Meanderings of a Monkey Juggler

I'm all alone again.  Poor me.  K's gone to Bg for a fortnight so I'm sat at home lost (well actually I'm at work and killing 2 minutes before my next patient).

Anyway does anyone want to cheer me up at all?

I have a new scary foreign film (described here) to watch if anyone's up for it tomorrow.

Have fun.

Just heard this news here.

Boo bad news.

Have fun.

I just watched the fag end of the most poorly researched op-ed show the BBC has shown in recent months.  The programme was about one woman's quest to get to the bottom of her father's death in hospital. And more particularly to find out why the death certificae only stated "pneumonia" and didn't mention c.diff (a "superbug" her dad contracted whilst in hospital). He'd gone into hospital for a basic hip operation.  He was 87 and had other health problems too.  He came out dead.

So let's just start there for a mo.  He's 87 and has severe hip arthritis.  This is likely to lead to immobility and therefore lack of fitness.  One line from the presenter also suggested he was mentally incompetent.  Namely:


"If I knew that when you go into hospital you don't know what risk you take I'd never have let him go in."




So you'd let him suffer crippling pain and immobility instead would you?  If so then you're heartless as well as stupid.
A hip replacement op is NOT routine; it's major surgery with the patient being under a general anasthetic for up to 2 hours (sometimes longer).  People should get it into their heads that any surgery (and the side effects afterwards) is potentially lethal.  If you are unfit to start with then that risk is magnified.  Sometimes the risks are so bad that surgery is not contemplated because the risks outweigh the potential benefits.

Fairplay to the Dr who looked after her dad and who wrote the death certificate which stated "pneumonia".  He was interviewed (on a hidden camera) and said: "Things went wrong generally. He had heart failure, kidney failure, pneumonia, c.diff, MRSA and other problems.  I wrote pneumonia on the death certificate but this doesn't really describe what happened to him."  This was interpreted by the presenter to mean "It was c.diff but I wasn't going to put that."  It clearly didn't mean that but that was the meaning inferred.

Later on he got the chance to say what I initially thought he meant.  "The reason it doesn't say what happened is that what happened was very complicated and difficult to condense onto the form."  And fair play to him he continued; "I feel that I have written the death certificate properly and to the best of my ability and to re-write it based on a huge amount of outside pressure would not be appropriate."  Well done that man.  Kudos to him for sticking to his guns;  because he's right.  He showed the patient's notes file and it was huge.  How the hell can a simple death certificate show exactly what has happened when the road to the death was long and complex?  It can't.  And why is it in the slightest bit important? [edit: ahah! I know why it's important.  If it's a bug and a hospital acquired one at that the daughter could claim against the hospital and get some cash off 'em.] The stupid woman knows that the care episode was complex and her father was badly ill with a number of problems post-op.  Why is it important that an A5 sized piece of paper states what she feels it should when the doctors don't agree?  It's their job to write the certificates not hers.

They then played the heart strings ploy and went to visit the mother of a young disabled girl who'd died of "pneumonia" after being hospitalised.  She'd been reasonably fit considering but had clearly got ill enough to have gone into hospital.  She was disabled so not mobile.  Problem number one with this is pressure sores.  If you lie in one position for a long time the flesh between you and the bed dies and then you have an open wound.  A route for infection.  She got MRSA.  She died of pneumonia. MRSA may or may not have been a factor.  "BUT IT'S NOT ON THE DEATH CERTIFICATE!!" they cry.  Well no.  She probably died of pneumonia and whatever else she'd gone into hospital for.  I doubt the MRSA helped but a fit(ish) young person would not likely be killed by MRSA.

The presenter was extremely biased and clearly has no understanding of medical care.  It isn't a case of one thing goes wrong therefore someone dies (in the vast majority of cases).  Nor is it the case that if someone gets MRSA or c.diff then it's all because the hospital is dirty (this was the hidden agenda of the show).

At the end of the show the woman was wittering on about how her dad's death certificate was "wrong".  It wasn't.  It just didn't agree with her prejudices and belief that her dad was killed by a hospital acquired infection.  He may have been but to suggest that the doctors didn't write it because "they don't want to hurt the hospital's statistics" is just slander on them.

