we have all the time in the world

There is a new type of party game based on musical chairs.

The rules are simple in that everyone goes about their business as usual.

Whilst it is known the music is about to stop, the players pretend not to be paying attention. They continue the slow waltz.

Aside from a little jostling, most players studiously seek to appear to ignore each other whilst simultaneously making subtle movements. Each are looking to maximise their chances in the scramble. A few try to slow down the music and others attempt to reserve their own seat. Some are teaming up.

One extra rule is that players must voice platitudes and the occasional empty promise. All whilst shuffling around, keeping one eye on the prize.

As with all games, a few of the players start off disadvantaged. They are set to be the first round losers. Tuvalu I am looking at you here and Maldives, pick up your game.

But this game has a twist though.

There is no winner. Everyone loses.

There won’t actually be a final chair…

Welcome to climate change. Everyone is playing it!

Part of www.blogactionday.org for Climate Change

duty of care

As Al Jourgensen’s 90’s Industrial heroes Ministry once implored, “Never trust a junkie’.

I can’t say that I ever gave too much consideration to this advice on account of a) it being quite obvious and b) never being in a position to need to.

On a recent illness induced trip to the emergency ward of St. Vincents at 1am on a Monday morning however, it was these words that kept coming to mind. Well, that and ‘duty of care’.

The ER really is no place to experience sober but how much easier would the lives of the people working there be if more people were?

It was a reasonably busy night and pretty long wait made even longer by one individual. He was on what must be a pretty regular attempted procurement stop, with his dilated pupils, swollen DVT leg, general incoherence and swearing. Every so often his partner would appear for moral support, mutual swearing, arguments, inappropriate touching, or to pop outside for another smoke.

As luck would have it they remained in (too) close proximity over the next 4 hours as we progressed through the waiting and treatment areas in a similar timeframe.

Now junkies aren’t subtle at the best of times and our unfortunate parallel lines ensured a full watching brief. Interestingly, given his difficulty in making sentences that made sense, his encyclopaedic knowledge of high impact hospital grade pharmaceuticals was thoroughly impressive.

When he wasn’t demonstrating this in various pleadings to nurses, doctors and any other person passing by in scrubs, it was all shifty eyes, looking for the opportunity to light-finger anything within reach.

Prior to an anonymous tip to the nursing staff the haul included a tourniquet, gloves and other generic sundries.

It could be that Ministry’s advice does constitute part of the ER educational syllabus though. The primary goal was never reached and he was dispatched swearing into the night with only DVT medicine and a reminder that the methadone clinic would be open in a few hours time.

This incursion over and the staff went back to their myriad other duties with the weary knowledge that the same act would play out again, if not the next night then the night after that. Repeat to fade.

Of course it was just another night in the ER: the tired staff; the overpowering stench of inebriation emanating from the pores and breath of battered faces; the police taking statements; the recriminations and accusations; the ambulance crews wheeling in the next case; the people on the front line.

All of humanity on display. The best and the worst.