Category: Health

My Prostate and Me – Part 5


Monday I had a meet with my consultant. We reviewed my notes, discussed my latest blood test and the current PSA levels which are still high. This was not unexpected and I wanted to use this session to fill in answers to a number of questions buzzing around in my head .
How long would I be in hospital?
When could I get back to work?
When could I start driving again?
Some of the responses were a surprise.
My stay in hospital is likely to only be over night but I had previously been told 2 to 3 days. This is, of course, a good thing. The sooner I am back home the better.
Getting back to work is a much more difficult question to answer as there are many factors involved.
The first is the issue of continence or, to be more specific, incontinence. After the op I will be catheterised for a period of time, to allow the newly joined urethra to heal properly. Apparently, it can be quite uncomfortable when sitting, especially in a car. After the catheter is removed I will have to relearn bladder control and this can take quite some time. This is the main issue that made me so reluctant to have the op. Potentially pissing myself in a public place or in the workplace is a huge concept to deal with. Actually, in my mind, sitting in a restaurant with friends or family when my bladder decides to unleash a tidal wave of urine across the floor is probably my worst nightmare. Of course I am magnifying worst case scenarios, so anything less is actually a positive step.
Apparently fatigue is a common issue following the procedure. Not just tiredness but the inability to focus mentally.
The net of all this was that I would probably be away from the office for a few weeks.
My actual return to participating in work by working from home could be very much sooner.
It all depends on my body’s ability to recover. We are all different and our powers of recuperation so variable that it’s nigh on impossible to predict any outcome accurately.
At some point in the proceedings my consultant threw into the conversation that, not only would they be removing my Prostate, but they would likely harvest a few lymph nodes too. Apparently this is becoming a more common practice as analysis of the removed nodes can indicate if cancerous cells have started to migrate.
All good things come to an end and as my appointment was drawing to a close, the consultant suddenly left the room, returning with his hands full.  Saying “These are for you ” he dropped a black bag into my hands. This was followed by a large tome similar to a filofax.
These, it transpired, were my initial starter pack of “tenna man” pads and helpful information regarding the after op time.  In the filofax, more of the same, plus pages to record my diagnosis and treatment details.
Net result of this visit was confirmation of much that I already knew but also shows that there is no clear cut outcome for my forthcoming procedure.

Next step is the pre-op assessment…..  Stay tuned 😉

My Prostate And Me – Part 4


So, It’s been a while, almost exactly a year. Had a fairly intense conversation with a close friend last night. The intensity was about Steve  Jobs and Apple, not my prostate, but that’s another story. Anyway during our conflab I was berated for not adding anything to my blog. In essence he was telling me off for leaving my story on another cliff edge.

As it happens I am approaching another significant milestone on this journey and by the time I finish this we’ll be at another cliff edge.

So here we go.

Consultations

Just before Christmas I had a meet with my consultant. Well one of them, seems I have three and they are not as entertaining as the Three Stooges, must be the subject matter. Anyway they take it in turns to see me.

I duly present myself at Urology Reception and after a short wait in the “General” waiting area we are ushered through to sit in a holding pattern outside the consultation rooms. I have been here a few times now and the wall opposite the seats isn’t getting any more interesting. Pride of place is given to a cross-sectional view of the male anatomy.

Urology Care Foundation - Urology A-Z - Ureterocele www.urologyhealth.org
Urology Care Foundation – Urology A-Z – Ureterocele – http://www.urologyhealth.org

I’m not sure if this image is the one I get to stare at, but it’s a close match. I keep expecting some hints on the prime cuts and interesting ways to cook them.

I digress.

So, seated in the consultation room, I am informed that the Template Biopsy hasn’t disclosed any new frightening discoveries. In fact this latest biopsy pretty much supports the findings of the original TRUS (Trans Rectal Ultra Sound)(See Part 1 above). Basically my cancer is quite small, isn’t raging doesn’t on the face of it appear to be life threatening. In my words we are effectively back at square one. That is, the situation is the same as it was around 18 months before.

Relief

 

Obviously, I was quite relieved and commented to the consultant that I had fully expected to have to make a decision following the biopsy results. He was quite interested to know what my decision was going to be. I explained that I would probably have opted for the operation, prostate removal. My reasons being that I would be able to fall back on radiotherapy if the cancer reappeared. Once you have had radiotherapy surgery really isn’t an option.

Lecture

The consultants response to this was to give me a fairly forceful lecture on the possible side effects to the surgical option. Urine leakage and erectile dysfunction being the two headline leaders. He hammered home what a life changing thing incontinence can be and that I shouldn’t go into surgery lightly. For a surgeon he was doing a good job of selling radiotherapy to me. He then went on to explain to me what a difficult operation it is to remove the prostate.

