Walking into the hospital where I work this morning I noticed a sign telling anybody with respiratory tract infection symptoms to stay away, to avoid infecting patients. I walked past the sign with a small cough and then blew my nose at the first available discreet opportunity. It seemed like the sign did not apply to me; it only applied to the public. During my first hour at work today I noticed a physiotherapist with a cough and a healthcare assistant with a cold. The only person to bat an eyelid at my coughing for the last two weeks was a Sister. She rewarded me with a dirty look, but said nothing. Despite frequent hand-washing, the likelihood is that I was infected by a colleague and my inconsiderate behaviour will have in turn infected many of my colleagues. The next person to use this keyboard will probably be infected, as will many others afterwards. Why have I come to work then?

Abstract: This blog entry reflects on my experience as an occupational therapist treating a terminally ill patient and my lack of understanding of a doctor's and a palliative care team’s perspective.

Abstract: This blog entry reflects on my personal feelings of occupational alienation and how they were stimulated by the use of occupational alienation and occupational injustice as weapons in a foreign country. It provides examples of politically and internationally generated occupational risk factors. Finally it describes my self-treatment using the limited means I have. Luckily for me, those means are far less limited than those available to people in the country that inspired this blog. THIS BLOG INCLUDES PICTURES FROM WAR, INCLUDING DEATH. YOU MAY THEREFORE WISH TO AVOID READING IT. The pictures in the referenced material are much worse and are likely to shock most people, so think carefully before looking at material from the reference list. Thank you.