow them to contravene rules established centuries ago? Could this be the first little shaft of light shining through a door that was slammed shut a long, long time ago?
To me, the issue of celibacy is central to the understanding of all the terrible episodes of sexual abuse of children by catholic priests. The priests take a vow of celibacy, but then are too weak to adhere to its unnatural tenets. Somehow, in their twisted, frustrated minds, they cannot have "normal sex" because they have vowed not to. But fiddling with children's privates isn't covered by the strict wording of their vows, so apparently that's "morally" acceptable to them. I can't help feeling that if the rules against catholic priests marrying were relaxed, except for a much smaller band of monks who actively choose that path, then the problem of child abuse would go away, and quickly. It's worth a try, anyway. Anything's better than the terrible revelations that have come to light in the past couple of years.
So. BP has signed a multi-billion dollar "share swap" with Russia's state owned oil company, prior to exploiting the vast oil reserves of the Arctic ocean. BP's safety and environmental record hardly reassures us that they will go about this in a responsible way, and as for the Ruskies...
I found myself thinking of that famous Orson Welles "fairground speech" in "The Third Man", where he invites Joseph Cotten to contemplate the people moving about far below them. "If you had $10,000 for every one of those little dots down there to stop moving forever, how many would you choose?" And then I started to think of the top level oil execs discussing their deal. They could be saying: "If you got a million dollars for every lake of pollution you left behind in the Arctic, how many lakes would you choose, and how big?"
COMMENT 2
Yesterday at the Vatican, 3 Anglican bishops, implacably opposed to the ordination of women bishops, were ordained as catholic priests. But hang on a minute: aren't they all married? Did popey give them some kind of let-out clause to allow them to contravene rules established centuries ago? Could this be the first little shaft of light shining through a door that was slammed shut a long, long time ago?
To me, the issue of celibacy is central to the understanding of all the terrible episodes of sexual abuse of children by catholic priests. The priests take a vow of celibacy, but then are too weak to adhere to its unnatural tenets. Somehow, in their twisted, frustrated minds, they cannot have "normal sex" because they have vowed not to. But fiddling with children's privates isn't covered by the strict wording of their vows, so apparently that's "morally" acceptable to them. I can't help feeling that if the rules against catholic priests marrying were relaxed, except for a much smaller band of monks who actively choose that path, then the problem of child abuse would go away, and quickly. It's worth a try, anyway. Anything's better than the terrible revelations that have come to light in the past couple of years.
Saturday, 15 January 2011
a somewhat pukey day
Last night, out for my "retirement do" at a restaurant in town. I had specified Indian cuisine, but my partner had said "some people don't like curry", so I was forced to choose an alternative venue. I was intrigued as to who the curry-disliker might be; turns out it was herself! Bit selfish, that, I thought. But in the event everyone turned up and it was good evening generally. They bought me bottle of 16 year old Lagavulin, a really splendid choice for which I was most grateful. My nurse was full of tales about how the patients were bereft on hearing of my partial departure. But, I told her, no one is replaceable. I mean, what if I were knocked down by a bus, or, say, nibbled to death by an okapi, well, they'd just have to manage, wouldn't they? I'd soon be forgotten and people would simply start relating with whoever replaced me.
This morning, out to the coast to pick up my mum and go to the wedding. But no sooner had the bride walked down the aisle than my mum started to complain of nausea. My wife escorted her outside, and she only just made the door before she lost her breakfast in an orgy of retching and honking. I was left with no option but to take her home. I secured a Sainsbury's "bag for life" which performed sterling service on the journey home. Sadly it is no longer a "bag for life". More like a bag for vomit; obviously it had to be abandoned.
I manoeuvred her upstairs to her bed with some difficulty and, trying (but failing) not to look, I got her out of her clothes and into her night attire; finally tucking her gently into bed. Poor thing. She looked terrible, rapid pulse, the classical clammy skin of a "cold sweat" and looking deeply ashen-faced. I waited for her colour to improve, which it did in a few minutes, once settled in familiar surroundings, so I left and returned to the festivities, such as they were. I was late for (school) dinner, but it was eventually brought, microwaved to an acceptable temperature, though somehow bleached of all taste.