Apparently my weight was a big consideration here and it was at this point he asked me to stand up so he could lift my shirt and demonstrate. He explained that for keyhole surgery, even though this isn’t abdominal surgery, the entry point is through the abdomen. Having entered the belly they then have to turn due south and head deep into the pelvic region. He pointed out that as I was a big lad, with a significant “food baby”, the journey through my entrails would be a long one. That he wouldn’t just have to negotiate his way past all the tubing but would probably have to burrow through extra fat. A new twist was that for the operation I would be tilted head down, meaning that all my fat encrusted viscera would slop up towards my lungs to press against my diaphragm. Wasn’t this a good thing I enquired, won’t this clear the way  and make the operation easier. Nope, this migration makes life difficult for the anaesthetist. Yards of tubing heading north makes it difficult to keep the lungs full of oxygen. After this I wasn’t sure if he was bigging up his role or trying to dissuade me from having the surgery.

After all he is a surgeon, isn’t that his raison d’être. To be fair he did pretty much say that himself, that he just wanted me to be clear that surgery is not the easy option, nor is it without risks. I suppose I could have suggested that he had misjudged his audience since I was pretty well read up on the subject. I don’t let anyone go rummaging around my insides without finding out what they are supposed to be doing and what the pros and cons are.

Carry On Regardless

So, having come to an understanding I opted to carry on with the Active Surveillance with a view to probably having a scan and/or another biopsy. I must have given the impression that I wasn’t wholly convinced by his lecture and he was rather keen that I see one of his colleagues for an alternative view. This I agreed to do and we shook hands and parted company.

Approximately a month later I had an appointment with consultant number three. We discussed the biopsy results, the options open to me and the pitfalls of the various treatments. Once again it was agreed that I should carry on with the Active Surveillance. Part of the Active Surveillance regime is the taking of bloods on a regular basis, every 3 to 4 months, to monitor PSA levels.

PSA is not viewed as an accurate indicator of  the presence of cancer but once diagnosis is confirmed the PSA can give an indication of change.

Changing Perspectives

And so it was I found myself once again at the QA, being given an opportunity to brush up my male anatomy and finally sitting in one of the consultation rooms. No consultant this time as I was seeing the Nurse Specialist. She talked me through my history and pointed out that my PSA levels had gone up. Previous readings had plateaued but the general trend was up. Her advice, based on 18 years of experience, and taking into account my age, she was of the opinion that it was time to take action. This was a contrast to the position taken by the consultants who were prepared to let me continue with the Active Surveillance. We kicked the subject around and it was agreed that I should go for a MRI scan and that I should then see the consultant to discuss the results.

MRI

If it’s good for nothing else, prostate cancer is introducing me to some new life experiences. TRUS, Template Biopsy and now an MRI. Everyone that I have spoken to, that has had an MRI, have said that they didn’t enjoy the experience. I wouldn’t say that I enjoyed it either but I didn’t actively dislike it either. I did, however, find it interesting. It’s noisy and a bit claustrophobic especially when you are my size. As your lower extremities disappear into the centre of the doughnut the hole begins to look a bit small. And when the table moves further in and your belly and chest further fill the available, visible, free space I suspect that the experience is similar to sausage meat being transported towards the sausage skin waiting on the tube at the outlet on the mincer. Another interesting thing I noticed was that as the MRI is clacking and clanking away the muscles in my left leg started to move in time with the noises. Not twitches as such, just a slight pull. Similarly, my wedding ring was also pulsing in time. These sensations varied with the tone of the MRI. Eventually it was all over and I left the QA to await the call to go and discuss the results.

Decision Time

Time moves on very quickly when you aren’t keeping an eye on it. Before I knew it I was back at the QA staring at that same wall with the same diagrams and posters. Still no recipes. And then into the consultation room.

Much to my surprise he told me that the results were really quite good. That is the MRI showed quite low levels of cancerous cells and that these cells do not appear to have moved onto other areas. All in all the MRI was pretty much repeating what the Template and TRUS biopsies had shown before. The only fly in the ointment was the steady upward trend of the PSA which didn’t seem to be echoing what the scan and biopsies were saying. Once upon a time doctors told you what was going to happen and then got on with it. In these PC times it’s all about patient choice. The trouble is the patient is necessary best qualified to make the decisions. Even if they have all the facts in front of the. And that’s the dilemma that i was confronted with.

I had the diagnostic results all laid out before me. I had all the options for treatment defined. I just had to make a decision.Anyone who knows me will know that I can’t make a decision when I’m in a restaurant with menu in hand. And then it doesn’t really have life changing implications if I make the wrong decision. Here there was no truly wrong decision to be made but the implications were momentous.

