April 2010

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The Mad British Election

Copyright ©Steve Bell 2010-All Rights Reserved (www.belltoons.co.uk)

Not hung, but guillotined.  Same result.

I’ve lived in London for 30 years and still cannot understand the election system.  We have a Prime Minister who was never elected. Tony Blair didn’t die of natural causes and was not assassinated.  He died politically the moment he went ‘to bed’ with George Bush.  And after finally reading his political obituary, he decided he’d rather go on a speaking tour and earn lots of money than be PM.  He exited stage right leaving Gordon Brown to enter very much from stage left.

After a few days of press speculation over why TB left when he did and why he gave the job to someone he apparently disliked, business in the UK went on as usual.  One guessed that his wife Cherie had gone to her clairvoyant (as is her practice) and been told the precise day he should quit. It was as good a guess as any.

What followed  was the banking crisis, the collapse of the British economy and job losses. And all that after a hugely unpopular war.  But this is a country that has survived war before, and being a resilient lot, the British persevered with the government they had.  Gordon Brown faced a hostile press and a disillusioned country.  ‘The people’ hated Gordon Brown, felt that Tony Blair had let them down and yet because they persevere, they do not necessarily vote for the opposing party. Labour voters switching to the Conservatives is like the American Democrats voting for Sarah Palin.  That is how committed Labour supporters feel when considering voting for David Cameron, leader of the Conservatives.

Then one day at the beginning of spring, Gordon Brown decided to call an election.  This is unimaginable to Americans.  How can the Prime Minister decide the timing of his own re-election, or indeed demise?  Does he do it at the height of his popularity or the lowest ebb of public disdain?  GB seemed to have chosen the latter.  Not to say that his opponent was a ‘shoo-in’:  David Cameron, too, was hated.  At the point the election was called, voter registration was at  a record low.  If people could have voted with their hearts, they might have been happy to throw the lot of them in the River Thames…

Now came the televised debates and the rise of the third party, the Lib Dems as they are called. The party no one took seriously, with a little-known politician at its head, Nick Clegg.  As an outsider, one might think that the Lib Dems are somewhere between Labour and Conservatives but no, there is so little space between the parties that a third party cannot fit in the bed between mommy (Labour) and daddy (the Conservatives).  So the baby ( Lib Dems) had to sleep in the cot, next to the bed, but not too far away.  If you can see the difference between the policies of Mom, Dad and baby you are doing very well.

And so the first debate came amid speculation as to how much help each of the candidates had from American debate coaches.  Nick Clegg, having lived in America and attended a Midwestern University for a year and worked in NYC had learned the American gift of the gab, or as we Americans like to call it, how to ‘express yourself.’ He didn’t need coaching to look relaxed and generally smarter than he was on the debating floor.  He became the overnight success story. In the USA this kind of popularity might have sewn up the election, but not here.

No one expects Nick to ‘win’.  That would be too simple. What they expect  him to do is ‘hang parliament’.  What a good idea, say the voters; what a bad idea say the two about to be hung (Brown and Cameron) .

After two more debates, and a week is a long time in politics, the small percentage of Brits who registered to vote will march to the polls.  So follow me as I go to the polls (which I won’t do, American citizens even if they’ve lived here for eons do not vote in foreign elections – why I don’t know, but it is certainly easier):

Here I am going to my constituency, which in my case is Central London.  I show my registration card and get a ballot.  The following names appear on my ballot

CANDIDATES

Name Party Votes % +/-
Mad Cap’n Tom Independent
Derek Chase Green
Dennis Delderfield Independent
Mark Field Conservative
Jack Nunn Pirate Party UK
Frank Roseman English Democrats
David Rowntree Labour
Naomi Smith Liberal Democrat
Paul Weston UK Independence Party

Uh oh.  If I was going to vote for these people why haven’t I heard anything about them? I like the sound of Mad Cap’n Tom, since I feel mad myself.  If I want to vote for Nick Clegg I vote for Naomi Smith, because she, then, will get a seat in Parliament and if the Lib Dems get enough seats Nick will win.  This is why no one expects Nick Clegg to win an outright majority of seats in Parliament.  They just want him to win enough seats to have a say in the government and thus be able to hang parliament.

