Friday, 19 February 2016
Monday, 15 February 2016
Saturday, 26 September 2015
Monday, 17 August 2015
Tuesday, 1 October 2013
HERE WE GO AGAIN.....
This is a comment I wrote to the NHS about the latest episode in my disease:
"I have been nearly fatally misdiagnosed twice in the last eight years by GPs responsible for my cancer care in the community. Four years ago, the GP diagnosed labyrinthitis, which turned out to be a brain tumour. In March this year, I was diagnosed with asthma, and this has turned out to be a tumour on my thorax which is sticking to one of my lungs. I am now having chemotherapy and am unable to get the antibiotics I need for my chest infection because the GP has failed to issue the repeat script after three requests. I am very unwell and have lost all confidence in the GP's ability to care for me. I know this happens to many others in similar situations.
I asked my consultant oncologist if I could go direct to him in future; and the neurosurgeon who treated me last time asked me to 'promise to cut out the middleman' if the disease came back.. Had I listened to his advice, I might not be so ill now.
How are patients like me, who have a chronic disease, who live alone and depend on GPs for repeat prescriptions, supposed to cope outside the hospital? l We have excellent hospital care for cancer in Truro at The Sunrise Centre at RCH Treliske, but the doctors there who fight for their patients are badly let down by the 'middlemen' in the GP practice. I worry about all those patients at home who experience neglect and indifference from general practitioners who appear to know very little about chronic disease like cancer, in spite of having hospital records about a patient's history. Seven months ago, I went to my GP with a chest infection and persistent cough - now badly infected. I was prescribed two different sorts of antibiotics, then a Ventolin inhaler, then a steroid inhaler. Every time he tried something new, the GP told to come back in three weeks if it didn't work.
There seems to be no option for me in future but to go straight to A & E. The GP out of hours service is hopeless. I am fortunate that I am still an outpatient at the oncology clinic, otherwise I probably would not be writing this today. "
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Of course, this is history repeating itself. It was the same scenario four years ago when the labyrinthitis turned out to be a brain tumour. I got through that, thanks to my oncologist, Dr Whateley and neurosurgeon, Mr Fewing. This time, the GP did send me for a chest x-ray 'in view of my history'; but I was told by my home care nurse that an x-ray wouldn't show a tumour in the centre of my chest. It was left to Dr Wheatley to find that out. I wonder just what GPs do to justify their living? Staring into a screen and doling out drugs willy nilly is the standard practice. That doesn't look good for people like me, does it??
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
On a lighter note, I saw my daughter off to Barcelona last week where she is taking a gap year as a conversation assistant in a local school. I was going to go out there in November to see her, but I'll be knocked out with chemo et al for the next six months; and then there's the recovery. I insisted she grasp the opportunity instead of sitting here watching me being treated. It isn't over. I'll get through it. It's just another stage. And I'm looking forward to a Brittany Break with seafood....
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"I have been nearly fatally misdiagnosed twice in the last eight years by GPs responsible for my cancer care in the community. Four years ago, the GP diagnosed labyrinthitis, which turned out to be a brain tumour. In March this year, I was diagnosed with asthma, and this has turned out to be a tumour on my thorax which is sticking to one of my lungs. I am now having chemotherapy and am unable to get the antibiotics I need for my chest infection because the GP has failed to issue the repeat script after three requests. I am very unwell and have lost all confidence in the GP's ability to care for me. I know this happens to many others in similar situations.
I asked my consultant oncologist if I could go direct to him in future; and the neurosurgeon who treated me last time asked me to 'promise to cut out the middleman' if the disease came back.. Had I listened to his advice, I might not be so ill now.
How are patients like me, who have a chronic disease, who live alone and depend on GPs for repeat prescriptions, supposed to cope outside the hospital? l We have excellent hospital care for cancer in Truro at The Sunrise Centre at RCH Treliske, but the doctors there who fight for their patients are badly let down by the 'middlemen' in the GP practice. I worry about all those patients at home who experience neglect and indifference from general practitioners who appear to know very little about chronic disease like cancer, in spite of having hospital records about a patient's history. Seven months ago, I went to my GP with a chest infection and persistent cough - now badly infected. I was prescribed two different sorts of antibiotics, then a Ventolin inhaler, then a steroid inhaler. Every time he tried something new, the GP told to come back in three weeks if it didn't work.
There seems to be no option for me in future but to go straight to A & E. The GP out of hours service is hopeless. I am fortunate that I am still an outpatient at the oncology clinic, otherwise I probably would not be writing this today. "
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Of course, this is history repeating itself. It was the same scenario four years ago when the labyrinthitis turned out to be a brain tumour. I got through that, thanks to my oncologist, Dr Whateley and neurosurgeon, Mr Fewing. This time, the GP did send me for a chest x-ray 'in view of my history'; but I was told by my home care nurse that an x-ray wouldn't show a tumour in the centre of my chest. It was left to Dr Wheatley to find that out. I wonder just what GPs do to justify their living? Staring into a screen and doling out drugs willy nilly is the standard practice. That doesn't look good for people like me, does it??
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
On a lighter note, I saw my daughter off to Barcelona last week where she is taking a gap year as a conversation assistant in a local school. I was going to go out there in November to see her, but I'll be knocked out with chemo et al for the next six months; and then there's the recovery. I insisted she grasp the opportunity instead of sitting here watching me being treated. It isn't over. I'll get through it. It's just another stage. And I'm looking forward to a Brittany Break with seafood....
