A meatpacker bags the goods

Bagging the store

I visited my local Sainsbury’s to get a few essentials and late as it was, the crowds could be avoided, but that meant the brand of filtered whole milk I wanted was out of stock.

As I moved around the aisles wondering if I did need some other things including the pork pies I am trying to swear myself off, a taller man probably oblivious of my shorter stature, swung round to place 4 packs of meats on the shelf in front of me. Not wanting to be in his way, I moved on as he opened his rucksack and stuffed the packs in.

Strange, I thought as we would normally get a shopping basket and go to the self-service tills or the manned check-outs to pay for our goods. This looked like he was up to no good. Coming back up another aisle, he was packing other packets into his bag. It looked like he had come for a raid.

Not this time, chap

It got me thinking of why insurance premiums are increased year-on-year, not only due to inflation but for the abuse of insurance claims and criminal activity. I also notice how the prices of common goods go up by 5% or 10%, in the shop, maybe to cover losses due to thefts or to pay for the security staff who prevent them.

I was not going to intervene not knowing what this chap might be up to, having filled up his rucksack, he had a few things in his hands to have checked-out at a manned till, as if to suggest that was all he came to the store for. Unfortunately for him, an eagle-eyed scout had spotted his antics, so he was accosted at the till and asked to show the contents of his rucksack by the security guard.

Without much fuss, he emptied his rucksack, had it inspected and when he was relieved of all the goods, he was allowed to leave. Surprised, I was when I expected the police to be called. Then maybe rather than bother themselves with the unwieldy involvement of law enforcement and maybe their indifference to petty theft, they would just have taken a picture of the face and enforced a total ban on his returning to the shop.

It could get worse

One can only wonder where he might have brazenly and successfully raided a shop without detention. Nothing of what I saw him do was by stealth, he either thought he’ll wing it and give up on this store and try elsewhere when the staff or preparing to close shop and inattentive to customers playing funny games.

I could not call what he was doing shoplifting, there was too much involved, it looked like shop-bagging, my fear is with his size first and just a feeling of desperation, he might become daring and violent. At that point, I do wonder if letting him go lays in store a more dangerous bandit for the next time.

Opinion: Trumpcare is Trump cares nothing about you

A son’s promise

“I remember my mother. She was 52 years old when she died of ovarian cancer, and you know what she was thinking about in the last months of her life? She wasn't thinking about getting well. She wasn't thinking about coming to terms with her own mortality. She had been diagnosed just as she was transitioning between jobs. And she wasn't sure whether insurance was going to cover the medical expenses because they might consider this a pre-existing condition. I remember just being heartbroken, seeing her struggle through the paperwork and the medical bills and the insurance forms. So, I have seen what it's like when somebody you love is suffering because of a broken health care system. And it's wrong. It's not who we are as a people.” Barack Obama [Wikipedia]

The quote above was the personal life story that inspired what we all know as Obamacare, the heartfelt promise of a son to anyone whose mother, relation or themselves might be faced with the onslaught of illness that they do not have to worry about the bills and forms.

This is the human story

Just imagine, faced with a life-threatening illness and all you can think about is whether you have enough to meet the payments to keep you alive. “She wasn't thinking about getting well. She wasn't thinking about coming to terms with her own mortality.” Yes, Stanley Ann Dunham was struck down with cancer and she was dead within a year of the diagnosis.

When she died in 1995 just 23 days short of her 53^rd birthday, Barack Obama had not even begun his political career, he was only married 3 years and she never got to see her grandchildren, they came much later. In what might well be the conspiracy of fate, his grandmother died just two days short of the historic election victory of 2008.

The decline in my health

However, let us leave politics aside and touch on the human stories. By the time, I had finished my contract in April 2009, which was the peak of my career in earnings along with the attendant signs that my health was beginning to deteriorate, I paid no particular heed to the danger ahead.

In the third week of June, I had guests visiting from London and Hong Kong; on Sunday, the 23^rd of June, we went to Kinderdijk to see the World Heritage Site of windmills and on our way back, literally, all strength ebbed out of me as we walked from Rotterdam Harbour to the station. When my guests who stayed for a week left on Tuesday morning, I went back to bed and woke up with blisters down my left arm, I had come down with shingles.

