While I have been busy thinking of small changes to work on for each month instead of my usual New Year Resolutions, my body had been working on a BIG change all on its own - the change - menopause.
It was the drop in libido which really alerted me to what was going on. It is very unlike me to have no interest in sex. Much to my poor husband's confusion, that is where I found myself. I reassured him as much as I could then Googled 'Menopause Symptons' to reassure myself. I do wonder how on earth anyone managed in the days before the internet.
I could certainly relate to some of the symptoms that I read about. The plummeting sex drive was there brave and bold. Tiredness, headaches, increasing waistline, issues with memory, irregularity of periods, night sweats; mental ticks were put by each of these boxes. There were plenty of other reported symptoms that I was very glad not to add to my list. I also read through comments made by women who had felt they were suffering alone and keen to share their experiences. Some felt that they were diminished as women by the process.
I have thoroughly enjoyed my child bearing years. I have been lucky enough to have six relatively problem free pregnancies, labours and births resulting in my six wonderful children ranging in age from 3 - 26 years. I have loved ALL of it. I am determined to honour that time now by taking the next step in my reproductive journey with dignity.
I have a very open and honest relationship with my husband. We can talk about my lack of libido and see it not as the end of our sex life but something we just have to work around. I am treating all my other symptoms in my usual fashion - with humour.
I was just getting used to being fifty now I am having to adapt to being fifty and menopausal. I am finding plenty to laugh about!
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Thursday, 29 May 2014
Thursday, 17 October 2013
Hydration
I think most people are aware of the benefits of drinking plenty of water - alertness, clearer skin, weight control and more energy to name just a few. The recommended intake is eight glasses per day. So simple. Yet why do so many of us (myself included) fail to do this?
For me, not drinking enough water is usually accompanied by drinking too much coffee. The inevitable result is a blinding headache. I curse myself for the stupidity of this but know without a doubt that it will happen again. It ought not to be too difficult to choose a nice refreshing glass of water over a hot beverage but somehow I find myself reaching for the kettle and promising that next time I'll opt for the healthier alternative.
I do find it easier to get closer to my eight glasses a day if I carry bottled water with me and drink little and often. Of course the method is only effective if you actually get that bottle of water and carry it with you. I always have a stock of it on the floor of my larder but there are many more days that pass by without me doing it than with.
If I fail to hydrate adequately, it is very noticeable when I exercise. When I run, I get the feeling in my mouth like I've been licking gummed envelopes. Lots of gummed envelopes! It is unpleasant and it does make it harder to breathe efficiently. I run slower. I enjoy it less. If I am going on a long run or it is particularly warm I do take water with me to avoid this. There are belts designed to carry small sports bottles but my preference is to simply carry a bottle in my hand. At first, I found the sloshing of it with every step a little off putting but have since come to enjoy the gentle sounds and fluid motion. It can be quite relaxing and help me find a rhythm that maintains a good pace. Even so, running unencumbered is still my first choice.
This Saturday, I am going to be running The Race for Life. It is all about taking part rather than trying to go as fast as possible and I am going to be running with my daughter who is recovering from an knee injury. We are anticipating an easy pace. However, even an easy pace makes demands of your body when you maintain it over five kilometres. The Race for Life is sponsored by Aqua Pura and I know that I will be well and truly ready for the bottle handed to you as you cross the finish line. Nothing tastes better than that first mouthful after you have exerted yourself.
I'm going to try really hard to hold onto that good feeling to remind me to drink more water everyday. I know I'll never be ready to dispense with my kettle completely but I can at least aim for a better balance. I know my body will thank me for it.
For me, not drinking enough water is usually accompanied by drinking too much coffee. The inevitable result is a blinding headache. I curse myself for the stupidity of this but know without a doubt that it will happen again. It ought not to be too difficult to choose a nice refreshing glass of water over a hot beverage but somehow I find myself reaching for the kettle and promising that next time I'll opt for the healthier alternative.
