It's in the Bag

was an enduring New Zealand game show which ran from 1980-1992, presented by Selwyn Toogood (punning opportunities abound!!) in which hapless contestants chose from a variety of "bags" to win a prize. The magnificently proportioned pensioner presenter would then attempt to buy back "the bag" with tempting offers of hard tax free cash.

The bag could contain various luxurious prizes ranging from a gigantic wooden colour TV set, a large  electric sewing machine, and an enormous twin tub, right down to the booby prize of a pen. And to top it all the show travelled around New Zealand, setting up camp in small provincial townships, where clearly the lure of a twin tub lured folk away from their sheep fancying.

Of course there was always New Zealand's own Blind Date.....but this never caught on in the metropolitan areas.

And so we move flawlessly from an old bags, to a new bag...

Collected this very week from Her Majesty's Purveyors of Salves, Ointments and Remedies, otherwise known as my local pharmacist.

Not a discreet paper bag as one might expect, containing a small selection of pills, no this was an enormous carrier bag, filled completely with a veritable cornucopia of drugs, caplets and tablets.

My monthly supply had been dispensed twice and I was presented with this medicine chest of supplies.

Upon closer inspection it looked even more enormous, and threatened to overflow my modest medicine repository. Off I trotted, swinging my bag of drugs back home, returning with considerably less chic than a Bond Street expedition. Oh well, I will just have to adjust my Ikea Björkken medicine cabinet. Clearly this is indeed a case of substance over style.

And they do keep me alive, so however cheesy this may be, (but not quite as cheddary as "Its in the Bag"), I am grateful for my particular bag,  It is indeed a wonderful prize.

The Diary Of Bridget Jones with Bob the BPM

Tuesday 12.30pm: Introduced to Andrew by way of sudden attachment to waist and strapped to arm. Protested vigorously by inflating cuff unexpectedly to give a false reading.

1pm: Being driven "home" via the motorway, stuck listening to Abba. Inflated suddenly during gear change, added 10 mms to blood pressure. Hope desperately this will improve.

2pm: Has decided to watch History Channel, forced to endure monotonous droning from someone called Tony Robinson.

2.30: Apparently time for a snack and a cup of tea. Inflated unexpectedly during kettle pour, that always surprises.

4pm: Off for a walk on beach, despite obvious dangers to valuable electronic self. Stuck talking to dog walker. Noisily inflated twice as revenge. Woof indeed.

6pm: Introduced to something called a vacuum cleaner, heck of a noise. Inflated extra hard as punishment.

10pm. Cable has become occluded so unable to measure correct pressure. Re-inflated twice to re assess. Managed to extract an "ouch". Serves him right.

11pm: Time for bed. Managed to interrupt nightly shower regime, since susceptible to water damage, must be kept dry, of course.

11.10pm. Succeeded in disturbing bedtime reading by getting in a couple of pumps. Book holding unaccomplished as a result.
.
11.59pm. Subject asleep as last, but not for long. Nocturnal BPs at their lowest for a while.

Midnight: Inflated as pre arranged. Managed to disturb and elicit a loud groan.

1 - 3am: Took readings every nocturnal hour. Am convinced that constant irritation will add mms HG.

4-5am: Subject tired, remained asleep. Must be losing influence. Shall try earnestly to rethink strategy.

6am: Managed a perfect combined inflation and awakening. Celebrated with a spot of self indulgent congratulations.

7-10am: Continued with regular hourly inflation, rewarded with inconvenience and harassment factor in public spaces +10. 

11am. Driven back to hospital. Might indulge in a little extra pumping before we part.

12.30 pm. Unceremoniously dumped at clinic. Must have a word with hospital management about calibre of patients I get strapped to, this one was very unappreciative.

Have resolved to download all data to doctors. Hopefully this examination will negate the need for a sequel.

Bob?

Edmund Blackadder notoriously fell for his new "manservant" Bob, in a memorable episode of the Tudor themed BBC series. This strange devotion to his new "boy" resulted in visits to leech wielding doctors, seeking advice from the Wisewoman of Putney laced with regal comment and gossip in court.

The attachment was made even more significant when "Bob" was revealed to be a "she" called Kate. Their attachment did not last for long, however, and "Bob"/Kate left him for another.

I too have recently found my own "Bob". We have been attached to each other for over a day and during that time we have been literally inseparable, clinging to each other for support and going everywhere together. In fact, we even spent the night together after only the first 6 hours of meeting!

But before you chastise me with "Wicked Child!", I can easily explain this recent attachment...

"Bob" is an ambulatory blood pressure monitoring device, issued by the hospital to get accurate blood pressure levels throughout a 24 hr period. Usually blood pressures are taken standing in front of the doctor. Studies suggest a form of white coat hypertension manifests itself causing a patient's pressure to increase. This can be due to nervousness and anxiety as a result from being in a clinical setting. As I am in the "high risk" category of patients at risk of cardio problems the clinic needs to have an accurate measure over time of my real time blood pressure. 

