Can Lebanon finally tame Hezbollah?

From Wiktor Moszczynski, 88 Isambard Court, Paddlers Avenue, Brentford TW8 8FP. Tel 07786471833 Dear Editor, Is there not another player who is being overlooked over the succesful raid on the late Hassan Nasrallah's HQ, referred to in your front page article on "Israel's warning to Iran" (28.09.24). For decades the warring native factions in the Lebanese government have been dreaming of eventually getting rid of Hezbollah's presence, which permamently leaves their country open to Israeli attacks. If not now, when Hezbollah is leaderless and with its internal communucation systems destroyed, and with Iran in a state of panic, then when? Yours faithfully Wiktor Moszczynski

Why I volunteered for a stoma pouch

Maggie's Centre, Charing Cross Hospital When I met the surgeon at St Mary’s Hospital, I was not ready for her sucker-punch. “We have to cut it out. All of it.” “All? All what? “The large colon. All of it.” I was stunned. “Does it have to be all?” “Yes, and the anal canal, as well. Up to and including the rectum.” Yet only three minutes before she had said reassuringly, “You do not appear to have cancer yet in your colon.” So far so good, I thought. “But,” she continued relentlessly, “you have high grade dysplasia cells (what??) along the whole length of the large colon. According to past practice, these cells will almost inevitably become cancerous. It has been building up in your colon over the past year or so because the inflammation of your cells has lasted for so long. As you know, you have had Crohn’s Disease, or ulcerative colitis, over the last twenty-five years. Well, the cells are now too weak to resist a cancerous growth.” “What other option do I have?” I asked. “Well, you can do nothing at all, and continue with your current treatment. However, then the NHS can do nothing more to prevent you from getting cancer.” As I reeled from this information, a sudden alarming thought occurred. “Then, if I have the operation, will I have to wear a colostomy bag?”. I could scarcely pronounce the word. She nodded. How long for? “Forever”. It felt like a death sentence. I only knew a couple of distant acquaintances who had worn stomas, but I did not know the details of how they lived and had never discussed it with anyone in the past. Living with such a bag seemed like some kind of life changing disaster, like going blind or losing a limb. This may have happened to other people, but (thank the lucky stars) it was not supposed to happen to me or someone close to me. So this was like a bolt out of the blue. I had merrily laboured with my Crohn’s Disease over the last decades. I had been told that the disease was incurable, but manageable. ”Your back passage is still a little angry today,” commented the head doctor, a description that had my female colleagues at work in stitches. I could live with that. The disease was an irritant, true, but at least it was painless, despite its uncertainties. The condition had caused me to undergo hospital infusions every six weeks, and the pleasure of a colonoscopy every two years, but this way of life seemed acceptable and bearable in the long run. I could imagine it continuing in the same way unchanged far into the future. True, Crohn’s could be treacherous at times, with its occasional urgency taking you by surprise, especially when your self-control might relax as you neared a restroom. It left me embarrassed every now and again, as on a bus, or on the high street in Tunbridge Wells, or in the middle of the Alexanderplatz in Berlin. I had become a past master on clearing myself up afterwards to disguise the mishap. In fact, I described living with Crohn’s Disease with a certain relish in my travel journal “Chasing Phileas Fogg: 80 Days on the Borealis”. I am 77 years old, but the Crohn’s did not prevent me from working for a Chamber of Commerce two days a week, or going to the gym, or having a very busy schedule for my work in the Polish community. It did not stop me and my wife going around the world last year on an 80 day cruise. However, in November I had seen the head of the Gastroenteritis Clinic in Hammersmith Hospital for what, I thought, would be another routine appointment monitoring my progress with the Crohn’s. As I came in, he looked kind of sad and shook his head gloomily. “I’m afraid,” he told me, “I have given you this treatment for as long as I could, but now we need to find more drastic solutions. We have observed the possibility of cancer, following the results of the latest colonoscopy samples we have taken. This may require some surgery,” he said ominously. He recommended an appointment for me at St Mary’s in Paddington with a surgical team. And so, I found myself in the presence of this lady surgeon with her alarming announcement as she metaphorically displayed her scalpel. “Some surgery” indeed! The new advice was such an unexpected body blow that I was left with a dilemma. Should I take this radical step to prevent a cancer which may, or may not, have yet invaded my cells? Or should I tough it out and carry on as before? Many of my friends counselled against surgery, although my wife felt that perhaps the surgical option had a certain logic to it. I read up the literature on it. What did wearing a stoma, or colostomy bag, entail? Well, firstly a colostomy bag is the wrong description for my case. That would have applied if only part of my large bowel had been affected and only that part of it had to be removed. In my case the whole of my large bowel or colon would be removed, my rectum sealed up and my waste would pass through the small bowel directly into a little plastic pouch attached firmly to my torso. This would be called an ileostomy bag. It would consist of a grey coloured leakproof plastic pouch with a simple velcro seal at the bottom. I would be able to empty it, when necessary, some five to eight times a day, and then change the bag every other day or so. It would be a lifetime commitment. There would be some nurses at a stoma unit in my local hospital to supervise my progress and arrange for my supply of fresh bags and other necessary accessories to make those regular changes. Otherwise, I would be on my own. It sounded dreadful. What were the dangers, apart from the obvious? An operation is always risky. There would be an uncomfortable stay in hospital. The brochure helpfully listed the risks, whether common, less common, or rare. Luckily most were in the rare column, but these could include hernia, wound infection, nerve injury, sexual dysfunction (oh dear!), significant bleeding, blood clots, abdominal fluid collections, and finally something headed briefly as simply - “death”. On the other hand, the operation, which is helpfully called a laparoscopic panproctocolectomy, is not exactly the cutting edge of surgery and it would remove the risk of developing cancer of the colon. There would be no need for chemotherapy, no long-term pain or risk of eventual death from cancer. For my surgeon it was a fairly standard operation, under general anaesthetic, and she would normally be able to perform it through keyhole surgery. She would slowly be removing my infected large colon through my right side until she reached the link with the uninfected small colon. This would be allowed to protrude for