G4S and operations

The more cynical among us, and I definitely include myself in that number, are probably not very surprised at this news that G4S are not going to be able to deliver the goods on security for the Olympic farce Games. I am equally not surprised that they apparently didn't realise that this was the case until just over a week ago and definitely not surprised that it hadn't registered with the CEO. Nick Buckles. We only have to look at the recent fiascos with the banks for confirmation that, even if they do know what's going on in their organisation, they sure as hell ain't gonna admit it.
However, the interview with said Mr Buckles on Radio 4 yesterday morning raised the bar to new heights of amazement. In fact, I stayed in bed for an extra ten minutes just to hear it to the end.
Mr Buckles, it must be said, would put many a politican to shame with his ability to evade the question and parrot his pre-prepared speech
"We agreed to uptake our requirement from 2000 to 10000," he said at one point. Which means precisely what? When did this kind of nonsensical, meaningless drivel become the norm in interviews?
Four thousand people had been trained and deployed, whilst another nine thousand were 'being sheduled,' which means what? Apparently it meant that they were 'in the pipeline.' Any clearer? No, thought not.
Throughout the interview, Mr Buckles kept insisting that this was 'a highly complex recruitment operation' and brushed off any suggestion that G4S might have been trying to cut costs by employing too few people for the recruitment process. "We're not making any money from this," he insisted, "we will lose between £30,000 and £50,000."
Then there was the question about whether or not all the security personnel being employed could speak english. He was 'fairly sure' they could but also 'supposed' that not all personnel would come into direct contact with the public anyway, but he wasn't sure. I am sure that, on a reported annual  salary of £1.2 million, he damned well ought to be sure - about everything!
In his TV interview, Mr Buckles did offer a brief apology to the military personnel who are going to have to step into the breach but I certainly didn't hear any apology in the radio interview, although he did mutter something about being 'grateful' to them, which is fairly meaningless as they have no choice in the matter.
The best suggestion I have heard since yesterday morning is that Mr Buckles and the rest of his band of highly paid executives, should give up their bonuses to be allocated to the soldiers who will have to deal with the chaotic mess they have created.
Don't hold your breath though.
Meanwhile, I am going to uptake my requirement from coffee to coffee and a biscuit!

Oh and just to encourage you to check that today is not April !st,  BBC Breakfast reported this morning that there is a move to ensure that operations done on patients will be carried out by people who are qualified doctors and surgeons.
So that's all-right then. Keith is disappointed though. He had hoped that auto-locksmithing to brain surgeon would be a natural career progession.

Social care reform

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?

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!

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.

Whatever the reasons, the end result is that Mr Smith and many others like him are being failed and so, when the time comes, will we, unless something is done to sort things out properly.

In reply to YP

In reply to YP's comment on yesterday's post, so far...

IT'S WORKING!!!

Cynical? Moi?

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...!