I do find it easier to get closer to my eight glasses a day if I carry bottled water with me and drink little and often. Of course the method is only effective if you actually get that bottle of water and carry it with you. I always have a stock of it on the floor of my larder but there are many more days that pass by without me doing it than with.
If I fail to hydrate adequately, it is very noticeable when I exercise. When I run, I get the feeling in my mouth like I've been licking gummed envelopes. Lots of gummed envelopes! It is unpleasant and it does make it harder to breathe efficiently. I run slower. I enjoy it less. If I am going on a long run or it is particularly warm I do take water with me to avoid this. There are belts designed to carry small sports bottles but my preference is to simply carry a bottle in my hand. At first, I found the sloshing of it with every step a little off putting but have since come to enjoy the gentle sounds and fluid motion. It can be quite relaxing and help me find a rhythm that maintains a good pace. Even so, running unencumbered is still my first choice.
This Saturday, I am going to be running The Race for Life. It is all about taking part rather than trying to go as fast as possible and I am going to be running with my daughter who is recovering from an knee injury. We are anticipating an easy pace. However, even an easy pace makes demands of your body when you maintain it over five kilometres. The Race for Life is sponsored by Aqua Pura and I know that I will be well and truly ready for the bottle handed to you as you cross the finish line. Nothing tastes better than that first mouthful after you have exerted yourself.
I'm going to try really hard to hold onto that good feeling to remind me to drink more water everyday. I know I'll never be ready to dispense with my kettle completely but I can at least aim for a better balance. I know my body will thank me for it.
Saturday, 26 January 2013
Burns Night - In Sickness and in Health
My husband had a sick day from work yesterday. Lovely as it was to have him home, I am not good with sick husbands.
When I am feeling unwell, my husband is wonderful - attentive, sympathetic and loving. When he is the one shivering and feverish, I avoid him as much as possible, roll my eyes and tut when he asks for medicine and tell him to man up. In my defence, I do apologise for my behaviour and try to explain that I am simply not good with sick husbands.
He did ask me if I knew why it was that my normally generous nature deserts me in the face of ill health. I think it possibly stems from a time in my childhood when my mother was very sick.
I grew up in a small house that felt even smaller than it was because it was crammed full with large furniture. I was probably about 9 years old when my mother fell ill. I distinctly remember being in the overcrowded living room trying to watch television with my mother in a very sorry state, struggling for breath and saying that it felt as though she was being stabbed in her back, and my father telling her curtly that there was nothing wrong with her. This was not neglect or cruelty - simply denial. He could not bear the idea that his beloved wife was anything other than her healthy, vibrant self. My uncle called round, took one look at his sister and demanded that my father call the doctor. It turned out that she was suffering from Lobar Pneumonia.
My mother was ill for a long time and spent a lot of that time in her bed. In a fevered state she experienced a glimpse of the afterlife. Unfortunately for her, her hallucination was not a 'beautiful light at the end of a tunnel' sort of experience - she was visited by a horned Beelzebub complete with flaming inferno.
The one thing that haunts me most about those grim days was not the coughing up of blood streaked sputum, or the the disruption to our daily routines and my dad's lumpy porridge - it was the smell of illness. It is well recognised that smells have a remarkable power to evoke memories. The smell of illness embodies the fear and the uncertainty a young girl felt when she saw a mother frail and weakened and a father no longer able to hide behind denial, having to face the hard reality.
My mother recovered. The permanent damage to one lung did not seem to bother her. The ordeal strengthened my parents' relationship with each other but to the detriment of their relationship with me. I always felt in the way.
Darkened room, fevered body shivering beneath clammy duvet, barely audible plea for medicine or a glass of water, subtle but unmistakeable smell of illness - I'm rolling my eyes, tutting and avoiding. My poor husband deserves so much better!
