I am still waiting for news about the monoclonal antibody. I am told that we should hear today.
Meanwhile it has been an eventful week. First, our dishwasher broke. Normally this would be something we would do together, but I am not well enough to9 go shopping so my wife went to Currys and bought a replacement which will be installed tomorrow. Then via the MacMillan Unit I had some aromatherapy. While I am sure this does not affect the cancer, it is very relaxing having sandalwood oil rubbed into my feet and legs. These are getting very puffy and despite elastic stockings I have to keep them raised. Then a large amalgam filling fell out of my back teeth. No I don't blame the aromatherapy.
Today as I was dozing in the armchair I heard a clattering from the chimney. My wife was sure that a pigeon had fallen down the chimney and trapped itself there. We phoned Prokill, the pest controller, and she was right. In about 20 minutes they had rescued the bird and released it. Best of all they made no charge for it. What nice people!
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Saturday, November 27, 2010
It's a busy life
Not much blogging this week. It has been the post-irenotecan week when I get a lot of intestinal colic which makes thinking difficult. I saw the oncologist on Friday and he gave me a good report. The CT scan was rather better than I had hoped with virtually all the disease except around the stricture disappearing. I get an extra week off over Christmas, but there are still 7 courses of chemotherapy to go.
I have spent the week advising on a medico-legal case that was very difficult to disentangle because the patient's hospital notes were lost, and have been missing for three years. It strikes me that if a hospital can't find notes after three years that they are not lost but hidden.
I have also been advising a marketing company on a marketing strategy for a drug in CLL. They didn't think much of my suggestion that it should be given away free until it has been shown to cure anyone.
Anyway I hope the next week will be easier to cope with.
I have spent the week advising on a medico-legal case that was very difficult to disentangle because the patient's hospital notes were lost, and have been missing for three years. It strikes me that if a hospital can't find notes after three years that they are not lost but hidden.
I have also been advising a marketing company on a marketing strategy for a drug in CLL. They didn't think much of my suggestion that it should be given away free until it has been shown to cure anyone.
Anyway I hope the next week will be easier to cope with.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Another day
Quite a quiet day today. The weather, while not as bad as 2008 and 2007, still remains very changeable with more rain today. We took a trip out to the Doll's hospital, where we had left my wife's china doll 6 weeks ago. The poor thing had toppled off her chair on several occasions and had smashed her right foot. The hospital had to cast two new legs and fire them, then fit them. Now she was back to pristine condition so we bought her a new chair that she wouldn't fall out of. I took the opportunity to see what these dolls retail at now - the answer is about $250.
I managed to get the TCL1 article off to Leukemia Research for publication and started to referee an article for Blood - my first since my illness. But tomorrow the 9th course begins and I will have to shut up shop as far as thinking is concerned.
In the afternoon I watched another episode of The Wire and then this evening we watched the final episode of To The Manor Born and then watched a few episodes of Yes Minister. I'm not the only person who yearns for the comedy of the 1970s.
I am reading the autobiography of Michael Parkinson and found an interesting insight on Neville Cardus, the great writer for the Manchester Guardian, who wrote on the Halle Orchestra and Sir John Barbarolli and on cricket. (I once took blood from Barbarolli who died in a nursing home in Bournemouth). Parkinson asked Cardus how he managed to get such pithy quotes from cricketers. "I don't," said Cardus, "I make them up. Cricketers are generally unable to string words together to form a sentence." For those who don't know him, Parkinson has had a TV show for 30 years interviewing celebrities, rather like Jay Leno or David Letterman.
I am a little disappointed that my health hasn't completely returned to normal after the three week break. I still have bloating and tiredness in the evenings and a reduced appetite. I hope it is just the chemotherapy. I have another CT scan on Thursday, so I should soon find out.
I managed to get the TCL1 article off to Leukemia Research for publication and started to referee an article for Blood - my first since my illness. But tomorrow the 9th course begins and I will have to shut up shop as far as thinking is concerned.
In the afternoon I watched another episode of The Wire and then this evening we watched the final episode of To The Manor Born and then watched a few episodes of Yes Minister. I'm not the only person who yearns for the comedy of the 1970s.
I am reading the autobiography of Michael Parkinson and found an interesting insight on Neville Cardus, the great writer for the Manchester Guardian, who wrote on the Halle Orchestra and Sir John Barbarolli and on cricket. (I once took blood from Barbarolli who died in a nursing home in Bournemouth). Parkinson asked Cardus how he managed to get such pithy quotes from cricketers. "I don't," said Cardus, "I make them up. Cricketers are generally unable to string words together to form a sentence." For those who don't know him, Parkinson has had a TV show for 30 years interviewing celebrities, rather like Jay Leno or David Letterman.
I am a little disappointed that my health hasn't completely returned to normal after the three week break. I still have bloating and tiredness in the evenings and a reduced appetite. I hope it is just the chemotherapy. I have another CT scan on Thursday, so I should soon find out.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Reading and sleeping
Day 15: this is my first day of a third week without chemotherapy. The side effects were getting so bad that I have been given a week's respite this time. Yesterday was a bad day with no energy and I spent a lot of it sleeping, but today seems to be starting OK. The neuropathy is no better. It is a strange phenomenon. Pain and temperature is preserved, as is deep touch, but fine touch has gone. I think also there has been a loss of propriaception though this is harder to self measure. It is of characteristic 'glove and stocking' distribution, extending up my legs to halfway up my calves. It also involves the front two thirds of my tongue. It has affected my taste too. I have really gone off sweet things, especially strawberry, which I now loathe. However, some milk chocolates are very helpful, both for calories and for soothing my stomach, though very sweet chocolate is not welcome. I have a craving for savories, especially bitter things. Apricot, rhubarb, gooseberries all find favor. I dare say that a pint of bitter would go down well, though I am off alcohol.
