Getting Old

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So much changed in such a short time. My Mum had my oldest brother in 1943, in the single bedroom they rented in an elderly couple`s home. It was wartime and she gave birth in her own bed and was delivered by a lady who was considered to be the local midwife, though unqualified.
They boiled his nappies in a metal bucket over a coal fire, his terry nappies often took days to dry, there were blackouts daily and when he fell ill it was often old wives remedies which he was given.
Fast forward to the birth of my youngest brother in 1956, just 13 years later and after 2 more of us had been born in the interim and there was the NHS. Free ante natal care, free doctors visits, penicillin had become a prescription drug in 1948 and womens deaths from childbirth dropped dramatically as did childrens deaths.
Free National dried baby milk meant babies could be well fed, free orange juice meant rickets almost disappeared, if you broke a leg you had it x rayed, plastered and were given a free wheelchair or crutches, or if you needed stitches or crushed your hand in the factory you were seen by a doctor etc etc etc.
Life changed and Bevin`s from the cradle to the grave was truly believed in and the Country was rebuilding itself in many ways. Social housing was being built, people were moving out of slum areas onto new housing estates but alongside that came isolation, no local shops , no family backup and often far away from community hubs such as pubs, cinemas and places of work. Many people wanted to stay in the terraced back streets because it was home in more ways than one.
 
So much changed in such a short time. My Mum had my oldest brother in 1943, in the single bedroom they rented in an elderly couple`s home. It was wartime and she gave birth in her own bed and was delivered by a lady who was considered to be the local midwife, though unqualified.
They boiled his nappies in a metal bucket over a coal fire, his terry nappies often took days to dry, there were blackouts daily and when he fell ill it was often old wives remedies which he was given.
Fast forward to the birth of my youngest brother in 1956, just 13 years later and after 2 more of us had been born in the interim and there was the NHS. Free ante natal care, free doctors visits, penicillin had become a prescription drug in 1948 and womens deaths from childbirth dropped dramatically as did childrens deaths.
Free National dried baby milk meant babies could be well fed, free orange juice meant rickets almost disappeared, if you broke a leg you had it x rayed, plastered and were given a free wheelchair or crutches, or if you needed stitches or crushed your hand in the factory you were seen by a doctor etc etc etc.
Life changed and Bevin`s from the cradle to the grave was truly believed in and the Country was rebuilding itself in many ways. Social housing was being built, people were moving out of slum areas onto new housing estates but alongside that came isolation, no local shops , no family backup and often far away from community hubs such as pubs, cinemas and places of work. Many people wanted to stay in the terraced back streets because it was home in more ways than one.
Ironic, isn't it, that in fixing one problem they created another?
 
That’s another can of worms Strato - If a person has a terminal illness and has the capacity to make that decision, I believe they should be allowed to do so legally.

Unfortunately, passing a law to legalise euthanasia is a dangerous one. It will be open to all sorts of interpretations and not necessarily for the benefit of the unwell person.
 
Mr V works as a part time taxi driver and one day he went to collect an elderly lady from her home. She came out of the house and made moves to get into the taxi but suddenly dashed back into the house again. When she finally got into the car she apologised to Mr V and said "sorry about that but I forgot to move my husband ". Mr V must have had a puzzled look on his face because she went on to explain her hubby always loved sitting in the Sun so every morning she put the urn containing his ashes in the windowsill.
 
Mr V works as a part time taxi driver and one day he went to collect an elderly lady from her home. She came out of the house and made moves to get into the taxi but suddenly dashed back into the house again. When she finally got into the car she apologised to Mr V and said "sorry about that but I forgot to move my husband ". Mr V must have had a puzzled look on his face because she went on to explain her hubby always loved sitting in the Sun so every morning she put the urn containing his ashes in the windowsill.
I think that's lovely, I imagine she probably talked to the urn as well.
 
Mr V works as a part time taxi driver and one day he went to collect an elderly lady from her home. She came out of the house and made moves to get into the taxi but suddenly dashed back into the house again. When she finally got into the car she apologised to Mr V and said "sorry about that but I forgot to move my husband ". Mr V must have had a puzzled look on his face because she went on to explain her hubby always loved sitting in the Sun so every morning she put the urn containing his ashes in the windowsill.
Whatever helps.
 
A programme on radio 4 today called THE SPARK, with an eminent brain surgeon canvassing for legal euthanasia in the UK.
A programme on radio 4 today called THE SPARK, with an eminent brain surgeon canvassing for legal euthanasia in the UK.
So civilized. In years to come, it might be the norm for people terminally ill. Sometimes, it's a difficult decision for family members to agree with.
 
My neighbours were very social people, in caravan clubs etc but 3 years ago their health deteriorated and the lady died. Although he has some mobility difficulties he can still drive but other than driving to offspring house once every couple of weeks he has become a recluse. Son and daughter take turns visiting each evening but he is never out, the blinds are permanently down and during through this heatwave there hasn’t been a single window open (in fact in 3 years). I would hate that to happen to us.
 
I made a Will in my late 20s, although I’ve altered it three times since then. I will have DNR like mum did and which I honoured when she died. My son knows that I want to be cremated and which local funeral director to use, but I’ll write it all down for him plus the music etc and instructions to celebrate my life, not mourn my demise.

Dad was cremated (he died when he was 56) and his ashes were buried in the grounds of the hospital where he was the leading consultant physician. A ward was also named after him. Sadly the hospital has now been demolished and so he’s now presumably buried under a car park or something. Mum was also cremated and, when I’d asked her where she wanted her ashes scattered, she replied “oh, fling me anywhere.” 🙄

However, at the risk of freaking some of you out, I buried her ashes in my garden and planted a shrub on top. I had just moved into the house and I buried her at the exact time and on the exact date on which she’d passed away two years earlier. The shrub has thrived and I feel really at peace here knowing she’s keeping an eye on me.
 

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