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Wherein I give up on babycenter.com

September 2nd, 2010 — 03:54 am

When I was pregnant, I’d look at babycenter.com on a weekly basis because it gave me an idea of what Julian was doing in there. I continued to look at it every fortnight or so after Julian was born because it continued telling me things about my developing human. I’ve been feeling bad lately because since being born, Julian’s been carted down to London, over to Pittsburgh, over to Philadelphia twice, flown to Utah, driven back to Philadelphia etc etc. He’s had little routine and no toys and little floor time because we couldn’t commit to spending $ on a rug to cover our very hard floors. I realised while in Utah that Julian was bored sometimes. He liked toys, so I started trying to think of what three month old babies were entertained by. Rattles? Mobiles? Sudoku? I went to babycenter.com the other day and clicked on something that said ‘Games to Play with Three Month Olds’. It took me to a new page with this picture and an opening sentence telling me to put a phone to Julian’s ear and pretend we were on the phone to each other.

I can’t decide whether that baby is crazy from gossip, or from having cell-phone signals beaming through it’s brain. Either way I’m not smashing a cell phone into Julian’s face no matter how much I’m dying to ask him if he could recommend a good hairdresser/catch up on the latest.

2 comments » | Everyday, I Dislike

Critical mass is alive and well in Philadelphia.

September 2nd, 2010 — 01:53 am

I witnessed a giganta-flock of cool kids on fixed gears (some sporting boomboxes – dead serious) swarming Center City the other night. A little baffling since Center City is already bike-friendly. Irony’s in right now though I guess.

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Here’s the tree that wanted to squash us in Philadelphia:

June 30th, 2010 — 09:14 pm

Dramatic storm. Glad to be alive and not smushed into the cloth seat of a Honda.

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3 Lions on a Yurt

June 12th, 2010 — 07:40 pm

Andy’s watching Julian and the pre-game ramble for the UK vs. USA game so I’m taking this hands free minute to put some keyboard time in.

It took us almost thirty hours to complete a fourteen hour trip because our flightline tacked fifteen+ hours of travel time onto our itinerary in the name of Technical Problems. Surprisingly, our luggage didn’t get misrouted to Oslo, Julian didn’t projectile vomit over fellow passengers, and I got a new high score on the inflight console while playing Bejeweled.

I feel topsy-turvy about being back in PA. After driving around Franklin for a few minutes I started feeling like the last year of my life was little more than a dream. Then I felt empty and homesick having left England again. Then I felt excited about moving to Philadelphia. Then I decided that I was experiencing such inner turmoil that I should go and write a ballad about it on a cheap acoustic guitar and perform it at a coffee house open mic night. Really though. I feel rather upside down at the moment.

I’ve left England a couple times now but I think this was the hardest. The first time I moved away from England was when I left home, and I think I was too consumed with thoughts of 24-Hours Diners and Free Refills to grasp the meaning of the move. This time, knowing I may not get back for a really long time, I felt strange about it. I don’t really get what I miss about England itself. As Dara O’Briain pointed out, England is a country that puts stock in a tabloid sporting several pairs of fake breasts on a daily basis. Quality news right there. I haven’t processed precisely how I feel about moving back to the US yet so here’s a bunch of photos. Wouldn’t want the lull in conversation to feel awkward while I process how I feel about the recent move.


(Abbey Village as viewed from the wing-mirror of an ancient Nissan Micra)


Andy driving the back roads around Brinscall. He had zero problem driving on the left at 4 lane roundabouts.


Withnell Fold Villge


Me in Withnell Fold stocks for looking ugly. No really. Not sleeping because you’re packing or looking after a baby can do that to you.

