“The trouble with you, is that you’re an inverted snob,” my oldest school friend told me when I was 13 and telling her that I didn’t understand the economics lesson. I really couldn’t comprehend why money was the most important thing.
“I just think people who have too much money are a little, well, you know...”
(She didn’t know)
“Selfish and self obsessed.”
We lived in Billericay and she was a trailblazer for the time, already enjoying regular fake tans and a desire to be the first female Formula One driver. She couldn’t think that you could have too much money and thought I was just jealous.
I could have been. I’d not met many people with money and my philosophy could have stemmed from jealousy. However, now that I’m older and have met quite a few very rich people, my view has not changed very much.
Having money gives a person choices. Having much more than you need doesn’t automatically make you a bad person but it does enable you to make as many bad choices as good ones.
Everyone is talking about the interview Prince Andrew gave to the brilliant Emily Maitlis on the BBC on Sunday night. It was absolute car crash TV and will go down in history, like Frost/Nixon and they will make films about it. Somehow, even though you knew he was lying and everything he said made it worse you couldn’t tear yourself away. It was funny too. There are things from this interview that will enter our culture and in time we won’t even remember where they came from. In the future people caught out lying will just say, “I couldn’t sweat,” or “I’ve only been to Wokingham a few times,” or “Pizza Express.”
The thing everyone is really puzzled by, though, is misplaced. No one is wondering why someone with so much money and power did such awful things. We are wondering why he did the interview. Why did he dig himself into a hole? We knew he could get away with it if he said nothing. We are wondering if maybe it’s about to emerge that the Queen has, in fact, been dealing crack Cocaine and he has fallen on his sword to be a distraction when it comes to light.
We know about money and what it does to people.
We know about Prince Andrew, who we called Randy Andy in the Eighties.
We know he had more money than sense and didn’t even have a true purpose.
We know that the very rich don’t even need to pronounce all the letters (Ghislaine Maxwell, ‘my friend G(pronounced phonetically) Laine’)
We know that very rich people can take advantage of very poor people.
We know that if you have no money you will consider doing anything to eat or get some of that status.
We know that very young people are more attractive than older people.
We know young girls are desperate for rich powerful men to love them and are easily manipulated. We know that providing a girl to give a relaxing massage was code for sex in the eighties.
We know that he wouldn’t remember one girl.
We know there were more than one.
We know he wouldn’t have even looked at her face or considered that she was a real person.
We know that you can take a position as an ambassador for NSPCC, working on a campaign to spot the signs of sexual abuse and not see that you are an abuser.
We know Epstein is everything they say he is.
We know they were friends.
We know that when you are very rich you can laugh about the suicide of one of your best friends.
We know Prince Andrew used young girls for sex.
We know some ancient Royal dame with a man’s name will leap to his defence, explaining that “these girls only have themselves to blame.”
We know normal rules for names don’t apply to the super wealthy.
We know that anyone who financially benefits from the Royals will defend his actions.
We know that, even though he his publicly disgraced, he can’t be asked to resign.
We know that money gives power.
We know that absolute power corrupts absolutely.
We know that this kind of thing will go on forever. We might have abolished slavery but using people to make money, or because you have so much money you don’t even see them as real people, is fun.
We know people will call for the end of the monarchy.
We know it won’t happen.
We know young girls don’t matter. (If a fading alcoholic footballer can kiss a girl on a train without her consent then a Prince can do anything)
We know it’s all very depressing.
I wish I’d never watched the interview but then I can’t sweat or eat at Pizza Express in Wokingham.
Showing posts with label BBC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label BBC. Show all posts
Monday, 18 November 2019
Tuesday, 5 February 2019
We Need To Talk About Horizon
It’s taken me nearly two weeks to watch the whole of the BBC Horizon programme, “We need to talk about death.” This feels like a failure for someone who has been banging on about this very thing. It was something I needed to watch in small chunks, so that I could process my emotions. I’m glad for this programme and think it has a lot going for it but it’s not telling the whole story.