That did not stop me travelling to Berlin the next day for the CSD celebrations, but by the time I was ready to return five days later, I was too weak to handle my own luggage, the airline check-in clerk had to come round to place my luggage on the scales, I was taken by wheelchair to the lounge and then by airside vehicle to the plane.

In Amsterdam, staff were on hand to assist me and ensure I just about crawled into my home, exhausted to the point of expiry. Alarm bells were ringing, but I could not hear them. The shingles disappeared within two weeks.

The salvation of insurance

Within 3 months of that, I was admitted to hospital with full-blown AIDS, a culture of self-medication, blind stoicism, religion and just soldiering on had brought me to the very gates of death. Meanwhile, I was earning nothing and chomping through my savings completely oblivious of the entitlements I had earned over almost a decade of working in the Netherlands, what was I to do?

In 2006, the Netherlands introduced compulsory health insurance, a sort of mandated single-payer requirement that was generally affordable. I had the basic cover, but when I fell ill, that basic cover went the whole way to pay for everything needed to get me well again.

As part of my treatment, there was an 18-night stay in the hospital, full-board, 7 sessions of chemotherapy, each chemotherapy dose at today’s prices is 8,735 euros, my pills were about 2,500 euros a month for the first 6 months and insurance took care of everything.

Everyone for the few

That is the mystery of insurance – “a practice or arrangement by which a company or government agency provides a guarantee of compensation for specified loss, damage, illness, or death in return for payment of a premium.”

The idea is that not everyone would need to resort to it, but if the need comes, it is there to bear the burden. Without it, I would have died in 2009. That I have taken out of the health insurance pool more than I have put into it is just a matter of providence and regulatory processes put in by the government that everyone has equal assess to treatment at the point of need rather than with a bag of means.

Everyone who owns a car pays car insurance, not everyone would have an accident, buildings all have insurance, not every building burns down or collapses. The many in caters for the few mishaps. No one balks at the car or building insurance and health insurance is such an unthinkable thing? Really?

It is about a shared humanity, not socialism

There are different implementations of health insurance in the West, but America fares the worst in the provision of such. Some see the idea of health insurance as provided in Europe as the pinnacle of socialism, industry and profits must thrive in the provision of health and healthcare without the dead hand of government directing it and therein is the animosity against Obamacare from the conservatives.

The brother’s keeper concept has been lost, the heart of understanding human privation has been lost to ideology and politics. The politicians themselves are fully catered for health-wise, it is the people who have been seduced by the rhetoric that would suffer, people who would never have the deep pockets to meet the costs if illness strikes.

You can be down, but never out.

Unlike Stanley Ann Dunham, I did not have to worry about any insurance costs, I kept up with my affordable insurance premiums and soon learnt many months after of my social security entitlements that could cover most of my bills. However, that was not before I had suffered other privations pertaining to sustenance. I was back to work just under 7 months after my diagnosis.

Blog - Thought Picnic: No pills for the bills

Health insurance saved me and that is one of the great successes of the European social model that is under threat of being ripped apart in the UK with the way our NHS is being badly run by the Conservative government.

When I was down, insurance and welfare held the fort until I was able to get back up on my feet. If I all I could do was face bills and fill in forms without the space to think either about getting well or prepare for my eventual demise, a ‘luxury’ never afforded Stanley Ann Dunham, I probably would not be here writing this.

This is evil and greed at work

The desire to repeal and replace Obamacare is manifestly evil, it is borne of rabid ideological extremism to feather the bulging nest eggs of the already stupendously filthy rich whose greed for more wealth at the expense of a more equal humanity can never be sated.

It has not been costed, it has not been risk-assessed, it has not been studied, it has just been voted through to claim a legislative victory without a single care for those who would be most affected. [BBC News]

To quote a headline “The GOP's health care bill is officially a gigantic tax cut for the rich. (USNews)” This is was President Donald Trump is heralding, there is much else to say apart from that fact that the human story of affordable healthcare has been lost to the Shylocks of the 21^st Century, they don’t just want a pound of flesh, they want your heart whilst it still beats cooked for breakfast and if you’re still breathing, your brains for dinner.

Trumpcare is Trump cares nothing about you.