We were promised a scorching summer, but July has been rather wet after Wimbledon. What has characterized this summer has been the wind. Living on the coast we normally experience cooling breezes to ameliorate the heat in summer, but this year it has mostly been too cold to sit out in the garden. Today is another overcast, showery day.
I have been reading John Le Carre's "A Most Wanted Man". It is a despairing look at modern life. Set in Germany, it explores the modern world of espionage directed against the Islamist threat. Germany is depicted as weak and ineffectual with one half of the Intelligence services in thrall to the Americans, and the other half part of the Human Rights mafia. America is clearly the villain; they do terrible things including extraordinary rendition, but are excused as being ignorant as Johnny-come-latelies to the spying game. The British are the worst, as they not only do terrible things, but they know what they are doing.
The reader is obviously meant to sympathize with the oppressed half Chechnyen/half Russian who has been tortured and imprisoned by both Russians and Turks, and with the rather naive British banker and German lawyer, but I am not sure whether I do. It seems probable that the Chechnyen was involved in terrorism albeit against the Russian beast, the Brit was a failure as a banker, husband and father and what is more acquiesced to his own father's money laundering. The young female German lawyer sees good in bad people and turns a blind eye to their crimes. In the end a man responsible for funding atrocities and assassinations is scooped up by the Americans to the disgust of one German group that wanted to turn him and use him to destroy Islamist terror from within.
Overall, the story presents a picture of how complex the 'War on Terror' is. Nothing is black and white and people have different opinions on shades of grey.
I spent some of the time reading the book in the garden on our swing chair. When the sun shines the garden looks very well with the hydrangeas all in full bloom as well as the lavender and potentillas. Buddleias are attracting bees and butterflies and the large tubs are overflowing with red, pink and white begonias. Smaller pots house white, red and orange double begonias. The fuchsias have been poor this year but patches of orange montbretia liven up the green, for green is everywhere. There is no sign of brown on the lawn, which is more meadow than grass, having seen a crop of daisies, then clover and now a yellow vetch.
I have had to take out one of the yew trees in our front hedge as it had died on us. I hope that the two adjacent trees will bridge the gap in time. Still, we have a new gardener who will, I hope, know about these things.
We were promised a scorching summer, but July has been rather wet after Wimbledon. What has characterized this summer has been the wind. Living on the coast we normally experience cooling breezes to ameliorate the heat in summer, but this year it has mostly been too cold to sit out in the garden. Today is another overcast, showery day.
I have been reading John Le Carre's "A Most Wanted Man". It is a despairing look at modern life. Set in Germany, it explores the modern world of espionage directed against the Islamist threat. Germany is depicted as weak and ineffectual with one half of the Intelligence services in thrall to the Americans, and the other half part of the Human Rights mafia. America is clearly the villain; they do terrible things including extraordinary rendition, but are excused as being ignorant as Johnny-come-latelies to the spying game. The British are the worst, as they not only do terrible things, but they know what they are doing.
The reader is obviously meant to sympathize with the oppressed half Chechnyen/half Russian who has been tortured and imprisoned by both Russians and Turks, and with the rather naive British banker and German lawyer, but I am not sure whether I do. It seems probable that the Chechnyen was involved in terrorism albeit against the Russian beast, the Brit was a failure as a banker, husband and father and what is more acquiesced to his own father's money laundering. The young female German lawyer sees good in bad people and turns a blind eye to their crimes. In the end a man responsible for funding atrocities and assassinations is scooped up by the Americans to the disgust of one German group that wanted to turn him and use him to destroy Islamist terror from within.
Overall, the story presents a picture of how complex the 'War on Terror' is. Nothing is black and white and people have different opinions on shades of grey.
I spent some of the time reading the book in the garden on our swing chair. When the sun shines the garden looks very well with the hydrangeas all in full bloom as well as the lavender and potentillas. Buddleias are attracting bees and butterflies and the large tubs are overflowing with red, pink and white begonias. Smaller pots house white, red and orange double begonias. The fuchsias have been poor this year but patches of orange montbretia liven up the green, for green is everywhere. There is no sign of brown on the lawn, which is more meadow than grass, having seen a crop of daisies, then clover and now a yellow vetch.
I have had to take out one of the yew trees in our front hedge as it had died on us. I hope that the two adjacent trees will bridge the gap in time. Still, we have a new gardener who will, I hope, know about these things.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Titles and letters after your name
The dose reduction of oxaliplatin has left me less befuddled this time and perhaps the cold-induced parasthesiae are less. I have gone back to the steroids this time with heavy doses of lanzoprazole to avoid the indigestion. This means that I wake at 3am and start to compose a blog. This time I started thinking about titles.
In America President Clinton is still called President even though he is no longer the President. Senator is a prized title and I suppose there are many others. Every country has its own traditions. In Germany the wife of a University Professor who has a medical degree and a PhD is formally called "Frau Professor Doctor Doctor Schmidt". In America even a schoolteacher is known as Professor and most medical academics prefer to be called Doctor except in Europe where Professor is the more revered title.
