My new tattoo

 

Well I did say at the start I was going to have this if the Stem cell Transplant went OK, and a couple of weeks ago I had it done.

I think that if you are going to get a tattoo it is best if it really means something to you - and that was certainly the case with the first tattoo, when Cro and I both knew that her time was limited - so this tattoo is to remind me of everything that has happened since the doctor phoned up in June last year and said "I'm going to send you to a haematologist"

When I got the diagnosis they outlined the standard treatment: four months of chemo, then a month having an autologous stem-cell transplant, then three more months of chemo, then maintenance therapy. And now about fifteen months later I am well into the maintenance and can almost not remember the interesting adventures over Christmas 2024 (neutropenic sepsis and bald as a coot). And I have my energy back, and my hair, and I find after it all that my appetite for life has been affected not one jot. 

So as promised, I went down to Ellie on Cumberland Street in Woodbridge and explained the kind of tattoo I wanted: NHS logo, a butterfly on it (for emerging from the chrysalis of chemo), and the date of the transplant. In some ways - and I don't want to get presumptuous about this, because relapses come when they want - it was the idea of rebirth and restart. A second chance at life, delivered by the organisation which we all fund in this country and which tried its hardest to give Cro as much extra life as it could. And, you may remember that as luck would have it, Cro died on July 5th 2023, the exact 75th anniversary of the foundation of the NHS. I even did a little speech on her behalf to our local TV station that morning, on the very day that she died. So the NHS has played quite a role in our lives, and I think very highly of it. And I also think very highly of the people in this country because they decided that this was what we should create and have continued for 75 years to support it. 

Now, getting a little political for a moment, I am acutely aware of the criticisms that are made of the NHS, and I understand that there are always things that we can do to make it perform better and that there are areas where our health outcomes fall behind other similar countries. There are indeed some who say we should grasp the benefits of the free market by encouraging the vibrant private sector to help the NHS. To which I call BS. Explain exactly how adding another 5% or 10% to the costs of care by adding in the profit required by private enterprises is going to improve our care. I would also say that, from my experience of the NHS over the last three years, the biggest problem facing patients is actually understaffing caused by underfunding. In most wards that we had contact with, I believe the standing vacancy rate was usually about 15%. And I think that if you asked most staff in the NHS - and they all genuinely want to do the best for their patients - they would say that proper funding would make it possible to deliver the right level of care to everyone. 

Now I know that there are are other changes that we could make without adding on such costs. I have lived in Germany where, when I lived there, there was a compulsory though not very large contribution to a government-administered regional health insurance scheme, which led to a very good standard of care that was also well-funded. And if for some reason you did not have the insurance, you were still cared for. I could accept additional funding through such avenues if it did not involve a slice of the funds going to shareholders. 

But enough politics. When I went to talk to Ellie about the tat, I was a bit puzzled as to why I had never noticed the dozen or so butterflies in frames on the wall behind her. Turns out she is quite a butterfly fan. So I have a beautifully-interpreted Tortoiseshell sitting on the NHS logo, and I shall take it, and the explanation for it, to wherever I wander in this lovely world while I still wander it.