Bucharest: The other journey of a case

I remembered

Last night, I picked up a pencil and recalled from memory 11 items I had packaged into my baggage the night before for my Easter holiday.

Whilst the list was not exhaustive, I was surprised I could remember when I got each of the items, where I bought them and how much I paid for them.

Worse still, it was the feeling that I really could not put a price on losing any of the items even if I was compensated with the full cost of replacing all of them as new. There is a whole experience that goes with getting things, the time, the place, the emotion, the joy or otherwise that cannot be relived along with the wear or tear that comes with that thing being in your possession.

This is what is called sentimental value, and I do not think anything can replace that, however, something might help accept the loss.

A man and his case

That however was part of the run of emotions that engulfed me with a prospect that I might never be reunited with my luggage again.

We left home together yesterday, as I made a note of the numbers on the rotary number locks of my case and had it checked it at the airport weighing just less than 12 kilograms.

The check-in clerk tagged the case and attached a “Priority” label whilst informing me that my case would be transferred onto the connecting flight in Paris where I had a stopover for the onward leg to Bucharest.

We left Manchester, 30 minutes behind schedule and when I arrived in Paris, the transit desk said my connecting flight was also delayed and that my baggage will definitely make the connection too.

Waiting in vain

At Bucharest, I stood at the carousel for almost an hour until the last piece of luggage was taken, mine did not show and so I went looking for the Air France – KLM baggage handling company. It was there I learnt my baggage did not make my flight and that it will be put on the next plane to Bucharest. Another assurance came; it will be delivered to my hotel at night.

Eventually, I found out when I took my phone off flight-mode that I had received an SMS Text Message that my baggage did not make the flight. Though I do wonder what the “Priority” tag really means. Giving you a sense of importance at the check-in desk whilst your baggage might suffer God knows what in transit.

Lodging a complaint

I filled in a “Property Irregularity Report” (PIR), there was nothing irregular about my case, it contained my personal effects and things you were not allowed to carry as hand luggage.

The PIR has a reference, your name, details of your itinerary, a coded description of the piece of luggage and the tag number. My baggage did not arrive and the handling company appeared not to care that much about it as the lady said, my case will probably arrive in the morning. I had to calm myself down.

Since I booked my ticket through KLM on their website and then changed it with the help of a KLM Customer Service Agent, I visited their website to make a complaint where I could not find a number to call. I posted a lengthy comment on their Facebook page and also tweeted at them on the advice of my best friend.

The helpful and the unhelpful

The Facebook response was more helpful whilst the Twitter account appeared to engage me before they decided it was none of their business, because the PIR was created in the name of Air France. Now, Air France and KLM have the same parent company, they are a merger that is more than a code-sharing arrangement apart from the fact that they are core members of the SkyTeam Alliance.

It saddens me that corporates are quick to cash in on your custom but are quicker to shirk responsibility when some customer service is required of them.

However, the KLM Facebook page provided a link that allowed me keep a trace on my baggage, it showed the originally intended flight and then the rescheduled flight and the route it was taking. I was able to use that information to determine the flight had arrived in Bucharest.

On its way

About 90 minutes after the flight arrived in Bucharest, we were already in next day territory, I received an SMS Text Message and email from Air France that my baggage will be delivered to the address of the hotel I was staying at. When I filed the PIR, I also provided my home address and there was a danger if the baggage was not found in 2 days, it will return to the UK.

This morning, I went down to the hotel reception and my baggage had arrived, the rotary number lock combination had changed from what I set it to when it was checked in.

I do marvel at the wonders of technology today, the way we were able to keep tabs on my luggage whilst it appeared to be lost in transit and the way the system eventually worked to get us reunited.

Some advice

Yet, there are lessons to learn from this interesting ordeal.

·         Never place items of high sentimental value in your cargo hold luggage if you can avoid it. What you do not have to travel with, you really do not have to travel it. If in doubt, leave it out.

·         Always take out travel insurance that covers your luggage because airlines have very limited liability, even though your baggage was entrusted to their professional care. There are many hand-offs in the chain, anything could happen. Airlines will probably advise you to contact your insurance company than have you commence a compensation claim against them.