Before you could say "hey nonny nonny", I was at the clinic being fitted out with the oddest of contraptions, a portable waist monitor attached to which protrudes a long rubber hose and an  inflatable arm cuff. 

As discreet as a codpiece, it hangs betwixt my legs like an electric sporran, scaring passers by....

I named it "Bob" for we were gonna be close for a while, and I felt he need to personalise this intruder into my intimate space. 

And so began 24 hours of being closely monitored by "Bob"
What would he find out? Would he tell anyone? and worse still would I be able to explain my way out of it?

Synchronicity.

Was released in 1983 by The Police, fronted by his eminent holiness and all round good egg the Sting,

No not them, but the mung bean munching Sting. formerly known as the teacher Gordon Sumner.

This album raced to the top of the global charts and spawned a couple of hit singles, most notably "Every Breath you Take" a huge number one for what seemed like aeons in the long hot UK summer of 1983.

But this post does not involve any kind of lancet, needle, bumblebee, wasp, or even constabulary force, but merely alludes to a favourable update to my previous post.

I am pleased to say that my friend has sufficiently recovered from her kidney episode and is no longer needing dialysis. As a result she has been discharged to her home for a spot of resting and pampering, much as I was not so many moons ago. Recovery at home is always the best, as hospitals are for sick people, whereas long term recovery at home is the preferred option.

Our shared renal team has the same sychronous approach, home at rest is the best.

I continue my journey is a similarly positive note, decent creatinine levels and stable blood sugars, harmoniously displaying further evidence of continued normality.

Lets hope we both continue on our medical journeys without being arrested again.

Tales of the Unexpected.

Strange goings on in seventies suburbia introduced by a nubile swaying silhouette....The series ran for several seasons and thrilled old and young alike with it's mysterious tales with strange twists.
I remember one particular episode involving a gardener who invented a sound machine so he could listen to the voices of flowers. However instead of the gentle lullabies and floral whispers of softly wafting rhododendrons, the botanist was treated to the unexpected hideous screams of the dying flowers as they were mown down by secateurs.

All very complex and scary for a little person, but not altogether unexpected.

This week however I unexpectedly found myself  at the new North Shore Dialysis Centre...

Dialysis? Not again?

No not for me. I was there to visit a close friend who had unexpectedly collapsed at the end of a gruelling endurance "fun run" in the South Island. She is in the peak of health, regularly runs and exercises every day, enjoys a very healthy diet and is as virtuous as Mother Theresa compared to my Bertie Bassett. Unexpected indeed.
It turns out that her kidneys had temporarily shut down after suffering the combined effects of severe dehydration mixed with a few Voltaren tablets to ease the pain associated with long runs, as per her coach's instruction.

Now Voltaren (Diclofenac sodium) it seems, when combined with dehydration, can lead to renal toxicity and in extreme cases renal papillary necrosis (not good!)
She was rushed to the local hospital for a week of fluid hydration, but had to be moved to Auckland for the nephrology.
And so my friend's kidneys have been feeling very stressed and grumpy, so much so that she has been having daily dialysis to allow the kidneys time to heal and recover from this toxic episode.

A neck catheter has been inserted and for three hours each day the poor thing is taken to the brand new dialysis unit to be hooked up and "filtered for wellness."

Things have certainly moved on since I used to make the thrice weekly trip to dialysis and the contrasts between the 2 facilities were clearly evident, smart slate entrance, new beds, comfortable dialysis chairs and each patient has their own individual widescreen TV!

I wish my friend a speedy recovery from this temporary setback, and am reassured that she is in the best of hands, and in one of the country's newest medical establishments.

The Masque of Mandragora

I have this week been transported through time and space to the15th Century (care of the BBC props department), in search of a sinister facial adornment. Allow me to explain oh exalted ones....

It started of course with the Doctor....

Dr de Soysa.
Dr who?
No, not Dr Who, but Dr Janak de Soysa, renal consultant and time lord.
Time Lord?
I have plenty of time for my renal consultant.

At our last appointment following up from the scourge of the Green Death that put me back in hospital recently, we examined steps to reduce my exposure to harmful pathogens.. His first suggestion, quite logical, was to try and avoid large crowds, such as parties, concerts, or even masquerade balls.                               

A good idea, and should I materialise in a 15th Century Italian Ball,.I will take note.

Secondly the Doctor suggested that I obtain a mask to ward off the Deadly Assassin...

No, not that old gilded prop. 

Rather a face mask, to avoid contact with the Invisible Enemy.

I whimsically chatted this over with my companion, F33-9ine the Intergalactic cat.

After some musing I tried my patented disposable yashmak, with a modicum of success.

However this was clearly not a practical solution. After some time, and relative dimensions in my brain (bigger on the inside than the outside) I settled on a cotton surgical face mask. 
Attractive? I think not. Effective? We shall see what the Doctor says..

Jelly Baby anyone?