In this case, the public will get what they were after, the politicians will not be drowned in the Thames, they will be hung in Parliament Square. That is the first thing that has made sense in British politics for years, ‘a hung parliament.’  Whoopee.

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Chemotherapy has become a major industry.  Not only because the drugs themselves are expensive, but also there are the side effect drugs, the radiation machines, and other gismos like the cyber knife.  Is this the way cancer treatment will be forever?  If it is going to move on maybe redesigning the treatment would give us cancer patients a boost.  Or would it?

Zaha Hadid might design a building like this to get our genes blasted

I walk into the day centre where people come for chemo from all over the world and I feel like I’m stepping back in time.  There are subtle changes, the drugs have definitely progressed, but the delivery is the same and the side effects complex and not easy to manage.  Maybe if the  day care centre looked more 21st century new age medical treatments would follow.  A room designed by Zaha Hadid; reclining chairs by Ron Arad; a  few Damian Hirsts spotted around…  might inspire, say, genetic manipulation centers to replace chemotherapy.

My heart is in the right place

"The drug company that owns the genetic cure brought these for our new age center, to show their heart was in the right place"

worst of Milan Furniture Fair 2010

It would be lovely to be given a designer bag like you get first class on airlines with ‘flight pajamas’ and nice socks, a blindfold, ear plugs, an iPod, an elegant pill box, a Smythson diary to note your side effects,  and, of course, a designer vial for your urine sample, and one for sputum if needed.  Also we’d need a menu for a lovely lunch, and maybe an “In Chemo” magazine.  The most important thing would be a monitor for watching movies and a good list of movies. First class travel; first class chemo.  And surely, being in England, we need a ‘tea lady’ to roll around offering lovely tea and biscuits (not the machine we have now).

Where would all this get us?  I honestly don’t know.  One still goes home tired and after all the initial pills wear off, sick with some kind of side effect.  I don’t really mind the ‘old-fashioned’ daycare centre.  I get a nice lunch served and allow myself a fill of not very good biscuits.  The staff are always positive:  they know me as soon as I come to the door, and I get a big welcome.  I used to bring a DVD player, books and an iPod and now I just bring a book because after lunch I fall asleep until the treatment is over. I go home woozy from whatever sleeping stuff they give me and usually have to see my oncologist in this condition.  Then I go home, tired for about three days, except that I sometimes can’t sleep at night and then the pills run out and I get periods of sickness.  So it goes. No designer bags will help with that.

Love to hear from people who see it differently or would like to add to this.  What are your experiences like?

Now lets re-think radiation.  First we need something to watch while we are under the machine.  Perhaps we should call James Turrell (the wonderful artist who does fabulous light works)?  Or should we put in a video?  I know they like to be able to speak to you so it might have to be soundless.

Once the machine starts rolling they need to sort out the sound it makes.  Perhaps a video that went with the sound would make it a post modern experience and transform the bleeps into something more acceptable if not less frightening.

There is something scary about the way the attendants run out of the room, perhaps they should skip and dance out or wear a brightly colored coat (not heavy black rubber or whatever it is);  and  I don’t know what to do to make an uncomfortable position more comfortable.  Any suggestions?

As to the operations,  I had three about eighteen months ago and I’ve blocked them out.  I have never understood why you need to be awakened for checks all night, but so be it.  I learned that I hate morphine, but maybe that is just me, some people, not far away from my flat, actually go out of their way to inject it.  I had a terrible nightmare with it in hospital and thought my head was coming off.  And I hated losing my voice.  But in general I got good care and two out of three of the operations (Breast and neck) went so well that I don’t remember much.