·         Never put your essential medication in your cargo hold luggage, get a doctor’s note if you have to along with your prescription and have that in your hand baggage.

·         With the restriction of fluids on flights, you might want to get travel packs for toothpaste, morning goods and cosmetics to take through security.

·         Most importantly, knowing what to do when you lose your baggage is the greatest path to peace of mind, what you know, gives less of a bother.

Now, let’s discover Bucharest.

Thought Picnic: A little oncological banter

Age spans of cancer

The other day, I got talking with a friend who spent the early part of his nursing career first in a geriatric oncology ward and then in a children’s oncology ward.

We got talking, my memory quite fresh with the experiences I have had with cancer, the diagnosis, the treatment, my relationship with my consultant and prospects for continued survival.

As the conversation developed we talked about side-effects the time it took me to come off pain medication long after the pain had gone, just because it regulated other things that brought serious discomfort if I suddenly discontinued usage.

Managing treatments

I learnt that it was wise of me not to seek substitutes for those medications like methadone for all the combinations of medication that had both opiate and soporific qualities.

Then there was the problem with severe emesis that the chemotherapy brought on by the time I have had my fifth session that my doctor prescribed a set of anti-emetic pills. I had to take one just an hour before chemotherapy and one each day for the two subsequent days after chemotherapy – they worked a treat but as I said, they did not come cheap at all.

My friend then said none of my other medication compares in cost to the chemotherapy treatments I had and I had 7 of them all by reason of being covered by health insurance in the Netherlands because I doubt I would have had any cover for such in the UK without someone complaining about the cost and definitely not in the United States where insurance companies would have found every trick in the book to avoid paying up.

In Nigeria, I probably would have had a tombstone that loved ones would visit every October to lay flowers if so inclined or a memorial service of sorts until I’ve been a fondly remembered distant memory.

Therapies have great costs

I had seven courses of chemotherapy and one search on Google revealed I had a very costly treatment but one with the most manageable side-effects all coming to a shade under EUR 50,000.

If was not sitting down, I would have had to be resuscitated, I have been fortunate, blessed, lucky and spared, the society I live in has helped me beyond what I can ever be fully grateful for.

I am thankful, grateful, happy and encouraged that I have been given a really amazing new lease of life and despite the present difficulties of returning effectively to the job market; after what I have been through, I do have the capacity to come through this and more – I just have to continually encourage myself that the best is yet to come, I have much to do with whatever time I have left.

Let’s get living.

A sense of morbid anxiety

Peanuts in service terms

The other day, I was out with a friend to the Ghanaian restaurant in The Hague called Swingin’ Safari and it was quite an experience we would never want to repeat.

For the first time ever, we found that the service could be appalling and that was not just for us but to others too, it appeared the waitresses felt they were doing us favours by taking our orders and messing the orders with without apologising for their mistakes and more.

When it came to the bill, the brazen effrontery of it all was evident when one of them demanded a tip with the statement everyone gives tips when they pay.

I am probably generous to fault when it comes to tips but these people deserved nothing, weaknesses in the system were exposed very much compared the brigandage of the African Kitchen restaurant that we had long deserted in Amsterdam for a 50-mile journey to The Hague.

A present market space

These exotic places are watering holes for ethnically diverse groups from Africa and West Africa in particular, so it was with a sense of mirth that I picked up a leaflet advertising Multicultural funeral insurance – Yes, it would have translated to that.

Even after life there are ways I suppose we want our bodies to be treated and somehow it is best that matter is taken care of before someone else is landed with unexpected responsibilities, but in most cases, these events are unexpected.

The bill for a friend’s burial came to just under 3,000 Euros and that did not include the reception afterwards – a place for a memorial basically does not come cheap.

A background feeling

It is hard enough having medically-induced vivid dreams that cast one as the gatekeeper to the afterlife, but I have tried as much as possible until today not to observe closely the advertisement hoardings that hang on the pillars of the Amsterdam Central Station.

Some company is trying to persuade us all to prepare for our funerals, they are drumming up business in ways that made it look like one were preparing for holidays.

Do not forget your travel insurance it seemed to say, the travel insurance to the great beyond and suddenly you have a sense of morbid anxiety, hopefully not accompanied with a last laugh for untimely foreboding.