This morning, out to the coast to pick up my mum and go to the wedding. But no sooner had the bride walked down the aisle than my mum started to complain of nausea. My wife escorted her outside, and she only just made the door before she lost her breakfast in an orgy of retching and honking. I was left with no option but to take her home. I secured a Sainsbury's "bag for life" which performed sterling service on the journey home. Sadly it is no longer a "bag for life". More like a bag for vomit; obviously it had to be abandoned.
I manoeuvred her upstairs to her bed with some difficulty and, trying (but failing) not to look, I got her out of her clothes and into her night attire; finally tucking her gently into bed. Poor thing. She looked terrible, rapid pulse, the classical clammy skin of a "cold sweat" and looking deeply ashen-faced. I waited for her colour to improve, which it did in a few minutes, once settled in familiar surroundings, so I left and returned to the festivities, such as they were. I was late for (school) dinner, but it was eventually brought, microwaved to an acceptable temperature, though somehow bleached of all taste.
Friday, 14 January 2011
a trim betimes
Up early this morning to head across town, on my wife's instruction, to get a pre-wedding haircut. My nephew is due to wed yfori, as the Welsh have it. We don't see much of him, or indeed any of that side of the family since the boy died, but it would be rude to ignore the invitation, so with my mum in tow (she must be fetched from, and returned to, her domicile to enable this) we will turn up on the morrow.
Greatly enjoyed watching "Road to Zanzibar" this afternoon. I think I can say I am still in my semi-paralysed state, at least to outward appearances. Inside, I am beginning to feel a little calmer about my new situation, or resigned to it at any rate.
Greatly enjoyed watching "Road to Zanzibar" this afternoon. I think I can say I am still in my semi-paralysed state, at least to outward appearances. Inside, I am beginning to feel a little calmer about my new situation, or resigned to it at any rate.
Thursday, 13 January 2011
the vultures circle
Yesterday I received a call from my "personal bank advisor"; that's right, the same guy who sent me publicity for his own particular evangelical church whilst failing to send me information that he had previously agreed to send. Clearly the wires have been red hot, informing him that I had come into some money he could doubtless earn a tidy commission from investments he could talk me into making. Not this time Mr Pop--.
I will need all my money to be available at a finger-snap if I want to buy a new house, so any deal he has to offer must include this guarantee- and I doubt there are many of those out there. Tough cheese, Poppy...
I travelled across town this morning to pick up my cheque resulting from the sale of the surgery premises. Apparently my solicitors daren't trust the post to deliver such a substantial amount. So the cheque is put into my hands, minus the £300 deducted by the bank to send the deeds to the buyers (healthy fee, that) and the £1000 fee for my own solicitors (not wholly unreasonable, though very little work seems to have been involved). Now I can give my wife the cheque I promised her when I apprehended the real extent of the figures involved. We don't have a joint account; never have, with any of my 3 wives, so every now and then, when I'm flush, I throw some cash in her direction. And, baby, am I ever flush at the moment...
I will need all my money to be available at a finger-snap if I want to buy a new house, so any deal he has to offer must include this guarantee- and I doubt there are many of those out there. Tough cheese, Poppy...
I travelled across town this morning to pick up my cheque resulting from the sale of the surgery premises. Apparently my solicitors daren't trust the post to deliver such a substantial amount. So the cheque is put into my hands, minus the £300 deducted by the bank to send the deeds to the buyers (healthy fee, that) and the £1000 fee for my own solicitors (not wholly unreasonable, though very little work seems to have been involved). Now I can give my wife the cheque I promised her when I apprehended the real extent of the figures involved. We don't have a joint account; never have, with any of my 3 wives, so every now and then, when I'm flush, I throw some cash in her direction. And, baby, am I ever flush at the moment...
Wednesday, 12 January 2011
the big day has arrived
Yesterday was my last day as a full-time GP and senior partner. Today I find myself in the diminished role of part-time salaried partner, due to work only 1 day a week. So how do I feel?