The programme spoke to about four palliative care doctors and one nurse about their work. They interviewed patients who were all happy and vital. They showed people in a beautiful Hospice painting and talking about the songs that would be played at their funeral. It was a great thing. We need to see inside Hospices more often - the mystery of them needs to be debunked.
Despite both my parents being under the care of our local Hospice I can’t tell you what it is like.
I watched the Horizon programme battling with my emotions; the biggest one being anger. No, not anger exactly; more bewilderment. What I was seeing didn’t match my experience. There were no discussions with doctors from a palliative care setting. I’ve spoken about the doctors my parents saw before, who were all death deniers. Never did they manage to speak to a doctor like those featured on the programme. In fiction doctors are always the people who sit and patiently discuss a person’s options when they are told they are dying. Oh, and they are told that they are dying. No pretence; just honesty and statistics. To be fair, if I was going to write a novel I’d probably write what I would have liked to have happened too.
Both my parents had a nurse from the Hospice visit them. Lots of forms were filled in. Dad only saw the nurse once before she went on holiday and Mum had monthly appointments, which she hated. Mum and the nurse were not best matched. Mum couldn’t stand the sympathy, the head tilting, the sing-songy voice and the ‘its all going to be lovely, my lovely’ approach. At the last few visits, answering the same questions to get the forms completed was a huge trial. The nurse did her best but there was a doctor who wanted to play with his chemotherapy drugs on a cancer he’d not seen before. Doctors always outrank nurses, even if the nurses seem to be saying more sensible things.
As well meaning as the TV programme was trying to be, I do wonder if painting such a positive image is always a good thing. Some of the things I have found really difficult is that my reality of caring for someone who is dying is so different from how it's portrayed. Even writing about it, now, makes me feel as though I'm breaking some secret life rule. "Whatever you do, just don't mention how bad it can be." The Nurse on Horizon said, "When death is done wrong it can be so bad. So bad that it has repercussions that last forever. People never get over it." My Mum's death was done wrong. Or was it? She had palliative care intervention:Early. It came quite soon after her diagnosis. She was able to be at home (which apparently she had chosen) and on paper the death was quick. The forms make it look like everything was done well.
I try to tell myself that our experience was a freak; that everyone else gets good deaths. I try to think we were just unlucky but I'm not sure. The more people I speak to the more I think the difficult death is more common that we are admitting to. People tell me about relatives languishing in hospital for weeks/ months with no one telling them anything, or relatives dying at home in horrible and painful circumstances or arguing with paramedics that their dying relative had a DNACPR, only to be completely ignored or threatened with legal action.
The reality is different from the fiction. The doctor presenting the programme seemed genuinely shocked that as he put it, "all round good holistic care in the right setting can make such a difference." I really must stop shouting, "No shit Sherlock!" at doctors, even if they are on the telly and can't actually hear me. It would make all the difference but I wonder how many people get to access that.
End of Life care in this country is mainly provided by charities, which means there is a lack of standardisation (just as in cancer care the sexier cancers get more funding). Some areas will have absolutely fantastic services and others very little. People tell me that our Hospice is very good. However, there wasn't a bed available when my mum wanted one. We waited five days for a bed and then mum gave up on the idea, knowing that it was too late. However, it wouldn't have been too late to get some relief from her symptoms, or be somewhere where the drugs she needed to help were available, or to have someone give us a break, or to be the most qualified person present (or actually qualified person because I can tell you that an interest in music in no way qualifies you for dealing with a gruesome death). At the last form filling session the hospice nurse kept asking mum where she wanted to die. Apart from knowing that she really didn't want to die there was no way to answer that question. We had never seen the Hospice and didn't know if it was better than where we were. No one had thought to invite us for a visit.
The Horizon programme was a good one but it is just a start and maybe we need to be a bit more honest about what actually happens when we die and more honest with people about what stage of that process they are at. It might also be useful to start having conversations about putting people who are already dying to sleep (in the same we we do our favourite pets).
