The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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Location: Kilcullen (Phone 087 7790766), County Kildare, Ireland

Tuesday, October 23, 2018

scene

Hunched at a table surrounded by creative detritus, bits of poems, song parodies, religious maunderings, occasional pseudo scientific speculations.
It is late.
I am haggard. (Though in a ruggedly handsome Charlton Heston sort of way, I think you'll agree.)
I have been searching for causalities for Parkinsons Disease.
As per usual I'm rooting through the environment, the emotional, something that's been missed because the pharamaceutical companies and their prime colonial possession the medical profession can't make money out of it, unhealed wounds, bitchy spouses, drug use, familial stuff, hostile housing estate living conditions, whatever.
Now you see me staring into the darkness.
Looking again briefly at some case histories on my desk.
Then.
"No! No. No. The fools. No."
Very like Charlton Heston staring at the statue of Liberty half buried in sand and realising at last the destructive evil of remorseless human vanity.
The question that had crystalised for me was this.
Would the medical profession when dealing with people being treated for cancer, subject them to a post operative chemo and radiation therapy treatment mandated only to reduce the risk of a recurrence of cancer, but often harsher on the patient than any of the cancer treatments they have already had, would the medical profession do this without having first having verified that the said chemo and radiation therapy does not cause Parkinson Disease?
They wouldn't.
Would they.

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