Decision Time

In the end I decided to go away and think on it. Subconsciously I probably knew what my decision was, but mentally I wasn’t ready to say it. I pondered for several weeks and then contacted the QA and told them to put me on the waiting list for surgery. The consultant had told me it would probably be a couple of months before I got a surgical appointment so I was looking at December / January.

Appointments & Disappointments

A couple of weeks ago, on a Tuesday, I got a call informing me that my appointment had been made. It was for the following Friday. Three days notice.  Unfortunately I had other plans. The proposed day of the op we were due to go away over night and a week later we were heading up to Merseyside for a few days to spend time with family. Hotels had been booked and paid for and I wasn’t prepared to pass on those. The young lady tried to persuade me otherwise, telling me that “it’s really important that I had this operation”.

I wondered who she thought she was talking to. Wondered why she might think that I didn’t know the importance of the surgery. After all, I’m the one carrying the infected walnut around inside me. I’m the one going through the various biopsies, scans and blood tests. I’m the one who is being nagged by various family members to get on and have it done. She did, does, sound very young.

So, disappointed, she said she would call me again when they had another appointment for me. And that call came yesterday.

I have a busy week, next week. Monday I meet with the consultant. Wednesday I go for my pre-op meeting to see if  I am fit to have the op. and Friday at 07:00 I have to present myself at Theatre reception.

I’ll let you know how I get on.

My Prostate and Me – Part 3


Template Biopsy !

Monday was one of the longest days of my life. I was scheduled for a “Template Biopsy” which for the un-initiated is described thus …..

The template biopsy is carried out using an ultrasound probe which is passed into your back passage and samples of the prostate gland are obtained through the area of the skin between your scrotum and back passage called the perineum. The procedure is similar to a trans rectal biopsy which you will usually have had.

Let me tell you, from the recipients perspective, it is nothing like the TRUS (Trans rectal biopsy).

To start with my TRUS was carried out fully conscious by a specialist nurse, the lovely Vanessa. The main difference though is that I was in and out of the hospital within an hour or so. But that was 18 months ago or more.

Mondays procedure was to be carried out under general anesthetic, for which I am truly grateful. But lets scroll back the clock a little.

Early Monday morning, Very early

I was awake, some time in the wee small hours. Either I am worrying about the procedure, or this is the residuals of jet-lag acquired on our return from Oz just over a week ago. Perhaps a combination of both.  I checked the clock at 04:00 and thereafter approximately on the hour until I got up just after 07:00. I was not allowed to have anything to eat but was allowed clear liquids to drink and had a black tea around 08:00. The taxi was due to pick me up at 11:30 so I was pottering around in the house killing time. It’s amazing how often I found myself by the bread bin thinking “I’ll just have some toast” or over by the cupboard staring at a packet of peanuts. My last eats had been around 21:00 the previous evening. Going without food for that length of time is not natural for me.

Eventually the taxi turned up, although not at my house but three doors away. Luckily I saw him out there. It could have been worse, the dispatcher at the taxi office misheard my address as Sistine and, had I not corrected him, the taxi would probably have been well on his way to Rome and the Vatican. Still, having ascertained that he was there for me I boarded and we set off. Twice I had to correct his directions back to the main road before I was sure we were going to the hospital.  Mentally I was crossing my fingers, hoping that the surgeon had a better sense of direction than my erstwhile pilot.

Tedium Begins

And so, at 11:50, I checked in at the QA Day Surgery Admissions Reception. And thus began the long wait.  It’s a bit like being on a long haul flight, hours of tedium broken up by announcements from the flight crew. In this case there was no food or drink.

After thirty minutes or so I was taken along to a small room. Here I was visited by the anaesthetist  who interrogated, sorry, checked my details and gave me a brief summary of what to expect. He also arranged for some initial meds.

Shortly thereafter, around 13:00, a nurse arrived with my lunch. A cup of water and four tabs, 2 x paracetamol / 1 antacid and 1 stop you feeling sicky pill.

While I was downing this feast another nurse arrived, interrogated me again and checked my blood pressure and heart rate. My heart rate was right down at about 55 which I queried but is apparently normal for “someone of our age”. She later demonstrated her own readings which were similar, so that was alright then.

I was then left alone to my own devices. I read for a while, played hangman on my phone, read some more, got up and walked around my room, looked out the window , read some more. Well you get the picture. I believe I even had a nap for a few minutes. The window looked down on the back dock but there was nothing happening down there.

Around 16:00 a yet another nurse informed  me that I was Mr. Hodgsons last patient and that I would be seeing him soon. Well I saw his registrar who introduced himself but I have no idea what his name was. His accent, he was English I think, was as indecipherable as his signature on the forms that he got me to sign. He went through the now familiar interrogation, during which Mr. Hodgson popped in, shook my hand and disappeared again.

