A long-overdue PSA
NS January 22nd, 2009
This commercial, by Sudbury District Health Unit in Canada, kicks ass! I’m very impressed with it and hope other health initiatives and districts will follow suit.
(First seen at Birth Activist)
Archive for January, 2009
Newsmusings
NS January 19th, 2009
Some news stories that caught my attention in the news today, for one reason or another:
1. Care applications soar after Baby P case
More applications to take children into care are being issued than at any time since the present system of child protection was established.
The sharp increase comes after the reporting late last year of the death of Baby P, when the Government instructed all local authorities to look again at cases of children at risk and subject to a child protection plan, to see whether they really were safe from harm.
New figures seen by The Times show that 693 applications to take children into care were issued in December, 66 per cent higher than in December 2007 and 89 per cent higher than the all-time low in June 2008, when 367 requests were made.
Some might consider this good news but I find it rather alarming. A 66 per cent jump from the same time last year? All after a very public and embarrassing case of social care gone wrong, embodied by Baby P? Something smells. At first glance one might think “Oh good, they’re getting off their arses and taking children who need help into care,” but if you stop and think about it, this can’t be what’s happening, not least of all because these are most likely the exact same case workers that existed last year and their professional intuition has unlikely changed. What this means is that they have drastically altered the way they work in a very short space of time and with little guidance. Many are now running on fear of public scorn and fear for their jobs — never good indicators for honest results. Either that or they were rubbish at their jobs to begin with and are only motivated to do it properly under threat of it effecting them personally. Neither is a desirable outcome.
What I fear is that children may be taken into care now quite rapidly and after little investigation or chance for the family to defend or improve itself. Don’t get me wrong, I am immensely grateful that systems are in place (or at least try) to protect vulnerable, abused or neglected children, as evidenced in my previous post and if a child is being hurt or neglected in some way then that absolutely must stop and if the law has been broken, it must be upheld. I don’t want to see children being hurt any more than the next person. But I also believe that if a family is able to stay together and carers are able to learn better parenting, emotional and/or practical skills to better the way they interact with their children, the time, money and effort spent assisting them in that is far better than simply removing a child and placing them in a foster care system that often produces a less-than-desirable outcome; an outcome that is sometimes worse than the situation from which the child was removed.
What are your thoughts? Do you find these numbers reassuring or suspicious?
2. Court challenge to NICE over osteoporosis treatment
The medicine regulator faces a legal challenge this week over its ruling that thousands of women with thinning bones should be denied effective treatment on the NHS.
Draft guidance from the National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence (NICE) states that doctors should prescribe the cheapest drug available to women with the early signs of osteoporosis, even though up to one in five patients cannot take it.
The National Osteoporosis Society and the drug manufacturer Servier say that this is unethical and will do nothing to prevent fragility fractures that contribute to 13,000 premature deaths a year, as well as causing widespread disability and pain.
They will contest the NICE guidance in the High Court, as part of a full judicial review, claiming that the watchdog has not been transparent about its processes and is infringing the human rights of patients by denying them alternative medication on the ground of disability.
So a debilitating condition that over half of women are likely to suffer from is so insignificant that NICE thinks it is okay to force them to actually be seriously afflicted by it before prescribing the drugs that would’ve prevented the condition from worsening in the first place. Right, that makes perfect sense…in a man’s world. I wonder how many of the top executives at NICE are women? My guess is zero or one. Not only is this sexist but ageist too.
I hope they all fall down and break their hips in later life, whilst in the shower, and have to be picked up and carried — naked, wet, wrinkly and helpless — to safety by their (young, female, tax-paying) housekeepers. Bastards.
3. Obama has the courage of a great leader
I really like Obama. I think he is a good person and might very well be a great leader. He’s certainly a fantastic speaker and has a confident, charming public persona. But the way he’s being built up in the media scares me. Everything he does is touted as historic, ground-breaking, moving, etc.. Often it is, but the above cartoon seems over the top to me. Suggesting that Obama would have the full attention and admiration of Abraham Lincoln, before he’s even taken office, makes me nervous. The media and the public love nothing more than building someone up only to tear them down. We love to see the great and the good fall from the pedestals we place them on. At some point, what the world loved about Obama will become what they pick on or loathe. I think we must be careful to temper our enthusiasm and optimism with reality and remember that he is still human and a politician. He is likely to disappoint everyone at least once and I think we’d be wise to acknowledge that now and again. That said, I understand that there will be plenty of time for that in the four years to come and that right now the world is still celebrating the historic election, deservedly so. I just hope that this historic moment isn’t soured by lofty aspirations being cruelly dashed by the inevitability of the political beast.
4. Amanda Knox flirts with Raffaele Sollecito at Meredith Kercher murder trial
Amanda Knox sought to patch up relations with her estranged former boyfriend, Raffaele Sollecito, behind the scenes, at the opening of their trial for the murder of Meredith Kercher, Ms Knox’s British flatmate, it emerged yesterday.
During the seven-hour opening hearing on Friday, Ms Knox, 21 smiled and laughed repeatedly, joking with her lawyers and interpreter. Although sitting only a few feet from the bespectacled Mr Sollecito, 24, she barely acknowledged his glances along the row.