Yesterday I experienced a growing sense of panic which through the day brought about an almost paralysed emotional state. This was a little unfortunate for my patients, because the afternoon surgery was very busy and contained several very difficult and challenging problems. Fortunately, I managed to defer most of them to a later date for my partners to deal with as they will have more time available to address them.
So. Today is my first day of retirement. My first action: to watch "Dr Strangelove" Apart from being a truly great movie, it is one I have been familiar with since the mid 60s. I have probably seen it 20 or more times. My point is that it is associated with affording me great pleasure through many eras of my life: my adolescence, early adult life, maturity, parenthood and "beyond" parenthood to the present day, I think you can see how I have gone back to a totally reliable source of comfort. I intend to deploy this method frequently in the coming weeks as I settle down in my new, reduced role.
I admit I am scared. I have made an irreversible decision. And while logic suggests it is the correct decision, I cannot rid myself of the thought that it could be one of the biggest mistakes of my life.
Oh well. I am a highly adaptable person (as most of us are when we have no option)so I will just trust to my own spirit to bring me through this crisis successfully. Meanwhile, as a distraction I shall today set up my Facebook account, under the name (if they accept it) of "The Oorb". Catch me on it if you can!
Yesterday I experienced a growing sense of panic which through the day brought about an almost paralysed emotional state. This was a little unfortunate for my patients, because the afternoon surgery was very busy and contained several very difficult and challenging problems. Fortunately, I managed to defer most of them to a later date for my partners to deal with as they will have more time available to address them.
So. Today is my first day of retirement. My first action: to watch "Dr Strangelove" Apart from being a truly great movie, it is one I have been familiar with since the mid 60s. I have probably seen it 20 or more times. My point is that it is associated with affording me great pleasure through many eras of my life: my adolescence, early adult life, maturity, parenthood and "beyond" parenthood to the present day, I think you can see how I have gone back to a totally reliable source of comfort. I intend to deploy this method frequently in the coming weeks as I settle down in my new, reduced role.
I admit I am scared. I have made an irreversible decision. And while logic suggests it is the correct decision, I cannot rid myself of the thought that it could be one of the biggest mistakes of my life.
Oh well. I am a highly adaptable person (as most of us are when we have no option)so I will just trust to my own spirit to bring me through this crisis successfully. Meanwhile, as a distraction I shall today set up my Facebook account, under the name (if they accept it) of "The Oorb". Catch me on it if you can!
Monday, 10 January 2011
murder in a desert town
COMMENT
Over the weekend some nutter started shooting in Tucson, Arizona. If an incredibly brave elderly woman hadn't snatched a replacement magazine from his hands just as he was fumbling to reload, the death toll could have been a lot higher. Way to go lady! You veritably rock!
Interestingly, the fascist's pinup girl Sarah Palin has been indirectly blamed for the tragedy, what with her rabid anti-liberal utterances and the fact that it was a liberal congresswoman who was primarily targeted. This, however, is disingenuous. It's a bit like those serial killers, who, when apprehended blame pornography (as Ted Bundy did) for their crimes.
Now, whereas I could sit down to lunch with anyone saying that this incident is emblematic of a deep malaise at the heart of American society, or questions the absurdly liberal gun laws in that ridiculous country which enabled this mentalist to secure his weapon without any difficulty, I think it is fairly clear that this bloke is a serious loon.
Footnote: The BBC wheeled out some right wing US commentator (there's no shortage of them,) to talk about the incident and he was indeed somewhat embarrassed by the whole affair (always nice to see that) but he did make one fundamental error. In seeking to tar him with every brush available, he said:
"The guy's a communist; he's an anarchist"
Well, friend, I have some news for you. You can be a communist or you can be an anarchist, but I don't care how psychotic this guy is, he CAN'T be both. By definition. So there.
Over the weekend some nutter started shooting in Tucson, Arizona. If an incredibly brave elderly woman hadn't snatched a replacement magazine from his hands just as he was fumbling to reload, the death toll could have been a lot higher. Way to go lady! You veritably rock!