Medical degrees is the UK are officially Bachelor of Medicine and Bachelor of Surgery (some Universities also add Master of Midwifery) yet everyone is called Doctor. In most other countries the qualifying degree is MD, though in some countries it is simply a license to practise. In the UK many people with a PhD do not call themselves Doctor for fear of being asked to officiate at an emergency. I notice that theologians like to call themselves the Reverend Doctor but musicians prefer Maestro to Dr. In the UK physicians look more to post-graduate diplomas to define their status. Thus MRCP or FRCS are more coveted than than MD or MB,BS. There used to be a qualifying degree called Licentiate of the College of Physicians and Membership of the College of Surgeons (LRCP, MRCS) which those who couldn't pass their University finals took, and for the really hopeless there was the Licentiate of the Society of Apothecaries of Cork which was parodied in the movie 'Doctor at Large' where dear old Cyril Cusack examines Donald Sinden in a ride on a pony and trap and the most difficult question is "What can you tell me about urea?" and Sinden's reply is "Do you mean the thing you hear with of the chemical substance?".
It used to be that when you passed the Diploma exams (which are rather like the Boards exams in the US) you were a Member for a few years and then were automatically promoted to a Fellow when they increased your annual subscription. That's why I have FRCP and FRCPath after my name. To become a hematologist in the UK you have to be doubly qualified in Pathology and Internal Medicine. Oxford and Southampton degrees are a bit different to everybody else's. Instead of having MDs and PhDs they have DMs and DPhils. Which is why my letters are DM (though I often write MD to avoid confusion). In the UK the MD is a research degree like a PhD (though it is usually on a clinical subject rather than a laboratory one. It can be awarded for a period of study in a time out from training or as a result of published works on a particular subject as mine was - 13 years of studying CLL.
Of course all these letters after someone's name can be very confusing. I remember being with Reg Clift in a line for refreshments at a meeting. Together with Don Thomas he pioneered the development of bone marrow transplantation in Seattle. Someone came up to Reg and asked what the letters FIMLS after his name meant. Reg wasn't a doctor (though he practised like one). Before Reg could answer, the then Editor of the Lancet who was an Immunologist piped up, "It stands for Fellow of the Institute of Medical-Laboratory Scientists. I've got twenty of those working for me back in England." To which Reg responded, "That's a coincidence, I've got 20 MDs working for me."
Not all letters after the name are what they seem. FRSM simply means that you belong to an expensive Gentleman's Club in central London. It does have a superb Library and a wonderful restaurant as well as cheap lodging so it is worth the annual subscription, but FRSH is a simply a vanity purchase to fool the customers. Buying letters after your name is a common practise; Oxford and Cambridge BAs can upgrade their degrees to MAs after a year for only 10 quid. In the past the only MD degrees awarded were to Oxford and Cambridge graduates who had to take examinations in Latin, Greek and Physic. Edward Jenner, one of the greatest physicians ever, (he invented smallpox vaccination) trained as an apprentice surgeon and qualified as an Apothecary. He couldn't get an MD because he had no Latin or Greek, for the same reason he could not become a member of the Royal College of Physicians. Eventually he bought an MD from Glasgow University for £100; even then the Scots were canny with money. It should be remembered that at the time Jenner was already a Fellow of the Royal Society (the highest Scientific Accolade), not for smallpox, but for discovering how the fledgling cuckoo removed the other eggs and birds from the nest.
Not many medics make FRS and to compensate for that a few years ago a few senior academic doctors set up a new Society, the Academy of Medical Scientists. Leading medical academics were invited to become FMedSci. They guard their doors assiduously against anyone who has not achieved very much yet.
Nowadays it seems that everyone wants to be called Doctor; Dentists, back manipulators, acupuncturists, and even podiatrists. In Russia doctors are called "vrach" I believe, which being translated means "leech". Surgeons in the UK are offended by being called Doctor. Once they have their FRCS they insist on being called Mister. This dates from their origin as barber-surgeons (like Sweeney Todd).
In the church there are many titles, as I illustrated in a previous blog. But it is Bishops I want to attack. The Greek word 'episcopos' which is translated 'bishop' literally means overseer and it is used interchangeably in the New Testament with 'presbutos' which is often translated as 'priest' but actually means 'elder'. The NT only recognises two clerical offices in the church: elder and deacon (which could also be translated as 'minister' or 'servant'. The problem arose when bishops got too big for their mitres ans started assuming and authoritative power. The Bible assumes a plurality of elders in a local church, all of whom should be apt to teach (a quality missing from the list of requirements for deacons). Some elders (but not all) are to be set aside for the preaching of the word and the elders as a whole are to be given the governance of the church, but the NT specifically warns against getting involved in the affairs of the world. It is therefore a nonsense that certain Bishops are guaranteed seats in the British House of Lords, that hangover from feudal times.
Permit this small digression. I watched the Trooping of the Color last week on the Queen's birthday. It was a colorful pageant with clever marching and martial music. I would not want to see it lost, but all the various ranks: knights, baronets, marquises, viscounts, barons, earls and dukes seem to be an affectation too far. The House of Lords as a chamber for refining and modifying legislation seems a sensible organisation, though it is largely a resting place for retired politicians, many of whom remain the crooks they were in the House of Commons.
Anyway, back to Bishops. They quickly became secular authorities in the Roman Catholic Church. Bishop Odo fought with William the Conqueror. Others in England became Lord Chancellors of effectively Prime Ministers. Even in the Church Bishops sought to lord it over people, specifically against the instructions given in the New Testament.
