Spieglein an der Wand

The Department of Health in Britain have put forward the view that all men over the age of 50 should be on medication to bring down cholesterol.

Last week however, we were told that new research was suggesting that lower cholesterol was a contraindication in cancer. So, put another way, low cholesterol can increase the risk of cancer, OR that taking statins can increase the risk. The increased risk didn't seem that great to me, but still, to say that all men over the age of 50 should be given statins is to say that they should be given a medication that may increase their risk of cancer. It would however, lower their risk of stroke or heart disease.

I don't have any problem with the idea of the 'nanny state', I feel that it goes hand-in-hand with the welfare state. But I do think that people should have more choice about how they want to die, or more to the point, of how I want to die.

Cancer seems more horrible than heart attack or the stroke that actually kills you. However it seems potentially less horrible - depending on the type of cancer - than stroke that doesn't kill you.

Now I am also focussed on a topic I've touched on many times before. Dementia. Kevin's aunt has now reached a stage where she has been hospitalised again and should be in her endgame, but her physical health has been good for most of her life, so she could continue to live in this state of fear and loathing where she is caught up in the nightmare of her own existence for who knows how long.
She has always been a woman who is full of fun and good humour and now, and now.... What dignity is there for her? I hate that we afford animals more mercy than those we love.

I watch myself ageing in the mirror and I watch with interest. Like the stepmother in Schneewittchen,
'Spieglein, Spieglein and der Wand, wer ist die Schönste im ganzen Land?' but unlike her, I'm not sure I care very much. Oh I share some of her concerns, about being side-lined because of no longer being young, in spite of my experience, skill, knowledge. But I don't blame the young for that.

And yet, that in itself worries me. Is it a symptom of a greater malaise? Will I stop worrying about equality and the environment, about democracy and freedom for all?

As I sit in the silver behemoth with the air conditioning letting someone else drive, I feel comfortable and safe.
But when I'm in the driving seat of our little red car, listening to the engine so that I know when to change gears, swearing and cursing at other drivers who drift across the lanes with their zombie stares as they talk into their cell phones, and when I walk, pissing and moaning about the lack of pavements, that's when I feel alive.