an inch or so from my body, like a little red stump. She would then place the stoma pouch over that. I had this weird image in my mind of my surgeon slowly and patiently pulling out my one and a half metre long colon, hand over fist, wondering when she would finally see the link to the small colon pop out. Gotcha. And I would not be on my own. Some 200,000 people in the UK have a stoma pouch, including famous singers, comedians, surfers and other athletes. It would not prevent them from being active. I was told that I should be able in time to continue my work and my community activities as before. After all, Napoleon had a colostomy bag following a gunshot wound, and it did not prevent him from continuing quite a busy lifestyle, including coronations, mistresses and staging quite a few battles all over Europe. I took a deep breath and said to myself, “Alright, let’s do it!” Some of my friends urged me to wait, but I saw no need to delay. I did ask my GP earlier for a second opinion, but then let it go. I asked the surgeon to give me a not-too-distant date that would at least allow me to have a scheduled book launch for my latest publication which described our 80-day cruise around the world. After that I was committed. The day before the surgery a stoma nurse at Charing Cross Hospital explained many of the ins and outs of living with a stoma pouch and pinpointed a spot on my right side where she expected my small colon to emerge. She marked it with a black pen. When I got home, I took a selfie of my face and upper torso, with the mark of doom clearly visible. It was the last picture of my body without a stoma pouch. Next day, I turned up early in the morning in Charing Cross Hospital. A team of surgeons, doctors, anaesthetists, and nurses were ready for me. The operation lasted 7 hours. Staying in hospital for 8 days was a drag, but one I had expected. Initially I was linked to various 12-hour infusions, with a so-called Robinson’s bag draining my single kidney (I had once donated the other kidney to my wife), a cluster of cannulas on each arm, while my poor willy was intimidated into submission by a catheter collecting my pee. I could feel some hard discomforting stitches between my bum cheeks protecting my newly sealed rectum. My stomas were being drained regularly by the ever-patient nurses. Within a few days, prompted by my eager surgeon, the staff had removed the catheter and the Robinson’s bag. Emptying a stoma, and closing it up afterwards with a velcro seal, proved child’s play, if initially a little messy. The real problem was to learn how to change the stoma pouch by myself. My initial two attempts, supervised by a special stoma nurse, left me so stressed that I nearly fainted each time. However, I realised that this was something I had to overcome as I would be responsible for this procedure for the rest of my life. So, before the stoma nurse’s next visit, I lined up the necessary accessories. These included the new bag cut to size to fit the stump of the protruding small colon, the ice-cold spray to remove the old bag glued to my side, a bowl of warm water, three or more biodegradable dry wipes, a moist barrier film wipe in a little sachet, and the black plastic bag to collect the debris at the end. I placed them on my bedside tray in the order of their use with the opened black bag first. Then I took a photo of this array. After that, when the nurse arrived, I proceeded systematically to make the change. It took less than 2 minutes. I pressed down the sides of the stoma now sticking to my body. The pouch held firmly, like on a kangaroo. I was now the master. Obviously, there was still a lot to learn but my recovery was beginning. I was ready to leave the hospital and face the world. The initial aim was to ensure that my waste was not too watery. At first, while still in hospital, the contents would just pour out, but then I was barely eating and limited my food intake to soft things like soup and rice pudding. As soon as I had recovered my appetite and had moved on to more solid food, my output became thicker and left the bag more grudgingly. In time I had to squeeze it out, like toothpaste out of a tube. However, my diet had to change. I now had to cut the crust off my bread, and the skin off my fish or potatoes, avoid stringy and high fibre foods, peas and sweetcorn, raw fruit and veg, and items with pips like grapes and strawberry. I should choose white bread rather than brown, corn flakes rather than weetabix, tea biscuits rather than digestives, soft eggs rather than hard boiled. Apart from that I could eat most foods. But I should learn to chew them and eat them slowly. I should avoid driving a car for some 6 weeks, stop any strenuous exercise or lifting any weights, but otherwise be active. Within 24 hours of leaving hospital, I was indeed out walking, buying newspapers, meeting friends in cafes, travelling on a bus. For my wife’s birthday, two weeks later, we travelled by Elizabeth Line for a 3 day "dirty" weekend to a riverside hotel in Maidenhead. My manhood was thankfully intact. As for heavy shopping, my wife and I switched temporarily to ordering our main food through supermarket deliveries. This was the new reality. I had learned to change the pouch every day in the morning before breakfast. As my last intake of food would be the previous evening, the morning procedure was not normally interrupted by sudden spills from the stump of the remaining colon. By the way, for those interested, the output is normally odourless, unless I had eaten some pungent fish or curry. I tended to drink less alcohol, as this generally made my output watery. I could even sometimes smell the alcohol even if I hadn’t drunk a drop. It would probably have been after a rich ready cooked meal, like a ragu. The red wine content would have made itself known. I do not feel embarrassed by the pouch and its content when at work or in a pub or café, even though it might just occasionally gurgle softly, and it would not normally require emptying until the evening. Some domestic issues that arose in my experience. Those tight Armani jeans pressing on my stoma was not such a good idea. They had to go. I needed to buy some looser clothes, especially trousers. An alternative was to have three pairs of my current trousers shortened by about three to four inches, and then to wear them under the hips, reinforced by a pair of sexy black braces. A month after the operation I did have one relapse, when I suddenly felt faint and found myself vomiting violently. Things had calmed down by next morning. I’m not sure to this day what caused this relapse, except that I had probably been dehydrated while carrying a heavy bag of shopping over an extended period. After that, I always took care to drink at least a litre of water a day, sipped gradually between meals. The advice is not to gulp great amounts of water at once, not to drink during a meal, and not to drink too late in the day. Otherwise, you would find yourself peeing every hour or so at night and losing out on your sleep. Mind you, those occasional nighttime trips to the loo were interspersed with the most vivid and colourful of dreams. I learned to sleep on my back so as not to crush my pouch. My wife had to put up more often with my snoring, but apparently