The Quakers have it right, I think. Everyone there is plain John Smith or Jane Baker. If a qualifier is needed it could be Jane Baker, secretary, or John Smith, businessman. I would be happy to be Terry Hamblin, with the physician only added if someone needed one.
In America President Clinton is still called President even though he is no longer the President. Senator is a prized title and I suppose there are many others. Every country has its own traditions. In Germany the wife of a University Professor who has a medical degree and a PhD is formally called "Frau Professor Doctor Doctor Schmidt". In America even a schoolteacher is known as Professor and most medical academics prefer to be called Doctor except in Europe where Professor is the more revered title.
Medical degrees is the UK are officially Bachelor of Medicine and Bachelor of Surgery (some Universities also add Master of Midwifery) yet everyone is called Doctor. In most other countries the qualifying degree is MD, though in some countries it is simply a license to practise. In the UK many people with a PhD do not call themselves Doctor for fear of being asked to officiate at an emergency. I notice that theologians like to call themselves the Reverend Doctor but musicians prefer Maestro to Dr. In the UK physicians look more to post-graduate diplomas to define their status. Thus MRCP or FRCS are more coveted than than MD or MB,BS. There used to be a qualifying degree called Licentiate of the College of Physicians and Membership of the College of Surgeons (LRCP, MRCS) which those who couldn't pass their University finals took, and for the really hopeless there was the Licentiate of the Society of Apothecaries of Cork which was parodied in the movie 'Doctor at Large' where dear old Cyril Cusack examines Donald Sinden in a ride on a pony and trap and the most difficult question is "What can you tell me about urea?" and Sinden's reply is "Do you mean the thing you hear with of the chemical substance?".
It used to be that when you passed the Diploma exams (which are rather like the Boards exams in the US) you were a Member for a few years and then were automatically promoted to a Fellow when they increased your annual subscription. That's why I have FRCP and FRCPath after my name. To become a hematologist in the UK you have to be doubly qualified in Pathology and Internal Medicine. Oxford and Southampton degrees are a bit different to everybody else's. Instead of having MDs and PhDs they have DMs and DPhils. Which is why my letters are DM (though I often write MD to avoid confusion). In the UK the MD is a research degree like a PhD (though it is usually on a clinical subject rather than a laboratory one. It can be awarded for a period of study in a time out from training or as a result of published works on a particular subject as mine was - 13 years of studying CLL.
Of course all these letters after someone's name can be very confusing. I remember being with Reg Clift in a line for refreshments at a meeting. Together with Don Thomas he pioneered the development of bone marrow transplantation in Seattle. Someone came up to Reg and asked what the letters FIMLS after his name meant. Reg wasn't a doctor (though he practised like one). Before Reg could answer, the then Editor of the Lancet who was an Immunologist piped up, "It stands for Fellow of the Institute of Medical-Laboratory Scientists. I've got twenty of those working for me back in England." To which Reg responded, "That's a coincidence, I've got 20 MDs working for me."
Not all letters after the name are what they seem. FRSM simply means that you belong to an expensive Gentleman's Club in central London. It does have a superb Library and a wonderful restaurant as well as cheap lodging so it is worth the annual subscription, but FRSH is a simply a vanity purchase to fool the customers. Buying letters after your name is a common practise; Oxford and Cambridge BAs can upgrade their degrees to MAs after a year for only 10 quid. In the past the only MD degrees awarded were to Oxford and Cambridge graduates who had to take examinations in Latin, Greek and Physic. Edward Jenner, one of the greatest physicians ever, (he invented smallpox vaccination) trained as an apprentice surgeon and qualified as an Apothecary. He couldn't get an MD because he had no Latin or Greek, for the same reason he could not become a member of the Royal College of Physicians. Eventually he bought an MD from Glasgow University for £100; even then the Scots were canny with money. It should be remembered that at the time Jenner was already a Fellow of the Royal Society (the highest Scientific Accolade), not for smallpox, but for discovering how the fledgling cuckoo removed the other eggs and birds from the nest.
Not many medics make FRS and to compensate for that a few years ago a few senior academic doctors set up a new Society, the Academy of Medical Scientists. Leading medical academics were invited to become FMedSci. They guard their doors assiduously against anyone who has not achieved very much yet.
Nowadays it seems that everyone wants to be called Doctor; Dentists, back manipulators, acupuncturists, and even podiatrists. In Russia doctors are called "vrach" I believe, which being translated means "leech". Surgeons in the UK are offended by being called Doctor. Once they have their FRCS they insist on being called Mister. This dates from their origin as barber-surgeons (like Sweeney Todd).
In the church there are many titles, as I illustrated in a previous blog. But it is Bishops I want to attack. The Greek word 'episcopos' which is translated 'bishop' literally means overseer and it is used interchangeably in the New Testament with 'presbutos' which is often translated as 'priest' but actually means 'elder'. The NT only recognises two clerical offices in the church: elder and deacon (which could also be translated as 'minister' or 'servant'. The problem arose when bishops got too big for their mitres ans started assuming and authoritative power. The Bible assumes a plurality of elders in a local church, all of whom should be apt to teach (a quality missing from the list of requirements for deacons). Some elders (but not all) are to be set aside for the preaching of the word and the elders as a whole are to be given the governance of the church, but the NT specifically warns against getting involved in the affairs of the world. It is therefore a nonsense that certain Bishops are guaranteed seats in the British House of Lords, that hangover from feudal times.