Interestingly, the fascist's pinup girl Sarah Palin has been indirectly blamed for the tragedy, what with her rabid anti-liberal utterances and the fact that it was a liberal congresswoman who was primarily targeted. This, however, is disingenuous. It's a bit like those serial killers, who, when apprehended blame pornography (as Ted Bundy did) for their crimes.
Now, whereas I could sit down to lunch with anyone saying that this incident is emblematic of a deep malaise at the heart of American society, or questions the absurdly liberal gun laws in that ridiculous country which enabled this mentalist to secure his weapon without any difficulty, I think it is fairly clear that this bloke is a serious loon.
Footnote: The BBC wheeled out some right wing US commentator (there's no shortage of them,) to talk about the incident and he was indeed somewhat embarrassed by the whole affair (always nice to see that) but he did make one fundamental error. In seeking to tar him with every brush available, he said:
"The guy's a communist; he's an anarchist"
Well, friend, I have some news for you. You can be a communist or you can be an anarchist, but I don't care how psychotic this guy is, he CAN'T be both. By definition. So there.
Sunday, 9 January 2011
hangover sunday
My wife returned home from London last night, distinctly hung over from the previous night's jollities. I had followed on by 24 hours, so today she was nearly (though not quite) back to normal, whereas I felt more than a little fragile and had recourse to paracetamol and substantial quantities of grapefruit juice. By which devices I was able to step out for a city hill-walk which was accomplished under dazzlingly blue skies without too much puffing and panting.
But that did it for me for some hours, though I did find sufficient energy to make tea, which consisted of creamed chicken on toast and even wash up afterwards. The wife has popped out as I write to secure a can of diet Pepsi for herself and an Irnbru for me- should work wonders.
I'm trying not to dwell too much on tomorrow, which will be my penultimate day as senior partner. I know the novelty will wear off soon, but I really am actually looking forward to living my new life.
But that did it for me for some hours, though I did find sufficient energy to make tea, which consisted of creamed chicken on toast and even wash up afterwards. The wife has popped out as I write to secure a can of diet Pepsi for herself and an Irnbru for me- should work wonders.
I'm trying not to dwell too much on tomorrow, which will be my penultimate day as senior partner. I know the novelty will wear off soon, but I really am actually looking forward to living my new life.
Saturday, 8 January 2011
just another manic saturday
Apologies for late arrival of this blog. It's been a long, busy day, though a lot of fun.
My wife away in London overnight on "the P word" business, I arise early and have done more than 2 more hours re-working my latest story before I leave for my mum's at 10 o'clock. The skies are full of racing clouds, producing dazzling, but ephemeral changes of light. I stop several times to take pictures.
At my mum's the nettle of the LPA is at last raised, and all thankfully goes well. She is perfectly agreeable to the plan. The next step is to arrange an appointment with her doctor with me along for the ride.
At home in the afternoon I amuse myself by photographing stills from my DVD collection of the 80s sci-fi show "Buck Rogers in the 25th Century". I have only 1 word to say to you: Spandex.
An innocent, and only slightly pervy way of spending one's time while the wife's away, I would say...
Later I send the story to a dear friend for his perusal, and within the hour he phones me on my land line for a chat. He has 2 or 3 really good modifications to suggest, all of which I adopt. What a wonderful fellow he is!
My wife away in London overnight on "the P word" business, I arise early and have done more than 2 more hours re-working my latest story before I leave for my mum's at 10 o'clock. The skies are full of racing clouds, producing dazzling, but ephemeral changes of light. I stop several times to take pictures.
At my mum's the nettle of the LPA is at last raised, and all thankfully goes well. She is perfectly agreeable to the plan. The next step is to arrange an appointment with her doctor with me along for the ride.
At home in the afternoon I amuse myself by photographing stills from my DVD collection of the 80s sci-fi show "Buck Rogers in the 25th Century". I have only 1 word to say to you: Spandex.
An innocent, and only slightly pervy way of spending one's time while the wife's away, I would say...
Later I send the story to a dear friend for his perusal, and within the hour he phones me on my land line for a chat. He has 2 or 3 really good modifications to suggest, all of which I adopt. What a wonderful fellow he is!