it was rhythmic and subdued, rather than intrusive. I think she was being kind. At one stage I noticed that the right side of my groin had become red and sore, perhaps from the proximity to the pouch. I managed to deal with that by using a liberal sprinkling of baby powder on the affected area. Apart from that, I appeared to have had no unexpected side effects. The pouch never leaked as I made it sure it was sealed properly each morning. After 5 weeks I came back to work. I had wanted to return at least a week earlier. However, the relapse set me back and my return was rescheduled for the following week. The employers were exceptionally generous. They suggested that in the first few days I arrive only in the middle of the morning and work just for 5 hours. By then I had mastered my driving. That was after trying out several emergency stops in my underground car park, much to the consternation of my fellow residents. It was a 15 mile journey to work, but luckily I drive against the morning traffic flow as my work is outside London. The same week I returned to work I saw my eager lady surgeon. She checked my stoma, poked around my tummy to ensure it was still soft, and obligingly checked progress with the stitches which had been decomposing in my bottom. To me, they were still an irritation. It felt like someone had stuffed a bunch of cloying marshmallow up my behind. However, to her they were “a beautiful sight”. The resulting long scar along the rectum appeared to be free of infection and the delicate smooth skin that had formed alongside was now a permanent fixture. I would get used to it. After all, it was merely ornamental now, and not functional. So, all in all, I got a good school report from her. However, she had more dramatic news. A post-operation analysis of a polyp from my rejected colon revealed the presence of a category one tumour. This suggested I had indeed had stage one bowel cancer before my op. However, there appear to have been no lymph nodes affected. Because of this and because of the low level of cancer, my surgeon was optimistic that it had been nipped in the bud. To be sure, I was to have my liver and lungs checked and I would be under observation for the next five years to ensure the cancer had not spread. Also, she had appointed a Macmillan nurse to monitor me, as well as the stoma unit nurses at my local hospital. I was going to be quite spoilt with all this extra support. Despite the remote possibility of this cancer returning, I was delighted with the news. It confirmed that my operation had indeed been a necessity. A scan, which included the introduction of a contrast liquid, concluded that my lungs and my liver were not infected with cancer. My cheerful surgeon was delighted as well, but she did add a note of caution in that the cancer could sometimes return, especially in the next two years. In fact, I was called in by a doctor at my local hospital. It was like a mystery visit, as he was not sure why he had called me in, and I did not know what ailment I was supposed to be complaining about. Then, on checking his notes, he realized he was that “second opinion” that I had temporarily sought before my operation. He was delighted to hear that I had had the operation already, as that would have been his advice in the circumstances. He also prodded me about and gave me the third degree and his conclusions reflected that of the original surgeon. I was cancer free and recovering well. My lovely Macmillan nurse introduced me to a Health and Wellbeing Event for stoma and cancer patients at Maggie’s Centre, an isolated bright orange pavilion in the grounds of Charing Cross Hospital. It had a comfortable lounge, a kitchen, an isolation room, and a lecture room, surrounded by a little garden. A male nurse gave us a lecture, which included pictures and videos of young stoma-bearers showing off their pelvic muscles and young attractive female models wearing little round stomas over their bikini bottoms. We were told that wearing a stoma would not prevent us from swimming or surfing, running, or playing football, or pursuing whatever activity we carried out before. Some of those present chimed in with their experiences, including an elderly man who eventually had the courage to display his stoma while sunbathing in his swimming trunks at the poolside in Benidorm. I could imagine the resulting advert, “If you can wear it in Benidorm, you can wear it anywhere.” The guy got a round of applause like at an alcoholics’ anonymous session. There was a real element of camaraderie here. This was followed by a lecture on sex and cancer, but I dozed off for that one. While, mostly, I still shower wearing my stoma pouch, one of the true occasional joys is to have a morning shower immediately after removing yesterday’s pouch and before fitting the new one. The sheer pleasure of that warm water cascading off my completely naked body with its exposed little stump of a small colon, can only be experienced by a true stoma bearer. I did find after some time that I seemed to be losing weight, especially after a shower. I would be short of breath and quite tired after just walking to the shops and back. I did undergo a period where there was panic by my GP over an excessive strain on my thyroid hormones after my heart rate was observed as higher than 150 beats a minute. I was prescribed the appropriate medication, and I was told to continue eating and drinking sufficiently to see me through the storm. Nothing simpler. Now, 6 months after the operation, all I can say is that (touch wood) life is good. I eat well, sleep well, show off my grandad dance moves, enjoy my long 4 mile long canalside walks, travel to work by car two days a week, remain active in my community work, and travel by plane to Poland for the book fair. I can still occasionally pop into the gym. On those occasional hot summer afternoons, I lay down with my shirt off in the park, happily displaying my stoma pouch. Nobody cares or comments. I now wear an NHS supplied reinforced belt around my torso which offers me greater protection against hernia if I am carrying a heaver load or bending down. With that I was even able to drag over a 50 litre bag of soil for my wife from the underground car park to our balcony, although that was pushing it a bit. On a second visit to a cancer patients’ gathering at Maggie’s, I listened with respect as other patients described their experiences, their ups, and their downs. I felt a little bit of an intruder as I was the only one in the circle who had not experienced chemotherapy. Other patients warned me that I would not be advised of the possibility of the cancer returning until it was large enough to consider treatment, so I should not accept a statement that I was “cancer free” as being definitive. But I was also impressed with their attitude, especially those patients, like me, in their 70’s and 80’s, that, whatever happened, they appreciated that they were getting the best treatment possible, and that, although cancer could always return, we should all make the most of our lives and enjoy them for as long as we are given the time to do so. I then remembered the apt words of Robert Browning, which I quoted back to them, “Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be”. Wiktor Moszczynski

