The Price of Everything, and the Value of Nothing

This photo of a pack of Tesco Bacon is, at the same time, depicting an item from a Supermarket shelf which is both normal, and at the same time a commentary upon how we are governed, how we are ruled, how we accept the lunacy of Inflation as though it has never happened; and how the truth is kept well away from reality.

The price of that Bacon pack is £3.50. Nine months ago, that same Bacon pack could be bought for £1.95.

Some sixty-six years ago, I commenced work as an apprentice. 

My first week’s paypacket came to the equivalent, in todays Decimal currency, of £3.25

Your Rights: Your Life

Do Not Attempt Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation

My words are a warning, to any patient, or indeed patient’s family, whose entry into the University Hospital, or any other NHS hospital; is proposed for the purposes of surgery: of any sort of surgery under a general anaesthetic.

Demand to speak to the people who will be in charge, not of the surgery, but of the decision which will mean the difference between life, or death. Demand to speak to the people, the consultants, the specialists, the medical professionals who will study the medical files relating to the patient under scrutiny, and DEMAND  that you be informed if there is to be a decision on whether a Do Not Attempt Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation form be completed and set upon that Patient’s file. Because you have a legal right to be consulted, and a Legal right to argue if a decision should indeed be made, The Law demands that you be given that right. 

So, if you are old, or infirm, or if you are ‘Vulnerable’, or Frail, or if the damn Statistics show that CPR would not or might not help, just remember that your voice counts, or rather should count, louder than a bunch of medical vultures, and demand, a second or even third opinion, because if you find yourself, or a near and dear relative, approaching a proposal for surgery from the University Hospital of North Durham, or any other NHS hospital; remember that a fair proportion of the senior staff are all liars, especially when it comes to decisions about DNACPR.

Beware of the Do Not Attempt Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation documentation.   

The Durham Hospital which killed my Jacqueline, and then lied about their actions and promises

My following words are a warning, to any patient, or indeed patient’s family, whose entry into any NHS Hospital is proposed for the purposes of surgery: of any sort of surgery under a general anaesthetic.

Demand to speak to the people who will be in charge, not of the surgery, but of the decision which will mean the difference between life, or death. Ask, no, Demand to speak to the people, the consultants, the specialists, the medical professionals who will study the medical files relating to the patient under scrutiny, and DEMAND  that you be informed if there is to be a decision on whether a Do Not Attempt Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation form be completed and set upon that Patient’s file. Because you have a legal right to be consulted, and a Legal right to argue if a decision should indeed be made, The Law demands that you be given that right. So, if you are old, or infirm, or if you are ‘Vulnerable’, or Frail, or if the damn Statistics show that CPR would not or might not help, just remember that your voice counts, or rather should count, louder than a bunch of medical vultures, and ask, no demand, a second or even third opinion, because if you find yourself, or a near and dear relative, approaching a proposal for surgery from any NHS Hospital, remember that a fair proportion of the senior staff are all liars, especially when it comes to decisions about Do Not Attempt Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation.   

The Durham Hospital which killed my Jacqueline, and then lied about their actions and promises

These words are those used in my YouTube video, with the same Header title.

A libellous statement is one where a person knowingly writes or publishes anything which is defamatory of another person or organisation. The ONLY defence against an action for Libel is for the publisher to state and show that every word written or spoken is true.

This is not a story; the events spoken and written really happened: to my wife Jacqueline, to me, her husband: but it has also happened to many within the orbit of the Durham City University Hospital. The hospital claimed to have altered its practices in line with a Court of Appeal decision regarding Resuscitation arrangements back in 2014: but, as I believe I have proven; ‘once a liar; always a liar’

Jacqueline, my wife of some fifty-three years marriage, was admitted to the Orthopaedic Ward of the University Hospital of North Durham on Friday, May 7th, 2021 for an operation to repair a fractured hip. I was warned that there were risks in the operation, because of my wife’s frailty with specific mention of the anaesthesia; and worries that she might not survive the shock of that anaesthetic, and I freely accepted that, although there were risks, those risks were fully justified. I was not warned by that young female doctor, standing by my wife’s transfer trolley, that there would be a second set of medical professionals studying my wife’s very life signs, to decide, by their standards, their statistical surveys and charts: if she lived, or died.

I waited until the Saturday afternoon when a call came, telling me that Jacqueline had been through the operation, which was successful, had recovered consciousness, and after having a drink of tea, was resting comfortably. My worries relieved, I relaxed: but later in the evening, received another call from the hospital, telling me bluntly that my wife, my beloved Jacqueline; had died after a heart attack. Never having lost a family member before, I was grief-stricken. I cannot speak of those days without reliving the loss of my wife. But I survived; I survived by remorselessly following and completing the list of things to do when telling the world of officialdom of a death. But overhanging all of my digital tasks was the memory of my wife, about nine months previously, having her heart checked out with an ultrasonic device in hospital, and the technician stating that my wife’s heart was as strong as an ox. I could not shake that worry away, as I slowly rebuilt my life, now alone. I was aided by my family, my three adult kids, along with my brother and his wife. They gave me sterling support, but I could not brush away that feeling that something was missing.

Mosquitoes: and Dresden

I would like to cast readers’ memories, or minds if the reader is younger than seventy years old, to the afternoon of September 7th, 1940. For this was the day that the Blitz began. The Blitz began at about 4:00 in the afternoon on September 7, 1940, when German planes appeared over London. For two hours, 348 German bombers and 617 fighters targeted the city, dropping high-explosive bombs as well as incendiary devices. Later, guided by the raging fires caused by the first attack, a second group of planes began another assault that lasted until 4:30 the following morning. In just these few hours, 430 people were killed and 1,600 were badly injured. The first day of the Blitz is remembered as Black Saturday.

Beginning on Black Saturday, London was attacked on 57 straight nights. Between Black Saturday and December 2, there was no 24-hour period without at least one “alert”—as the alarms came to be called—and generally far more. Nine were registered on three separate occasions, and from the start of the Blitz until November 30 there were more than 350 alerts. The nights of November 3 and 28 were the only occasions during this period in which London’s peace was unbroken by siren or bomb. After the first week of September, although night bombing on a large scale continued, the large mass attacks by day, which had proved so costly to the Luftwaffe during the Battle of Britain, were replaced by smaller parties coming over in successive waves. On occasion, forces consisting of as many as 300 to 400 aircraft would cross the coast by day and split into small groups, and a few planes would succeed in penetrating London’s outer defences.

Charlie discovers the limitations of a Constitutional Monarch

Note the sticky tape slapped firmly across his big mouth: and hear those words for the first time: “And Its About Time Too”.

Here is a man who has lacked for nothing from the day he was born, allowed by a Mother to make his own path in life, instead of following his gracious Mother’s worldly wise manner of saying absolutely now’t at all; apart that is from giving the occasional speech, or cheering on her horses.

Suddenly, he has to learn that a Constitutional Monarch has no opinion at all, no matter how much he just ‘Knows’ he has to speak out.

Get used to it, Charlie, you’re in good health: just enjoy the castles, and the fact that, really, you just have to learn that someone else is the boss, and you are just the Figurehead.

DNACPR, the True Death Certificate of the ‘Beloved’ NHS

The video you have just watched is absolutely, one hundred percent true. When I recorded the words, I spoke from the heart.

I have initiated a Complaint with the Parliamentary Ombudsman, and I hope to figuratively batter this bunch.

They LIED TO ME, and I shall not rest until they are told that this was WRONG!