Friday, 7 January 2011
the documents signed
At the end of a surgery during which I would confess to being more than a little distracted (fortunately there were no seriously complex clinical issues), partly because I was clearing the drawers on the left hand side of "my" desk in advance of sharing with the new part-time partner who is due to begin work next week- interesting exercise: some of the papers I found in them went back as far as 1991! I then made my way to my delightful solicitor and signed the document to sell the building. The asbestos survey is done, indicating only minimal issues, like the small asbestos content present in Artex, which has indeed been smeared on several walls. I don't think they're going to insist on my paying for it all to be scrupulously scraped off and replaced, but you never know. As usual in situations like this, I'm not going to consider this a done deal until I have the cheque in my hands.
Meanwhile, my 2 partners, who are purchasing the building jointly, appear to be dealing with the stress of their imminent increase in responsibility even less well than I am coping with the rapidly approaching contraction of my own. I was speaking to the more junior one today, and he appeared to be in what my son would have called "a bit of a state". Seems the senior one has ducked much of the work and left it up to him to do most of the dog-work of arranging structural surveys, liaising with bank, solicitors etc. Regrettable, but not really my problem. I must continue to be cautious and courteous in my dealings with both of them; from next Wednesday they will be my employers...
Meanwhile, my 2 partners, who are purchasing the building jointly, appear to be dealing with the stress of their imminent increase in responsibility even less well than I am coping with the rapidly approaching contraction of my own. I was speaking to the more junior one today, and he appeared to be in what my son would have called "a bit of a state". Seems the senior one has ducked much of the work and left it up to him to do most of the dog-work of arranging structural surveys, liaising with bank, solicitors etc. Regrettable, but not really my problem. I must continue to be cautious and courteous in my dealings with both of them; from next Wednesday they will be my employers...
Thursday, 6 January 2011
stop press: patient apologises to doctor!
A woman in her 40s comes in today. She is slim, wears a closely fitting white dress, with white fuck-me shoes to match. She is not beautiful, but as my wife might put it, she "scrubs up well". Oddly, she doesn't ring much of a bell. She sits down and, eyes downcast, says:
"I'm sorry about what happened last time, doctor. I was very rude, and afterwards I realized you were only trying to help me"
My first response is:
"Really? Why, what happened?"
She reminds me of the discussion of a month ago, and while she does so, I consult the notes. All I wrote at the time was:
"lengthy discussion about which meds are best for her"
She is surprised I don't remember the incident, but I remind her that like a good parent, a doctor must have a short memory for argy-bargy in the surgery, otherwise grudges could develop, which can only be counter-productive. I tried to think why I didn't notice how attractive she was last time; then I looked at the dates. Last time it was cold and icy; she was probably shrouded in numerous layers. Today, at 9 degrees, it is almost balmy by comparison.
At lunchtime, another milestone is passed as I preside over my last full practice meeting as boss. A strange, and not wholly pleasant experience, I have to say. Now I just want it to be over and to move on. The feeling is not improved when my manager gently points out that I shall have to share my consulting room from next week, and that I should conduct at least a partial clearance of my personal property. Not an easy thinng to do, but I gritted my teeth and got on with it, taking out half a car
boot's worth of books, gifts from patients and numerous other documents I can't simply bin. I guess this is another one of those things I'll only have to do once...
"I'm sorry about what happened last time, doctor. I was very rude, and afterwards I realized you were only trying to help me"
My first response is:
"Really? Why, what happened?"
She reminds me of the discussion of a month ago, and while she does so, I consult the notes. All I wrote at the time was:
"lengthy discussion about which meds are best for her"
She is surprised I don't remember the incident, but I remind her that like a good parent, a doctor must have a short memory for argy-bargy in the surgery, otherwise grudges could develop, which can only be counter-productive. I tried to think why I didn't notice how attractive she was last time; then I looked at the dates. Last time it was cold and icy; she was probably shrouded in numerous layers. Today, at 9 degrees, it is almost balmy by comparison.