Oh The Indignity

Twenty minutes later I was invited to go and get changed, by yet another nurse, who led me down to a room full of changing cubicles. This is where all dignity ends.

I am not a small guy at just over six feet tall and way over twenty stones (280lb / 127kg). The nurse threw me a smock and left the room. Needless to say the smock, of the tie at the back variety, did not fit well and I struggled to secure it. Although there was no mirror available I could tell by the cool air that most of my back and all of my bum was pretty much fully exposed. The nurse popped her head in and asked how I was getting on. When I explained that the smock didn’t fit and I was having trouble tying it she assumed a sympathetic air and replied “I shouldn’t worry, the first thing they’ll do is undo it”. I then settled down to fight with the compression stockings which when battle was over were rolled up to just below my knees. Wonderful!!

So there I am with my pale blue smock reaching from just below my chin, down to about two inches above the knee. Struggling to meet my sage green stockings, some two inches below my knees. All with my bum exposed to the rear.

The epitomy of sartorial elegance ? Nope, not a pretty picture.

Not to worry, I thought, I have my dressing gown which should bridge the gap. No such luck. To make sure that I was all bright and shiny for the hospital, my wife had washed and tumble dried it. I hadn’t worn it until now and yes, you’ve guessed, it had shrunk. At least it still closed at the front but the length was a sadly lacking being just a tad longer than the hospital smock. At least my back & bum were covered and therefore a little warmer.

I gathered my stuff and found the nurse, who then gathered up another guy (John) and led us through the hospital. Imagine my feelings as we passed through the first doorway into a public waiting area. I’m dressed like a freak and as we entered the waiting area all heads turned to see who had arrived. I thought later that it must have looked like me and John got dressed in the dark and swapped dressing gowns. His gown reached from neck to ankles and wrapped around him properly while mine was way too small. So, we made it through the waiting area without the gales of laughter I was expecting. Next we traversed the hospital to a stairwell where we descended to the floor below and were left in a new waiting room with one other guy and a TV. Here we waited for what seemed like ages but must have been about thirty to forty minutes. John and the  other guy got the call and then eventually so did I.

Kim, not sure if she was a nurse or a doctor, arrived to lead me to the Operating Theatre suite. Once again I had to traverse the hospital through the public corridors and climb to the upper floors via the stairwell. At this point a cold draught, not Guiness, reminded me about the negative aspects of my attire as I climbed the stairs. The stairs with the open railings to the centre, the railings that gave a not so glorious view of my nether regions to the several people descending these same flights of stairs. One glance up by any of them and they would be scarred for life.

Nearly There

On arrival I am sat in another waiting area, just for few minutes, but my apprehension levels are rising. This is not how I imagined the process would work. All this walking and waiting followed by more walking and waiting. And then an assistant anaesthetist comes and interrogates me one more time and I am on my way. One more surprise was that I had to walk into the theatre and get on the table myself. A green bag is held out for me to dump my shoes and dressing gown into. As I take off the gown a nurse rushes across the room to shut the doors to the outside, to prevent my blushes or those of any outsiders I’m not so sure. Then I am on the table.

And They’re Off

When I entered the theatre there was a group of folks gathered in the corner. Presumably they were in a pre-scrum huddle discussing my procedure. Or maybe they were just discussing Pompeys abysmal record. As I hop on the table I suddenly become the centre of a hive of activity as the anaesthetist and his assistant close in to prepare me. Cannula in the back of the hand, heart monitors etc. then the anaesthetist is telling me that I will feel a coldness in my hand as he injects the first of two concoctions. I felt nothing  and then he informs me that I may feel a little dizzy. I’m staring at the ceiling and the light panels suddenly seem to displace and the next thing I know is a voice over my shoulder is speaking and inviting me to cough.

Job Done

I open my eyes and I am in a different room, apparently job done. This is like taking a shot with an SLR. You look through the lens, focus, shutter release, view goes blank as the mirror lifts, then the view is clear again when the mirror drops. All in the blink of an eye. I’m not feeling dopey or dizzy, just wide awake. Once the nurse is happy that I am OK I am wheeled through to a recovery area.

As I enter the new waiting area I pass John and the other guy from the pre-op waiting area. They are sitting up in their respective beds eating toast which they both wave at me.

After a short time and a cup of water I was invited to get dressed and was led outside to a seating area. The nurse asked if I had eaten anything or had a drink to which I responded “No”. I was offered coffee or tea and I was expecting toast but was in fact offered eggy or corned beef butties. John was already out there so I sat alongside and we compared notes as he had the same procedure. When my coffee and butties arrived he was rather envious since he was only offered toast and like me he loves corned beef. My wife was brought in and she eyed my butties hungrily too. She had been waiting outside since just after five and, as it was now gone seven,  was very hungry.

