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Weekend reading: Don’t get ill

My regular Saturday comment followed by this week’s blog and financial site links.

I missed doing the Weekend Review last Saturday due to being away for work, and then by Sunday I was coming down with flu. By Monday I was dying good and proper, as only a man with a cold can.

Health is the most precious thing in this life. A cliche I know — if you want to stitch it into one of those wall hangings old people used to hang above their beds, perhaps with a picture of a dozing dormouse, be my guest. It’s true.

I would give all my wealth for the guarantee of never being ill again (perhaps reluctantly compromising on some termination clause, such as a piano dropping on my head or a date with the proverbial bus).

If you don’t feel the same, you probably haven’t been ill recently. The speed with which your world closes in is always shocking. And the clarity and sparkle of the world as you return to health seems like special effects.

Inevitably, I thought of my father.

Long-suffering readers may remember he had a heart attack this time last year, went into a coma, then recovered slowly to plateau at about the physical strength of a 90-year old man (he’s late 60s), with a mental age that could vary from all the wisdom of those years down to the logic of a 4-year old.

The last couple of months have been about decline. He suffers strange things, such as his hands curling up like claws — he can only use two fingers on each, and that thanks to a daily massage from my mum. Various doctors are stumped.

We also think he had a mini stroke last week. He’s more confused than ever.

On a brighter note, we got the result of a scan that says he hasn’t got tumors in his lungs. New lumps are in his bones, which is apparently better. On the other hand, he’s too weak for the open heart surgery that prompted the scans. And his doctor doesn’t think the risk and hardship is worth it, given his likely lifespan.

The thought that my dad won’t walk back out into the metaphorical sunshine like I have in the past 24 hours is terrible. But that’s the deal with old age, I guess. There’s no point taking it personally.

I try to avoid writing about my father too much but I genuinely could write that money is not the point [1] every week. On this, a financial blog.

That’s not why you come here though, and in truth it’s not what I spend the week thinking about either. Life goes on.

But if money — which gives us more options, freedoms, health care, food, novels — is not the point, then cheap designer tat, having a better holiday than your friends, and driving a brand new car certainly isn’t, either.

And so on we go, Monevators!

From this week’s personal finance blogs

Other interesting financial and money articles

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