At lunchtime, another milestone is passed as I preside over my last full practice meeting as boss. A strange, and not wholly pleasant experience, I have to say. Now I just want it to be over and to move on. The feeling is not improved when my manager gently points out that I shall have to share my consulting room from next week, and that I should conduct at least a partial clearance of my personal property. Not an easy thinng to do, but I gritted my teeth and got on with it, taking out half a car
boot's worth of books, gifts from patients and numerous other documents I can't simply bin. I guess this is another one of those things I'll only have to do once...
Wednesday, 5 January 2011
muslims, jews and viruses
COMMENT
I heard this morning that intensive care units are unusually packed with (especially younger people; mean age 36) patients who have run into severe difficulties with H1N1. Why is this, as only yesterday I was reporting that it was essentially a mild illness? I don't pretend to understand this completely, but may I suggest it could have something to do with the changing criteria for admitting patients to the ICU? This would certainly explain a lot.
In Pakistan, Salman Taseer, one of their most popular liberal politicians, had no less than 30 bullets pumped into him by his own bodyguard. His principal crime, apparently, was to suggest that the law in that awful country, which hands down the death sentence to anyone convicted of blasphemy, was perhaps going a little too far.
A little closer to home, Tony Blair, peace be upon him, has urged the 2 sides in the Palestine/Israel conflict to sit down and talk, now, in order to prevent war. Let me go inside the negotiation room and imagine what might be said if they did:
Palestinian negotiator: "If your genuine concern is to bring about a lasting peace to our embattled region, could you at least stop offering substantial financial incentives to people building new settlements on the West Bank, in view of their illegal status under international law?"
Israeli negotiator: "No"
In other words, it's time for the Israelis to stopping letting the Zionist tail wag the dog of the Israeli state and allow the more humane and civilised elements of Israeli society (which I know for a fact exist) to have their way. And on the Palestinian side, it's also time for Hamas, who still believe that the solution to the problem is to throw the hated Jews into the sea, to be likewise marginalised. Here also there is a huge body of opinion among ordinary Palestinians to just move on and work with the Israelis.
The fact is that the Israelis are much less worried about what the world thinks about their treatment of the Palestinians than whether Iran will back up its hateful rhetoric against Israel by launching a war involving nuclear weapons, and also that Lebanon's Hisbollah, making equally bellicose noises, are best friends with Iran.
I heard this morning that intensive care units are unusually packed with (especially younger people; mean age 36) patients who have run into severe difficulties with H1N1. Why is this, as only yesterday I was reporting that it was essentially a mild illness? I don't pretend to understand this completely, but may I suggest it could have something to do with the changing criteria for admitting patients to the ICU? This would certainly explain a lot.
In Pakistan, Salman Taseer, one of their most popular liberal politicians, had no less than 30 bullets pumped into him by his own bodyguard. His principal crime, apparently, was to suggest that the law in that awful country, which hands down the death sentence to anyone convicted of blasphemy, was perhaps going a little too far.
A little closer to home, Tony Blair, peace be upon him, has urged the 2 sides in the Palestine/Israel conflict to sit down and talk, now, in order to prevent war. Let me go inside the negotiation room and imagine what might be said if they did:
Palestinian negotiator: "If your genuine concern is to bring about a lasting peace to our embattled region, could you at least stop offering substantial financial incentives to people building new settlements on the West Bank, in view of their illegal status under international law?"
Israeli negotiator: "No"
In other words, it's time for the Israelis to stopping letting the Zionist tail wag the dog of the Israeli state and allow the more humane and civilised elements of Israeli society (which I know for a fact exist) to have their way. And on the Palestinian side, it's also time for Hamas, who still believe that the solution to the problem is to throw the hated Jews into the sea, to be likewise marginalised. Here also there is a huge body of opinion among ordinary Palestinians to just move on and work with the Israelis.
The fact is that the Israelis are much less worried about what the world thinks about their treatment of the Palestinians than whether Iran will back up its hateful rhetoric against Israel by launching a war involving nuclear weapons, and also that Lebanon's Hisbollah, making equally bellicose noises, are best friends with Iran.
