Stalling

Is anyone still counting the days? It’s now 502 days since John and I chose to hibernate due to the pandemic. In some ways, it has got easier. That first lockdown was a shock to everyone and we hunkered down, grateful for all those friends or family members who ran errands for us while we shielded.

Since then, we have developed strategies for dealing with the daily possibility of infection. We are now seeing the family – but we are still using the garden and open spaces a lot; we’re doing lateral flow tests regularly; we have a lot of shopping delivered; and we are choosing to steer clear of indoor spaces like cinemas, theatres, and pubs.

In other ways, it has got harder, because we can’t see an end to it. Sajid Javid says we’ll have to ‘live’ with it. It sounds to me like the government is bored of managing it all now and leaving us to it. Let’s use ‘common sense’ says the Prime Minister. Hahhahahaha……. hasn’t he heard the joke about Common Sense having left the building?

The blog started, years ago, to chart John’s progress through his treatment for leukaemia; then it re-started last year to record our reaction to the lockdown and the pandemic. After 502 days, I am not sure what it is for now. So I am stalling with just a select few reading the blog – and its purpose confused. What next, then? I am not sure – watch this space (or not, of course!). A re-configuration may be on the way.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, John is still unwell, but feeling slightly better. He got out of bed at lunchtime and enjoyed watching the Lions match versus the Springboks, and then the Grand Prix qualifying. I am hopeful we might see the light at the end of the tunnel soon.

I, on the other hand, was uplifted by meeting up with the Sutton Sleaths who were looking at a house in the village today. I was able to look after the children while they inspected the property, and then take a walk down to the pond with them to watch the ducks. A beautiful jewel in an otherwise unremarkable day.

26,144 people tested positive for the virus today; 71 people died in the community – and we don’t know about those in hospitals, as it’s the weekend. A few more people have been vaccinated, and the percentage of adults participating in the vaccination programme is creeping up every day.

Take care everyone. It ain’t over until the fat lady sings……

15 thoughts on “Stalling”

  1. I always read the blog daily, Anne. I don’t know if that helps.

    It’s a little light at the end of my day and often reminds me of fun times we all had together, shared sad moments, being fortunate to have such good friends, and the ray of hope that endures.

    Regarding your updating the blog, think selfishly: what do *you* want from it? Have you achieved that?

    1. That helps, thanks, meg. And yes, I think of you and the times we had together in the past as well the occasional times we have now. Must do more….
      I am not sure I ever had a thought of ‘what do I want from the blog’, so not sure what I’ve achieved, hence the query on what I am doing it for….

  2. Glad to hear johns feeling slightly better it’s so flipping hard for you both it’s awful but your both great how you keep dealing with things I know there’s no choice but I think I’d have pulled my hair out by now haha let’s hope life gets easier I’m not sure it will I do think we are going to have to live with this on all our own terms that’s how it seems but people are still so weird how to deal with it you all stay safe and well lots of love x x

    1. HI Phil – you must have noticed I am bald by now…..😂😂😂 Seriously though, you are right, we’ve got to sort ourselves out and I think that’s difficult. Lots of love to you.

  3. Hi Anne
    I enjoy reading your blog as one of your jigsaw friends. Personally is comforting to know we not alone in following strategies you mention to mitigate risk as my husband immune system not good since recovering from sepsis in 2019.
    Hope you continue in some form
    Liz (@Earlams)

  4. Hi Anne
    You know that I always read your daily blog and worry if it’s not there! It’s far more enlightening than listening to the Archers where normal service in Ambridge has not yet resumed.
    What matters most, is the wellbeing of both you and John. If you want to reconfigure the blog in some way that is fine by me. I shall continue to read it, whatever the format.
    With love to you both, Sue xx

    1. Thank you, sue – I am still debating what to do! I’ll sleep on it for a bit.

  5. Anne. Alan and I never miss your daily blog. We feel ‘in touch’ through it. We never get out of bed before it’s been read. But, of course, you have to decide what’s best for you. It must take time to write so beautifully and perhaps the recall and the getting it out is cathartic in itself or maybe your just thinking you wish you could skip it and go to bed! You must do what’s best for you. Love xX