Thankfully, he had perked up enough by the late afternoon to peel a load of potatoes for the 'tatties' part of our Burns Night traditional Vegetarian Haggis, Neeps and Tatties.
We had an almost perfect evening. A roaring fire was a good antedote to the snow battering at the window. The Proclaimers provided the soundrack to our Scottish feast and Lidl's provided the themed Burns Ale to accompany it.
Bad recitals of Burns' poetry and the retelling of my favourite Scottish Folk tale, The Milk White Doo filled the interlude before bringing out the very unScottish homemade Lemon Bakewell Tart dessert (I didn't have the ingredients for shortbread!).
The only thing that prevented this being a perfect evening was the fact that my little Addy's temperature started to soar.
When my children are the source of the smell of illness, it doesn't have the same effect on me at all. No eye rolling, no tutting - just cuddles, kisses and Calpol!
When I am feeling unwell, my husband is wonderful - attentive, sympathetic and loving. When he is the one shivering and feverish, I avoid him as much as possible, roll my eyes and tut when he asks for medicine and tell him to man up. In my defence, I do apologise for my behaviour and try to explain that I am simply not good with sick husbands.
He did ask me if I knew why it was that my normally generous nature deserts me in the face of ill health. I think it possibly stems from a time in my childhood when my mother was very sick.
I grew up in a small house that felt even smaller than it was because it was crammed full with large furniture. I was probably about 9 years old when my mother fell ill. I distinctly remember being in the overcrowded living room trying to watch television with my mother in a very sorry state, struggling for breath and saying that it felt as though she was being stabbed in her back, and my father telling her curtly that there was nothing wrong with her. This was not neglect or cruelty - simply denial. He could not bear the idea that his beloved wife was anything other than her healthy, vibrant self. My uncle called round, took one look at his sister and demanded that my father call the doctor. It turned out that she was suffering from Lobar Pneumonia.
My mother was ill for a long time and spent a lot of that time in her bed. In a fevered state she experienced a glimpse of the afterlife. Unfortunately for her, her hallucination was not a 'beautiful light at the end of a tunnel' sort of experience - she was visited by a horned Beelzebub complete with flaming inferno.
The one thing that haunts me most about those grim days was not the coughing up of blood streaked sputum, or the the disruption to our daily routines and my dad's lumpy porridge - it was the smell of illness. It is well recognised that smells have a remarkable power to evoke memories. The smell of illness embodies the fear and the uncertainty a young girl felt when she saw a mother frail and weakened and a father no longer able to hide behind denial, having to face the hard reality.
My mother recovered. The permanent damage to one lung did not seem to bother her. The ordeal strengthened my parents' relationship with each other but to the detriment of their relationship with me. I always felt in the way.
Darkened room, fevered body shivering beneath clammy duvet, barely audible plea for medicine or a glass of water, subtle but unmistakeable smell of illness - I'm rolling my eyes, tutting and avoiding. My poor husband deserves so much better!
Thankfully, he had perked up enough by the late afternoon to peel a load of potatoes for the 'tatties' part of our Burns Night traditional Vegetarian Haggis, Neeps and Tatties.
We had an almost perfect evening. A roaring fire was a good antedote to the snow battering at the window. The Proclaimers provided the soundrack to our Scottish feast and Lidl's provided the themed Burns Ale to accompany it.
Bad recitals of Burns' poetry and the retelling of my favourite Scottish Folk tale, The Milk White Doo filled the interlude before bringing out the very unScottish homemade Lemon Bakewell Tart dessert (I didn't have the ingredients for shortbread!).
The only thing that prevented this being a perfect evening was the fact that my little Addy's temperature started to soar.
When my children are the source of the smell of illness, it doesn't have the same effect on me at all. No eye rolling, no tutting - just cuddles, kisses and Calpol!
Friday, 30 March 2012
Life Line Screening
When I was offered the chance to blog about Life Line Screening, I must admit that I was slightly apprehensive. By offering affordable, non-invasive procedures that test for serious health issues, Life Line Screening aims to offer people choice in terms of taking a preventative stance towards managing their health.