The purpose of this little tea party is to ensure that you are OK, that you can keep down food and drink and most importantly that you can have a pee. If you can’t keep your food down or you don’t make water they won’t let you go home. Worst still an  inability to pee can mean catheterisation and / or an overnight stay. Luckily I was able after a short while to produce a dribble. Oh but it burned. I’m guessing that I was catheterised during the procedure although nobody said.

Freedom

Anyway, based on my meager performance I was allowed to go and  my daughter came and drove us home. Once home it was more tea and everyone seemed amazed, not the least of which me, at how alert I was. Also that I was in no pain. Well apart from when I had a pee which I was having to do with ever-increasing regularity.

Today, Wednesday Morning

Well the good news is that I have not had any pain. Two nights sleep, although still not sleeping all the way through so blaming the jet lag.

It is now nearly forty-one hours since the procedure.  Any residual pain blocking by the anaesthetic must have worn off by now. The burning sensation has all but disappeared and I have a slight soreness in the perineum, like when you have a bruise, which only makes itself known when I sit on something hard.

Now I have to wait for approximately four weeks to hear the results. That brings us to Christmas week I think, so it is likely that my appointment will be after the holidays. We shall see.

My Prostate and Me – Part 2


Some of you may have read my previous post on this subject. I realise that I left it as something of an open-ended, cliff edge item. I had intended to follow-up fairly quickly with the following but for some reason I found I couldn’t  seem to find the time ??? Yet I managed to post on other matters. Go figure.

Since I am on the cusp of the next stage I felt I should bring this up to date, so here goes.

18 Months ago (or so) ….

….. after informing me that I did in fact have Prostate Cancer, Dr Hodgson proceeded to give me the details. The results of the biopsy and so forth. I think I am taking it all on board but in reality the enormity of my situation is quite overwhelming. Its only when he gets up and leaves the room in search of some leaflets that I really feel something. I’m not sure what it is but I have the sensation that something has just come down over me, like a sheet sliding over me. Not heavy but just there.

Dr Hodgson returns and we talk over things for a while longer. The net of this is as follows:

My biopsy has shown that I have Prostate Cancer, this is not good news, however you look at it.

I have a Gleason figure of 6 (3+3) 1% on the left side & 7 (3+4) 8% on the right side. This is relatively good news. Gleason figures in the 1 to 5 range are better. It is later explained to me that 3+4 is better than 4+3 even though they both add up to 7

I am 60 and, apparently, this is a good thing too as, with a following wind,  I have maybe 30 -35 years ahead of me.

My options are :

  1. Surgery – Whip it out and chuck it away
  2. Radiotherapy – External High Energy X-rays
  3. Radiotherapy – Brachytherapy (Nuclear bullets)
  4. Active Surveillance – Regular 6 monthly blood tests to monitor the PSA levels and an annual biopsy unless something changes.

The last was not offered as an option and I had to ask if it was available because I had read about it on the web. Dr Hodgson said that it was an option but he hadn’t offered it as at my age it was more likely that I would eventually have to take one of the other options.

So, I pondered a while then opted for option 4.

My main reasons are a strong fear of people cutting in to my bod. Well that one aside I am also concerned about possible side effects of surgery. After all the Prostate Cancer, isn’t causing me any pain or other symptoms at this time. Whereas, surgery could introduce me to a few negative issues. i.e. infection and damage to surrounding body parts including the bladder. Both of the Radiotherapy options come with potential negative effects which include bladder control which I am not about to give up just yet.

Nope, on the whole, I preferred the idea of Active Surveillance. And that is what we have been doing for the last eighteen months or so. Every six months or so I have had a blood test to measure the PSA and after each test I have had an appointment with a consultant. Each test, other than the last, has shown a slight increase in the PSA. The last showed a 0.1 decrease which in my book is negligible. At the last consultant review we discussed that part of the Active Surveillance regime is a regular biopsy.

And here we are. I am about to go into hospital for a “Template Biopsy”. Instead of grabbing their samples via the back passage, using an ultrasound probe with local anaesthesia, they will knock me out with a general anaesthetic and take many samples using a “template” grid to give them a more accurate idea of what is going on with my prostate. These samples are taken through the skin between the back passage and my undercarriage.

Personally I am really pleased that this will be carried out under GA.
So there you have it. I am about to go into hospital to be shot blasted in the gusset region with 20, 30 or 40 needles.

I will update you on how I get on, if and when I am able to sit down again. And here is a pretty flower for those of you traumatised by the idea of a template biopsy.

Pretty Flower
Pretty Flower

Hands Off Our GPs – NHS: A serious threat


I received an email from 38degrees and have pasted the entire message below.

