So this is the latest bright idea for the social care reform plan but from what I have heard and seen during the day, there is one question to which I have not seen the answer.
If one of a married couple needs residential care at the end of life, he/she has the option to 'borrow' money from the state to pay for it, and this is then repaid, with interest, after death from the sale of the home. My question is, what about the spouse still living in the house? Are they made homeless so that the house can be sold or is the sale deferred until they too die?
When I was still working, I used to tell colleagues of a similar age that, by the time we were old, the government of the day would have introduced compulsory euthanasia - and they would laugh. Are any of us laughing now at the prospect of what awaits us in our twilight years?
Life in north east England (yes, we've moved!) with an eccentric Welshman and a small white dog that thinks he's a Rottweiler.
Simple pleasures
This post from Elaine sits well with my thoughts today. For the past month I have been suffering almost continuously with sciatica, This has meant dosing myself with copious amounts of pain killers and anti-inflammatories, crawling round the house, struggling to do the minimum possible amount of housework (well, every cloud...!) and shopping and presenting myself weekly at the doctor's in search of a different/better/stronger pain killer. In fact, the receptionist now knows my name, and that's not a good thing.
Worst of all, is not being able to take the dogs out for their walks. I have to admit that dog walking is sometimes a bit of a drag, especially if the weather is bad but, until now, I had not realised how much I missed it when I could no longer do it.
So, here's the thing. Last evening, sitting on the sofa with a hot water bottle clutched to my thigh to drown the pain; this morning, still discomfort but hardly any pain and suddenly, I am able to walk like a normal, two legged human!
Ever the one to push it, I decide to attempt a short walk with Paddy. Success! I even managed to manoeuvre him .past two cats. Next it's Jake's turn. His waistline has been sneakily expanded lately so we end up doing one of our normal, shorter walks. Altogether, I was out for about 45 minutes; not a marathon and not at a brisk march but, it's walking!
Next, I mowed the grass, spurred on, I have to say, by the fact that Formula One was overwhelming the air waves and I needed an escape route.
And now it's evening and I am sitting typing this, still not in pain and still wondering what has happened but not wishing to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Tomorrow, I could be back to square one but let's hope not. Even if I am, at least the dogs and I had two very pleasant walks and the sun was shining!
Worst of all, is not being able to take the dogs out for their walks. I have to admit that dog walking is sometimes a bit of a drag, especially if the weather is bad but, until now, I had not realised how much I missed it when I could no longer do it.
So, here's the thing. Last evening, sitting on the sofa with a hot water bottle clutched to my thigh to drown the pain; this morning, still discomfort but hardly any pain and suddenly, I am able to walk like a normal, two legged human!
Ever the one to push it, I decide to attempt a short walk with Paddy. Success! I even managed to manoeuvre him .past two cats. Next it's Jake's turn. His waistline has been sneakily expanded lately so we end up doing one of our normal, shorter walks. Altogether, I was out for about 45 minutes; not a marathon and not at a brisk march but, it's walking!
Next, I mowed the grass, spurred on, I have to say, by the fact that Formula One was overwhelming the air waves and I needed an escape route.
And now it's evening and I am sitting typing this, still not in pain and still wondering what has happened but not wishing to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Tomorrow, I could be back to square one but let's hope not. Even if I am, at least the dogs and I had two very pleasant walks and the sun was shining!
Doctors, nurses - oh, and patients
Once upon a time, there was an 89 year old man (let's call him Mr Smith) who lived in a place where there was a huge, shiny, expensive surgery with about 20 doctors and numerous other staff. This surgery had started out as a four-doctor outfit sixty odd years ago and, because it was now so big, it had, along the way, swallowed up all the other local surgeries so that it is now the only one for the whole area. Mr Smith and his GP got on very well and he always felt he got the care and support he needed, but one day the GP was taken away to fill his days with endless paperwork and, truth to tell, seemed rather disillusioned with the way his job had developed over recent years, so Mr Smith would have to be allocated another GP within the practice. And they gave him a new doctor, and then another... and then another. In fact by now, he wasn't quite sure who was his GP, and neither was anyone else, which might explain why a referral from his optician to the surgery for an appointment at the local Eye Hospital took over two weeks to be acted on.
Now Mr Smith had developed an illness which required him to have injections and blood tests every twelve weeks but, although the big shiny surgery also had a big shiny computer system for patient records, it was too difficult for the people at the surgery to remember when these dates were due, so Mr Smith had to remember and book appointments each time and then a family member would have to arrange time off to take him there, not that they minded doing that at all, but Mr Smith thought that, as he was also just getting over an attack of shingles and still wasn't feeling terribly well, maybe he could have the blood test and injection done at home.
He had also been asked, via an anonymous letter, to make an appointment to see his GP about his blood pressure. As we know, by now Mr Smith was none too sure who his GP was and had to ring the surgery to find out. Nobody seemed to know but the receptionist said she would get Dr X to ring him. Dr X did ring him a couple of days later and told him to double up on his BP medication for now but his next prescription renewal would be at the new dose, so now Mr Smith has to remember that, when he gets his next prescription, he has to stop doubling up.
As for the blood test and injection, by now these were a week late and Dr X said she would 'Speak to the district nurses' about a home visit.
The next day, a nurse rang him and delivered a short lecture over the phone about home visits only being for the housebound and he had to point out that, at the moment, he is recovering from shingles and does not feel able to make a trip to the surgery. The nurse muttered something about 'speaking to the doctor' and rang off.
The next day, a package plopped through Mr Smith's letterbox. It was a syringe and a dose of medication. As he didn't know why it had been delivered with no-one to administer it, he rang the surgery again.
