Jamie Gets Dropped In The Salt
I am someone, who’s never liked salt in his food. I would argue with both C and her mother, as I don’t even like it when you cook or in my mother-in-law’s case stew vegetables like sprouts. I do sometimes wonder, what she would have made of my gluten-free regime, as I hadn’t been diagnosed as a coeliac before she died. She was a great one for gluten-rich puddings, which I always declined.
Perhaps, my body was telling me something? It’s a pity her husband’s body didn’t tell him to stop eating, as too much rich food probably raised his cholesterol which caused the stroke that killed him.
So it is with a wry smile that I look at reports, like this one on the BBC, that the champion of healthy eating; Jamie Oliver, has been caught by the Consensus Action on Salt and Health, putting too much salt in the food in one of his restaurants. There’s a full list of the dishes they analysed here.
Only one thing I eat regularly in Carluccio’s is on the list, but then I always cook everything I( eat without salt. Sadly, one of the things I wanted to try, which is Pizza Hut’s gluten free pizza is very high in salt.
A Proper Bath
Today, I had my first proper bath since I had my stroke. It was deep and I was able to dip my head under the water to wash my hair. I’ve never been brave enough to do it since I’ve moved. The previous bath was so dangerous, that one slip and I might have been a goner.
Now that bath is a Christmas present!
I was also able to get out of the bath and successfully take my INR. It’ll be interesting to see if the value changes after all those sprouts. Hopefully, I won’t have this guy‘s problem.
I also took the INR from my left hand, which is only the second time, I’ve done that! Perhaps the hand is getting better?
My Gammy Left Hand
I took this picture of my hand, as I rode to the airport.
My Gammy Left Hand
It doesn’t look too bad although it’s often rather cold.
I must remember to use it more, as I do neglect it a bit. But then the doctor told me that I was suffering from neglect syndrome.
My Moan Of The Week
The Richard Bacon Show on BBC Radio 5 has a weekly moan-in, where people vent their moans.
My moan would be about the number of people who moan generally about the cost and problems of having a car. If it’s not fuel costs, it’s about traffic jams, congestion charging, insurance or finding somewhere to park.
I don’t have these problems any more, as since my stroke I haven’t driven and don’t have a licence any more And I reckon my bank account benefits by several thousand pounds a year. That would buy lots of taxis, if I wanted, but I prefer trains and buses, as you see more of life and don’t get the driver complaining about the sad state of the taxi industry.
Politicians interfere Too Much In Health Care
Not me that said that, but the view of Dame Ruth Carnall in this article about stroke care in London. This is an extract.
She went on to criticise politicians for interfering too much in health changes.
She said: “Politicians too often reduce complex medical arguments to soundbites.
“Compromise is a mistake but is hard to resist. There is a political aversion to major changes as we’ve seen with the debate over A&Es.”
But then politicians love to interfere and the sooner we get more politicians who are caring people first and politicians second, the better.
The trouble with healthcare is that for serious problems, there just isn’t the money to have super-duper unit for that problem at every hospital. So especially in places like London, cutting the number of units for each speciality is a good thing.
I would also say do we want to go back to the 1950s and 1960s, where there were loads of local general hospitals, which did everything and usually did it in a less than perfect way. I can’t remember anyone in those days, who was totally pleased with the service they got from the local hospitals in Barnet and Enfield. I, myself, have a gammy arm, which may well have been caused by substandard treatment when it was broken by the school bully.
Surely, the wonderful outcome of the Fabrice Muamba case, should be a lesson to everybody. He was probably saved by the absolutely top-class emergency treatment he revived on the pitch by a cardiologist who happened to be in the crowd and a swift removal to a cardiac hospital.
According to Dame Ruth, London now has eight major stroke units and the political delays cost seven hundred lives.
Problems
Looking at the weather over the last few days, I suspect that coeliac disease and my stroke are small problems compared to what some are enduring.
At least I’m snug in a newish warm house in Central London, with buses everywhere. I’ve even got a cafe opposite and a pub next door.
I also think of the problems I don’t have, like a car, a smart phone, and wondering where my money is coming from.
Problems are relative!
Coeliac Disease And Atrial Fibrillation
I’ve got both and according to this study, if you have coeliac disease, you’re more likely to have atrial fibrillation.
Which I’ve got and is generally considered by my doctors to be the cause of my strokes
This is another problem to add to a long list of those caused by coeliac disease.
Why I Won’t Drive Again!
I now suspect that in a couple of years, my eyesight might be good enough to drive again.
But I’m pretty certain that I won’t!
Given my medical history, suppose I was to hit a child and kill them, when even the impeccable witnesses said it was not my fault, would I really want to have to go through any legal process, from perhaps vindictive parents. Especially, if it came out, I’d had a serious stroke and been stopped from driving for medical reasons.
What worries me, is that there are many out there with worse medical problems than me, who still drive. As it was I could be dead now, if this morning I’d gone by the pedestrian lights near me, as an idiot in a blue Nissan Micra went up the clear inside lane at about sixty with the lights on red to go straight over. What a wanker! His medical problem was in his head. Why I hadn’t stepped out I do not know! But who cares? I just didn’t! I suspect I heard him.
Thinking about it, he must have gone straight over the crossing seventy metres or so before the lights at speed. I just wish I’d got his number.
Is It A Case of Hail the Hygienist?
Yesterday, I went to see the dental hygienist to have my teeth polished.
She did her usual good job, but she found a small problem with a tooth, that may well have been causing me the pain in the left hand side of my face, that has been plaguing me the last two years, since I returned home from Hong Kong since the stroke.
Let’s hope so!
We shall see next week, when I go to the dentist.
So perhaps, I was right, when I advocated a walk-in hygienist.
Aung San Suu Kyi and the DJ
Years ago, I can remember Dave Lee Travis on Radio 1 on Sunday mornings, whilst I was writing Artemis. I suspect as a young mother in Oxford, Ms Suu Kyi was listening to the same program.
Aung San Suu Kyi then went back to Burma to care for her dying mother and for twenty four years she couldn’t return to the UK, as she feared any return to her family would mean the Generals wouldn’t let go back to Burma. She couldn’t even return for the death of her husband, Michael Aris.
But during those years of isolation in Burma, she did at least have the BBC World Service, which kept her in touch and she listened to the shows of Dave Lee Travis, who briefly met her yesterday.
In some ways I can understand her isolation, although I’ve never suffered like she has. When I had my stroke in Hong Kong, there was only CNN, that I could understand on the television. But at least, I could get BBC Radio 5 at most times through the Internet. Never has a broadcasting channel been so important to my sanity.
Today, Aung San Suu Kyi is praised in the first leader of The Times. The last sentence is something we should all remember.
She not only represents a better future for Burma, but testifies to the resilience of the human spirit in extreme adversity.
I very much agree with that. She has also been an extreme example to me, as to how to cope with the worst that life can throw at you. But then I’m not alone and thousands of miles from my friends and family.
In
The Anonymous Widower 