Response to the riots

Letter to Editor of "i" Anne MCElvoy describes in her article "After the honeymoon, Labour faces reality" (i 05.08.2024) the options for the new government in facing down the riots. The government is right to talk tough to the rioters and challenge the social media giants over harvesting misinformation and hate. However, a number of my friends and work colleagues still express some understanding for what they think motivates the rioters, following the abject failings of the previous government on illegal migrants and the more recent abandonment of the ill fated Rwanda scheme. That is why this is a good moment for the Prime Minister to reassure them by reiterating once again the new government's plans for the Border Force, the cooperation with the EU and the proposed increase in immigration staff to vet the asylum seekers. Yours faithfully, Wiktor Moszczynski

There is a progressive majority of UK voters

To Editor of The Observer Dear Sirs, I would not like to share the pessimism of Robert Ford's otherwise careful analysis of the 2024 election results ("Labour risked heartland seats to target marginals. It paid off - but there's a cost". Observer 07/07/24). It is true that Labour's vote share was spread thin and was under 34%, up just 2 points on their disastrous 2019 defeat. However, Labour is part of a family of progressive parties (Labour, Lib-Dem, Green, Plaid Cymru), who between them managed to secure at least 55% of the vote. For the most part these parties survived the election campaign without attacking each other and the minor parties present themselves as the "conscience of Labour" ready to give Labour courage in carrying out its programme. To the Daily Express they may appear like a woke coalition, Even if the Tories and Reform were to combine forces, the progressive parties would unite against them, and the new right would remain a minority, both in the number of seats and in proportion of the national vote. Yours faithfully, Wiktor Moszczynski

Release women prisoners

To Editor of i Dear Sirs, There is a much better short term solution for new Justice Minister, Shabana Mahmood, than being forced to "instigate a radical one-in, one-out emergency policy" ("i" 06.07.24) to tackle the Tories' prison overcrowding. There is a rising figure, currently over 3000, of women imprisoned in three separate jails. These are mostly mothers, wives, or single family breadwinners, whose punishment impacts even more on their children. 58% of prison sentences in 2022 were for less than six months duration. Why not a massive early release for women with non-violent offences, which could close at least one of the womens' prisons and convert it to a new jail for the new intake of male offenders. Yours faithfully, Wiktor Moszczynski

Will Starmer win that landslide?

- It seems such a generally accepted assumption that Keir Starmer will win a well deserved landslide for Labour. Simply put, the fact that Labour could actually win at all, after the massacre of the Brexit Tory landslide in 2019, seemed inconceivable just 3 years ago. Nevertheless, like Neil Kinnock before him after the 1984 disater, Keir Starmer managed to reform the party, stimulate the troops who were hungry for success, and has now brought the party to the brink of victory. However, for Kinnock, that was as far as he could take it. Personally, Kinnock failed and needed to give way to a new leader in 1992 to get the party over the line. This finally happened with Tony Blair as leader in 1997. Which path will Starmer follow? - It does not help that the election has largely been so dull that it has not yet even now impacted on public awareness in day to day activities. Where are the window bills, leaflets handed out in the street, loudspaker events in each constituency? Where is the buzz? It has all gravitated to social media, online propaganda, TikTok messages and TV debates. Unlike Blair, Starmer's personality has not yet lit up the election. Many will decide how to vote as they walk to their polling station. - Could Starmer end up like Kinnock, fallen at the last ditch? In the last days the doubts and the shy Tory factor have been at work. There is still a massive apathy among non-committed voters based largely on which party they dislike or distrust most. Actually, I am sure Starmer will be Prime Minister by Friday, in time for that precious evening with his family. It seems impossibe now with such a visible steady 20% gap maintained for over a year, and only now slightly shrinking, to be wrong. The humiliation of the Tories at the hands, not only of Labour, but the Lib Dems and Reform as well, is a given. However, Starmer, a steadfast, honest and competent person, still does not convince the average floating voter. Yes, the remains of the Labout tribal vote will be out for him, but, even there, former Corbyn Labour voters are slipping away to vote for the Greems, the Lib Dems and for Muslim independents. For Starmer has remained too buttoned up and stressed, too anxious not to lose the family silver in the debate, to really display his vision and his passion to lead the party and the country to victory. - In the end, he will make it, there will be a majority, the Tories and SNP will be humiliated, the Lib Dems may vie with the Tories to take on the mantle of the official Opposition. Yet Starmer's majority may not be as great as some are dreaming. Perhaps a 75 to 100 seat majority? The Daily Telegraph is predicting a majority of 159 seats, but that is deliberate scaremongering to raise the Tory vote. - Perhaps, it woulld be just as well for the majority not to be too large. The oven-ready government programme which will form the main part of the King's Speech, will cover the major first steps announced by Starmer, and will be carried through with discipline and aplomb. But if the majority is too large Starmer and McFadden will not be able to control the restless opinionated and relatively young idealistic backbenchers. After 2 years, if growth fails to materialize, conflicts and even Labour splits may arise. The Tories will be too marginal as an opposition, and the Lib-Dems too soft. (After all, not a word of criticism of each other passed throught the lips of Labour and Lib Dem leaders during the election debates, though the two may end up in serious conflict over protests against housing developments once Labour has simplified the promised new planning laws.) The real opposition could come from Reform, if it does take over the Conservative Party, and they can stage a real populist revolt. It all depends on whether Farage will get his public platform by winning in Clacton. Labour should be shoring up the Conservative vote there. In these circumstances Labour could end up in trouble by the end of the next term. - The Labour domestic green agenda will proceed successfully as long as there is the growth that Starmer is relying on. But here is the problem. There can be no successful improvements in services unless economic growth can fund them. Relying on energy companies and pensions for financial windfall support will not be enough. Growth must come over the next 2 years. But how can Britain expect growth with the threat to Europe from Russia continuing, the brutality of the Gaza war, the growing right-wing radicalization in western and eastern Europe, and the chaos likely to emanate from the USA after a broken Biden has surrendered to Trump. Let us remember too that Trump is protected now by his immunity to prosecution, as a result of the recent Supreme Court ruling. Only Biden can save the day here by retiring immediately to let younger democrats challenge Trump, but can he do that? Out of Starmer's control, unfortunately. He also needs good relations with these more difficult neighbours to find better solutions to illegal migration and the gnawing boat problems. I am counting too on good relations with the liberal governments in Germany and Poland. - So, yes, Labour can get their decent majority on Thursday, if not a bruising landslide, but they face a very bumpy road ahead, trying to provide the steady reform they promised in a chaotic hostile world. I wish them a successful decade in office.