I did have drains in, which I went out with, I can’t believe I did that, but I did.  Maybe drains could be redesigned so we can wear them as a piece of jewelry, the drip looking like a lava lamp.  I hope I just went out among friends.

Can anyone think of a way to redesign cancer treatment?  Let me know.

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Will you be able to choose your own ending?

There is nothing worse then a moral conundrum and this curmudgeon was caught off guard.  A month ago I thought I was going to die.  I was rushed into hospital with what turned out to be a war with antibiotics, not death.  I was exhausted, and could only think of planning a funeral.

Many antibiotics later (it was bacterial infections; nothing to die about), I had a MRI scan.  It showed that the chemo is working against the stage four cancer, and I may be around a while.  But the experience got me tuned in to the arguments in the media about choosing how to die versus having hospital administration committees decide for me.

I agree with the death with dignity approach – the right to choose – but needed the details before I took sides in the debate.

One of the hotly debated points is that you could at the last minute change your mind and decide not to have your life support removed or not to visit Switzerland.  If I’d been a paid up member with a ‘death with dignity’ plan might I have made phone calls, organized and gone to a place where it was legal so I could exercise my rights and carried out my plan?  No way!  I live in London and don’t even have the energy to get out of bed. In fact, being at death’s door, I can’t imagine feeling well enough to get myself to Switzerland (the only place where it’s legal for foreigners).

Like many great ideas, this one might be difficult to orchestrate.  Not so much that I might change my philosophy, but the state of my health might make it impossiible.

How do you die with dignity?

Do you picture a room full of flowers, your favourite music, your loved ones standing by, waiting to hear your last words?  Right now I like the stories of people who go for a final meal and can finally eat whatever they want, but that’s because I’m on a diet.

After witnessing several deaths I’m not sure what works.  My father, who in his 90s passed away at home in his own bed, decided as a last gesture to line up his shoes.  He wearily asked which he should wear to his next meeting. Then he did his exercises.  One, two, three, four… He could barely speak.

A few months ago, I was at a large UK teaching hospital with a friend who had fought cancer and signed his living will.  (The debate in the UK is whether that is enough or whether a committee should decide when have life support removed.)  The morphine, on offer after life support was removed, took about four hours to work.  From the outside looking in, he didn’t seem in pain.

I hate morphine (didn’t mind getting high in the seventies but now I don’t want to ‘space out’.  Why can’t we have a drink or a shot of something in hospital or home and be done with it?

Why can’t we have what we want?

What are the alternatives?  I sent an email to my cousin, Dr Faye Girsh,  who was off to Colorado to speak on ‘the right to die’.  I asked her about alternatives.

Apparenty, I’m eligible for Dignitas, the non-profit organization outside of Zurich that takes foreigners.  After a lengthy interview, clients leave and come back when they are ready to die.

Although I read that it is difficult to find apartments whose owners are willing to have people dying in them regularly.  Who can blame them?

They offer death by medication (details available on Wikipedia) or with a facemask and helium.  The former takes about 25 minutes. I, personally, don’t like masks.  Your family or friends wait outside while Dignitas video the death.  The police then come over and the body is taken for autopsy.  For an extra fee, they can arrange a funeral or cremation and send your family the ashes.

The cost is somewhere around $8000.00 plus air fares.  You need to fill in forms and have interviews.  I’m too tired after last chemo to leave now and at death’s door I doubt that I’ll have the energy.

So where is all this going to end?

The short answer is that like most people I have no idea.  I could get run over by a car; conundrum solved.  I believe that we all should have a choice, if we care to (and I mean that ‘if’).  The UK idea to have a hospital committee decide whether to detach me from life support sounds terrible.  In the UK we call it the ‘nanny state’.  I want my living will honored.  I want as many options as possible even if I’m too sick to take up my choices.

Link for information:

www.FinalExit.org

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