Category: Health and wellness
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Cold Cabbage
I’ve suddenly noticed an increase in folks arriving at my blog via referrals from Dr. John Crippen’s excellent NHS Blog Doctor. I’ve just discovered why: apparently a Dutch woman mentioned to him the folk remedy of using cold cabbage as a cure for mastitis. The good doctor hadn’t come across this before and wondered whether I had come across it in my time here.Um, sorry, I’ve led a sheltered life as far as the mysteries of the female body are concerned. I recall being in a meeting at work discussing the renovation of the office, and seeing marked on the plan a room labelled the milk expressing room. I didn’t have a clue what it meant and so asked. All the women looked at me as though I was mad (clueless, perhaps, but not, I think, mad). At least some of the other men had the graciousness to admit that they didn’t know either, and were glad that I’d asked… I at least had the excuse that I’m gay and don’t have intimate knowledge of the workings of the female body; I dunno what their excuse was.Oh, and I see that some of the commenters on Dr. Crippen’s site have confirmed that indeed cold cabbage is a viable remedy for helping with mastitis. Glad we cleared that up. -
AIDS At 25
A pretty good video that shows some of the strands of the fight against AIDS on show at the recent international conference in Toronto -
The Breach Repaired
So, I had my hernia operation yesterday, and I came through it OK, although I am moving very slowly and carefully at the moment.I have to say that I was very impressed by the local hospital (the Koningin Beatrix in Winterswijk). It was efficient, and all the staff were professional and friendly.My operation was scheduled for a day when there were a lot of other minor operations going on. First I was checked into a small mixed ward of five beds, and then when my turn came, the bed was wheeled by the ward nurse into the operating wing of the hospital. It was almost like a conveyor belt in the room where the anaesthesia was done. Small teams of nurses moved between the patients preparing us, and then the anaesthetist came and administered the injection into the spine. But despite the somewhat pejorative feel of the phrase "conveyor belt", all the patients were attended to in a friendly and efficient manner.I freely admit that I was not looking forward to being conscious during the operation, and the nurse asked if I’d rather be put to sleep. At that point, with teeth chattering and shaking somewhat, I said yes. I was then transferred to the operating theatre trolley and wheeled into the theatre itself. There, the operating theatre nurse who would be in charge of monitoring my vital signs asked me again if I’d like to sleep through the operation (I think she noticed I was trembling!). When I said that I was a bit nervous about remaining awake, she replied cheerfully that she could give me something to calm me down through the saline drip in my arm. So I said yes to that, and almost instantly I became much calmer. They obviously have good drugs there.The assistant surgeon asked if I’d like to listen to music, so I asked for something classical. He asked whether I would prefer Radio 4 (the Dutch classical music station) or Classic FM. Not Classic FM, I replied with a shudder – they just have bleeding chunks. Probably not the best reply to have made in the circumstances, but I still recoil from hearing Classic FM broadcast Beethoven’s Ninth in an edited version that lasted all of 10 minutes.The operation turned out to be almost enjoyable, I was watching the surgeon and his assistant at work (I could see what they were doing reflected in the light above the operating table) and chatting with them about classical music. The surgeon was also explaining what he was doing – inserting a mesh into the abdominal wall that would, in time, be grown over by the muscle and repair the weak point.The whole operation only took about 20 minutes, and I was then wheeled back into the anaesthesia area and transferred back to my bed. The staff monitor the patients via instruments there for about 30 minutes (the assistant surgeon also came in and switched on the radio to Radio 4 – well done, that man!), and then the ward nurse comes and wheels their beds back to their ward. There the ward nurse kept an eye on us, taking our pulse and bloodpressure at regular intervals. The surgeon came by to check on us, and after a couple of hours, the ward nurse declared herself satisfied that I could be discharged. I rang Martin (a phone by every bed), and he came and picked me up.The hospital will ring me today to check that everything is still OK (it seems to be!), and the surgeon will followup with a telephone call in six weeks time. All in all, a most satisfactory encounter with the Dutch medical system, and far better than I had feared. -
Your Experience May Vary
While I’m not particularly looking forward to next Tuesday, I trust that the experience will not be too similar to that undergone by Steven Wells. His tale of the Philadelphia health system is both screamingly funny and terrifying.(hat tip to Granny for the link) -
Under the Knife
A couple of weeks ago, I noticed a swelling in my groin. Oh, bugger, I thought, it’s not a hernia… Oh, but it was… That was confirmed by the local doctor.