Having paid into the NHS via taxes for over forty years. I have had little or no need to call on the NHS throughout my early life. So, as you can imagine, I am disgusted to find, just when I am reaching an age where I may need to the services of a GP a little more frequently, the government has an eye to limit my access and make me pay, AGAIN !!.

It is hard enough to get to see a doctor at the best of times. The last thing we need is a limit on the number of visits you are allowed.

Take a read and see if you don’t feel the same way. If you do, add your name to the petition.

This could be very serious. The Conservatives are floating plans to cap the number of times we are allowed to visit our GP. [1] If we run out of visits – because we’ve got a sickly child or long-term health condition, for example – we could be forced to pay to go elsewhere.

At the moment it’s just a proposal. [2] But if the Conservatives don’t see a big public backlash, it could soon be a grim reality. So let’s raise an outcry as quickly as possible and push them to drop the idea immediately.

Please sign the urgent petition now: tell health minister Jeremy Hunt to rule out limiting our access to NHS GPs:
https://secure.38degrees.org.uk/dont-cap-GP-visits

Jeremy Hunt will be watching the public’s reaction carefully. He is an ambitious politician with an eye on his own popularity. If he sees a huge petition growing fast, he’ll realise this is damaging his ratings. So if enough of us sign, we could play a key role in getting this idea dropped.

Being able to visit the family doctor when we need it is a bedrock of a decent health system. GPs are often our first port of call when we’re ill. [3] Limiting access to GPs could mean a dangerous illness is left undetected until it’s too late – unless of course you’ve got private medical insurance…

But this isn’t just about GPs. This is about a principle at the heart of our battle to protect the NHS. Since the NHS was created, everyone in Britain has been able to rely on visiting a doctor as often as we need to. Limiting access would undermine the NHS at its very foundations. So let’s send the Conservatives a strong message: drop this terrible idea.

https://secure.38degrees.org.uk/dont-cap-GP-visits

Thanks for being involved,

David, Rebecca, Travis, Blanche and the 38 Degrees Team

PS: Here’s what the chair of the Royal College of GPs said about these proposals: “This was obviously written by someone who has never been unwell, or has never met people who work in the health service.” Let’s not let the idea get any further – please sign the petition now: https://secure.38degrees.org.uk/dont-cap-GP-visits

NOTES
[1] Daily Mail: Fury as Tories look to limit the number of times you can see your GP each year:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2331068/Fury-Tories-look-limit-number-times-GP-year.html
Independent: Cap on number of GP visits being considered by Tories:
http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/health-and-families/health-news/cap-on-number-of-gp-visits-being-considered-by-tories-8632396.html
[2] The proposal is contained in a “Conservative Policy Forum” paper on NHS policy, you can see the whole thing here:
http://www.conservativepolicyforum.com/policy/local-health
[3] See for example this campaign on the importance of going to see your GP early if you could have symptoms of bowel cancer:
http://www.macmillan.org.uk/Cancerinformation/Cancertypes/Colonandrectum/Symptomsdiagnosis/Symptoms.aspx

5 Rounds With Mike Tyson


Leastways that’s what it feels like I have done. Seem to have acquired a chest infection to go with my cold/flu thing. Have been coughing for England, sounds like whooping cough at times. All this coughing is causing my ribcage to ache hence the Tyson reference.

And as for all the tablets…. 4 in the morning for my blood pressure, 2 every 4 hours for the flu capsules and now 3 antibiotic capsules per day for the chest infection. Beginning to sound like an irate rattler.

Hope I can shake this off over the next 48 hours as I’m due to drive up to Chester on Friday

They Are At It Again


Yes, those despicable food suppliers are at it again. Deceiving Joe Public the most gullible of shoppers.

Just recently we have had the shock horror of discovering horse in those cheap supermarket own brand beefburgers. God only knows what else is in those burgers, but now we KNOW there is horse.  This was followed with the amazing disclosure that Findus have near 100% horse-flesh content in their lasagna. It’s obviously not a bad thing as presumably Joe Public was happily buying and consuming this product. Joe’s sensitive and discerning palate didn’t notice a change in flavour or texture, perhaps because there was none.

Joe Public is obviously getting bored with the horsey story which, after all,  has been running for a couple of weeks. Bit like all the horses I’ve ever backed.  Anyway, in their rush to keep the ball rolling the Daily Mail is now initiating a belated crusade to alert us to the underhand tricks that food manufacturers employ to hide the real content of their products.

For instance, did you know that well-known brands Ferrero Rocher and Lindt are high in sugar and fat ?

I mean, come on ! Is there a single dumb idiot on this planet that doesn’t know that sweets and chocolates all contain vast amounts of substances that are bad for your health. That those sweet canned drinks rot your teeth. The point is they don’t care. They buy them because they like them and the products make them feel good.

