Predictive text on phones can cause no end of confusion. Some years ago every time I typed argh it came out as afgan. Jerome had the same issue. Messages and emails didn’t change the spelling. Everything that went wrong, which happened a lot , was afgan. Of course this was not directed at Afghanistan at all. But certainly came to mind this week. I’ll say something about that after a brief medical update.

On the medical front a frustrating call with Consultant Infectious Diseases. She is awesome. It was a phone appointment. Still no face to face. The decision was to stop my regime of self instilling gentamicin and self dosing with Fosfomycin, whilst waiting for culture results and antibiotics . This symptom control has been a success and has kept me going. But, she feels the risk of resistance is too high. It’s back to the symptoms and antibiotics. With my GP having moved onto to higher office which does not include clinical work, Ihave no GP. I managed to survive the lengthy call queuing service and survived the wrath of a Rottweiler reception team to secure an appointment with a GP who comes highly recommended. The appointment is phone. The date is a month hence. When asked what the appointment was for I randomly chose blood pressure. Wonder how many minutes the slot is for? My strategy is to keep it simple and request blood test forms and msu forms. If he refuses I’ll have to move to plan B. But I’m not sure what plan B is! Meanwhile knee is brilliant I can walk without it locking. Phew. Book is nearly ready, preface todo. Cartoons are done by my famous friend. Formatting to be done. Then it’s up and ready. I’ll let you know when.

Thinking about Afghanistan….In 1967 my father and I stood at the bottom of our garden in Tel Aviv. Unbelievably as we watched we saw the lights literally go out. Even the red aircraft warning lights. Another war had begun. My parents and we4 children were hustled to the airport. Amongst chaotic scenes we boarded a flight waving to the lonely figure of my father left behind on the airfield. We were the lucky ones to get out. Dressed in T-shirt’s and shorts we assisted the stewardesses as they were then known. The cabin crew as they would now be known, were fabulous and must have been exhausted trialling back and forth on rescue missions My older sister and I, gave out packets of peanuts(!) – that would be unlikely now. We also handed out model BOAC planes and generally had fun such is the innocence of children. This week then has brought floods of memories back to my parents. News of the incredibly swift collapse of the Afghan government has stirred up more stories for mum and dad. It’s a disaster an awful situation .

Our eldest served in Afghanistan when he was in the Marines. He has some horrible memories but some good ones too. He was so impressed that in the hospital at Bastion they treated Taliban, al Qaeda soldiers and UK/US soldiers side by side. He was also impressed that the nurses all wanted him to help move Tali/alQ patients …of course they did ..it meant a brief flirtation ( I use the word deliberately) with normality. For a moment!

It was my late friend, Patsie’s, birthday this week. Or would have been. . Raising virtual toasts to her family and friends her eldest wrote back. He had in fact served for many years in Afghanistan. This is what he said: I lit a candle in the Guards Chapel for mum…

…re Afghanistan…… I take solace in that we planted some seeds of hope out there. Perhaps one day they will enjoy a harvest. …The area was the home of the ancient Zoroastrian faith whose simple tenets were ‘good thoughts, good words, good deeds.’ We need to hold onto all three and not get lost in the first two!