No Seats for Reform

to Editor of i Dear Editor, It is precisely because (as Kitty Donaldson puts it yesterday's "i") "Farage's long shadow is eclipsing the Tory party", that Labour and Liberal-Democrat activists should size up their strategy in constituencies, like Clacton, where they are unlikely to win and Reform could take the seat from the Conservatives. Indeed, a resilient Farage on the national stage, who can toss around false promises in his contract manifesto with gay abandon, would be a much more dangerous adversary for Labour in the difficult months to come than the Tory rump, and that is precisely why in those constituencies, both the Labour and Lib-Dem electorate should be encouraged to support the local Tory and deny Reform a place in parliament. Yours faithfully, Wiktor Moszczysnki,

Free Marwan Barghouti

I have for some time hoped that the charismatic Marwan Barghouti could in some middle distant future be released from jail and become the new Nelson Mandela who could be able to bring about a political solution and eventually peace to Palestine. This view has been reinforced by your article "Abuse of jailed Palestinian leader Barghouti amounts to torture" in The Observer" on May 19th. and it is time that Britain's political leadership should seek to make representations on his behalf to the current less belligerent members of the Israeli government. Barghouti is not a member of Hamas, but enjoys the support of so many of his people, whether Fatah, Hamas or politically uncommitted. The Israelis consider him a terrorist, but Mandela was also condemned as a terrorist in his day, and Yasser Arafat's crimes did not prevent Israel from making a deal with him subsequently. The crazed Netanyahu/Hamas blood bath must stop and it is time for adults like Marwan Barghouti and Benny Gantz to take over.

Yours faithfully,

Wiktor Moszczynski

Letter sent to the Editor of The Observer

Draft Federation Letter to Israeli Ambassador on Damian Sobol

 

To Ambassador Jakov Livne,

Israeli Embassy

Ul. Ludwika Krzywickiego 24,

02-078 Warszawa,

Poland

Thursday, 4th April 2024

Dear Mr Ambassador,

The Polish community in the UK was horrified by the massacre of Israeli citizens on October 7th by

Hamas terrorists last year, and has always believed in the right of the state of Israel to exist and

to defend itself.

However, that outrage cannot justify in any way the deliberate targeting and killing this week in

three separate vehicles of 7 foreign aid workers from the charity organization World Central

Kitchen. In particular, the Polish community was shocked that one of the innocent victims of these

three separate attacks was an experienced Polish aid worker Damian Soból, who had previously

worked as a volunteer aid worker in Ukraine and Turkey, and equally shocked at the news

of British victims of this attack, John Chapman, James Henderson, and James Kirby. Their only

motivation for their presence in Gaza was to help the victims of famine and disaster. Even though

the Israeli Prime Minister has admitted that the Israeli Defence Force caused these attacks,

neither he, nor the Israeli Ambassador in Poland, have apologized fully for these deaths, and the

latter has caused further outrage to the people of Poland and to the Polish community in the UK

by using this incident as an opportunity to enter a polemic about alleged antisemitism in Poland.

We believe that the Israeli government should issue a public apology for this incident, as well as

conduct a full investigation to establish who was personally responsible for this decision, while the

families of these 7 victims should be fully compensated by the Israeli government.

We further believe that the possibility of further such deaths of innocent victims can only be

prevented by the government of Israel responding positively to calls from Israel’s friends and

allies for an immediate cessation of hostilities in Gaza.

Yours faithfully,

Alicja Donimirska

Chair of the Federation of Poles in Great Britain

cc to Israeli Ambassador in London

Draft of Federation letter to Keir Starmer on EU citizens

 

Dear Sir Keir,

 

As the umbrella body for the main Polish organizations in the UK since 1947 we strongly urge you to announce that a future UK government led by yourself would offer default UK citizenship to all Polish and other EU citizens living in the UK with settled status. We believe that you could also eventually extend this to those with pre-settled status as soon as their 5 year temporary status expires. You would be right to think that this would reassure them of their continued further integration into the UK economy and into the social and cultural fabric of this country. It would also fulfil the promise made by those campaigning to leave the EU in 2016 that the security of EU citizens living in this country would be assured.

While we have strongly supported the recent campaign by the3million and others to extend voting rights in parliamentary elections to those EU citizens with settled status, yet this proposal has not yet been adopted by either of the main political parties. Consequently, more than 4 million UK taxpayers with EU citizenship remain without parliamentary representation in this country. We feel that their chance to have automatic access to UK citizenship, despite the inevitable initial fee, would resolve in a more straightforward way the issue of their current disenfranchisement. Parliamentary voting rights for EU citizens as EU citizens, would require introducing a constitutional change, but this would not be true of a decision to extend UK citizenship to them. Currently, while they are valuable stakeholders in British society and the British economy, they are still living at the whim of possible Home Office reinterpretations of their status, similar to that faced by the Windrush generation. They live with the status of “immigrant” which makes them feel vulnerable each time the issue of immigration arises in public debate. 

At least 1.138 million Polish nationals in this country have applied successfully for either settled or pre-settled status and have long been making a valuable contribution to this country. It would be advantageous for a future UK government to cement that positive achievement with the unconditional offer of UK citizenship. We look forward to your confirmation that you would want to  proceed with this generous but sensible proposal.

Yours sincerely

The operation was justified

 

If you are going through this, then some domestic issues to consider. Those tight Armani jeans pressing on your stoma not such a good idea. Perhaps you may need to but some looser clothes, or have your current trousers shortened by about three to four inches and then wear them just under hips, reinforced maybe by a pair of braces. That was my rite of passage, And for those who thought that at least now you would not be using so much toilet paper as before….. err, think again.  

A month after the operation I did have one relapse, when I suddenly felt faint and found myself vomiting violently. Things had calmed down by next morning but it was only then that I discovered that my dentures had gone missing clean out of my mouth during one of my vomits. I’m not sure to this day what caused this relapse, except that I had probably been dehydrated while carrying a heavy bag for an extended period. After that, I always took care to drink a couple of litres of water a day sipped gradually between meals. The advice is not to gulp great amounts of water at once, not during a meal, and not too late in the day, or you will find yourself peeing every hour or so at night and losing out on your beauty sleep. Moderation in all things.

After 5 weeks I came back to work. I had wanted to return at least a week earlier. However, the relapse set me back and my return was rescheduled for the next week. The employers were exceptionally generous. They suggested that in the first few days I arrive only  in the middle of the morning and work just for 5 hours. By then I had mastered my driving. That was after trying out several emergency stops in my underground car park, much to the consternation of my fellow residents. It was a 15 mile journey to work but luckily I drive against the morning traffic flow as my work is outside London. Everyone in the office seemed happy to see me, although some of my colleagues were still a little concerned at my appearance. But that was because my dentist had still not had time to replace my missing dentures.

