Saturday, 5 October 2013
This is the Sound of One Voice (Part Two)
I started this blog with the words in this title. This blog is my voice, my dying breath, my outlet and my escape. So to be honest, I thought I was done with a subject I started a few days ago but I have been forced to dig a little deeper. You see for many years, I worked in health communications - which to many is as loathsome a profession as one could possibly pick - the "dark side", the "spin-doctor"...a massive step-down from the ethical high horse I sat on when I called myself a journalist in earlier years. I know the values I carried with me, the battles I fought internally, the principles I strived for in my work - but all of that is immaterial to anyone who looked at me from the outside with a snort of derision. You see my mom is worried that what I wrote may hurt the career of the man I talked about in these pages - and though I could have been describing any number of travellers that day and tried as much as possible to take out specific identifying information - I know there is likely a grain of truth in that. And who am I to judge - particularly from where I come from - what he did or didn't do in the name of his employer. But something about my own failing health has emboldened me to speak up - in a way I never dared to do in my working life. Something more powerful than my twinges of guilt is telling me I have a right to cry foul - that being silent has gotten me nowhere and that it is the principle of the thing - not the individual - that is most galling to me as a patient, as a tax-payer and as a human being. I am not a powerful person - I have no voice with the masses and no power to change my own life - let alone somebody else's. But I do have a story. It is hard to feel like you need permission to tell it - and not exactly comfortable or soothing when you do.