I have just acquired a new vocabulary and I have never been any good at languages. So how’s this for a step into the unknown. And remember, that from a lyrical and poetic perspective, I have had to think hard about the best arrangement of these new syllables. See what you think: Coversyl, Simvastatin and Atenolol. And I have our mongrel dog Millie to thank.
Myself and Millie go on the same walk every day, as we have done for years, and she is always up for it. She’s a cross between an Alsatian and a border collie, and though in her eight years she has never had the sniff, (or should it be whiff of a sheep), when she leaps madly towards the front door, just to let the postman know who’s boss; a whistle brings her to an abrupt halt.
She has other abilities also. She likes to answer the phone. But as we have so many phones she is never quite sure where to run when it rings. And she likes to join in the conversation at mealtimes. If she doesn’t hear her name mentioned, she will jolt your wrist with her snout. And she eats when we eat, but only when she has decided that there are definitely no tit-bits coming from the table.
And she can spell. We stopped using the word “walk” when it became obvious that she knew what we were talking about. But you want to see her ears sit up, and watch her galloping up the hall when talking to my wife I say: “it’s time to take M for a -" and I spell it out: “w.a.l.k.”
Well when we are out walking Millie wears a muzzle, partly to protect young children, whose instinct it is to befriend any dog. But Millie isn’t any dog. She is a lady of some discernment. She likes to take half an hour to size up a stranger, and there is no guarantee, even then, that you will be accepted as one of the pack.
Now on this walk that we do every day, there’s a little grey haired lady that I often meet coming in the opposite direction. She’s Norfolk through and through, and I guess, a bit of a character. She has a fine husky voice, and is never short of something to say; so we frequently insult each other as we pass.
It is a walk that takes us along a narrow road with no footpaths, past expensive houses, each in their own leafy suburb; and usually there's not much going on, beyond what is at the end of Millie’s nose. But recently a builder cut a house in half, and once he had created a few feet of space between the bits, he rather cleverly reconstructed them as separate houses. And there is a particular house along this walk that gets Millie going. Her ears are up and she is straining to get there, when she is still a good three hundred yards away. There is a dog there of the manicured type, and they hate the sight of one another. As we pass, the little terrier runs madly up and down inside the gate, while Millie, straining at the leash, scatters gravel everywhere in her attempt to get in and sort her out. There is no mistaking it; they just hate the sight of one another.
Well just beyond this house there is a hill that takes you through a leafy glade and out into what is more or less rural Norfolk. Until very recently I took this hill in my stride, but a week ago I noticed that something was not quite right; a feeling that I had before I got to the hill proper. And unusually for me, I was glad to stop at every point where Millie wanted to explore the undergrowth. And while I waited, I had several good reasons in my head, as to why I should not be unduly worried, that is, until last Sunday. Last Sunday was a beautiful spring day and I felt great, that is, until I got to the hill; and by the time I had reached the top, the pain in my chest was pronounced and I had no excuses left.
Well within twenty-four hours of seeing my doctor, and living as I do in a country where health-care, (as politicians like to describe it), is “free at the point of use”, I had been to the chest pain clinic at the Norfolk and Norwich University Hospital. There I had an ECG and afterwards a chat with a cardiac nurse, before being introduced to the consultant, who, with a degree of dry humour asked if I would explain "yet again" what had happened. After that, and a further brief examination I was lead away to the treadmill, where, once wired up, I was encouraged to show what I could do. Not only did I have no pain in my chest, but I kept up with the ever exacting pace, until the only thing left to do with the treadmill was switch it off, and end the session by monitoring my respiratory return to normal.
After that, it was back to the consultant, and here I learned an invaluable lesson. Though I had experienced no pain on the treadmill, {and I had been on it for nine minutes), the monitoring had picked up the sort of abnormality associated with narrowing of the arteries, and that was consistent with the story that I had told the consultant. What I had discovered and would not forget is, that if you have a heart condition, the absence of pain, in not in itself, an indication of well-being.
Several hours later I was back in my own doctors' surgery, with the consultants' letter in hand. And half an hour after that, I was off to the pharmacist for an assortment of tablets, again: “free at the point of use.”
Now this is where the story gets really interesting.
Having spent twenty four hours in the care of medical scientists, who do know and do care, not only had I to come to terms with a new vocabulary, but I had to come to terms with what I see as a new way of looking at the world; the way of the litigant.
Sitting in the kitchen, with a cup of tea, (a good antioxidant), I though I would read the fine print on one of the medicines. And remember, that it is me and not the dog that has the problem. Under the heading: “What side effects can Atenolol cause,” I read this: “Along with its needed effects Atenolol may cause side effects in some patients. These may include: coldness of the extremities, tiredness, stomach upsets, slowing of the heart rate, headache, mood swings” (and I kid you not): “deterioration of the heart condition”, as well as “low blood pressure, skin rashes" and "dry eyes.” To which the lawyers clearly felt the need to add, (with reassurance): “Rarely do the following effects arise. Sleep disturbance, hair loss, blood disorders like thrombocytopenia (which causes unusual bruising and bleeding), skin reactions, exacerbation of psoriasis, tingling in the hands, numbness and spasm in the fingers and changes in normal heart beat.”
Well I haven't yet read the small print on the other two packets, but I sure am glad that I read this when I was 64. And I wont breathe a word of it to Millie..
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© Cormac McCloskey
Note: This blog, "Health - A Dog's :Life", was first published on Windows Live Spaces, by me, on 29th March 2006
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