So Sad

I collected Max's ashes from the vet today.

Such a light box to contain such a life.

Fiona

Twenty-Five Years Since Piper Alpha

It is 25 years since the oil rig, Piper Alpha melted as a result of a giant gas blowout and subsequent violent explosions. So many lost friends and family that night (only 62 crew members survived out of the 229 personnel on board). I worked for John Brown at the time. Not a word was said to staff about the rig and no collection was made for the affected families. That soured me greatly and was a contributing factor in my leaving the company. An old oil man working as a security guard in his retirement felt the same so he put a tin out in the foyer off his own back. 

I remember watching the television coverage of the disaster that was due to a combination of nature and short-cutting on health and safety measures with mounting horror and nausea. Last night's documentary brought it all back to me as if it were yesterday. Only the hardest of hearts could fail to be moved by the sight of those Scots hard men choking back tears as they recalled the events of that night and the following days.

It is very hard for those outside of the heavy engineering industry to appreciate just how hard a job it is to keep the lights on and our energy hungry society working. Over the eleven years I worked in Oil and Gas I helped deliver several projects during which employees died or were injured. One man lost his life building a jacket (the rig) when a colleague dropped a length of 3" pipe from a 30' drop, cleaving his skull in two. Then there were the colleagues who committed suicide due to the weight of responsibility they felt from being responsible for decisions that could affect so many lives, cost billions of pounds, or result in mass pollution if wrong.

I am thinking about loss a lot today and not just my own.

For more on this disaster, see http://technologism.net/ruscot/en/20th-21st-centuries/12-piper-alpha-disaster

Maximus 26-Feb-1998 to 07-Jul-2013

Maximus July 2010

My cat, Maximus (Hibreeze Obi Wan), died today at about 5pm (age 15). It seemed to be quick. I guess from a stroke or massive heart attack. 

He was the most beautiful, loving little boy with a huge character and intellect even by Korat standards. 

He gave me his whole heart and most of my grey hair.

I am in bits.

Rest in Peace Max and Rise in Glory.

Rampant Rhubarb

The recommended way of cropping rhubarb is to place one's thumb in the 'pocket' at the base of a leaf and snap the leaf off with a deft downward motion. You then cut off the poisonous leaf which can be composted before taking the stem in for a wash and cooking.

One of my plants is growing so vigorously this year that the base of some leaves are almost three inches across. Deft snap??? I have to use both hands, brace my feet and hang on for dear life. All you can see of my is my fat arse stuck out between the leaves!

I have an highly aromatic red hot rhubarb and ginger crumble cooling in my kitchen. I use Delia's recipe but use stem ginger rather than powdered.

One Reason for Rising Accident and Emergency Admissions

I was a re-admitted via A&E (hours) and CDU (two days) this year as a result of my spinal fusion surgery having some unexpected issues. I had had an adverse reaction to codeine whilst in Orthopedics and larger incisions than predicted, one of which kept bleeding for four weeks. I live alone so had no support and was not really in any fit mental state to care for myself when first discharged due to the impact of the surgery and codeine. 

You'll find it surprising but I assign no blame to Orthopedics who were so busy caring for a bay of Alzheimer's' patients that my bay's assigned nursing staff had no time or space mentally to consider whether someone who'd not had a standard experience of fusion surgery should undergo a standard discharge procedure. I was discharged with nothing more than a slip of paper with the ward number printed on it in case of concerns.

My second discharge from an ENT ward was handled much better. The ward sister had arranged appointments at my GP's to having my dressings changed and checked, had re-filled my meds and issued me with spare dressings and pads to cover anything I sat or lay down upon. She was able to identify and address my needs as she was allowed the time to do so.

That said, I still ended up back in A&E twice more in the early hours of the morning due to needing a flooded dressing changed at a time of day when there was no other service available. Another night saw a pair of district nurses being sent to be from another town by my GP's out of hours service for the same reason.

My GP's practise nurses gave me some great tips later on how to handle the bleeding:
- stuff an absorbent pad down the back of my briefs
- tape inco-pads to my lower bed sheet,
- put another dressing over the top of the existing one if it leaks at an inconvenient time of day
- make use of the drop in centre in the Broad St Mall at times when the surgery is shut where possible

It's just a pity I wasn't given these before being discharged the first time as it would probably have saved at least two of my three trips to A&E, and, perhaps, the district nurse visit.