The same week I saw my surgeon. She checked my stoma, poke around my tummy to ensure it was still soft, and obligingly checked progress with the stitches decomposing in my bottom. To me they were still an irritation, but to her they were “a beautiful sight”. Within a couple of weeks, they would just dissolve and disappear. Promises, promises. So, all in all, I got a good school report. 

However, she had more dramatic news. A post-operation analysis of my uprooted colon revealed the presence of a category one  tumour. This suggested I had had stage one bowel cancer. However, there appear  to have been no lymph nodes affected. Because of this and because of the low level of cancer, my surgeon was optimistic. However, I was to have my liver and  lungs checked and I would be under observation for the next five years to ensure the cancer had not spread. Also, she had appointed a Macmillan nurse to monitor me. I was going to be quite spoilt with all these extra nurses. Despite the remote possibility of this cancer returning, I was delighted with the news. It confirmed that my operation had been a necessity.

Defence Secretary over Kaliningrad Enclave

Dear Editor

Your correspondent Sam Rucker was right to refer to Russians being "wildly irresponsible" for trying to sabotage the GPS signals on the Defence Secretary's flight from Northern Poland (Russia jammed signal on Shapps RAF plane 15.03.2024). However, was it not equally "wildly irresponsible" for the UK defence minister to take a short cut across Russian territory to return home on a RAF plane. Doesn't Grant Shapps know there is a war on?

Yours faithfully

Wimtor Moszczynski

Letter to "i"

Why I volunteered for a Stoma.

 

When I met the surgeon at St Mary’s Hospital, I was not ready for her sucker-punch.

“We have to cut it out. All of it.”

“All? The whole large colon? Does it have to be all?”

“Yes, and the anal canal, as well. Up to and including the rectum.”

Only three minutes before she had said reassuringly, “You do not have cancer yet in your colon,” So far so good, I thought.

“But,” she continued remorselessly, “you have high grade dysplasia cells (what??) along the whole length of the large colon. According to past practice, these cells will almost inevitably become cancerous. It has been building up over the past year or so because the inflammation of your colon has lasted for so many years. As you know you have had Crohn’s Disease, or ulcerative colitis, over the last twenty-five years. The cells are now too weak to resist a cancerous growth.”

“What other option do I have?” I asked.

“Well, you can do nothing at all, and continue with your current treatment, but then the  NHS can do nothing prevent you from getting cancer.”

As I reeled from this information, a sudden alarming picture emerged. “Then, do I have to wear a colostomy bag?” She nodded.

How long for? “Forever”.

It was like a death sentence. I only knew a couple of distant acquaintances who had worn stomas, but I did not know the details of how they lived and had never discussed it with anyone in the past. Living with such a bag seemed like some kind of life changing disaster, like going blind or losing a limb. This may have happened to other people, but, thank the lucky stars, it was not supposed to happen to me or someone close to me. 

This was like a bolt out of the blue. I had merrily continued with my Crohn’s Disease over the last decades. I had been told that the disease was incurable, but manageable. It was an irritant, but at least it was painless, despite its uncertainties. The condition had caused me to undergo infusions every six weeks, and the pleasure of a colonoscopy every two years, but this way of life seemed acceptable and bearable in the long run. I could imagine it continuing in the same way unchanged into the future.

True, Crohn’s could be treacherous at times, with its occasional urgency taking you by surprise, especially when your self-control might relax as you neared a restroom. It left me embarrassed every now and again, as on a bus, or on the high street in Tunbridge Wells, or in the middle of the Alexanderplatz in Berlin, but I had become a past master on clearing myself up to disguise the mishap. In fact, I described living with Crohn’s Disease with a certain relish in my travel journal “Chasing Phileas Fogg: 80 Days on the Borealis”. I am 77 years old, but the Crohn’s did not  prevent me from working for a Chamber of Commerce two days a week or having a very busy schedule for my work in the Polish community.

However, in November I saw the head of the Gastroenteritis Clinic in Hammersmith Hospital for what I thought would be another routine appointment monitoring my progress with the Crohn’s. He looked kind of sad and shook his head gloomily. “I’m afraid,” he told me, “I have given you this treatment as long as I could, but now we need to find more drastic solutions. We have observed the possibility of cancer, following the results of the latest colonoscopy samples we have taken. This may  require some surgery,” he said ominously. He recommended  an appointment for me at St Mary’s in Paddington with a surgical team. And so, I found myself in the presence of this lady surgeon with her alarming announcement.

The new advice was such an unexpected body blow that I was left with the dilemma. Should I take this radical step to prevent a cancer which had not yet invaded my cells? Or should I tough it out and carry on as before. Many of my  friends counselled against surgery, although my wife felt that perhaps the surgical option had a certain logic to it.

I read up the literature on it. What did wearing a stoma, or colostomy bag, entail? My rectum would be sealed, my large bowel would be removed, and my waste would pass through the same small bowel directly into a little plastic pouch attached firmly to my body, which I would empty when necessary and change every other day or so. It would be a lifetime commitment. There would be a stoma unit at my local hospital to supervise my progress and arrange for my supply of fresh bags and other necessary accessories to make those regular changes. It sounded dreadful.

What were the dangers, apart from the obvious? An operation is always risky, there would be an uncomfortable stay in hospital. The brochure helpfully listed the risks, whether common, less common, or rare. Most were rare but these could include hernia, wound infection, nerve injury, sexual dysfunction (oh dear!), significant bleeding, blood clots, abdominal fluid collections, and finally something headed briefly as “death” .

On the other hand, the operation, which is helpfully called a laparoscopic panproctocolectomy,  would remove the risk of developing colon cancer.  There would be no chemotherapy, no long-term pain or risk of eventual death from cancer. For the surgeon it was a fairly standard operation, under general anaesthesia, and she would normally be able to perform it through keyhole surgery. She would slowly remove my infected large colon through my right side until she reached the link with the uninfected small bowel which would be allowed to protrude for an inch or so. She would then place the stoma over that. I had this weird image in my mind of the surgeon  slowly pulling out my one and a half metre colon, hand over fist, wondering when she would finally reach the link to the small colon.