‘God Save the Queen’ just started playing at the stadium on TV. The English are so nuts. Everyone slags off the UK for sucking until we play football, and then you’ve got St. George dangling from every window on every council estate and people being treated for headbutt wounds in A&E all because they dared to vocalise doubts on winning the world cup. WHICH WE HAVEN’T in a bajillion years. Also strange, USA footballers all kind of no-namers but England’s team are a bunch of quasi-celebrities. We just scored by the way. I was going to yell ‘GOAL? ONE NIIIIIL!’ at Andy but I suspect his reply would be “INDEPENDENCE? ONE NIIIIIL!’. I’m going to go watch this and gloat in silence. I’ll resume my emo posts about homesickness when we’ve spanked the US of A.

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Maternomorph.

April 28th, 2010 — 06:20 pm

Because the internet holds answers to most of life’s most important questions (special shout-out to YAHOO! ANSWERS), and currently my most pressing question is ‘When Will This Baby Arrive?’, I started blindly googling around with phrases like ‘STUPIDLY OVERDUE’ and ‘PREGNANT FOREVERRRR’.

Only 20% of that last sentence is remotely true. I actually used a Magic 8 Ball and came up with the answer: ‘The Future Is What You Make Of It’. Also untrue.

Truth is, I’m kind of tired of being pregnant and sick of the NHS’ incompetence, so I was looking for information on being overdue/induction on AMERICAN WEBSITES so I could get the complete skivvy on what should be going on with me. Take that, Britannia.

I went to ‘babycenter.com’ instead of ‘babycentre.co.uk’ and accidentally clicked on ‘36 weeks pregnant’ instead of ‘41 weeks’ and somehow started reading about something called Group B Strep (GBS). The internet is a terrible place for malingering hypochondriacs since you can easily convince yourself you’re going to die just by searching for something as innocuous as ‘Bruise On My Big Toe’, so generally I take all health-related stuff on there with a pinch of salt, but this GBS thing was stressing me out a bit. Group B Strep is a bacterium existing in 33% of adults and it does us no harm but can prove fatal to foetuses or babies. The bacteria can kill a baby, or present itself as meningitis (which has its own ballpark of fatalities and grim consequences). I figured that since medicine has figured out how to combat meningitis itself, they must have some way of preventing GBS hurting a baby and sure enough they do: a course of antibiotics. Genius.

Relieved and thinking ‘Well, at least there’s ONE pregnancy disaster that it entirely preventable’, I set about searching for how you get tested for GBS so that if I have it, I can make sure I get the antibiotics. I thought about ringing the ante-natal clinic but since they hassle me if I want so much as check-up, I figured I could just do some internet mumbo-jumbo and sure enough, I found the answer online: it’s a simple swab test.

Easy, yes?

No.

The USA (and even Canada with their socialised system) routinely test maternomorphs for GBS because it can kill babies YET IS ENTIRELY PREVENTABLE. Even France and Spain routinely test for it and the testing is highly successful: (it was found that routine screening brought the rate of GBS infant infection down by 86% in Spain). But of course, the NHS will not screen for GBS. Not only do the NHS refuse to screen for it, but they don’t even tell people it exists. Apparently around 9/10 first-time mothers in the UK haven’t even heard of GBS So to recap, 33% of women carry GBS, a bacterium that has potential to kill their baby but is completely treatable with cheap antibiotics, but the NHS will neither screen for it or even educate people about it’s existence?

So why don’t the NHS routinely screen maternomorphs for GBS since it’s treatable if detected? For the same reason they outsource MRI scan results to Bulgaria, take six months to get someone with a ruptured disk within ten miles of a specialist, and heavily advertise how important it is to react in a timely manner to someone having a stroke yet fail to get 3/4 stroke victims administered to appropriately within 48 hours of being hospitalised: it all comes back to cost. Herein lies a prime example of why government regulated healthcare actually equals government rationed healthcare, and you best had believe that it is not rationed in the publics favour.

The NHS’ official stand on why they don’t test for GBS is because it’s not ‘cost effective’. NICE (National Institute of Clinical Excellence… good one) and the Department of Health claim two reasons for why they won’t test for it: the test the NHS uses is only 50% accurate, and since only 33% of women have GBS, it’s not cost-effective to use such an inaccurate test to screen every maternomorph for GBS.

