Shaking With Rage

After 27 hours of travelling (it's another story), I've made it back to 2 months worth of post and 2171 e-mails waiting in my primary e-mail address which I've been unable to access whilst I've been away. After a poor night's sleep, a smoke and a cup of coffee I settled down in front of my laptop and ran the gauntlet. All of the posts and comments from my two blogs are directed to my primary e-mail and as a rule I always save them. I'm a hoarder by nature, it runs in the family. As I waded through the mire, mostly Facebook, spam etc, I've come across quite a few e-mails from Anonymous. A couple have been from new readers who haven't plucked up the courage to say hi in their own right and that's fine. When stepping into the blogging world it can be quite scary and I'm cool with that, we all have to start somewhere and I do my best to make everyone welcome. Most have been spam, I can't be arsed to delete them off the old posts, I've got too many to wade. I delete them when I find them. And then I found one which has my blood completely boiling.

One of the issues when blogging, especially when putting personal stuff out into Blogland, is that it's open to interpretation. I don't expect everyone to agree with me or even to like me. I'm big enough and ugly enough to take it on the chin. However, this comment was completely out of order. I believe I know the person who left the comment personally. What pisses me off (amongst the other issues) is that they chose to leave the comment anonymously. If you're going to be personal, own up to it. Say it to my face.

Many thanks to eros who did see it and did reply.

The comment was left on Confirmation. My brother, the vet tested a sputuum sample provided by my father and found small cell lung cancer present.

This is what Anonymous said:

to be fair, you haven't actually had confirmation. no offence to your brother, but he is a vet. if they were as good as regular doctors, why aren't they allowed to treat humans?your dad should speak to his doctor. yes treatment for cancer can be very draining, and can sometimes be worse than the cancer itself, but treatment for other problems can be much less invasive - like the antibiotics he is already taking for example (PLEASE don't tell me your vet brother provided them/wrote the prescription, that is illegal, not to mention potentially very dangerous).get a diagnosis from a proper, qualified doctor, and then (and ONLY then) your father can make an informed decision about any treatment that may be available to him.scarred lungs can be caused by infections or injuries/disease other than cancer, so do not presume the worst until you have no choice. after all, aren't we always told that positive thinking is instrumental when dealing with ill health?
17 July 2010 00:09

I am incadescent, but will try to take this in a logical fashion. Forgive me dear readers if I go straight into rant.

Firstly, after my father endured the trip to the medical centre to have the x-rays done, there were three doctors present: my father's lung specialist, my father's GP and my brother. My father's lung specialist had the x-ray from 2 years ago to compare. There was a mass, pretty much encompassing his left lung. The way the mass presented, my father's lung specialist was 99.9% certain it was lung cancer.

For the 100% confirmation, my father would have needed to have undergone an MRI and a lung biopsy.
My father found the whole experience exceptionally distressing and chose to stick with the 99.9% diagnosis. In days before MRIs, it would have been sufficient. A biopsy would have been painful and distressing for my father and also risky. Quite frankly, given my father's fragility it could have killed him off there and then. My father, on the basis of that consultation with his lung specialist and GP decided he would not undergo the trauma as HE didn't want to undergo either chemotherapy or radiotherapy. Surgery, given his poor lung function would not have been an option. Of the people with the diagnosis that he had, 75% die within a year of diagnosis. It is an exceptionally aggressive cancer and highly resistant to treatment.

My father felt that treatment would not buy him any more time or any quality of life. He felt at 73, he'd lived his life. He wanted to die at home, in the environment he felt safe, with the people he loved and who loved him around.

My brother, the vet has a state of the art practice. He remains at the cutting edge of medical technology, his is the practice other vets send their patients to when they want intricate blood tests, ultrasound and x-rays.

Eros is right, it is easier to become a human doctor than it is a vet. Quite frankly, I would rather see my Cat's vet than I would my own GP over here. GPs over here aren't interested in their patients, they just want to keep to time, keep the numbers up and hit the stats laid out by the government.

My brother's training enabled him to work with the specialitists and my father's GP. He understood what they were saying and when my father struggled, he was on the phone to them, able to accurately describe the symptoms, to be able to follow their advice to the letter. He absolutely did not write out prescriptions for my father.

When my father was fading fast, he begged my brother again, to let him stay home. He did not want to die in hospital, subject to a medical system's regime. He didn't even want nursing care. He wasn't in pain, he just couldn't breathe. He was on oxygen constantly in the last 10 days of his life. Oxygen, that my brother was able to source and hook up, because of his training and his practice.

Anonymous, and I believe I know who you are, you should have said this to my face. I don't know who you think you are to question my father's care; or who you think I am that I would let this slide. You are very much mistaken.

If you think we should have packed him off to a hospital to be prodded and poked and put through a whole lot of stress and pain which would not have made a difference to the outcome, against his wishes, well that's up to you.

My brother and I respected my father's wishes: to die in comfort, at home, with us.

An apology wouldn't go amiss. Let's see if you've got stones enough for that, shall we?