Thalidomide
Digging for gold
In a former life I was a researcher based at Edinburgh University – OK, I know, I know, yawn yawn, not exactly an opening gambit to inspire stimulating exchanges at a candle-lit dinner, is it? But I’ve so often in my writing life has cause to be very glad of that background; digging around for facts and verifications, detail and context, comes naturally.
This past week I’ve been rummaging far and wide in readiness for a meeting with a professorial friend of mine who might set me straight on matters paediatric – of which more anon. But in the course of my own ferreting I’ve rediscovered some treasure troves on my bookshelves. There’s a brilliant set of writers’ guides on a range of topics – especially about the how, where, who, what and why of crimes. They’re a useful starting point so I don’t look like the ultimate complete twat when I consult the real live professionals who do this stuff for a living, and who kindly home in on any little inaccuracy, transforming the passable to the really authentic storytelling.
And there, sitting quietly alongside those books, was The World’s Worst Medical Mistakes. It’s no earthly use for my current writing – nobody would believe these scenarios if I put them in my novels; truth definitely is weirder than fiction in this case. 
But I’m totally hooked by it, in a macabre, shivery, kind of way. We all place our trust in the medical fraternity at some point in or lives, don’t we? – in spite of Bernard Shaw‘s dictum that all professions are ‘conspiracies against the laity‘ ringing in our ears. But sometimes that trust can be misplaced. Big time. Just think Thalidomide, or Dr Shipman, or Dr Crippen, or those celebrities who end up with wooden faces or fish-pouty lips after so-called enhancement.
This fascinating book brings together real human dramas and catastrophic errors that curl the toes and make the blood run cold. Dangerous drugs unleashed on unsuspecting patients; the horrors of cosmetic surgery gone horribly awry; scalpels that inflicted major trauma; imposters and frauds and killers clad in white coats and phony qualifications; instruments left behind in body cavities … enough to make one suppress all symptoms of ill health for good and just go into a quiet decline safely under the duvet behind locked doors, with a DNR placard tattooed on your chest. But spine chillingly compulsive reading for a currently-healthy seeker after information!
What’s more, some of these fearful happenings took place in my lifetime. Hmmm. Worse still, when I was in clinical practice. There but for the grace of God … But add that to the historical catastrophes, and I’m devoutly thankful I live in the 21st century in a well-regulated society, and that I’m no longer responsible for other people’s lives and health.
As for my professorial friend. Wow! He didn’t just give me a wealth of information about paediatric parameters and drugs and symptoms and the fine machinations of the medical consultant’s mind when faced with a conundrum in a little patient who can’t speak for himself. No, in reality he actually helped me thrash out a convincing storyline for my upcoming thriller. Fabulous input. I just hope no one else in the cafe was listening in to our devious and dastardly plotting – we were really into our roles!!
Shaking the Foundations
There’s nothing like a major disaster for putting things into perspective, is there?
Events in Haiti this past week have shown a tragedy on a scale beyond imagining. And they totally eclipse some of my current concerns – final editing of my forthcoming book; safety on the icy roads; wallpapering our staircase. When thousands of people are without homes or loved ones, water or medicines, why would anyone worry about a displaced comma or the style of an acronym? When whole communities lie in ruins, who cares if wallpaper is spirit-level straight? When people lie crushed beneath collapsed buildings, broken wrists and ankles seem like small fry. Yes, Haiti has had a profound impact.
It was the same with the Boxing Day tsunami, the collapse of the twin towers, the Lockerbie disaster, the Dunblane massacre … Overwhelming reactions. A compulsion to do something. Yes, we pledge money; prayers have a new earnestness; a few dedicated people may actually go to the danger zone to give their all; we set ourselves new priorities. But then … we move on, we return to our complacent lives, dwell on our own concerns, pursue our own trivial ambitions and dreams. Our species just can’t live their lives at such a peak of intensity. So I want to reflect before the spotlight fades.
Haiti has flicked the switch, but other things have happened during this past few days which have helped to focus the glare, and reminded me of important truths.
- A friend died suddenly and unexpectedly – how important it is to say all the things we want to say now, before it’s too late.
- The official apology to the victims of the Thalidomide tragedy came 50 years after the event – a sincere ‘Sorry’ means a lot.
- The new TV Book Club aired its first episode on More4 – anticipation is often more fun than realisation.
- A 59-year old woman is set to become the oldest to be offered fertility treatment in the UK – just because we can doesn’t mean we should.
- A former nurse is on trial for assisting her daughter to die – these cases highlight the horror when every choice is a tragic choice; the victims need our sympathy not our judgement.
I’ve just made the very last correction to the final draft of Remember, Remember. The last vestiges of the snow are melting. And the staircase is finished. But the devastation of Haiti will reverberate for years. I hope its impact on me will last too.