The programme spoke to about four palliative care doctors and one nurse about their work. They interviewed patients who were all happy and vital. They showed people in a beautiful Hospice painting and talking about the songs that would be played at their funeral. It was a great thing. We need to see inside Hospices more often - the mystery of them needs to be debunked.
Despite both my parents being under the care of our local Hospice I can’t tell you what it is like.
I watched the Horizon programme battling with my emotions; the biggest one being anger. No, not anger exactly; more bewilderment. What I was seeing didn’t match my experience. There were no discussions with doctors from a palliative care setting. I’ve spoken about the doctors my parents saw before, who were all death deniers. Never did they manage to speak to a doctor like those featured on the programme. In fiction doctors are always the people who sit and patiently discuss a person’s options when they are told they are dying. Oh, and they are told that they are dying. No pretence; just honesty and statistics. To be fair, if I was going to write a novel I’d probably write what I would have liked to have happened too.
Both my parents had a nurse from the Hospice visit them. Lots of forms were filled in. Dad only saw the nurse once before she went on holiday and Mum had monthly appointments, which she hated. Mum and the nurse were not best matched. Mum couldn’t stand the sympathy, the head tilting, the sing-songy voice and the ‘its all going to be lovely, my lovely’ approach. At the last few visits, answering the same questions to get the forms completed was a huge trial. The nurse did her best but there was a doctor who wanted to play with his chemotherapy drugs on a cancer he’d not seen before. Doctors always outrank nurses, even if the nurses seem to be saying more sensible things.
As well meaning as the TV programme was trying to be, I do wonder if painting such a positive image is always a good thing. Some of the things I have found really difficult is that my reality of caring for someone who is dying is so different from how it's portrayed. Even writing about it, now, makes me feel as though I'm breaking some secret life rule. "Whatever you do, just don't mention how bad it can be." The Nurse on Horizon said, "When death is done wrong it can be so bad. So bad that it has repercussions that last forever. People never get over it." My Mum's death was done wrong. Or was it? She had palliative care intervention:Early. It came quite soon after her diagnosis. She was able to be at home (which apparently she had chosen) and on paper the death was quick. The forms make it look like everything was done well.
I try to tell myself that our experience was a freak; that everyone else gets good deaths. I try to think we were just unlucky but I'm not sure. The more people I speak to the more I think the difficult death is more common that we are admitting to. People tell me about relatives languishing in hospital for weeks/ months with no one telling them anything, or relatives dying at home in horrible and painful circumstances or arguing with paramedics that their dying relative had a DNACPR, only to be completely ignored or threatened with legal action.
The reality is different from the fiction. The doctor presenting the programme seemed genuinely shocked that as he put it, "all round good holistic care in the right setting can make such a difference." I really must stop shouting, "No shit Sherlock!" at doctors, even if they are on the telly and can't actually hear me. It would make all the difference but I wonder how many people get to access that.
End of Life care in this country is mainly provided by charities, which means there is a lack of standardisation (just as in cancer care the sexier cancers get more funding). Some areas will have absolutely fantastic services and others very little. People tell me that our Hospice is very good. However, there wasn't a bed available when my mum wanted one. We waited five days for a bed and then mum gave up on the idea, knowing that it was too late. However, it wouldn't have been too late to get some relief from her symptoms, or be somewhere where the drugs she needed to help were available, or to have someone give us a break, or to be the most qualified person present (or actually qualified person because I can tell you that an interest in music in no way qualifies you for dealing with a gruesome death). At the last form filling session the hospice nurse kept asking mum where she wanted to die. Apart from knowing that she really didn't want to die there was no way to answer that question. We had never seen the Hospice and didn't know if it was better than where we were. No one had thought to invite us for a visit.
The Horizon programme was a good one but it is just a start and maybe we need to be a bit more honest about what actually happens when we die and more honest with people about what stage of that process they are at. It might also be useful to start having conversations about putting people who are already dying to sleep (in the same we we do our favourite pets).
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