As far as is known the two, who have been held in separate prisons, have not spoken since they were arrested after the murder of Ms Kercher in November 2007. But during a recess on Friday, Ms Knox approached Mr Sollecito and broke the ice by asking: “Ciao, come stai?” (“Hi, how are you?”). She smiled at him and said: “You look good with your hair cut short.”
Mr Sollecito, who had grown his hair long in prison, blushed at the compliment, according to Italian reports from legal sources who witnessed the exchange.
Since when did telling someone you like their haircut constitute flirting? I have no idea if this woman is guilty or not but the way the media have portrayed her as a cold-hearted nymphomaniac, black widow spider from the get-go bothers me. For whatever reason, they’ve latched onto that persona and are using it to turn public opinion against her before she’s even had a fair trial. Disgusting behaviour.
Bitches in heat
NS January 17th, 2009
A friend left her heat magazine (a total celeb gossip rag, for those who don’t know) in my car so I brought it inside for a little flip-through. I don’t care what anyone says, that shit is some quality entertainment. I nearly spit my beverage from my nose when I read that Lily Allen was distraught at the seven pounds she’d gained and was looking into gastric bypass surgery or liposuction to resolve this problem becuase she was “digusted with herself.” I mean, come on, how can that not make your day, however crappy it was, ten times better? Hell, I can gain five pounds in just two weeks when I go back to the States for a visit and you don’t see me going to get my jaw wired shut or my stomach stapled. Lily, come live with me for a week and you won’t ever be disgusted with yourself again. You’ll sure as hell remember to take your birth control though.
Dial A for abuse
NS January 15th, 2009
I just had a call from the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children (NSPCC), a charity I donate to each month. They were informing donors that they’d merged with another charity, ChildLine, in an effort to provide more funds for abuse hotlines. At the moment they can only answer about half of the thousands of calls that children make each day. As the fundraiser on the phone pointed out, an abused child will often only have the opportunity or courage to call ChildLine once. If they don’t get through, will they try again? Will they know that someone out there does care what happens to them? Before she could even finish asking me to increase my donation, the words “Absolutely, yes” were spilling out of my mouth and, to my surprise, tears springing to my eyes. A memory from the darkest corners of my mind emerged suddenly, the details of which were suddenly fresh and vibrant.
Me, age 11, gripping a white phone in a purple room, whispering down the receiver while watching for the shadows of footsteps outside the door. Nervous fingers attached to sweaty palms picked at the frayed ends of a worn rug. Three pairs of expectant eyes looked at me with astonishment, relief and fear. I turned away from them, threading the spiral cord between my knuckles, and swallowed against the lump of uncertainty in my throat. After I finished telling their story to the stranger on the other end of the line, I realised that I had been holding my breath and breathing too quickly all at once, my heart racing yet steady. Adrenaline coursed through my veins and formed a knot in my stomach. I listened the advice I was given, nodded, and gently returned the phone to its cradle. I turned and faced the six eyes again, the eyes of my sixth grade best friends, who had joined hands in silent camraderie.
“They said we should tell a trusted adult,” I said in a low voice. “Who do you think that should be?” At their insistence, that person was to be my mother and the person breaking the news to her would be me.
The next day, I headed home from the surreal sleepover to make my confession. With a heavier heart and conscience than any 11-year-old should have, I found my mother in her bedroom and told her we needed to talk. She was folding laundry and busily tidying the room but said ‘sure’ and glanced at me but carried on with her chores, obviously thinking that by talk I meant ask a fleeting question or beg for something I know I shouldn’t or couldn’t have. I told her that she needed to stop and sit down because it was serious, or words to that effect. When she saw the look on my face she stopped in her tracks, her mother’s intuition on high alert, and asked what was wrong. She dropped heavily onto the bed, mid-fold, looking very concerned, and there, amongst the piles of clothes, it all came spilling out — how the sleepover had gone from popcorn and games and pop stars to shared secrets to admissions of abuse by my friends that horrified me down to my core. Admissions of molestation and rape, perpetrated by the stepfather of the friend whose house we were at. He had been molesting and raping her for years in that bedroom and now had moved onto her friends. My two best friends. They’d all been threatened into silence and felt they had no one to turn to. For some reason, they told me that night.
Weeks later, after the dust of arrests, police interviews, child therapists and doctors had settled, I asked them why they’d chosen me. They told me they thought I’d know what to do, how they could get someone to make it stop. They said I was the only person they knew of who’d been through something scary, something very adult, before. The long illness and subsequent death of my sister two years before that had made me stronger, certainly, but strong enough to turn in a criminal? I’m still astouned to this day that they trusted me with something so huge, so life-altering. I’m just glad that they allowed me to help them, and that there are people and organisations like ChildLine out there, on the other end of the phone line, ready to do whatever it takes to end children’s suffering at the hands of monsters.
If you’d like to make a donation to the NSPCC to help them take more calls from abused children, click here. If you’re not in the UK, consider making a contribution to a children’s charity that provides a similar service. It really can make a difference.
Calling all enlightened dudes
NS January 14th, 2009
PSA alert: It does not make you look cool when you call things or people “pussies” or “girly” or “gay” when they do not meet your criteria of manliness. It’s even less cool when you apply these terms to your children in an attempt to force those preconceived notions onto their impressionable little selves. In fact, it makes you look like a giant jerkface. Please stop. And if you don’t do it but your friends do, tell them to knock it off too. Or are you too scared of being called a pussy? Ho ho, the irony.
This post is dedicated to testosterone.