Permit this small digression. I watched the Trooping of the Color last week on the Queen's birthday. It was a colorful pageant with clever marching and martial music. I would not want to see it lost, but all the various ranks: knights, baronets, marquises, viscounts, barons, earls and dukes seem to be an affectation too far. The House of Lords as a chamber for refining and modifying legislation seems a sensible organisation, though it is largely a resting place for retired politicians, many of whom remain the crooks they were in the House of Commons.
Anyway, back to Bishops. They quickly became secular authorities in the Roman Catholic Church. Bishop Odo fought with William the Conqueror. Others in England became Lord Chancellors of effectively Prime Ministers. Even in the Church Bishops sought to lord it over people, specifically against the instructions given in the New Testament.
The Quakers have it right, I think. Everyone there is plain John Smith or Jane Baker. If a qualifier is needed it could be Jane Baker, secretary, or John Smith, businessman. I would be happy to be Terry Hamblin, with the physician only added if someone needed one.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Course 2
The first day of my second round of chemotherapy. Already I have the cold-induced pins and needles. At dinner tonight I had to run the cutlery under the hot tap or eat with gloves on. I couldn't manage my apple juice - it made my tongue go numb.
I spend the two hours of the infusion listening to downloaded radio programs on my iPod, but I still have a backlog of over 40 programs to listen to. I kept getting interrupted as former colleagues came visiting.
This morning the surgeon I first worked for as an intern came to visit. He is about 78 now and has problems with angina and diabetes. We had an hour of happy reminiscing.
Blogging is difficult under the influence of dexamethasone so I'm off to watch the Liverpool v Arsenal match on the TV.
Later: just the match to watch on Dexamethasone. 8 goals and a 4-4 tie. Liverpool's title shot looks gone. If they win their remaining 5 matches, Manchester United will have to lose two of their remaining seven for Liverpool to triumph and even then they will have to outscore United. Stll United have still to play Arsenal and both play the open attacking football that leads to high scoring results. The also have to play Arsenal twice in the European Cup so they will be very familiar with their game.
I spend the two hours of the infusion listening to downloaded radio programs on my iPod, but I still have a backlog of over 40 programs to listen to. I kept getting interrupted as former colleagues came visiting.
This morning the surgeon I first worked for as an intern came to visit. He is about 78 now and has problems with angina and diabetes. We had an hour of happy reminiscing.
Blogging is difficult under the influence of dexamethasone so I'm off to watch the Liverpool v Arsenal match on the TV.
Later: just the match to watch on Dexamethasone. 8 goals and a 4-4 tie. Liverpool's title shot looks gone. If they win their remaining 5 matches, Manchester United will have to lose two of their remaining seven for Liverpool to triumph and even then they will have to outscore United. Stll United have still to play Arsenal and both play the open attacking football that leads to high scoring results. The also have to play Arsenal twice in the European Cup so they will be very familiar with their game.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Getting Stronger
Today I had my pre-chemo check-up for my second round which begins tomorrow. I am six weeks out from surgery and everything is going well. The side effects were tolerable - a little constipation, a little diarrhea, a little cold-induced pins and needles, some small mouth ulcers. If it gets no worse than that I shall consider myself blessed. Of course, I was not ill before all this started and I am not quite as well as before the operation, but I am back to 95%.
I have been able to drive, to mow the lawn and do a little weeding and today I went for a walk. Living on the coast as we do we have always enjoyed trips to the beach (10 minutes away) though, in truth, we have not taken as much advantage of our proximity as we might have. Work has always seemed too demanding. Today we decided to explore somewhere we have never been.
Bournemouth occupies the eastern side of south-facing Poole Bay. Today we decided to explore the far-western edge of the bay. The bay extends for seven miles and the beach is sandy all the way (unlike that of our rival, Brighton, which is stony). At the far eastern end is Hengistbury Head, a Roman hill fort, which is wonderfully windy and great for flying kites. As one moves westward the sandstone cliffs climb to about 70 feet above the beach. The beach can be reached by a series of zig-zag footpaths or by the cliff lifts, for those who can't manage the climb.
There are also a series of chines. These are small streams that have carved steep-sided valleys that also form walks down to the beach. The largest of these is the Bourne stream itself which is only about five feet wide and inches deep. It runs through the center of Bournemouth through a series of beautiful gardens, beginning at Coy Pond, about a mile or two inland.
About halfway round the bay, Bournemouth merges into Poole. There is great rivalry between the two. Bournemouth is relatively recently established in 1812 (even younger than America) whereas Poole has been a settlement for 2500 years. Poole is also the home of the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra and the main campus of Bournemouth University. However, Poole has a population of 138,000 and Bournemouth is larger with 168,000. The whole conurbation is just short of half a million and is known as the Bournemouth urban area.
Anyway, we explored the Poole end for a change, something we haven't done in the 37 years we have lived in this area. The beach is wider down there and the sand finer so that walking on the beach for an hour tested the healing of my abdominal wound. The houses that abut the beach are among the most expensive in the world. You could easily pay £8 million for one, even in the recession. Finally we reached the end of the beach and the mouth of Poole harbor. A chain ferry operates across the mouth of the harbor, taking cars and passengers across to Shell Bay, but we turned back to walk alongside the harbor, a vast expanse of a playground for sailing dinghies, windsurfers and gin palaces.