Furthermore, the Daily Mail would have you believe that  those nefarious food manufacturers are deliberately hiding ingredient information behind peel back labels. The implication being that Joe Public is too lazy to peel back the label, too lazy to read the ingredient information. In this I sympathise with the manufacturer.

On the one hand they are jockeying for brand position on the supermarket shelves. They are desperate to get their brand in the most prominent eye-catching position. On the other they are having to meet the ever-increasing and ever-changing regulations. Regulations which vary from country to country and in some countries from state to state. These regulations require more and more information to be displayed and declared while at the same time the available label space is either unchanged or in some cases is actually reducing as Joe Public and the legislators declare war on waste. So in this the manufacturers are between the rock and the proverbial hard place.  There is a real likely hood of the brand name being forced off the product just to show the regulatory information. Won’t that look pretty.

In addition the Daily Mail, further casts aspersions about Joe Public and his IQ. Claiming that the food manufacturers are trying to confuse poor old Joe by hiding behind the true chemical names of substances found in our food. Has the Daily Mail forgotten that Joe attended school where, certainly in my day, they taught such things. i.e. Sodium / Salt, Sugar /Carbohydrate. Perhaps the Daily Mail should be lining up for another attack on the educational standards of our schools.

Or perhaps they should run a campaign to get the supermarkets put up handy conversion guide over their shelves to help us poor thick shoppers.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-2273841/Named-shamed-The-big-brands-STILL-refuse-high-salt-sugar-saturated-fat-packaging.html#axzz2KUej59q0

Eating horse is not the problem


The brouhaha continues. I’m sure that some of you have watched, with increasing amazement, as our media throw themselves into winding up Joe Public over the “shock horror” of the presence of horse-flesh in the “beef” burgers being sold by some of our supermarkets. Now we are informed that a well-known brand is serving us with near 100% horse-flesh in what they like to call lasagna.

When Joe is doing his weekly shop, probably the last thing he does is study the ingredients list on his pack of burgers, especially if he is buying supermarket own brand in preference to premium brands. In the current era of rising prices I suspect the pound in the pocket is the driving force and Joe would, probably, rather not know the truly diverse nature of the contents of the average burger.

What has really irritated me with all the coverage is the suggestion that including horsemeat is some kind of contamination. The supermarkets fell over themselves to clear their shelves yet it appears they may have been selling burgers with horse supplement for some time. Only this morning there was a suggestion from one breakfast TV pundit that there was a risk to the public from the heavy-duty veterinary medications that might have been used on horses. Did this bright spark actually stop to consider the amount of drugs regularly administered to cows, sheep, pigs, turkeys, ducks and chickens which find their way onto our tables.

No, indeed the big sin was that nobody told us that our burgers and lasagna contained a trace of horse. Oh, OK, was all horse.

I’m pretty sure that the supermarkets missed a trick here. What they should have done was put up signs, over the freezers containing the Dobbin Burgers, declaring “May Contain Horse”. Then marked the prices down. I’m sure the freezers would have been emptied in no time.

So, as the mails Michael Hanlon says, Eating horse is not the problem

But that said, diets do seem to be going downhill so how can we be sure about the quality of what we are eating?

We can’t but there are some simple rules you can follow to at least give yourself a chance of avoiding the most disgusting stuff out there.

Firstly, load your shopping basket with as much stuff as possible that does not have a ‘nutrition’ label. Generally (and there are exceptions, milk and so forth) anything that gives you a list of figures on the packet saying how healthy it is will be less healthy than anything that doesn’t. This advice does not apply in American supermarkets, who seem unable to avoid labeling everything with calorie content, fat content and so on, including bottled water, dish cloths and electric lightbulbs.

Realistically, this means buying meat that looks like actual meat – red stringy stuff that has fat and maybe even bone attached – plus fresh fruit and vegetables. It means buying bread that comes in a bag made of paper not polythene, and buying butter rather than margarine (which, as one chemistry wag once put it, is ‘one molecule away from plastic’). It means buying juice made of squashed fruits rather than ‘concentrates’ and remembering that an awful lot of stuff that has been frozen needs to have synthetic chemicals added to it to make it taste good again.

Buy horse, by all means (if you can find it) but make sure it has been labelled as such. And remember that if you really want to eat cheap burgers (and surely life is too short for that) then the presence of a bit of old nag will be the least of the horrors that lurk within.
 

By the way,has anyone drawn the link between missing racehorse Shergar and the well-known food suppliers brand name “Find Us”…Could be a secret message from our missing animal friends .

Eating horse is not the problem – Mail Online – Michael Hanlon’s Science blog: From The Cutting Edge.

Just Call 111 – Did You Know ?


