A little perspective; dead man writing

MARTIN Luther King once said that if a man did not have something to die for, then he should not be living. I often think of this quote from a great man - in fact I thought about it before I had cancer and wondered what in life could be so valuable. I know now that everything is worth dying for: family, friends, happiness, my own peace of mind. I could go on. I often get so caught up in my life that I forget that other people's lives exist.

I found out, quite by accident, that a very close family member had visited the Royal Infirmary because she had found a lump in her breast. This relative is strictly of the old school, brought up during the Second World War, never going to the doctor unless it was a major emergency. She went to the infirmary herself, had the mammogram (which I understand to be a fairly traumatic experience) and then waited for five hours, without so much as a cup of tea or coffee, only to be told to return the next week for the results.

So she has to walk the Green Mile until her next visit. Only this time my mum and dad, veterans of dealing with the health service, will be there with her to make sure no time is wasted and that she is not shunted into a dreary waiting room to spend an afternoon staring at posters warning of flu, TB and the like. I do not blame the nurses or ancillary staff. The problem lies right at the top of the NHS.

Just seven months ago, the Scottish minister for health, Susan Deacon, announced a scheme to extend breast screening for cancer for the over-65s. This programme has now been postponed for at least two years, a piece of nonsense when you consider it could save around 250 women's lives per year, by screening thousands of women in the target age group.

Instead of going right ahead, the Scottish Executive decided to set up a taskforce, to examine whether this was achievable. Is it just me or does this seem stupid? Would it not make more sense to have the taskforce examine the validity of the proposal before going public with such a grand statement of intent? This smacks of electioneering gone wrong to me, and further erodes the health minister's reputation.

The taskforce report recommends that the extended screening programme should not begin until at least 2003, well after the election. From being an apolitical slacker, I am becoming a well- versed politics-watcher, able to discern spin from substance. It is a medical fact that older woman are more prone to breast cancer, so would it not make sense to screen from the other side?

This is a tried and tested method for screening cancer, the stuff of life and death, and it shouldn't be used as a political pawn. Yet these recommendations come just months after Susan Deacon used the breast cancer screening programme as an election promise, supposedly a key measure in the ongoing fight against cancer.

From my point of view, cancer is not a political football. It's a daily reality and decisions like this affect me and my family. Deacon looks to me like an ideal mouthpiece for headline-grabbing electioneering, but when it comes down to the actual implementation, to staff, machinery and investment, she is yet to deliver.

Away from politics, I had a reunion with two friends whom I had not seen since our school days. It was funny to hear about how their lives had developed since we had lost touch.

We all had aspirations of university and then a good job. I wanted to work in London or even further afield, perhaps New York. We all had big plans but, to be honest, how many people know what they want to be when they are 15?

This week I met a nice guy who has always wanted to join the police force. He is now on secondment in Arran, one of the island's police officers, but he is one of very few people I have met who knew what they wanted to be and actually followed it through.

At the age of 15, when you are forced to choose your subjects, you are just too young and immature to make the career-shaping decisions that are foisted upon you. In our school magazine, after your photo they listed your intended career. I would love to know just how many of us made it to our intended career. I know I didn't.

The American system, where you are basically in high school until you are 21, is a far better option. After last year's debacle with the grading process, would it not make sense to revamp the education system, so that teenagers can make an informed choice about their future, rather than a decision based on pipe-dreams influenced by friends, television or parents?

Despite having cancer, I feel that now, aged 30, I would be mature enough to choose a career. The only problem is that not many vacancies exist for terminally ill candidates. No matter how smart they areYou can email Jonathan at [email protected]

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