I mean, there’s something faintly ridiculous about a hernia. You would think that evolution would design the muscles around the abdomen to hold it all in, but no, the small intestine is just gagging for the chance to *pop* out through the muscles and luxuriate as an unwelcome swelling under my skin.
I wouldn’t mind so much, but I’ve been here before. Admittedly, it was fifty years ago, but still: "been there, done that, got the T-shirt". Then, as a child of seven, and the first time I’d been operated on, it was all a bit scary. I still remember being wheeled into a room just by the operating theatre and being left there for what seemed like hours (it was probably all of five minutes). I got thoroughly worked up because, as I lay there on the trolley, I could look around the room at all the glass-fronted cabinets stuffed to the gills with knives, saws, scalpels and things that, while I had no idea of what they could do, certainly seemed to be promising a lifetime of pain.
Fast-forward fifty years, and here I go again. Once more into the breach, dear friends. Or rather, once more to repair the breach… This time, this being the Netherlands, I don’t get a general anaesthetic. Oh no, I get a needle in my back that is supposed to deaden my nether regions while the surgeon fiddles around. I’m not sure which is worse, actually. To pass out completely and to be blissfully unaware, or to be conscious and have the chance of hearing the surgeon say "oh, shit".
I saw the anaesthetist yesterday to agree on the method of anaesthesia. Well, in principle, one has a choice, but I have the impression that people end up with whatever the anaesthetist wants.
I confess that it didn’t boost my confidence one jot when the anaesthetist asked to see my back. I assumed that he wanted to see where he was going to stick the needle, but he was muttering that it must be very low down. I suddenly realised that he was looking for the hernia. "Er, no," I hastily clarified, "the hernia is in my groin – at the front, not at the back". Duh. I’m seriously considering following a friend’s suggestion and using a felt-tip pen to mark the spot, together with helpful messages such as "my leg does not need to be amputated", and "my kidneys are perfectly fine, thank you very much".
I have to report to the hospital at 07:45 am on Tuesday morning. With luck, they’ll kick me out, still breathing, more or less in one piece, but with the bonus of extra stitches, later that day.
Watch this space.
Update: A Dutch friend points out that the Dutch word for "slipped disc" is "hernia", while the Dutch for "hernia" is "lies breuk" (pronounced leece brurk). That is almost certainly the cause of the confusion with the anaesthetist, but the worrying thing is that I’m pretty sure that I didn’t say "hernia". As best I can recall, he consulted my case notes and then asked to see my back. When I said that I had a "lies breuk" (in my best Dutch), he then scratched something out and wrote something else in my notes. The more I think about it, the more the felt-tip pen plan seems like a good idea…
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In Praise of Gates
It looks as though Bill and Melinda Gates have had enough of pussyfooting around the misguided HIV abstinence campaign of the US government. And about time too. They are now spelling out the reality, instead of the cloud cuckoo land envisaged by the US government and its backers from the religious right. -
Life’s Final Curtain
Dr. Crippen has another of his excellent posts. This time it’s about the touchy subject of how to acknowledge and cope with the process of dying. As he says, it’s not a happy-clappy learning experience for all the family. It’s often messy, protracted, and not pleasant for all concerned. Nonetheless, it’s what we are likely to have to deal with at least once in our lives, and we’d better face up to the fact. Worth reading. -
Spin and Deliver
Sometimes, there are good reasons why inventions stay on the drawing board. -
Lifebeat Loses The Plot
Raising awareness and providing support to communities affected by AIDS is one thing. Organising a concert with the likes of Beenie Man and TOK is clearly so incredibly unthinking that it takes my breath away.Update: Lifebeat have apparently backed down, and cancelled the concert. Ironically, they blame a "select group of activists" for "inciting the firestorm that makes canceling the concert the only responsible action". What a bunch of wankers. It’s called "refusing to accept responsibility" in my book. Terrance has more. -
Hot Weather and Hot Spots
