How To Be Amazingly Happy

 My friend Dave ( aka Gorgeous Dave) is a typical straight man when it comes to problems. He is not very good at reaching out for a sympathetic ear, preferring to deal with things internally and on his own.

I met up with him last night and he shared a problem

I was glad to be able to listen and wish he had contacted me earlier.

Interestingly we were off to see a one woman review entitled How To Be Amazingly Happy by Victoria Firth which was showing at the Storyhouse 

It was a lumpy show, amusing and insightful at times and a little pretentious in others but Firth was engaging enough with her northern physical humour very much on show and she had a great deal to say about the pressures , we all feel in today’s society, to be happy and contented all of the time.

Firth’s perspective came from the fact she was a lesbian who was childless but I could relate to the way she tried out different “ lifestyles” in order to boost her mood.  Her vignettes on running, not jogging, joining a tap,dance class and baking cakes for the family were amusing enough, but when she started her childless routine things did get a bit bleak and we were glad to make a run for the bar.

We didn’t stay for the Q & A.

On the way home, I decided a bit of fun was the order of the day and we were both cackling like schoolboys before we got onto the A55 for home. My mother blessed me with the ability to tell a good story and I was happy to be able to have Dave’s cheeks aching before he dropped me off in the village

Food For Thought

 Thursday also turned out to be an interesting day. 

The consultant affiliated to our hospice organised a seminar workshop for the staff to explore and discuss the law relating to assisted suicide within the health care setting and had organised for an Australian medic who was a specialist in Voluntary Assisted Dying to lecture us on the subject via zoom

For those that don’t know 

Voluntary assisted dying (VAD) refers to the assistance provided to a person by a health practitioner to end their life. It includes:

• 'self-administration', where the person takes the VAD medication themselves (this is sometimes called physician-assisted suicide or dying), and
• 'practitioner administration', where the person is given the medication by a doctor (or in some Australian States, a nurse practitioner or registered nurse) (this is sometimes called voluntary euthanasia).

‘Voluntary’ indicates that the practice is a voluntary choice of the person, and that they are competent (have capacity) to decide to access VAD.

As you can see the law in Australia seems a million miles away from ours in the Uk, however the criteria for VAD is precise and can only be used with a diagnosis of conditions that are life limiting of only a few months . Conditions such as MND, disabilities or mental health do not fit the criteria. 

It was a fascinating workshop and I felt that the  Australian consultant was rather intrigued that he had been approached by a tiny Welsh Hospice to discuss his role  rather than  by a UK palliative care centre based in say London. 

All of our hospice doctors, a good cross section of the nurses and support workers and a smattering of managers and Board Members turned up and on reflection I still am not sure how I feel about the whole subject. 

Of course the positives seem humane and client focused but when I asked the Australia doctor what situations had “ gone wrong” for want of a better phrase he discussed two cases that were sobering. 

One situation had a patient who had vomited after she had taken the medication and so didn’t die as was expected, while another had another patient taking his medication which was brought into him by a relative whilst he was an inpatient of a general hospital being looked after by nurses who had no clue he was about to take his own life. 

The ethical implications from both situations hung heavy in the air.

Anyhow it’s Saturday today.

It’s early and we have all been out for a walk. Roger is almost fully housetrained now. He walks well on the lead and sits politely in the car, unlike Dorothy who is now always crated in Bluebell and who remains vociferously loud during any journey.

He’s eating better and is less frightened of anything he doesn’t know.

But he is a chewer.

I think we will all go to the beach this afternoon.

I’m meeting up with Gorgeous Dave later and we are going to The Storyhouse to see a one woman show with the title How to be Amazingly Happy

'We will meet again'

These two things have been revolving in my head rent free today.

Today one of my patients talked at length about how much the Queen’s We Will Meet Again had affected her a couple of years ago now and we unpicked just how powerful her speech was when I served her a large port before lunch..it was a conversation that I should have had one too ..lol

Radio 2 caught me unawares too when I drove to work as Zoe Ball played somber music with hushed tones. 

When she played this next song by Beth Neilsen Chapman, it caught me totally unawares as I drove past Colwyn Bay and I had to stop briefly on the Prom to have a bit of a cry 

Tribute

 I don't want to over egg the pudding but this tribute, especially his very last line, moved me greatly

The Queen

 

I’ve been to a seminar on medically led assisted dying today. It was stimulating and thought provoking 

I was going to blog about it but I see that the Queen is poorly.

Several of my friends have texted me 

They know I’m a royalist 

The Queen is clearly dying

It’s all rather sad 

Postscript

Like many Brits of my age, my family has grown up with the Queen. My parents and grandparents were die hard, post war Royalists, and their lives always seemed inexplicably linked with the Royal family in so many ways. 

Her death links with memories and life events of my parents and grandparents today. Of days past and of memories sixty years in the making.

I’m guessing many of us will have this collective emptiness and sadness today. 

Today has been quite profound 

I’ve just heard Liz Truss say 

God Save The King 

Enjoy

 

Ladies Who Lunch

 

I met my friend Colin in Chester and we watched the cormorants on the Dee for an age, before the clouds blew over from Wales. 

We had lunch in the popular Marmalade Cafe and chatted like the two old queens we are.

Chester is only 30 minutes away from Trelawnyd driving slow, so it’s lovely to know I’ve got a city on my doorstep. 

Roger has got over his nerves with most things unknown now, but was scared by a thunderstorm last night so hid away with Mary at his side in his crate until things quietened down.

“ No George it’s not the peas, it’s the last thirty years!”

In December I ended a friendship .

I ended it ostensibly due to one spoken word 

One word which underlined , to me , that there was no respect in the relationship.

All this, I know is purposely vague

Relationships often end messily 

An amalgam of things generally 

But with a straw that broke the camels’ back