A disgraceful piece of programming.

Have fun.

And my troubles with my ISP continue.  I can't post anything to here from my home connection because as soon as I try the bloody connection decides that the blogspirit site is impossible to find!  I'm getting seriously pissed off with this.

There's an updated "about me" if you fancy a look.

Have fun.

I had Friday off last week so went away with K for a bit.  Hired a car from somewhere I'd decided not to use again but the other one has closed and this one is nearby.  We got a shitty Fiesta that needed scrapping rather than using.  "We're trying to sell it." they said.  "How much?" I said.  "2000" was the response.  Pffrpp!  I exclaimed.  No chance of that.  The bumper was broken, the internal light was bust, the rear door didn't close properly so rattled disturbingly going over any bumps, the engine sounded like it was about to wind down any time soon and the list goes on.

Anyway it got us to Buxton on Thursday night.  If you've never been then I'd recommend it to all.  It's a lovely place although the hotels are a tad expensive.  We spent a long time walking around the centre and the parks.  Saw a large family of geese complete with proud dad strutting his stuff  "See these: I did that!"

On Friday we drove around the peaks for a bit and then across to North Lincs to eventually visit my folks.  We stopped in a place called Brigg "A Historic Market Town".  It's dead though.  Hardly anything more than charity shops and boarded up places.  It is the site of the only combine harvester shop I've ever seen though.

So to the parents'.  My bro and his family were due but we were there earlier than them so we had food and chatted until time for bed.  Just at that point Bro and folks turn up.  So some quick putting kids to bed ensued and then we sat and chatted with them for a bit. 

On Saturday K slept while the rest of us had breakfast.  Parents and kids went to play in the park and Bro and his missus went into town on their own.  Me and K had a lovely walk and then met kids in the park.  Back home to sleep a bit and missed them all heading out to see a display at the local arts centre.  Apparently it was all about automata and was very good.  Annoyed I missed that.  So it's now late Saturday and K has not seen Bro and Kirsten yet (really).  So we had a nice dinner then we left to come back to Leics. 

Sunday was gardening day.  We cleaned up the back and had a nice afternoon crashed out in the yard.  Then K went to work and I headed to cause Pee some pain for a bit then home to bed.

Bryan has offered us his car (once it's been mended) so we might soon be carred again. 

Sad to say that this weekend was the longest I've spent with K since our holiday (although as you read that was busy to the extent that not much "us" time was available).  And she's buggering off again this week.  Back to Bg for 2 weeks.  My mates are all buggering off to Ireland too.  So I'm either going to be very depressed for a fortnight or the house will be cleaned to within an inch of its life.  Probably the former though.

Have fun.

I was bored last night so I started watching the football.  As it happens I saw it from about half way through and when I switched on the telly they were slow-mo repeating Michael Owen's injury.  The team were all very concerned and hoping he'd be back by the later rounds of the tournament.  Anyway even this morning the BBC website has the headline "Owen could miss rest of cup".  [edit: they've now changed it to : World Cup over for injured Owen ]  Ahh the joys of not knowing much.

Sorry guys but he doesn't really need a scan.  It's pretty clear from looking at the injury as it happens that he's ruptured his anterior cruciate ligament [edit: bing! Point to me!], almost certainly ruptured his medial collateral ligament and probably wrecked his medial meniscus (poetically known as "the unhappy triad of O'Donaghue").  This injury will put him out for months.  After surgery he'll probably need another 4-5 months rehab and even then he'll probably not be back to the same level that he's been at through his career so far.  I think we just saw the end of a top-flight career.  Poor sod.

Still we can always hope eh?

Perhaps he should have warmed up more.

Have fun.

I've just had the loveliest patient in ages.  She was an elderly Indian woman and she came in with her daughter.  But the best thing was the language.  She spoke Gujurati so her daughter translated everything (and did a good job, probably had lots of practice).

But what about that language?  Here's a rough transliteration of what went on:

"Blub blub blub blub blub exercise he gave you. Blub blub blub blub keep active.  Blub blub blub blub blub see the doctor blub."