"Oh the nurse will come and give it to you next week," said the receptionist.
Mr Smith was so surprised that he didn't think to ask what day or to point out that, by the time he received his injection, it would be TWO weeks overdue.
Mr Smith thinks that they don't want to be bothered with him because of his age. Others might say that's not true, that the nurses are 'ever so busy' as they keep telling everyone, or that it's 'the system' that's failing patients. They may blame the increase of paperwork or the politicians who, just as in the world of education, have a constant need to make their mark on the system and score points off the opposition.
I'm on the train...
Thanks again to T.K. for this.
You know how irritating mobile phone users are when they fail to exercise discretion and simple good manners and think the world needs to know their business?
When you have tolerated as much as you can stand you can now get your own back!!!
After a busy day he settled down in his train from Waterloo for a nap as far as his
destination at Winchester. when the chap sitting near him hauled out his mobile
and started up:- "Hi darling it's Peter, I'm on the train - yes, I know it's the 6.30 not
the 4.30 but I had a long meeting - no, not with that floozie from the typing pool, with
the boss no darling you're the only one in my life - yes, I'm sure, cross my heart" etc., etc.
This was still going on at Wimbledon , when the young woman opposite, driven
beyond endurance, yelled at the top of her voice, "Hey, Peter, turn that bloody phone
off and come back to bed!!"
| ||
It's all in the mind
I have decided, tomorrow, I shall get my frontal cortex and nucleus accumbens into gear and shall cease to have any pain in my sciatic nerve. It's all mind over matter. I shall be able to take the dogs out, see my clients without having to explain why I have a hot water bottle under my leg and all will be back to normal.
Watch this space...!
Watch this space...!
Start the day with a smile
Another little gem from TK. Made me smile anyway. Enjoy!
SOCIALISM
You have 2 cows.
You give one to your neighbour.
COMMUNISM
You have 2 cows
The State takes both and gives you some milk.
FASCISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and sells you some milk.
BUREAUCRATISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both, shoots one, milks the other and then throws the milk away.
TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM
You have two cows.
You sell one and buy a bull.
Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows.
You sell them and retire on the income.
VENTURE CAPITALISM
You have two cows.
You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your
You have 2 cows.
You give one to your neighbour.
COMMUNISM
You have 2 cows
The State takes both and gives you some milk.
FASCISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and sells you some milk.
BUREAUCRATISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both, shoots one, milks the other and then throws the milk away.
TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM
You have two cows.
You sell one and buy a bull.
Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows.
You sell them and retire on the income.
VENTURE CAPITALISM
You have two cows.
You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your
brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a debt/equity swap with an associated general offer so
that you get all four cows back, with a tax exemption for five cows.
The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a Cayman Island Company secretly owned by the majority shareholder who sells the rights to all seven cows back to your listed company.
The annual report says the company owns eight cows, with an option on one more.
AN AMERICAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk of four cows.
Later, you hire a consultant to analyse why the cow has dropped dead.
A FRENCH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You go on strike, organize a riot, and block the roads, because you want three cows.
AN ITALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows, but you don’t know where they are.
You decide to have lunch.
A SWISS CORPORATION
You have 5,000 cows. None of them belong to you.
You charge the owners for storing them.
A CHINESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You have 300 people milking them.
You claim that you have full employment and high bovine productivity.
You arrest the newsman who reported the real situation.
AN INDIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You worship them.
A BRITISH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Both are mad.
AN IRAQI CORPORATION
Everyone thinks you have lots of cows.
You tell them that you have none.
Nobody believes you, so they bomb the crap out of you and invade your country.
You still have no cows but at least you are now a Democracy.
AN AUSTRALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Business seems pretty good.
You close the office and go for a few beers to celebrate.
A NEW ZEALAND CORPORATION
You have two cows.
The one on the left looks very attractive.
A GREEK CORPORATION
You have two cows borrowed from French and German banks.
You eat both of them.
The banks call to collect their milk, but you cannot deliver so you call the IMF.
The IMF loans you two cows.
You eat both of them.
The banks and the IMF call to collect their cows/milk.
You are out getting a haircut.
The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a Cayman Island Company secretly owned by the majority shareholder who sells the rights to all seven cows back to your listed company.
The annual report says the company owns eight cows, with an option on one more.
AN AMERICAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk of four cows.
Later, you hire a consultant to analyse why the cow has dropped dead.
A FRENCH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You go on strike, organize a riot, and block the roads, because you want three cows.
AN ITALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows, but you don’t know where they are.
You decide to have lunch.
A SWISS CORPORATION
You have 5,000 cows. None of them belong to you.
You charge the owners for storing them.
A CHINESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You have 300 people milking them.
You claim that you have full employment and high bovine productivity.
You arrest the newsman who reported the real situation.
AN INDIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You worship them.
A BRITISH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Both are mad.
AN IRAQI CORPORATION
Everyone thinks you have lots of cows.
You tell them that you have none.
Nobody believes you, so they bomb the crap out of you and invade your country.
You still have no cows but at least you are now a Democracy.
AN AUSTRALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Business seems pretty good.
You close the office and go for a few beers to celebrate.
A NEW ZEALAND CORPORATION
You have two cows.
The one on the left looks very attractive.
A GREEK CORPORATION
You have two cows borrowed from French and German banks.
You eat both of them.
The banks call to collect their milk, but you cannot deliver so you call the IMF.
The IMF loans you two cows.
You eat both of them.
The banks and the IMF call to collect their cows/milk.
You are out getting a haircut.
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