Why the apprehension? I live a relatively healthy life style, I feel well. I didn't want to shatter the illusion that I'm going to live a long and active life by discovering that my body is in fact a ticking time bomb of disease. My sensible self realised that knowing about potential problems would give me the opportunity to take positive steps towards minimising the impact to my life expectancy and that these potential problems would still be there whether or not I was screened. My irrational self wanted to bury my head in the sand! Irrational self lost the argument and I booked an appointment.
Life Line Screening brings its service into the community. My screening was to take place in a prominent venue local to me with easy parking. A week before my appointment, I was sent a reminder email with information about what to expect and how to prepare. I was slightly alarmed by the instruction to fast for four hours (which included NO tea or coffee!)
My appointment was for 9.30am so the four hour fast only meant missing breakfast - but not having my morning cup of tea in bed was difficult!
I arrived in plenty of time and was greeted by a very friendly, helpful receptionist who gave me forms to fill in detailing my medical history and even leant me a pair of reading glasses when I groaned about the size of the font (Note to Self: Book appointment with the optician!).
I handed back my forms, feeling quietly smug that I had been able to check all the 'NO' circles next to the list of scary sounding disorders one may be suffering with.
Even at 9.30 in the morning there were already people being tested and a steady trickle of customers continued to arrive throughout the duration of my stay. The idea of The Power of Prevention is obviously catching on.
Before long I was called for my Carotid Artery Stroke Screening. The carotid arteries in your neck carry blood from the heart to the brain. Blockages in these arteries that prevent blood flow to the brain are a major cause of strokes. Using ultra sound techniques, blockages and blood flow can be assessed which would alert you to the likelihood of suffering a stroke. If further action was necessary, the results would be passed onto your GP.
Having had six pregnancies, I am no stranger to ultra sound examinations but the cold gel and sensor on my neck was an altogether different experience. It wasn't painful - just a weird, uncomfortable feeling. Maybe it is because I am a Taurean - the zodiac sign ruled by the neck. Whatever the reason, I didn't like it. I did like that no anomalies were detected. The results were to be sent off for the consultant to do a thorough diagnosis but it was reassuring that there was nothing glaringly obvious that I should have been worried about.
This examination, as well as those for Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm, Peripheral Arterial Disease and Atrial Fibrillation (the accounts of which will follow), were carried out with me lying on an examination table. The practitioners made a point of disinfecting the tables prior to asking me to lie down each time.
My next screening was for Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm. This involved exposing my abdominal area to give access for the ultra sound sensor, breathing in, holding it, breathing out. You trust that the 'trained medical professionals' carrying out the test know what they are looking for. All of the testers carried out the examinations with efficiency and explained exactly what they were doing. I was given a rather blunt description of an aneurysm - your artery swells up with blood like a balloon, it bursts, you die. I was (not surprisingly) relieved that no thinning or abnormality of my abdominal aorta was detected! Again, the results would need to be checked by a consultant before the final report was delivered to me.
Privacy screens were used to divide off the different testing areas but they did not create a completely private environment which was a little disconcerting at times.
The screening that I was most worried about and therefore the most important in terms of managing my future health issues was for Osteoporosis. Despite having grown up at a time before Margaret Thatcher earned her "Milk Snatcher" name, I never drank my free school milk nor did I drink milk at home. Any calcium deficiency in my diet during my growing years, coupled with the extra need for the mineral during pregnancy (six times over!) must have left some lasting impression. Quite how this might manifest I don't know but knowledge of my bone density now could prove extremely important.
The test involved putting my bare right foot into a device that looked like it could simply be measuring your shoe size or giving you a foot massage. Your foot is held still with an inflatable dome either side of the ankle. Alcohol was sprayed onto the area being scanned to assist transmission of the ultrasound that measures the bone density in the weight bearing heel bone. Apart from the coldness of the alcohol spray, there was no discomfort or intrusion whatsoever with this test. I now wait for the results to see if I should have cause for concern.