I was reminded of Bill Bryson writing about a welsh language soap opera on S4C that he described as sounding alien except when modern phrases or terms were used; notably "dirty weekend".  He felt it was so sweet that Welsh didn't have a phrase of its own for this concept.

I love the idea of having an interpreter who then basically sets up a sentence and then completes it in english.

Have fun.

Have fun.

I spent some time watching the overnight phone in games last night.

The show that did the "count the pounds" question had another one on that took ages again.  In fact this one didn't get answered.  I watched and wrote down the question down so I could figure out how they work the things out.  I still can't do it.  This week they didn't get the right answer so they just took down the question and then asked ""what's the film?" and showed an "anagram" which went something along the lines of "Chralies Angles".  Come on you lot, get those thinking caps on!

The one on the other channel made me realise just how exploitative and dodgy the whole thing was.  One guy won £10000 but when he was on the line he stated that he'd spent about £100 that night calling the quizline.  That's fine for him as he got the payout, but how many more people have spent the same amount for no benefit?  The way they sell it sells expectation; people won't really get through but they are led to believe they will; so they phone again and again.  And then the host had the balls to ask people to natter - not only that but to natter about just whether they liked the show.  I'd have loved it had someone said "No the show's exploitative and  tawdry and you're a rubbish host."

Have fun.

[Note to my folks: There's some swearing in this one, sorry]

This is an "affectionate" look at the lairy bigots that come to the fore whenever Eng-ger-land play any damn sport but they seem to be more attracted (like flies to shit) to the football.

Me and K had a lovely quiet meal yesterday.  We went to a very nice Chinese place at 5pm.  Not very coincidentally this was the exact kick off time for Eng-ger-land's last match (against the marvellous Trinidad and Tobago).  I picked the time so town would be quiet for the duration and we'd be out before Eng-ger-land either lost (prompting dickheads to be violent) or won (prompting dickheads to be drunk, lairy and uninhibited thus eventually leading to more violence).

Worked a treat.  We had a lovely time only interrupted by an asian bloke being unaware that he was in a restaurant and not his office.  Switch your bloody phone OFF.

K then had to go for a meeting and I headed up to the park for some juggling.  The park was empty save for Philip juggling.  Jon turned up shortly afterwards.  It was about then that the match finished.  So the traffic level went from trickle to flood.  The pedestrian traffic quadrupled and then we had the detritus from the local pubs.

First off was a pissed fan wearing a flouro vest.  He was grinning inanely and shouting about how great his country was.  Yeah right.  If he was the model then somehow I doubt we'd be quite so successful.  Next was a lovely little group of chavettes who were singing a complex little song, the entire lyrics of which can be seen in this post's title.  I have news for them; the word "England" has only 2 syllables.  This would likely be a shock to them. And by crikey can they squeal?  One of the many reasons I can't stand drunk and lairy brit-girls.

And that's what really gets my goat.  The pond-scum that take this bloody game most to heart are the sort of dregs that wouldn't be out of place in a filthy chav convention's line up of the top chavs of the year.  They have no redeeming features save keeping the breweries in business but that's offset by the "keeping the dealers in business" that they also do.  For instance my next-door neighbour (the biggest criminal waste of DNA in the neighbourhood) has absolutely nothing to offer this country.  Worse than that she is a drain on it; completely.  She now has a big Eng-ger-land flag in her front window.  If she's the poster girl then I'm emigrating (oh I am anyway).  That's why I don't like the flying of the flag and people expressing patriotism.  It's the scum of the earth that proclaim their allegiance the loudest.  I do NOT want to be associated with these people.  If my country was stuffed full of bright people with goodness in their hearts and joy in their song then I'd be proud, hell I'd be proud.  But what we have are junkies, dealers, petty criminals, racist bigots, jumped-up little shits who believe the world owes them everything and then an occasional nice person whose presence lights up my little bit of world.  I'm proud of and extremely grateful to them and them only.  The rest of the population can quite happily be eugenicised out of existence and I wouldn't shed the slightest tear.  Who will perform this miracle for us?  Save me from mediocrity and cynicism!

Have fun.