I spent a total of twelve days in the RBH. The average for my procedure is 1-2. 

I'd just like to take this opportunity to say how impressed I was by all the staff of Orthopedics, A&E, and Dorrell Ward. I just hope the 'powers' start listening to them over what they say they need to do their jobs more effectively and safely. 

Tyranny of the Poppy?!

I have read several news articles recently that address the "tyranny of the poppy". Whilst I have sympathy with the view that no one should feel compelled to wear one on or around Remembrance Sunday, I do take offence at some of the 'reasons' given. Yes, originally it did refer to the sacrifice made during the First World War, but that does not nullify the relevance to any warfare since. No, it does not 'glorify' war nor only encourage remembrance of the victors - who can even use 'victor' when you see the roll call of the dead? Nor is it's message confined to the military, nor does it exclude certain sections of the population.

Is it really too much to reserve one day of the year for considering the failure that war is without such nonsense?

Sighting a poppy makes me think firstly of  my paternal grandfather. A man who lied about his age in order to join his pals in enlisting in the army as an infantryman during the first World War. A man who re-enlisted without waiting to be called from the reserve list during WW2 because he did not want to see a repeat of the poor leadership that saw so many die needlessly in the first. A man whose medals read like a battle list of both wars. A man who managed to return from both wars with his body largely intact when so many did not.

My second thought is the recall how chilled I was when I was first told that there are areas of Europe upon which crops still can not be grown due to the level of iron contamination in the soil from the blood of the fallen.

My third is nausea from the images recalled upon hearing the one of my uncles was amongst the first Allied troops to enter Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. What thoughts must he have had as he peered out of his armoured vehicle?

At some point the grainy images of the Falklands enter my head; troops marching, shells landing on ships, the eloquence of soldiers and civilians recalling events to reporters risking all to tell their story. The lump in my throat as I watched the footage of families welcoming their husbands and fathers home in Portsmouth.

I also recall all those who stay at home whilst their loved ones place themselves in harms way. I feel their anxiety, their sorrow, their joy, their sacrifice.

Papaver rhoeas

Dismembered by land mine

Vapourised by bomb blast

Lungs dissolved by gas

Crushed via drone strike

Gang-raped to bring her man to heel

Tortured for believing

Shot for cowardice

Derided for pacifism

...

How can anyone say the blood red of the poppy discriminates when war does not? Ed Poynter says it well in his modern war poem, "Equality in Afghanistan".

Patrolling an Afghan Poppy Field.

Equality in Afghanistan

I wait. Impassive. Neutral. Buried.

The goat ambles. Hungrily. Confidently. Hoping.
The child dashes. Clumsily. Warily. Hoping.
The woman steps. Wearily. Warily. Hoping.
The soldier treads. Softly. Warily. Hoping.

I wait. Impassive. Neutral. Buried.
They’re all the same to me...

Ed Poynter

UK Abortion Limit

The UK health secretary, Jeremy Hunt, has said that he backs halving the legal time limit for women to have abortions, from 24 weeks to 12.

Mr Hunt and others like him who have been advocating this change are doing so on the basis that babies are surviving at much shorter gestation periods than they were thanks to medical advances (and despite increasing evidence that such neonates will suffer a whole host of disadvantages for the rest of their lives). 

Sooner or later we are going to have to create a legal definition of abortion that ignores the potential viability of the foetus or revert to not permitting abortion. 

Advances in IVF techniques and in the care of premature babies mean the time is soon approaching whereby it is possible that the majority of foetuses will be viable outside of the mother's body. I foresee that there will also be the possibility to transfer a foetus form one woman's body to another successfully. Trying to set ethical abortion parameters for legality against this scientific background is going to be extremely difficult, especially if you add in the dogmatic vehemence of those who feel a woman has no right to terminate a pregnancy and muddy the debate with the views of those who do not understand the science. This combination is a sure recipe for setting impetuous legislation that may see the return of the horrors of the back street abortion and, perhaps, even violent demonstration. I am pessimistic at our avoiding this with reasoned, calm debate but I pray that we do.