Tuesday, 4 January 2011
it's swine flu time again- poor old government!
Yes, they're all coming in with (suspected, but probably not)swine flu, and it's all the government's fault, apparently. They've been castigated for not running an advertising campaign (not much use as we and most other practices have run out of vaccine) and generally for not warning the public or profession. What a load of crap!
For once I don't blame the government for our woes.
Personally, I blame the media. They want a story, and they aren't going to let a bit of truth get in their way. They love to emphasise the numbers dying, conveniently overlooking the fact that in Britain, 2000 people die every day (nearly the same number are born, by the way) and it is scarcely surprising if the cause of their final demise in a few cases is going to be a flu like illness. In my opinion the only real at-risk group are pregnant women, who do seem to have been dying disproportionately, thereby killing 2 people. So these I encourage to have the vaccine: no others need it. Certainly not the crew I saw today, with symptoms no worse than your average cold. Most of them haven't even taken time off work, so they can't be that ill, can they?
For once I don't blame the government for our woes.
Personally, I blame the media. They want a story, and they aren't going to let a bit of truth get in their way. They love to emphasise the numbers dying, conveniently overlooking the fact that in Britain, 2000 people die every day (nearly the same number are born, by the way) and it is scarcely surprising if the cause of their final demise in a few cases is going to be a flu like illness. In my opinion the only real at-risk group are pregnant women, who do seem to have been dying disproportionately, thereby killing 2 people. So these I encourage to have the vaccine: no others need it. Certainly not the crew I saw today, with symptoms no worse than your average cold. Most of them haven't even taken time off work, so they can't be that ill, can they?
Monday, 3 January 2011
LPA moves ahead
I bit the bullet this morning and raised the issue of obtaining LPA for my mum with my brother. I shouldn't have worried; he was in reasonable mode and agreed straight away that it was a good idea for me to press on with the project.
He himself was preoccupied by his own problems, namely a possible recurrence of his ureteric calculi. Pain was beginning to mount in one loin, with the rumblings of danger that implies. It might all fade away as quickly as it started, or it could rapidly escalate into unmitigated agony, and a crash admission to a hospital where they could administer the blessed morphine and arrange for ablation of the stone. I feel for him.
Here at home I downloaded the appropriate documents for LPA from a government website (easy as pie) and began to fill them in. In this way I hope to escape the hefty fee charged by the solicitor when we went though this with my FiL. The only hassly part is where I have to accompany mum to her GP for him to complete his part (also doubtless for a handsome fee) Then after everyone has signed the forms, we send them to the Court of Protection (along with their fee of £120) and in a few months time the deal will be done. And, like an insurance policy, we then hope it will never have to be used. But it will be there if we need it.
He himself was preoccupied by his own problems, namely a possible recurrence of his ureteric calculi. Pain was beginning to mount in one loin, with the rumblings of danger that implies. It might all fade away as quickly as it started, or it could rapidly escalate into unmitigated agony, and a crash admission to a hospital where they could administer the blessed morphine and arrange for ablation of the stone. I feel for him.
Here at home I downloaded the appropriate documents for LPA from a government website (easy as pie) and began to fill them in. In this way I hope to escape the hefty fee charged by the solicitor when we went though this with my FiL. The only hassly part is where I have to accompany mum to her GP for him to complete his part (also doubtless for a handsome fee) Then after everyone has signed the forms, we send them to the Court of Protection (along with their fee of £120) and in a few months time the deal will be done. And, like an insurance policy, we then hope it will never have to be used. But it will be there if we need it.
Sunday, 2 January 2011
forced quiet day
Somewhat hung over from last weekend's excesses, I nonetheless undertook the short, but challenging hill walk near my mum's house. There are a couple of nasty little pitches up some
huge sand dunes, which always render me out of breath, but today I sweated copiously too, and I am sure I must have gone quite pale. But somehow I made it back to the car, where my wife was waiting, she preferring perhaps wisely to play with her iphone instead.