Immediately ahead of us was Brownsea Island, one of the last habitats for the native red squirrel, but we must leave a trip there for when I have more energy. It was a balmy day with hazy sunshine and by the time we returned to the car I was quite warm. Back home I found an interesting TV program available on the net. It was called The Narnia Code and dealt with a new CS Lewis discovery. Watch it if you can.
I re-start treatment at 2pm tomorrow.
I have been able to drive, to mow the lawn and do a little weeding and today I went for a walk. Living on the coast as we do we have always enjoyed trips to the beach (10 minutes away) though, in truth, we have not taken as much advantage of our proximity as we might have. Work has always seemed too demanding. Today we decided to explore somewhere we have never been.
Bournemouth occupies the eastern side of south-facing Poole Bay. Today we decided to explore the far-western edge of the bay. The bay extends for seven miles and the beach is sandy all the way (unlike that of our rival, Brighton, which is stony). At the far eastern end is Hengistbury Head, a Roman hill fort, which is wonderfully windy and great for flying kites. As one moves westward the sandstone cliffs climb to about 70 feet above the beach. The beach can be reached by a series of zig-zag footpaths or by the cliff lifts, for those who can't manage the climb.
There are also a series of chines. These are small streams that have carved steep-sided valleys that also form walks down to the beach. The largest of these is the Bourne stream itself which is only about five feet wide and inches deep. It runs through the center of Bournemouth through a series of beautiful gardens, beginning at Coy Pond, about a mile or two inland.
About halfway round the bay, Bournemouth merges into Poole. There is great rivalry between the two. Bournemouth is relatively recently established in 1812 (even younger than America) whereas Poole has been a settlement for 2500 years. Poole is also the home of the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra and the main campus of Bournemouth University. However, Poole has a population of 138,000 and Bournemouth is larger with 168,000. The whole conurbation is just short of half a million and is known as the Bournemouth urban area.
Anyway, we explored the Poole end for a change, something we haven't done in the 37 years we have lived in this area. The beach is wider down there and the sand finer so that walking on the beach for an hour tested the healing of my abdominal wound. The houses that abut the beach are among the most expensive in the world. You could easily pay £8 million for one, even in the recession. Finally we reached the end of the beach and the mouth of Poole harbor. A chain ferry operates across the mouth of the harbor, taking cars and passengers across to Shell Bay, but we turned back to walk alongside the harbor, a vast expanse of a playground for sailing dinghies, windsurfers and gin palaces.
Immediately ahead of us was Brownsea Island, one of the last habitats for the native red squirrel, but we must leave a trip there for when I have more energy. It was a balmy day with hazy sunshine and by the time we returned to the car I was quite warm. Back home I found an interesting TV program available on the net. It was called The Narnia Code and dealt with a new CS Lewis discovery. Watch it if you can.
I re-start treatment at 2pm tomorrow.
Friday, April 03, 2009
The lifetime achievement award
It's been one of those Spring days when the sea mist rolls in and the sun is just to weak to disperse it. While the rest of the country has been bathed in sunshine with temperatures reaching as high as 61, here in Bournemouth it has been rather cool. Earlier in the week we had sat in the garden sunning ourselves, watching the birds and admiring the first tulips, but today I wore an anorak on a short trip to the post office. I have felt like the sun; too weak to disperse anything. This is in part a reaction to the Hickman line which left me bruised and aching around the neck and in part a reaction to flucloxacillin given to prevent wound infection. It has given me heartburn. This afternoon I slept for 90 minutes in an armchair.
To catch 153 fish and not break your nets is a lifetime achievement. It has often occurred to me that when you achieve some great feat it must be difficult to produce a follow on. After Bob Beamon's great leap in the Mexico Olympics that beat the World Long Jump record by about 3 feet, what was left for him to do? Steve Redgrave won gold medals in 5 successive Olympic Games in the rowing; from here his life must be all downhill. Did Pete Samprass get bored with winning Grand Slam events? Will Tiger Woods have a life after golf?
When I won the Binet-Rai medal for my work on IgVH genes in CLL it was the summit of my career. I would never produce anything that important again. For me everything would be a downward slope.
So, Peter, your lifetime best catch has been achieved, what do you do next?
The disciple whom Jesus loved (presumably John, though Ben Witherington III thinks it was the risen Lazarus), said to Peter, "It is the Lord."
As soon as Simon Peter heard him say it, he wrapped his outer garment around him and jumped into the water to go to him. He left his lifetime achievement behind and rushed to Jesus.
There is a scene at the end of Schindler's List where Oscar Schindler realises that though he has connived at rescuing over a thousand Jews, he could have done more. He tears off his ring, "That will buy two more," he says in desperation.
At the end of our lives we are all frustrated that we could have done more, but without trying to boast (forgive me if it sounds like boasting) I'm not sure how I could have done more with my life. I could have done it differently - spent more time with my family, avoided certain vanities, given more to the needy and so on, but a life is a whole and what I did in one area was dependent of what I did in others. No, it's not that. But I still feel that my task is unfinished.
I have friends who have spent their latter years in the poorest part of Malawi. They tell me how non-existent the medical services are there. I know that even my limited general skills and absent surgical skills would help in a place like that, and I have thought of possibly spending a few weeks or months out there. I fear my illness has put a stop to that idea. I applied to serve on a government committee on standards in public life, but that door has also closed. I have a feeling now that if the Lord spares me it will be to serve him in some undisclosed way. Before my operation I was in rude health and I expect to be so again. So my prayer is, "Jesus show me how I too may feed your lambs."