    1. That’s helpful – thanks Sue. I am glad it keeps you in touch. Hope things are all good in your new neck of the woods.

  6. Dear Anne
    I always read your blog. Perhaps you should just reduce it to a weekly offering with additional posts, when there is news about John for example.
    We are all thinking of you and John but the blog prompts more “positive vibes”.
    Good to hear John is feeling a bit better, let’s hope for Tuesday.
    Love to you both, RiCH xx

    1. THanks for this, Rich – much appreciated. I am still mulling over what best to do….
      Much love to you both, too.

    1. Thank you! I am not sure why some friends are finding it difficult to put comments on the blog. Here is a comment from Rona Epstein, who could post her comment today:

      Hello Anne
      I read your blog every day, and I value it, you write so well, and you have an important story to tell. It’s a story (for me) firstly of devotion, love and marriage, then of family life, friendship and also of fortitude and your ability to carry on, to enjoy life and face its many challenges, chiefly those regarding John’s health.
      Your blog right at the beginning made me reflect on our NHS, and how we need to value it, protect it and fight for it. So I wrote about our US experiences to contrast life with and without the NHS. David added a bit, and here is our piece. Love from Rona

      Stories from the US Health system
      by Rona and David Epstein
      15 July 2020

      Despite all the compliments paid by Cabinet Ministers to the NHS, and to its underpaid “heros”, there is little or no sign of a turn-around in NHS funding, nor of reasonable wages to underpaid NHS workers. We need to remember the damage that the government has done (exacerbating previous damage by a Labour Government). Remember that Andrew Lansley, Minister of Health, under David Cameron PM, strengthened the hold of competition in the NHS and a new layer of management to implement it, with no extra funding. To quote the BBC (see https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-46827981) ‘Nigel Edwards, the influential chief executive of the Nuffield Trust think tank, believes a “significant unpicking” of Mr Lansley’s reforms is on the cards and in time they will be judged as “one of the most major public policy failures” of all time.’ The same government ended bursaries for training nurses and has used a “hostile environment” making it harder for nurses from around the world to join our NHS and to stay in our country. The resulting shortage forces hospitals to employ agency nurses at hugely greater cost. Is this incompetence, or a deliberate weakening of the NHS with ulterior motives?

      The current UK government continues to hand over juicy slices of public funding to private companies, the latest scandal being the “Test, trace and isolate” schemes. The clear and present danger is that current trade talks with the US will provide further opportunities for profits to be put ahead of patient care.

      Here are some recollections of living in the USA with its private health system. As an academic, David was fully covered by medical insurance, so we had no worries. Nearly all our friends are academic, so our contact with medical treatment in the US was nearly always from a position of privilege. Nevertheless, we did have points of contact with the reality faced by millions of US citizens, that can give a flavour of the situation.

      Our first child was born in the Princeton Maternity Hospital. When Rona, in labour, presented herself at the hospital, where a bed had previously been reserved, she was not immediately admitted. Instead, David was told to fetch documents proving that we had insurance, while Rona waited anxiously on a bench at reception. Fortunately David returned before the birth. A few days later, when we wanted to take our new baby girl home, we were left in the waiting room for a couple of hours. Eventually, Rona became convinced that something was wrong with the baby, and anxiously asked what was wrong with the baby. “Oh, the baby’s fine” we were told “but you haven’t paid your bill”. We had to pay $6 for two aspirins that were not covered by our full insurance, and we recovered our baby.

      Subsequently, we read in the newspapers that there had been successful court cases of kidnap brought against hospitals that refused to release patients who had not paid their bills, but it’s a fair assumption that refusal to release patients owing money was common, and that legal redress was rare. This was in 1960. Sixty years later, legal suits against US hospitals for kidnap are now rare, but we would not be surprised to learn that it is not easy to be discharged from a US hospital if you have not paid your bill.

      For some years David worked regularly during the summers at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis. While he was busy at the university, Rona was at leisure—it was school holidays so no teaching. Rona thought it would be interesting to learn to read music, bought herself a recorder, and found a music teacher, a pleasant young professional. One day she asked him where he lived. He replied: “Nowhere, I’m homeless”. Rona was surprised. You don’t often meet qualified working professionals who are homeless. “How did that happen?” she asked. “Well”, he said, “my sister had a very serious kidney condition. After a time, her medical insurance ran out. So my parents, my uncle and aunt and I, we all sold our homes, and we paid for her health care to continue. We are all without homes, but we don’t regret it for a moment, she is alive, she is well.”