Some 200,000 people in the UK have a stoma, including famous singers, comedians, and athletes. It would not prevent them from being active. I was told that I should be able in time to continue my work and my community activities as before. After all, Napoleon had a permanent colostomy bag following a gunshot wound, and it did not prevent him from continuing quite a busy lifestyle, including coronations, mistresses and staging quite a few battles all over Europe.

I took a deep breath and said, “Alright, let’s do it!”  Some of my friends urged me to wait, but I saw no need to delay. I asked the surgeon to give me a date that would allow me to have a book launch for my latest publication describing my 80-day cruise around the world with my wife. After that I was committed.

The operation in Charing Cross Hospital lasted 7 hours. Staying in hospital for 8 days was a drag, but one I had expected. Initially I was linked to various 12-hour infusions, with a so-called Robinson’s bag draining my single kidney (I had once donated the other kidney to my wife), a cluster of cannulas on each arm, while my poor willy was intimidated into submission by a catheter collecting my pee. My stomas were being drained regularly by the ever-patient nurses. Within a few days the staff had removed the catheter and the Robison’s bag.

Emptying a stoma, and sealing it up afterwards, proved child’s play. The real problem was to learn how to drain the stoma yourself and then how to change it. My initial two attempts, supervised by a special stoma nurse, left me so stressed that I nearly fainted each time. However, I realised that this was something I had to overcome as I would be responsible for this procedure for the rest of my life. So, I lined up the necessary accessories. These included the new bag cut to size to fit the stump of the protruding small colon, the ice-cold spray to remove the old bag glued to my side, the bowl of warm water, three or more wipes and the black plastic bag to collect the debris at the end. I placed them on my bedside tray in the order of their use with the opened black bag first. Then I took a photo of it. After that I proceeded systematically to make the change. It took less than a minute. I pressed down the sides of the stoma now sticking to my body. I was the master now. Obviously, there was still a lot to learn but my recovery was beginning. I was ready to leave the hospital and face the world.

The initial aim was to ensure that my waste was not too watery. Initially the contents would just pour out, but as soon as I had recovered my appetite and had moved on to more solid food, my output became thicker and left the bag grudgingly. In time I had to squeeze it out, like toothpaste out of a tube. However, my diet had to change. Still, I now had to cut the crust off my bread, and the skin off my fish or potatoes, avoid stringy and high fibre foods, peas and sweetcorn, raw fruit and veg, and items with pips like grapes and strawberry. I should choose white bread rather than brown, corn flakes rather than weetabix, tea biscuits rather than digestives, soft eggs rather than hard boiled. Apart from that I could eat most foods but should learn to chew them and eat them slowly. I should avoid driving a car for some 6 weeks, avoid strenuous exercise and lifting any weights, but otherwise be active. Within 24 hours of leaving hospital, I was out walking every day, buying newspapers, meeting friends in cafes, travelling on a bus. For her birthday we travelled for a 3 day "dirty" weekend in a riverside hotel in Maidenhead. We travelled there by Elizabeth Line. As for heavy shopping, my wife and I switched temporarily to ordering our main food through supermarket deliveries. This was the new reality.

I had learned to change the pouch every day in the morning before breakfast so that the procedure was not interrupted by sudden spills from the stump of the remaining colon. By the way, the  output was normally odourless, unless you had eaten some pungent fish or curry. You would not normally be embarrassed by its content when at work or in a pub or café, and the bag is not transparent.

(to be continued)

Colonial atrocities on St Kitts

 

Dear Editor, 

In response to Patrick Cockburn's timely article "After sugar island horrors, toxic legacy of slavery will never die" ( i - 09.03.2024) the toxic legacy is not just moral, but also cultural and economic. The terrain that bore the uneconomic sugar plantations, which were finally shut down in 2005, is now fallow grassland, surrounded by a tourist train trundling around the island on the track built by the sugar plantation owners to bring their crop to the sole port on the island. Yet, as I describe in my travel book "Chasing Phileas Fogg: 80 Days on the Borealis", St Kitts was also the site of another colonial atrocity, as evil as the slave trade, namely the wholesale genocide of the local indigenous Carib population, who were massacred in 1626 by French and English settlers at Bloody Point, and the surviving women and childen were deported to Dominica. Consequently, unlike on other West Indian islands, the local black population of St Kitts have no indigenous traditions with which to blend and enrich their resurging African culture, and still have to rely on colonial mementoes for their tourist highlights. 

Yours faithfully,

Wiktor Moszczynski

Letter to i - published11.03.2024

Holocaust narrative kicked by Netanyahu into the dust

 

Dear Sir

To Editor of The Guardian

Enough is enough. Until now the Holocaust guilt-trap which has haunted the post-war Western civilizations has dictated our Middle East alliances, more even than oil. It has rightly reinforced our sympathy for Israel but blinded us to the Arab sense of injustice ever since the state of Israel was founded, That historical legacy has re-emerged in force as Hamas carried out their barbarous rampage through the Israeli civilian population, murdering, raping and taking more than 2500 hostages. We proudly displayed the Israeli colours in protest and initially turned a blind eye as Israel sought to recover their hostages and to destroy Hamas, while killing more than 20,000 Palestinian citizens in the process. These were mainly women and children, but ostensibly, we told ourselves, they were collateral damage, used as a human shield by the ruthless Hamas leadership. Even as the doubts arose, the protest marches favouring the Palestinians grew, but we comforted ourselves with the thought that now a political solution will at last be found, both for Gaza and the Westbank.

Today we learn that the current Israeli leadership has no such political solution. It is all purely a matter of Israeli security and the political survival of Netanyahu and his right-wing cronies. If the war is to continue without a political solution in sight, then from that moment Western support for Israel must stop and a ceasefire must be called for by all our Western governments. And if Western governments are not prepared to do so, then at least Keir Starmer and other opposition leaders who have bravely supported Israel until now, need to explain to their many Jewish friends that a future UK government will support an immediate ceasefire. We can no longer carry the responsibility of more Palestinians dying if there is no Palestinian state on offer alongside the Israeli one. Israeli citizens desperately waiting for their hostages to be free must understand this. Unless Netanyahu is immediately replaced by a government ready to broker a political deal with Palestinians, then Israel has forfeited our trust and support, and their sacrosanct Holocaust narrative has been kicked by their own government into the dust.  