To catch 153 fish and not break your nets is a lifetime achievement. It has often occurred to me that when you achieve some great feat it must be difficult to produce a follow on. After Bob Beamon's great leap in the Mexico Olympics that beat the World Long Jump record by about 3 feet, what was left for him to do? Steve Redgrave won gold medals in 5 successive Olympic Games in the rowing; from here his life must be all downhill. Did Pete Samprass get bored with winning Grand Slam events? Will Tiger Woods have a life after golf?
When I won the Binet-Rai medal for my work on IgVH genes in CLL it was the summit of my career. I would never produce anything that important again. For me everything would be a downward slope.
So, Peter, your lifetime best catch has been achieved, what do you do next?
The disciple whom Jesus loved (presumably John, though Ben Witherington III thinks it was the risen Lazarus), said to Peter, "It is the Lord."
As soon as Simon Peter heard him say it, he wrapped his outer garment around him and jumped into the water to go to him. He left his lifetime achievement behind and rushed to Jesus.
There is a scene at the end of Schindler's List where Oscar Schindler realises that though he has connived at rescuing over a thousand Jews, he could have done more. He tears off his ring, "That will buy two more," he says in desperation.
At the end of our lives we are all frustrated that we could have done more, but without trying to boast (forgive me if it sounds like boasting) I'm not sure how I could have done more with my life. I could have done it differently - spent more time with my family, avoided certain vanities, given more to the needy and so on, but a life is a whole and what I did in one area was dependent of what I did in others. No, it's not that. But I still feel that my task is unfinished.
I have friends who have spent their latter years in the poorest part of Malawi. They tell me how non-existent the medical services are there. I know that even my limited general skills and absent surgical skills would help in a place like that, and I have thought of possibly spending a few weeks or months out there. I fear my illness has put a stop to that idea. I applied to serve on a government committee on standards in public life, but that door has also closed. I have a feeling now that if the Lord spares me it will be to serve him in some undisclosed way. Before my operation I was in rude health and I expect to be so again. So my prayer is, "Jesus show me how I too may feed your lambs."
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Mother love
Janette Mercer, 49, was yesterday given a three-year sentence for obstructing the police. Her son Sean murdered 11-year old Rhys Jones as he walked through a car park in Liverpool. In a way it was an accident, he was actually trying to kill someone else; Rhys was an innocent bystander. The police had CCTV evidence of a young man riding away from the scene of the crime on a distinctive mountain bike. Mrs Mercer lied to the police saying that Sean's bike was quite different. Eventually the bike was found dumped at the edge of town and was traced to Sean by DNA evidence. The Daily Mail tells us that Mrs Mercer was working as a prostitute during her son's trial.
She was not the only one sent to prison over the cover-up. The parents of another gang member also lied and they were gaoled.
It is clear that there was an subculture of crime and disdain for the law in that part of Liverpool, but notwithstanding that, it set me thinking about how far one should or would go to protect one's children. I would be interested in what any readers think. A verse to ponder on comes from Isaiah 49:15: "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!"
She was not the only one sent to prison over the cover-up. The parents of another gang member also lied and they were gaoled.
It is clear that there was an subculture of crime and disdain for the law in that part of Liverpool, but notwithstanding that, it set me thinking about how far one should or would go to protect one's children. I would be interested in what any readers think. A verse to ponder on comes from Isaiah 49:15: "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!"
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Current affairs
politicsNo blogging for week because I have been busy preparing a sermon for this evening and for leading a Bible study last Thursday. So a few comments on what has been in the news this week.
Gert Wilders, the Dutch MEP was denied entry to Britain to show his film 'Fitner' to parliamentarians in the House of Lords. Readers of this blog will know that I have seen this film and provided a link to it on the internet. It is a short film that juxtaposes scenes of atrocities committed by Muslims (9/11, 7/7, Madrid and a hostage beheading) with the parts of the Koran that certain Muslims use to justify their actions. Banning Wilders did not stop anyone watching it. Indeed the added publicity ensured that many more people went to the various websites that feature it.
It is obviously true that not all Muslims ascribe to these views any more than Christians and Jews any longer feel the need to totally wipe out the Amalekites. The problems is that some Muslims do, and many of them live in the Western democracies. People over here are frightened by them. Free speech is not an optional extra to protect people who agree with you. The Muslim member of the House of Lords was out of order when he persuaded the Home Secretary to ban Wilders and the Home Secretary was both wimpish and authoritarian.
Jade Goody was treated for metastatic cervical cancer and it was announced that the disease is untreatable and that she has little time left. She is the ultimate in the 'famous for 15 minutes' syndrome. She first came to fame for her outrageous behavior on 'Big Brother' and then was cast off 'I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here' for racist speech. She was held up as an example of the colossal ignorance of the 'underclass'. Then on the Indian version of 'Big Brother' she was told on camera that she had advanced cancer. While the TV world looked on she lost her hair to chemotherapy. She has expressed a desire to die on camera as a warning to the world. Since cervical cancer is mostly caused by Human Papilloma Virus, which is a sexually transmitted infection one wonders whether her display will reduce promiscuity.
And as if outrageous behavior had yet to reach its limit, we now have a 12 year-old apparently fathering a child on a 15 year old girl. The boy is clearly pre-pubertal and the claim is probably untrue, but exactly what do the parents think they are doing? Trying to make money from their children's misfortune is the obvious answer. The welfare state will provide the children with somewhere to live and £30,000 a year in benefits, apparently. then there is what the newspapers and TV will pay for the stories. It may all come to nothing since two older boys are now claiming to be the father. It seems to me that the teenagers should be taken into care and the parents prosecuted - and the baby adopted.