      We were again in Minneapolis in August 1990 when Iraq invaded Kuwait. Many USA oil companies immediately began to send their employees home from Kuwait and terminated their employment. Their families’ medical insurance ended immediately. Living in the city was a young mother, who relied on an oxygen tank, wife of an oil employee, with two toddlers. There was a knock on the door – two men were there. “We have come to collect the oxygen tank”. They explained that as her medical insurance was no longer in force the equipment had to be taken back to the company. “But I’ll die within four hours!” she said, “And there are two toddlers in this flat, and my husband is on his way home, and won’t be here for several days”. The men said they would get advice and left. The next day they returned, “We will give you 24 hours to make arrangements and then we will collect all the equipment.” The woman phoned the local TV station, told them the story, and agreed that they could film the men taking the equipment and her subsequent death, provided that they would then arrange for the children to be taken into care. That night, the TV station broadcast this news story, and a local wealthy person came forward to pay her medical insurance.

      David’s colleague, Prof X, a well-known mathematician with a top professorship, was diagnosed with cancer. He and his wife had two small children. A friend, Professor Y, was very worried that Prof X’s insurance would run out. So he sent letters all over the world to colleagues explaining that without several hundred thousand dollars there was a risk that Prof X’s care would be terminated and his young children would be without a father. Mathematicians around the world sent money.

      A friend’s son lives in Austin Texas. He told us about a boy in his son’s primary school class. This boy lived with his mother, a teacher, just the two of them. He became very ill. She had insurance through work, and he was treated. But her insurance cover ran out. She enquired about treatment options. She was told “If you are destitute you can get treatment for free”. So she sold her house, and used the money for medical care. More money was needed. So she gave up her job. Then she was destitute, and her son got the medical care he needed; he was successfully treated. After that, she got another teaching job and resumed her career.

      Friends at the University of Illinois in Champaign-Urbana told us about a young French woman who had accepted a position of Teaching Assistant in the French Department. She correctly assumed that her medical expenses would be covered while holding a teaching post at the university. Thinking that it would be a good idea to take a few days without duties to settle in, she arrived in Urbana a week before her job started. The day before her job started, she had appendicitis, and needed an operation. On recovery, she was presented with a bill that was equal to a year’s salary. Eventually, the hospital agreed to accept payment of one third of her salary per year. Americans, to whom we related the story, reacted with “She was very lucky!”, by which they meant that it could have been much worse.

      India Knight is a well-known journalist. Her youngest child was born with a very complex and rare genetic syndrome, DiGeorge syndrome, also known as 22q11.2 deletion syndrome. It is a syndrome caused by the deletion of a small segment of chromosome 22. While the symptoms can vary, they often include congenital heart problems, specific facial features, frequent infections, developmental delay, learning problems and cleft palate. She wrote a lot about her life with this child and reported that she had joined a worldwide internet group of parents to share stories and worries and offer mutual support while caring for children with DiGeorge syndrome. She reported that the British parents wrote only of health, education and care for their children; the American parents wrote mostly about finance, fear, and how to cover the medical expenses.

      An article in the American Journal of Public Health, (http://www.pnhp.org/docs/ http://www.pnhp.org/docs/AJPHBankruptcy2019.pdf ) shows that more than 50% of personal bankruptcies in the US are due to medical expenses. Medical insurance is expensive, and an increasing proportion of the US population are uninsured. But medical insurance is no guarantee—health insurance policies limit the liability of the insurer, so that insurance support can and does run out for serious illness, just when it is most needed.

      OECD statistics showed that expenditure on healthcare per capita in 2018 was around three times higher in the US than the average for other developed countries, but health outcomes were no better—and were worse in some areas, for example life expectancy and infant mortality.

      Our NHS is extraordinary and precious. It suffers continual unpublicized “stealth cuts”, as one NHS facility after another is handed over to private enterprise. The health industry can be a huge source of wealth for private companies and individuals. It’s a vast and immensely powerful industry in the US, and is becoming increasingly stronger in the UK. Their interest is primarily in private profit, not public health.

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