Jan Mokrzycki (1932-2023)

Jan Mokrzycki, who was the dynamic President of the Federation of Poles in Great Britain for 10 years, died on December 25th 2023 at his most recent family home in Gravesend, aged 91.

As a long-term President of the Federation of Poles in Great Britain, this Midlands-based retired dentist became a dominant figure among the London Poles as he campaigned for Poland’s entry into the EU and for the rights of Poles in the UK once that entry was achieved. Along with his Federation colleague, Mike Oborski, he set up a pressure group in 1995 called “Poland Comes Home”, producing regular issues of a magazine and the internet to persuade British politicians and British business of the need for Poland to join what was then the European Community. He organized public debates on the issue involving British ministers and MPs, ambassadors of Central European countries and prominent academics. His letter in February 2001, supporting ratification of the Nice Treaty, which was to open up the EC to eastern expansion, was circulated to every Member of Parliament and was quoted approvingly by Foreign Secretary Robin Cook in the subsequent debate in Parliament.

After Poland’s accession to the EC (later the EU) and the opening up of the labour market in the UK to Central Europeans, he considered it his duty to ensure that young Poles would not face discrimination on coming to the UK. This was the time when the number of Polish-born UK residents increased tenfold from 60,711 according to the 2001 census to 654,000 according to the 2011 census, and later topped a million. He opened up talks with British trade unions, such as GMB and Community, about the successful recruitment of Poles into their ranks, set up a unit monitoring hate crimes against Poles and liaised regularly with the Immigration Department of the Home Office in monitoring treatment of Polish citizens at the border, which included occasional visits to Dover. He circulated a Polish language leaflet called “A Safe Start” which gave concrete advice on how to avoid abuse by criminal employers, and he convinced the British Embassy in Warsaw to help in its distribution. A later 14 page Federation publication called “How to live and work in the United Kingdom” received a mass circulation with a print run of 40,000 and was made accessible free of charge at bus terminals and parishes throughout the country as well as being distributed in Poland by the Polish Foreign Office (MSZ). The Home Office and the TUC also helped in its distribution. He pushed for an Early Day Motion to retain the Polish A level examination, and set up a Polish credit card decorated in Polish national colours and linked to the Bank of Scotland, in order to encourage Poles to set up bank accounts, which gave the Federation an added income of £800 per quarter. The Federation was also able to offer home insurance at advantageous terms.

In 2004 he condemned the use of the term “Polish Concentration Camp” which had been used by Michael Howard in an interview with BBC Radio 4, implying inadvertently that Auschwitz and other camps, had been set up by Poles. This led to a sustained campaign, supported also by the Polish Embassy, which over time led to the BBC and British media agreeing to desist from this inaccurate and insulting description. He also played a leading role in negotiations with the German government over extending the right of Polish wartime victims of forced labour in Germany and Austria to receive compensation even if they now lived in the UK.

Jan Mokrzycki was born in a middle-class family in Warsaw in November 27^th 1932, the son of two successful Warsaw doctors. In a number of interviews, he had visibly described his dramatic childhood during the bombing of Warsaw in 1939 and the subsequent brutal German occupation when he lived with this grandmother, following the arrest in 1942 of his closest family by the Gestapo, and the subsequent execution of his father, uncle, and grandfather. His mother survived the horrors first of Auschwitz and then Ravensbruck concentration camps. Jan lived with his grandmother and her friends in a villa  on the eastern side of the Vistula in Sulejowek, but soon after the Warsaw Uprising against the Germans began on the west bank of the river Vistula in August 1944, Soviet officers arrived on the east bank and expelled Jan’s family from the villa, so as they could observe the slow collapse of the Uprising. The expelled family spent the next months on a tomato farm and did not return to the ruins of Warsaw until 1945. After appealing as a child on Warsaw Radio for news of his family, Jan was reunited after the War with his mother, still unaware that his father had not survived. Faced with the possibility of arrest and deportation to Siberia, his mother smuggled herself and her 12 year old son out to England in 1946 by way of Czechoslovakia and Austria.

As a child growing up in post-war Bolton where he was billeted on an English family, Jan started proper schooling by learning the English language from scratch. In the meantime, his mother continued to work as a doctor until her retirement in 1983. Young Jan did well at school and by 1955 he was offered a place at Newcastle University to study dentistry. Jan served as President of the Student Representative Council at Newcastle University and for one year was on the executive committee of the National Union of Students. He qualified as a dental surgeon in 1959 and that same year he moved first to Coventry with his new wife Magdalena Okonska, who as a child had been deported from Poland to Siberia. He then settled in Kenilworth and was active in the local Polish community where he initiated the programme “Poles Apart” on the BBC Coventry and Warwickshire Radio, which bacame the station’s longest running series.

He was also active in the local Kenilworth District Liberal-Democrat Party and was an unsuccessful candidate for the Liberal Democrat Party at Loughborough in the 1970 parliamentary election.

In 1995, following his retirement, and after serving on the Federation of Poles Council, he was elected as Vice President of the Federation of Poles in Great Britain, the main representative body of the Polish community in the UK since 1947. He was elected President of the Federation in 1997, then served as General Secretary in 1999 and again as President from 2001 to 2009, and then still as Vice-President until 2011. He was on the Federation executive for a total of 16 productive years

He also chaired the Festival Committee in the Noughties which organized annual festivities at Bletchley Park for several years, building on the reputation of the Polish cryptographers who first broke the Enigma Code and laid the groundwork on which British cryptographers like Alan Turing  were able to develop the work when the German enigma machines became more sophisticated.

In 2000, Jan Mokrzycki was also made general secretary for one term of the European Union of Polish Communities, of which the Federation was a member. He was also a long-time trustee of the Polonia Aid Foundation Trust in London which distributed considerable funds to Polish cultural and academic initiatives.

As a result of his activities, he was awarded the Polish Order of Merit and the Cavalier’s Cross of the Polonia Restituta Order (one of Poland’s highest decorations).

He is survived by his wife Magdalena, and two children, Jan and Wanda, as well as by 6 grandchildren, one of whom, Danusia Francis, represented Jamaica as a gymnast in the Tokyo Olympics of 2020.