But adoption itself in hazardous. One couple have had their three children adopted against there will because social workers thought they had been abusing their middle child. Doubts have now arisen as to the justice of the claim. It seems that the child failed to thrive on formula milk and was switched to a soya substitute that lacked vitamin C. Experts have claimed that the apparent injuries were due to scurvy. Nonetheless, the Appeal Court has ruled that the adoptions are irreversible. As the father said, "If our children had been kidnapped and then recovered, would the children have had to stay with the kidnappers because they had got used to them?"
The financial crisis deepens with Gordon Brown catching most of the stick. He got the plaudits in the good times and must expect criticism in the bad ones. They latest suggest is 'quantitative easing', a euphemism for printing money. The Retail Price Index of inflation was 0.1% this month. This was mainly due to a fall in mortgage interest rates and a cut of 2.5% in VAT. However the Consumer Prices Index, which is the government's favored measure was 3.1%, still way above the 2% target. So have we got inflation or deflation?
The real problem in the economy is the failure of the banks to lend money to people needing cash to keep their businesses active, or to replace their car or to improve their house. The government has given the banks billions of taxpayers money so that they can lend, but it seems that that money is being used to replenish their own financial reserves and pay their employees huge bonuses. Since several of the banks are now nationalized, the government has it in its power to remedy that behavior. However, so many of the bankers are advising the government that I doubt it will happen. The Bank of England thinks 2010 will be better. Presumably because we will by then be shot of the Labor Party.
ADDED LATER 26/5/09. The 12 year old was not the father.
Gert Wilders, the Dutch MEP was denied entry to Britain to show his film 'Fitner' to parliamentarians in the House of Lords. Readers of this blog will know that I have seen this film and provided a link to it on the internet. It is a short film that juxtaposes scenes of atrocities committed by Muslims (9/11, 7/7, Madrid and a hostage beheading) with the parts of the Koran that certain Muslims use to justify their actions. Banning Wilders did not stop anyone watching it. Indeed the added publicity ensured that many more people went to the various websites that feature it.
It is obviously true that not all Muslims ascribe to these views any more than Christians and Jews any longer feel the need to totally wipe out the Amalekites. The problems is that some Muslims do, and many of them live in the Western democracies. People over here are frightened by them. Free speech is not an optional extra to protect people who agree with you. The Muslim member of the House of Lords was out of order when he persuaded the Home Secretary to ban Wilders and the Home Secretary was both wimpish and authoritarian.
Jade Goody was treated for metastatic cervical cancer and it was announced that the disease is untreatable and that she has little time left. She is the ultimate in the 'famous for 15 minutes' syndrome. She first came to fame for her outrageous behavior on 'Big Brother' and then was cast off 'I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here' for racist speech. She was held up as an example of the colossal ignorance of the 'underclass'. Then on the Indian version of 'Big Brother' she was told on camera that she had advanced cancer. While the TV world looked on she lost her hair to chemotherapy. She has expressed a desire to die on camera as a warning to the world. Since cervical cancer is mostly caused by Human Papilloma Virus, which is a sexually transmitted infection one wonders whether her display will reduce promiscuity.
And as if outrageous behavior had yet to reach its limit, we now have a 12 year-old apparently fathering a child on a 15 year old girl. The boy is clearly pre-pubertal and the claim is probably untrue, but exactly what do the parents think they are doing? Trying to make money from their children's misfortune is the obvious answer. The welfare state will provide the children with somewhere to live and £30,000 a year in benefits, apparently. then there is what the newspapers and TV will pay for the stories. It may all come to nothing since two older boys are now claiming to be the father. It seems to me that the teenagers should be taken into care and the parents prosecuted - and the baby adopted.
But adoption itself in hazardous. One couple have had their three children adopted against there will because social workers thought they had been abusing their middle child. Doubts have now arisen as to the justice of the claim. It seems that the child failed to thrive on formula milk and was switched to a soya substitute that lacked vitamin C. Experts have claimed that the apparent injuries were due to scurvy. Nonetheless, the Appeal Court has ruled that the adoptions are irreversible. As the father said, "If our children had been kidnapped and then recovered, would the children have had to stay with the kidnappers because they had got used to them?"
The financial crisis deepens with Gordon Brown catching most of the stick. He got the plaudits in the good times and must expect criticism in the bad ones. They latest suggest is 'quantitative easing', a euphemism for printing money. The Retail Price Index of inflation was 0.1% this month. This was mainly due to a fall in mortgage interest rates and a cut of 2.5% in VAT. However the Consumer Prices Index, which is the government's favored measure was 3.1%, still way above the 2% target. So have we got inflation or deflation?
The real problem in the economy is the failure of the banks to lend money to people needing cash to keep their businesses active, or to replace their car or to improve their house. The government has given the banks billions of taxpayers money so that they can lend, but it seems that that money is being used to replenish their own financial reserves and pay their employees huge bonuses. Since several of the banks are now nationalized, the government has it in its power to remedy that behavior. However, so many of the bankers are advising the government that I doubt it will happen. The Bank of England thinks 2010 will be better. Presumably because we will by then be shot of the Labor Party.
ADDED LATER 26/5/09. The 12 year old was not the father.
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