The final two tests, Atrial Fibrillation and Peripheral Arterial Disease were both conducted by the Team leader who reminded me in looks and chirpiness of actor David Tennant.
Atrial fibrillation is an irregularity in the heartbeat which is another cause of stroke. ECG electrodes were placed on my ankles and wrists to detect for this. I had a momentary flash of concern that my heartbeat would betray a slight excitement born from the fact that I find David Tennant a very attractive man!
The Peripheral Arterial Disease screening involved having pressure cuffs put on my wrists and ankles (the temptation to make inappropriate flirty comments about bondage games was strong but I resisted) to measure the ratio between the systolic blood pressures in the extremities. This is a good indicator of blood flow to the legs and hence arterial health. Both tests were completely painless. The David Tennant lookalike complimented me on my blood pressure and I was done.
The whole process was completed in just over an hour but at busier times, I imagine that allowing up to two hours as I was initially advised, would be more realistic. I was very relieved to finally get my first cup of coffee of the day.
My Life Line Screening was complementary but for the four tests reviewing stroke, aneurysm and cardiovascular risks and the scan for osteoporosis risk, I would have been charged £149. There are prices available for individual tests and discounted packages to suit different needs.
There are, of course, a multitude of other life threatening conditions that are not screened for and it certainly isn't going to stop you getting hit by a bus on your way home (death by cliche). However, in terms of offering choice and enabling people to take that preventative stance towards managing their health, the Life Line Screening delivers on its promises.
I have been impressed with the service so far and will write a final post when I receive the full report of my results in 21 days.
Why the apprehension? I live a relatively healthy life style, I feel well. I didn't want to shatter the illusion that I'm going to live a long and active life by discovering that my body is in fact a ticking time bomb of disease. My sensible self realised that knowing about potential problems would give me the opportunity to take positive steps towards minimising the impact to my life expectancy and that these potential problems would still be there whether or not I was screened. My irrational self wanted to bury my head in the sand! Irrational self lost the argument and I booked an appointment.
Life Line Screening brings its service into the community. My screening was to take place in a prominent venue local to me with easy parking. A week before my appointment, I was sent a reminder email with information about what to expect and how to prepare. I was slightly alarmed by the instruction to fast for four hours (which included NO tea or coffee!)
My appointment was for 9.30am so the four hour fast only meant missing breakfast - but not having my morning cup of tea in bed was difficult!
I arrived in plenty of time and was greeted by a very friendly, helpful receptionist who gave me forms to fill in detailing my medical history and even leant me a pair of reading glasses when I groaned about the size of the font (Note to Self: Book appointment with the optician!).
I handed back my forms, feeling quietly smug that I had been able to check all the 'NO' circles next to the list of scary sounding disorders one may be suffering with.
Even at 9.30 in the morning there were already people being tested and a steady trickle of customers continued to arrive throughout the duration of my stay. The idea of The Power of Prevention is obviously catching on.
Before long I was called for my Carotid Artery Stroke Screening. The carotid arteries in your neck carry blood from the heart to the brain. Blockages in these arteries that prevent blood flow to the brain are a major cause of strokes. Using ultra sound techniques, blockages and blood flow can be assessed which would alert you to the likelihood of suffering a stroke. If further action was necessary, the results would be passed onto your GP.
Having had six pregnancies, I am no stranger to ultra sound examinations but the cold gel and sensor on my neck was an altogether different experience. It wasn't painful - just a weird, uncomfortable feeling. Maybe it is because I am a Taurean - the zodiac sign ruled by the neck. Whatever the reason, I didn't like it. I did like that no anomalies were detected. The results were to be sent off for the consultant to do a thorough diagnosis but it was reassuring that there was nothing glaringly obvious that I should have been worried about.