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| photos by Terry Webb |
Thursday, 18 July 2013
THE NEW APPRENTICE...
Lord Alan Sugar has chosen a woman with a Botox business to be his new partner ('The Apprentice Final', BBC1, 17.7.20013)
He is sure to attract more brickbats than plaudits for this. The way I see it is that it's a shame to see a young doctor choose to use her skill for profit in the vain enterprise of medically applied cosmetic enhancements . After all, however much Botox you buy to freeze your expression, we're all still growing old inside. And then there's the end....
I have a hospital clinic in August, which I hope won't throw up any sinister link between my recently diagnosed asthma and the other condition....
..............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................OUCH.....!!....................................................................
He is sure to attract more brickbats than plaudits for this. The way I see it is that it's a shame to see a young doctor choose to use her skill for profit in the vain enterprise of medically applied cosmetic enhancements . After all, however much Botox you buy to freeze your expression, we're all still growing old inside. And then there's the end....
I have a hospital clinic in August, which I hope won't throw up any sinister link between my recently diagnosed asthma and the other condition....
..............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................OUCH.....!!....................................................................
Friday, 3 May 2013
ANOTHER BOOK LAUNCHED 1 MAY 2013...
My latest crime novel, Legally Bound, set in Regent's Park and the City of London is now available online at Amazon.
I conceived this story several years ago as a TV drama script and had encouraging noises made about it by the BBC, but in the end - after two years on option, they didn't produce it. So last year, I started writing it up as a crime novel. The key location is Regent's Park, the best park in London as far as I'm concerned. It was a cherished space for me to walk through on my way to work from Primrose Hill to Great Portland Street. At week ends, I hired a deck chair for the day and sunbathed, reading books and drinking cups of tea from the flask I brought with me. The gardens were my Riviera, full of characters - some of who pop up in the background in the novel. A callous crime takes place in the park, although I always thought of it - and still do - as a sanctuary, a healing place.
Had a chest x-ray on the day of the book launch. My new GP - one of the old, patient-friendly school, called me this afternoon with the result - all clear. This is a great relief because the year is 2013 after all, and four years after my last battle (brain tumour) which was four years to the day after my first diagnosis and chemo treatment in 2005. So the number four has been unlucky for me - although it's the date of my birthday - and thirteen, as everyone knows, is unlucky for some. I have had a persistent cough since January and am now in the middle of my second course of antibiotics. Felt less anxious about the x-ray when I met up with Chris, after seeing the GP. Chris was my neighbour on the surgical ward where we both had a mastectomy in September 2005. She had pre-cancerous spread in one breast, which was the reason she had to lose it, like me, though I had the full-blown advanced variety in mine. Chris has struggled with lung infections ever since, been hospitalised for breathing difficulties, had a collapsed lung, and now uses an inhaler and a nebuliser. But - and this is the point, she remains cancer- free after eight years, as I do. I've asked her to call me up again when she comes to Truro because she's a trouper. I hadn't seen her for seven years but we send each other Christmas cards. She's an ambassador for survivors because, in spite of poor heath affecting both her and her partner, she always looks on the bright side.
Spring looks as though it might have arrived now, and soon it will be June, when my daughter leaves school. I promised her eight years ago, when all this started, that I would be there for her Speech Day in 2013. It looks as though I can keep my promise...
I conceived this story several years ago as a TV drama script and had encouraging noises made about it by the BBC, but in the end - after two years on option, they didn't produce it. So last year, I started writing it up as a crime novel. The key location is Regent's Park, the best park in London as far as I'm concerned. It was a cherished space for me to walk through on my way to work from Primrose Hill to Great Portland Street. At week ends, I hired a deck chair for the day and sunbathed, reading books and drinking cups of tea from the flask I brought with me. The gardens were my Riviera, full of characters - some of who pop up in the background in the novel. A callous crime takes place in the park, although I always thought of it - and still do - as a sanctuary, a healing place.
Had a chest x-ray on the day of the book launch. My new GP - one of the old, patient-friendly school, called me this afternoon with the result - all clear. This is a great relief because the year is 2013 after all, and four years after my last battle (brain tumour) which was four years to the day after my first diagnosis and chemo treatment in 2005. So the number four has been unlucky for me - although it's the date of my birthday - and thirteen, as everyone knows, is unlucky for some. I have had a persistent cough since January and am now in the middle of my second course of antibiotics. Felt less anxious about the x-ray when I met up with Chris, after seeing the GP. Chris was my neighbour on the surgical ward where we both had a mastectomy in September 2005. She had pre-cancerous spread in one breast, which was the reason she had to lose it, like me, though I had the full-blown advanced variety in mine. Chris has struggled with lung infections ever since, been hospitalised for breathing difficulties, had a collapsed lung, and now uses an inhaler and a nebuliser. But - and this is the point, she remains cancer- free after eight years, as I do. I've asked her to call me up again when she comes to Truro because she's a trouper. I hadn't seen her for seven years but we send each other Christmas cards. She's an ambassador for survivors because, in spite of poor heath affecting both her and her partner, she always looks on the bright side.
Spring looks as though it might have arrived now, and soon it will be June, when my daughter leaves school. I promised her eight years ago, when all this started, that I would be there for her Speech Day in 2013. It looks as though I can keep my promise...
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| photo: Cara Loukes |
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