Sanctimonious and Shameful

Two little Bangladeshi girls, both almost 3 years old, conjoined since birth by the head were separated today. Found in an orphanage, rescued by a well-meaning Australian, Moira Kelly of the "Children First Foundation".

Surgeons at the Royal Children's Hospital successfully separated Krishna and Trishna at 11am and after 32 hours of surgery, these little girls are now in intensive care at Melbourne's Royal Children's hospital and we wait to see if they recover.

I wonder about the ethical dilemma here. Had they remained in Bangladesh, they would surely have died. Unable to ambulate and showing signs of intellectual disability, in an orphanage that could not afford their care.

Nobody has mentioned the cost of the surgery or who's paying. We can only hope since they are not Australian nationals (for whom the surgery would have been free) that the charity will cover the expenditure or the wonderful doctors who performed it and the hospital which provided their facilities have given their services pro bono.

Either way, it makes me wonder, perhaps cruelly, about all the children who might have benefited from something more simple and less costly in a world where charity is dwindling thanks to the GFC and our perceived need to tighten our belts. Eye surgery, immunisation, occupational therapy to correct rickets, AIDS education and care or simply a fresh water pump in their village. Am I cruel for thinking that a glamour event with 25% success rate is denying other children a chance at a better life? I don't begrudge these little poppets their chance at life. I am grateful that a wonderful Australian charity has taken up their cause but I just wonder how you choose . . .who to save . . who to leave. Triage at it's most heart-wrenching.

Sanctimonious and ultimately shameful words from me, while I sit here with my cheapo chardy, dinner on the hob waiting for the family to return and plooking away on my computer. Me, who has just paid $185 because her stupid dog who eats better than most third world families, chose to eat a bee this morning at 7am and puffed up like a Sharpei before 7:45. So distraught was I about her plight, I didn't even take a photograph!

Not Lily but a damn good impression . . .

My priorities are so hypocritical. That's it. I'm doing something about it. I whine about having no money, working 45 hours a week, having recipes that cover a million ways with mince, complaining about not being able to sell my nest egg. I have absolutely NOTHING to worry about. My tap water is potable, I have hot water and a flushing toilet. I have a fridge, access to free health, fabulous cheap fresh food, a roof over my head and the necessities of life. For goodness sakes we have three cars between us - clapped out but working! I'm not flogging my horses to carry firewood or pull tourists around some middle eastern city or to provide food for the hungry although they're well fat enough!. They're just paddock bashing organic lawnmowers bought at a time when money was plentiful and whims were to be satiated. And if all else fails, they can be butchered and eaten! I have a dog that is on weight management dog food, I'm fat as a house and I sleep in a Queen sized bed ! Ashamed doesn't cut it.

"I iz itchy"

Today I am feeling fortunate that by nothing more than sheer luck of birth I was born into a middle class western family. Even the Troll Bitch cannot dampen my gratefulness . . . . my frustration, loneliness, lack of liquidity are absolutely meaningless compared to the trials of others who by some whim of fate ended up in places so much worse than me.

I hope these little mites make it and I hope others are driven to do something pretty special to help the less fortunate who are not brought into the limelight, no matter how small. I know that I am grateful for the things I have even if I whinge constantly for the things I don't.