We took our labrador, Kai, to the vet earlier this week for his annual vaccines. While he was there, I pointed out to the vet that I had found a rough patch of skin under his left ear. The vet felt it and said that it might have been where a tick had been, but that the tick had either fallen off or been removed (I find myself removing ticks on a fairly regular basis when Kai walks through the woods).We didn’t think anything more of it, but the following day, I looked at the spot, and to my alarm saw that it was wet, bloody and spreading. We went back post-haste to the vet who diagnosed it as a hot-spot and prescribed treatment. While the treatment seems to be having an effect, I must say that I was taken aback at how quickly a small, dry patch of skin had erupted into a festering wound. It would seem that we humans don’t get affected in quite the same way. We (or at least the more affluent amongst us) seem more prone to brown rashes on the chin and chest. I should point out that I have not experienced this particular rash, just in case you were drawing conclusions… -
The Mark of Cain
A sobering tale from the Examining Room of Dr. Charles… Read it and ponder. -
A Welcome Apology
I see that The Observer has apologised today for the blunder of calling Chris Malysewicz "an expert on MRSA". Having the grace to apologise for a mistake is a welcome trait in both individuals and organisations, and becoming rarer by the day. -
Live Long Enough…
…to find the right one. The Sugar Babe Love Campaign – a safe-sex cartoon about growing up and finding true love. Frissons galore. Hat tip to Inquietudes for the link.Update: apparently, the animation is by Wilfred Brimo, and part of a French AIDS-awareness campaign. Brimo did a similar cartoon for the same campaign in 2005, where many of the ideas first came through. I love the scene in the ski lodge, with the polar bear getting in on the act… -
The End of the Hunt for HIV?
News comes today that scientists believe they have tracked down the original source of the HIV pandemic – two colonies of chimpanzees in Cameroon. Striking to think that a virus that originated there now infects over 40 million people worldwide. One hopes that the search for the cure will also produce results.Meanwhile, in related news, the power of delusion remains strong in some – but the sad fact is that it kills needlessly. -
WTF?
Distressing evidence emerges today that journalists on The Observer are becoming lazy irresponsible hacks who can’t be bothered to check the credentials of anyone purporting to be an expert.The evidence: quoting Christopher Malyszewicz as an "MRSA Expert" after Dr. Ben Goldacre, on the Observer’s sister paper, The Guardian, has convincingly shown Malyszewicz to be a quack of the first water.Still, the ever-hungry maw of journalism has to grab and masticate whatever it can. Witness the BBC’s faux pas over Guy Kewney. He’s an IT pundit who was recently invited to comment on the Apple versus Apple Corps legal wrangling. Imagine his surprise when waiting in BBC reception to see his taxi-driver (who is black and French-Gabonese) being introduced as Guy Kewney (who is white and English) and being interviewed on TV. -
Art and Reality
I decided to pull together two things that I came across on the Internet in order to illustrate the polar opposites of what we are capable of.First, the horror.Dr. Crippen, in his NHS Blog Doctor, documents the day from hell in his surgery. Warning, this is not for those with a nervous disposition, or for those who do not wish to be disavowed of their quaint belief that all is well in Britain’s National Health Service as presided over by Patricia Hewitt. If there is any justice in the world, one can only hope that Patricia will get a taste of her own medicine.Second, the beauty.In order to calm down, I spent a while exploring the photographs and art of Gregory Colbert in the online interactive site Ashes and Snow. While some of it verges on the chocolate box, there are some amazing images here. -
A Day in the Life
Dr. Crippen describes a day at his surgery. It makes me realise just how much thin ice we are all skating on and how much we tend to take for granted. And as for the pushy middle-aged woman patient, I indulged in the mental image of her falling through the thin ice and taking her child with her… Very satisfying. -
I Rest My Case
Research proves what I’d long suspected about myself… -
Brave New World
Dr. Crippen adds another entry to his blog, detailing his concern over the increasing readiness to diagnose ADHD in children. He also feels uncomfortable about the response of the drug companies, which, to cynics like me and him, seems to be one of recognising a promising new market, ripe for exploitation.I must admit, when I see statistics that show that in some areas of the US over 10% of children have been diagnosed as having ADHD, then I start to wonder what we are doing. Mind you, even here in the Netherlands, the incidence of ADHD is at 5%.
Geoff Coupe's Blog 