According to The News, our local rag, NHS Direct is no more.

But now NHS Direct no longer exists, and people should call the new number if they need health advice, information or if they have a non life-threatening health issue and are not sure where to go for treatment.

So says The News with their headline “NHS Direct switched off as new number kicks in ”

It’s a shame that NHS Direct don’t seem to know, so I’m not on my own in my ignorance. I visited the NHS Direct site earlier today. Not a mention of any different number to call if you happen to live in Hampshire.

Apparently, last month, there was a soft launch of the new NHS number “111”. This new number can be used to call for fast medical help and has “gone live” across Hampshire.
NHS111

The free number is staffed by a team of advisers, supported by trained paramedics and nurses, who will assess the caller’s symptoms, provide relevant advice and direct them to the right local service at that time. It is hoped pressure will be taken off 999.

I thought that was what NHS Direct was supposed to do. How is this parallel service going to help take the load off the emergency 999 service ?

In trawling the net I have found out that the 111 number has been the subject of debate for some time but am I the only person in the country who is unaware that this change is actually upon us ?

Even The News has only given it minimal prominence.

Frankenfish – Say No To Genetically Modified Salmon


I recently received the following by email and have re-posted here in its entirety.

Many of us have concerns about GM foods and the lack of testing or understanding of the impacts on both the wild salmon populations or the consumer is probably the most worrying issue.

Please take the time to read this and also take a look at some of the additional links below. If you agree with me, that this must be stopped until all issues are properly understood, please follow the link and sign the petition.

Dear friends,

The US is about to treat the world to the first genetically modified meat: a mutant salmon that could wipe out wild salmon populations and threaten human health. Unless we stop it, this Frankenfish could open the floodgates for biotech meat around the world. Click below to build 1 million voices to stop it:

The US is about to treat the world to the first genetically modified meat: a mutant salmon that could wipe out wild salmon populations and threaten human health — but we can stop it now before our plates are filled with suspicious Frankenfish.

The new fake salmon grows twice as fast as the real one, and not even scientists know its long-term health effects. Yet it’s about to be declared safe for us to eat, based on studies paid for by the company that created the GMO creature! Luckily, the US is legally required to consider public opinion before deciding. A growing coalition of consumers, environmentalists, and fishermen is calling on the government to trash this fishy deal. Let’s urgently build an avalanche of global support to help them win.

The consultation is happening right now and we have a real chance to keep mutant fish off the menu. Sign to stop Frankenfish and share widely — when we reach 1 million, our call will be officially submitted to the public consultation:

http://www.avaaz.org/en/stop_frankenfish_r/?brpgHdb&v=21124

The company that developed the Frankenfish altered the DNA of the salmon to create a fish that would grow at lightning speed, year-round. Not only do we not understand its long-term health effects, if a few of them or their eggs reached the wild, these super-salmon could decimate entire wild salmon populations. Worse, once they hit supermarkets, we won’t be able to tell apart Frankenfish and real salmon, so there won’t be a way to avoid it!

The biotech industry has spent hundreds of millions of dollars lobbying governments to approve its GM crops. Frankenfish is their next million dollar baby — it could open the floodgates for other transgenic meats. But the US government will consider public opinion before it makes its final decision — if we can stun them with a giant global opposition when they least expect it, we can stop this reckless deal.

Frankenfish is on the verge of being approved — let’s make sure biotech companies don’t decide what we eat. Help build one million voices to stop the mutant fish:

http://www.avaaz.org/en/stop_frankenfish_r/?brpgHdb&v=21124

Avaaz members have come together to protect the natural world and our food system from dangerous meddling. In 2010, over 1 million of us spoke out against genetically modified food in Europe. Let’s come together again to stop Frankenfish.

With hope,

Jamie, Nick, Emma, Dalia, Emily, Paul, Ricken, Wen-Hua and the whole Avaaz team

MORE INFORMATION

Engineered Fish Moves a Step Closer to Approval (NY Times)
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/22/business/gene-altered-fish-moves-closer-to-federal-approval.html

GM salmon: FDA’s assessment of environmental risks (LA Times)
http://www.latimes.com/health/boostershots/la-heb-aquabounty-salmon-fda-assesses-risks-20121224,0,2554480.story

Genetically Modified Animals (Women’s Health Magazine)
http://www.womenshealthmag.com/nutrition/genetically-modified-animals

Protect our waters from GE Salmon (Center for Food Safety)
http://ge-fish.org/

Below the Surface: The Dangers of Genetically Engineered Salmon (Food & Water Watch)
http://www.foodandwaterwatch.org/factsheet/below-the-surface/

Genetically Engineered Salmon (Ocean Conservancy)
http://www.oceanconservancy.org/our-work/aquaculture/aquaculture-genetically.html