One Foot in the grave

I'm in Swansea today, and tomorrow I will be an external examiner for a PhD viva on e-learning at the university here. I'm looking forward to it, as I always do when I meet and talk to people who are as passionate as I am about learning technology.

But some quite co-incidental things have just happened. I travelled up from Plymouth to South Wales this morning, and arrived to hear the sad news that former leader of the Labour Party Michael Foot had just died at the age of 96. Now the co-incidence is not that I joined the University of Plymouth in '96, nor is it that 96 happened to be my average speed on the M4 today (look, I'm only kidding, OK?). No, the strange co-incidences are that firstly, Michael Foot was MP for Plymouth before losing his seat and then coming to South Wales to become MP for Ebbw Vale (the exact same journey I just made on the morning his death is announced - spooky or what?). Secondly, I sat and had coffee this morning with a colleague in the Isaac Foot restaurant (named by the University of Plymouth in honour of Michael Foot's father, Isaac Foot, who was a prominent politician and reformer, and champion of the poor in the first part of the last century. And lastly, Isaac Foot is remembered for rebuilding the Elim Chapel in Notte Street near the Barbican - where I was dedicated when I was a few weeks old.

I admired Michael Foot's subversive, radical approach to life. It's one I adopt myself in my own life, particularly in my research - take nothing for granted, question everything, don't accept that the status quo is the only way it should be done. Foot went out on a limb (excuse the pun) several times to stand up for his beliefs, and was ridiculed and praised in equal measure. He was even criticised for wearing a donkey jacket on one formal occasion. He was a champion of among other things, the campaign for nuclear disarmament (for which he arguably lost 1983 general election in a heavy defeat, receiving a mauling from the Iron Lady), the Miners, and the National Health Service. I like a man who sticks to his guns.

Just one more 'footnote' if I may - Foot was also a passionate supporter of Plymouth Argyle Football Club (Going down, going down...), and many a time I would see him and say hello to him at the matches, home and away. He was hailed as the Green's number 1 supporter but that couldn't have been true. There is only one number 1 supporter of course, and that's me.

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Our global village

When I reflect on my recent visit to the Gambia, and on other trips to poor countries, I tend to gain some real perspective on my life. I'm left asking what will the future hold for the Gambian children in this picture? How many will survive to adulthood, have happy lives and achieve their dreams? None for sure, will have any of the opportunities I had when I was their age.

I can't help but feel extremely privileged to come from a part of the world where electricity, water and gas are all piped to my home, and where education is free for all children up to the age of 18.

Even healthcare (we pay our taxes) is free at the point of delivery to all British citizens (and of course to anyone else who is visiting the UK and gets taken ill) courtesy of the National Health Service. Hell, I even have broadband wifi in my house, and enough to feed and clothe my entire family. I'm very, very fortunate indeed. I have always been affected by the following scenario, ever since I first heard it several years ago. If you want some perspective on your life, read on....

If we could reduce the world’s population to a village of precisely 100 people, with all existing human ratios remaining the same, the demographics would look something like this:

Our village would be populated by 60 Asians, 14 Africans, 12 Europeans, 8 Latin Americans, 5 from the USA and Canada, and 1 from the South Pacific


51 would be male, 49 would be female
82 would be non-white; 18 would be white
67 would be non-Christian; 33 would be Christian
80 would live in substandard housing
67 would be unable to read
50 would be malnourished and 1 dying of starvation
33 would be without access to a safe water supply
39 would lack access to improved sanitation
24 would not have any electricity (and of the 76 that do have electricity, most would only use it for light at night.)
7 people would have access to the Internet
1 would have a college education
1 would have HIV
2 would be near birth; 1 near death
5 would control 32% of the entire world’s wealth; all 5 would be US citizens

33 would be receiving (and trying to live on) only 3% of the income of “the village”

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Heroes and idiots

It's been a traumatic week. But strangely interesting too. An enforced stay in hospital for 6 nights has made me sit back and observe instead of participating for a while. The nurses and doctors were absolute heroes of course. Nothing was too much trouble and I was well cared for. I will be sending a letter of thanks to the Sunderland Royal Hospital to let the managers know that they have some quality staff on their books. I bet they don't get that much praise.