What they don’t tell you is that the test they use (the HVS) IS A JOKE – no country routinely testing for GBS uses such a stupid test. There is an alternative and much better swab test available. That test would cost the NHS £10 per person which sounds like a lot, but would save them £37 Million in not having to hospitalise and treat babies who end up contracting meningitis from GBS-ridden mothers and the likes and would reduce the contraction of GBS in newborns by around 80%.

Maybe I’m missing something here, but is it not completely deranged for a so-called ‘first-world country’ to be entirely aware of a potentially deadly infection, easily remedied with something as cheap as antibiotics, and do absolutely nothing about it because it’s not ‘cost-effective’, even though it actually is in the long run?

I met with a midwife today because even by the NHS’ due date for me, I am overdue. I asked her politely to please test me for GBS. She told me she couldn’t because it wasn’t ‘routine’ but not to worry because if I had it, it was easily treated with antibiotics. I said, sure, but how can you know to treat someone with antibiotics if you haven’t even tested them for the infection. She said ‘The NHS requires that I tell you that if they thought GBS was a particularly dangerous infection, they would test everyone’… What? She repeated the line about the NHS’ official stand on why they refuse to test (Thanks, Big Brother) and suggested vaguely that I go private to alleviate my worrying and make sure that if I did have it, I could get the antibiotics to stop it from harming the baby.

So. If you live in the UK, you get to pay extortionate taxes for teenagers to get their stomachs pumped ever weekend, or for that transgender woman to have a penis implant, or for an eighteen year old girl who cites ‘lack of confidence’ as a reason for getting her boobs enhanced, her nose done, and her browline altered, but you can’t so much as get a £10 test for a basic infection that could kill your baby unless treated with something as basic as penicillin. No wait, you CAN get that test, but you have to go private and pay 3x more for it instead. Mmmm! Who doesn’t love government rationed healthcare?

6 comments » | I Dislike, Maternomorph, Rant

I did a number on this site

April 19th, 2010 — 10:38 pm

I well and truly scuppered this site. I’ll fix it when I can face sitting at a computer again.

1 comment » | Bad Decisions, I Dislike

Pillow talk?

April 10th, 2010 — 05:03 pm

I do not understand how people sleep well when their heads are underneath pillows. It’s like Smothering Lite.

2 comments » | I Dislike

Popkins

April 7th, 2010 — 06:17 pm

I was trying to find a paper on the five dimensions of personality written by a guy called Popkins. I blindly googled ‘POPKINS’ (I’m running out of academic steam) and found this. “Ice-Monsta” anyone? I particularly liked the testimonials page where people like Anne. C said things like ‘These Popkins (registered trade mark copyright XTREME) really work!’.

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I ended up with a haircut. It’s super short.

March 30th, 2010 — 11:48 pm

Pro:
Not having that gross hairlength where it’s just past your shoulders
Con:
Looking like a total mum

I lay the blame with Jeeves.

Comment » | Bad Decisions, Everyday, I Dislike, I Like

Fashion Week

February 26th, 2010 — 05:13 pm

I hate Vivienne Westwood’s “Charity T-shirts”. They remind me of the cheap t-shirts sleazy Italian men sell on stalls in Italian tourist traps with photo-genitalia splayed over the ‘appropriate’ body location. I also think that any idiot can scrawl CLIMATE CHANGE! and HAITI! over a black shirt and call it good. What a load of rubbish.

While I’m on the topic of fashion, my professor was talking about fashion as creativity this week during lecture. He brought up the suicide of McQueen and was talking about creativity vs. manufactured arts and said, with a straight face: “not that I care to know much about fashion, I suppose”. If it weren’t for his black-and-maroon paisley brocade pants, pointy leather boots, oversized white shirt, Chanel cufflinks, and a well-fitted suit jacket with a flowery kerchief around his neck, I might have believed him.

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