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Continued from post 176 -------------------------------- NHS Whistleblower, bought in to fix the death code rates. She was offered double her salary to fix the death code rates,she refused.
The Liverpool Care Pathway Daily Mail 27th October 2012 Two newspaper issues today that made me think about my own opinion on the subject The Liverpool Care Pathway - A disgrace to modern day...
25/01/13 I stared at the corpse allowing an empty feeling crawl inside of me. I was emotionless. My grandmother, the only family I had left, had just died and not a single tear was produced after.
You have a choice to make. Right now. Live or die. But NOT for yourself, for another life. Perhaps a person, perhaps an animal. It is still life. You must make this decision, and you alone.
No... And yes. It's a bit of both, really. squeeze you're wrist, it important. Timeline: Weeks 1-10: The eggs been fertilised, the egg has split into many cells.
Trapped inside this glass cage, With everybody staring, No one seems to truly care, How I'm really faring. Another day, another test, Just tell me: will it end.
There has been a lot on the UK news again about "the right to die". Should a person with a serious illness be allowed to choose when and how they die i.e. assisted suicide.
Johny is a Doctor with a big lack in compassion. The patient's come, he fobes them off, in such unfriendly fashion. He waves his hand dismissively. As life, to him, gets cheaper.
People come to me to die. It's a surprisingly easy job, and very well paid. Not that I can tell anyone that, of course. Today's client sits before me, hands shaking, tears running down her soft...
Eyes sunken in grey crêpe skin Begging for mercy from deep within. Beeps and bumps and flashing care; It's only morphine, nobody's there.
Doctor Dave had slept with one of his patients and felt guilty all day long. No matter how much he tried to forget about it, he couldn't. The guilt And sense of betrayal were overwhelming.
I wrote the following poem a number of years ago (aged 14!) in response to a series of dramatic monologues known collectively as 'Stobhill' by Edwin Morgan.