At my mum's, I pondered whether to raise the issue of lasting power of attorney, but in the event I drew back from that little abyss. I know I have to broach it some time, and preferably soon. The memory clinic people advised me to get it in place ASAP, ie while she still has the "capacity" (big buzz word, this) to understand its implications. Apparently my brother also has to approve, so perhaps I should raise it with him first. Thing is, I'm not looking forward to that, either...
huge sand dunes, which always render me out of breath, but today I sweated copiously too, and I am sure I must have gone quite pale. But somehow I made it back to the car, where my wife was waiting, she preferring perhaps wisely to play with her iphone instead.
At my mum's, I pondered whether to raise the issue of lasting power of attorney, but in the event I drew back from that little abyss. I know I have to broach it some time, and preferably soon. The memory clinic people advised me to get it in place ASAP, ie while she still has the "capacity" (big buzz word, this) to understand its implications. Apparently my brother also has to approve, so perhaps I should raise it with him first. Thing is, I'm not looking forward to that, either...
Saturday, 1 January 2011
cat fancies bird
Yesterday afternoon, as I was reading on the sofa in the front room, I heard the sounds of some sort of tussle taking place in the hall. But it was a very muffled sound, hardly anything really. You try to put these things out of mind. It's just one of the cats playing with one of my practise golf balls, you try to persuade yourself. You do nothing. Go back to your book. But later, when transiting the hall en route to the kitchen I saw the feathers. There was a trail of them leading up the stairs. It led directly to our bedroom.
I investigated the crime scene with caution, so as to preserve forensic evidence for any future inquiry. Near my wife's side of the bed there was a little patch of damp cat vomitus. A brief look under the bed with one of those "wind-up" torches revealed a veritable sea of feathers scattered everywhere. There was also a large, undefinable object lying very still at the centre point under the mattress. I removed said mattress, slowly, as it is extremely cumbersome, went downstairs to fetch the vacuum and then set about the gruesome task of "clearing the crime scene" First I had to vacuum the feathers, all kinds from the little downy ones to the big, brave flight feathers, and enough to fill a pillow. There was blood to wipe away; it was very light red, almost with a hint of orange. There were guts, crop, gizzard perhaps. I'm not sure. I am not trained in avian anatomy. Let's call it gunge. And it was strewn widely about in the semi darkness under the bed.
And there was the body. A huge, fully grown and well fed pigeon it turned out to be, quiet now in its demise. But, poor thing, it must have put up an epic struggle against impossible odds. An adult cat is a superbly equipped killing machine: speed, agility, acuteness of senses, terrible weaponry.
Actually retrieving its body showed that its girth exceeded the gap between floor and bed, so how it even got under there in the first place...
I bagged and tagged the evidence (in a Tesco bag) and, having tied as tight a knot as possible in the bag handles, I consigned the terrible package to the depths of the bin.
I investigated the crime scene with caution, so as to preserve forensic evidence for any future inquiry. Near my wife's side of the bed there was a little patch of damp cat vomitus. A brief look under the bed with one of those "wind-up" torches revealed a veritable sea of feathers scattered everywhere. There was also a large, undefinable object lying very still at the centre point under the mattress. I removed said mattress, slowly, as it is extremely cumbersome, went downstairs to fetch the vacuum and then set about the gruesome task of "clearing the crime scene" First I had to vacuum the feathers, all kinds from the little downy ones to the big, brave flight feathers, and enough to fill a pillow. There was blood to wipe away; it was very light red, almost with a hint of orange. There were guts, crop, gizzard perhaps. I'm not sure. I am not trained in avian anatomy. Let's call it gunge. And it was strewn widely about in the semi darkness under the bed.
And there was the body. A huge, fully grown and well fed pigeon it turned out to be, quiet now in its demise. But, poor thing, it must have put up an epic struggle against impossible odds. An adult cat is a superbly equipped killing machine: speed, agility, acuteness of senses, terrible weaponry.
Actually retrieving its body showed that its girth exceeded the gap between floor and bed, so how it even got under there in the first place...
I bagged and tagged the evidence (in a Tesco bag) and, having tied as tight a knot as possible in the bag handles, I consigned the terrible package to the depths of the bin.
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