Another ailment. Another surgeon (Mr McIlroy). Another fascinating conversation. Fascinating because I’m the centre of the universe. By the end of day this schedule had been arranged:
Monday Nov 22: 11 am. Iron perfusion to rectify anaemia.
Wednesday Nov 24: 10 am, Discussion. 11 am, Pre-op prep.
Monday Nov 29: 11 am. Iron perfusion.
Tuesday Dec 14: 7.30 am. Op. Likely time in hospital, two nights.
The conversation goes:
RR: It’s remarkable. I’m 86, ready for the scrap-heap, to be left out on the street at night. Yet there’s all this. And it’s free.
McIlroy: Surgery’s a risk, you could snuff it on the table. But given your state of health the probability’s low (Cites low percentage). What’s your own estimate of your life expectation?
RR: My estimate! I’m hardly the expert.
McIlroy: It’s likely you’ll make it into your nineties.
RR (Thinks): Just a handful of years. But what the hell. I’ve gone through elderly to old. From old to very old. Now there’s a faint chance of a telegram from the Queen (Actually a standard letter; too many of her citizens are reaching three figures). And four badly spelled paragraphs in the Hereford Times.
And I’m out to the hospital car-park where VR is sitting in the Skoda, doing Free Cell on a phone. Apparently she could have come in with me; the medical staff encourages it. Must remember that.
Mrs. Avus, too, is going through some similar procedures for some very urgent surgery. We have nominated me as her official "Carer" which ensures that I can be present, in the hospital with her, for all the pre op consultations.
ReplyDeleteLike you our thoughts are along the same lines, even at a mere 82, of "the scrap heap beckons" and why does the NHS bother about all this expense and care of decrepit old bodies.
Peronally, I would endorse voluntary euthenasia by a simple, quick injection similar to the peaceful end of my recent dog.
Avus: In an attempt to convince the surgeon that I'm not yet scrap-heap material, that his work will not be entirely pointless, I revert to my old trade of 44½ years, asking questions and encouraging him (or her) to elaborate on recondite matters, without taking up more than a tiny fraction of the time allowed for my consultation. Following the second cataract op I wrote the surgeon a Shakespearean sonnet welcoming all this new-found light. He passed it on to the nursing team.
DeleteSo long as I am not in pain and am capable of analytical thought I doubt I would subscribe to voluntary euthanasia. In my view there's always a chance that someone else, still living, might inherit a smidgeon of guilt at being associated - however tenuously - with this process. That's not a legacy I'd wish to bequeath.
I share your sorrows and obligations with regard to Mrs Avus. Despite the fact that VR became an SRN at "one of London's great teaching hospitals" she finds it difficult to co-exist with my medical affairs. When I shrug my shoulders it doesn't exactly help. It does help when she accompanies me to consultations (the rules vary from hospital to hospital) since she often picks up spoken detail I've missed.
My dad was 93 last week. His heart surgeon told him when he had his third bipass operation at age 65 that he would live another ten years. That makes him now 18 years past his life expectancy. Well past his sell by date and although he's not ill or in pain he shows no sign that he enjoys life any more. Very sad and it makes me wonder whether what we do with the very old is right.
ReplyDeleteJean: I have to confess my leisure time is much more passive than it used to be. Haven't touched the novel MS for yonks. Verse even longer. Money accumulates in the bank account but the semi-lockdown offers few opportunities for expenditure.
DeleteDoes anyone ask your Dad questions about "the old days"? Might that jog him somewhat?
You are so lucky to live in a country where medical care is free. Sorry you have to go through more treatment. I've never heard of Iron perfusion before.
ReplyDeleteColette: My daughter - who knows - says taking on iron is like mainlining heroin minus the downsides. We'll see.
DeleteActually, our medical care with the NHS is not "free", RR. The Chinese have a saying which translates as, "In the last analysis wool comes from the sheep".
ReplyDeleteAvus: In the strictest sense, no. Any more than the services of the police, clean roads, primary and secondary education and the provision of a democratic government (That's taken a bit of a kock, recently) are free. The assumption is that these are things we need, whether we like them or not, and spreading the payment over as wide a field as possible makes it as pain-free as it may be. For that most of us are thankful whatever different ideologies say.
DeleteWhat most of us - and all politicians - have failed to grasp is that health care is, and always will be, an ever-growing financial burden. Self-improvement is built into medicine and each year new drugs and new surgical procedures - always more expensive - arrive and must be considered. The benefits from which help us live longer and thus add to the financial burden.
In an earlier comment you allude to the attractions of suicide but stop short on whether - in your heart of hearts - you might hope this be made obligatory. The implied rationale, that long life is too expensive for a democratic state to bear, seems a trifle arid, even in these uncaring times. The other aspect of suicide seems less appreciated; that it is not a decision taken in a vacuum. Its effects genuinely disturb other people and may leave lasting scars; that suicide may ultimately be seen as a selfish act.