I also have great admiration for one of the patients who shared the bay with me for 5 nights. Nigel had previously suffered a stroke which had left him paralysed down his right side, leaving his arm and leg useless. He had also lost his power of speech and could essentially communicate merely by pointing and using the words 'yes' and 'no'. He had been in hospital for over 6 weeks because fate had dealt him another cruel blow. His good leg was infected and had to be amputated. Now he would be bed ridden for the rest of his life. Yet through all this, he was constantly smiling and laughing with the nursing staff and cheering the ward up. What a hero.

Less impressive, but very amusing, were the 'idiots' on the ward. One patient was so bombed out, he threw himself out of bed on the first night, and landed on the deck in a cacophony of cannulas, catheters and contraptions, (I hope you appreciated the alliteration there) and was promptly removed from the ward into a side room. Perhaps he wasn't so bombed out after all, but the poor nurses spent 20 minutes cleanig up the floor afterwards.

Another was a retired pit miner who didn't seem to have two brain cells to rub together. He failed to comply with any of the nurses' instructions. 'Don't get out of bed Gerry, you've only just come back from theatre and you need to stay where you are for a while'. So, what does he do? He gets out of bed and walks around. He is escorted back to bed. Three times. He picks at his bandages and stitches, and tries to remove his IV set, because he knows better. Suddenly he discovers the automatic bed control and he then spends the first night clicking up and down, manouvring the bed into as many contortions as he can to see if he can break it. Click click, click click, click click. On he went, driving the rest of us mad into the small hours. Suddenly there was a clatter. He had dropped the control. 'Hooray!' we all whispered under our breaths. But no, he had got out of bed again to retrieve his hand set. A few seconds of peace and quiet and then...... Click, click, click click.... I think he was wondering why he couldn't get Sky One.

He thought a 'loose stool' is something you shouldn't sit on (and in one way he is right of course), until someone explained to him what it meant. The doctor had previously asked him whether he had any allergies. 'Oh, aye,' he replied, 'I ate a piece of leek once, that made me ill....' He kept me entertained for hours with his stupidity. I learnt a lot about human nature, and although I wouldn't wish to repeat the experience, the heroes and idiots actually added a lot to them mix. (Names have been changed).

This will hurt a lot

I take it all back. The NHS isn't all bad and last week it actually saved my life. It was a little ironic that my last blog post was entitled 'This won't hurt a bit', because it was an excruciating experience I can tell you, and one I wouldn't even wish on my worst enemy.

I was away up north in Tyne and Wear visiting my wife's family recently when I was taken quite ill and rushed into Casualty at Sunderland Royal Hospital. I got to spend a whole week there being treated for acute pancreatitis, caused by a gall stone. I won't go into any more details than that, but I would very much like to acknowledge the skill and dedication of the doctors, nurses and other staff who nursed me back to (a semblance of) health.

I may have to cut back a little on some of my many activities over the next few months as I recover, because it's a long, slow and complicated process, I have been told. Thanks to all those who have sent their good wishes over the last week via Twitter, FaceBook and so on. It is much appreciated. This month's National Insurance payment was certainly worthwhile!

This won't hurt a bit

I am in the process of ditching 10 years or more of accumulated junk from my office prior to our move across to the new Rolle Building, here on the main Plymouth campus.

You know what it's like - you come across something and think, shall I throw it out or shall I keep it? Well, I came across some old medical terms in some handouts from my days in the NHS and nurse training which I thought were interesting... So I'm throwing them out, but keeping them at the same time, because they now appear here on my blog...

Benign ... what you are after you be eight
Caesarean Section ... A district in Rome
Congenital ... friendly
Denial ... A river flowing through Egypt
Dilate ... to live longer than anyone else
Morbid ... a higher offer
Nitrate ... higher than the day rate
Node ... was aware of
Protein ... in favour of young people
Tumour ... an extra pair
Urine ... opposite to 'you're out'
Varicose veins ... veins which are very close together

There are some more which are just too darn rude to post on this very nice and inoffensive blog, but it makes you wonder. If that's the kind of handout they were giving out in the nurse training programmes, no wonder the NHS is in the state it's in...