This examination, as well as those for Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm, Peripheral Arterial Disease and Atrial Fibrillation (the accounts of which will follow), were carried out with me lying on an examination table. The practitioners made a point of disinfecting the tables prior to asking me to lie down each time.
My next screening was for Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm. This involved exposing my abdominal area to give access for the ultra sound sensor, breathing in, holding it, breathing out. You trust that the 'trained medical professionals' carrying out the test know what they are looking for. All of the testers carried out the examinations with efficiency and explained exactly what they were doing. I was given a rather blunt description of an aneurysm - your artery swells up with blood like a balloon, it bursts, you die. I was (not surprisingly) relieved that no thinning or abnormality of my abdominal aorta was detected! Again, the results would need to be checked by a consultant before the final report was delivered to me.
Privacy screens were used to divide off the different testing areas but they did not create a completely private environment which was a little disconcerting at times.
The screening that I was most worried about and therefore the most important in terms of managing my future health issues was for Osteoporosis. Despite having grown up at a time before Margaret Thatcher earned her "Milk Snatcher" name, I never drank my free school milk nor did I drink milk at home. Any calcium deficiency in my diet during my growing years, coupled with the extra need for the mineral during pregnancy (six times over!) must have left some lasting impression. Quite how this might manifest I don't know but knowledge of my bone density now could prove extremely important.
The test involved putting my bare right foot into a device that looked like it could simply be measuring your shoe size or giving you a foot massage. Your foot is held still with an inflatable dome either side of the ankle. Alcohol was sprayed onto the area being scanned to assist transmission of the ultrasound that measures the bone density in the weight bearing heel bone. Apart from the coldness of the alcohol spray, there was no discomfort or intrusion whatsoever with this test. I now wait for the results to see if I should have cause for concern.
The final two tests, Atrial Fibrillation and Peripheral Arterial Disease were both conducted by the Team leader who reminded me in looks and chirpiness of actor David Tennant.
Atrial fibrillation is an irregularity in the heartbeat which is another cause of stroke. ECG electrodes were placed on my ankles and wrists to detect for this. I had a momentary flash of concern that my heartbeat would betray a slight excitement born from the fact that I find David Tennant a very attractive man!
The Peripheral Arterial Disease screening involved having pressure cuffs put on my wrists and ankles (the temptation to make inappropriate flirty comments about bondage games was strong but I resisted) to measure the ratio between the systolic blood pressures in the extremities. This is a good indicator of blood flow to the legs and hence arterial health. Both tests were completely painless. The David Tennant lookalike complimented me on my blood pressure and I was done.
The whole process was completed in just over an hour but at busier times, I imagine that allowing up to two hours as I was initially advised, would be more realistic. I was very relieved to finally get my first cup of coffee of the day.
My Life Line Screening was complementary but for the four tests reviewing stroke, aneurysm and cardiovascular risks and the scan for osteoporosis risk, I would have been charged £149. There are prices available for individual tests and discounted packages to suit different needs.
I grew up hearing the old adage Prevention is Better than Cure and still firmly believe it. These screenings are not currently available on the NHS until symptoms appear, at which point it might be too late.
There are, of course, a multitude of other life threatening conditions that are not screened for and it certainly isn't going to stop you getting hit by a bus on your way home (death by cliche). However, in terms of offering choice and enabling people to take that preventative stance towards managing their health, the Life Line Screening delivers on its promises.
I have been impressed with the service so far and will write a final post when I receive the full report of my results in 21 days.
For more information:
visit http://www.lifelinescreening.co.uk
or like Life Line Screening UK on Facebook
visit http://www.lifelinescreening.co.uk
or like Life Line Screening UK on Facebook
Monday, 6 February 2012
Chilblains
The cold weather we are having plays havoc with an oft neglected part of my anatomy - my toes.
That angry red patch on my toe is a chilblain and it itches to the point of pain.
Many years ago my mum told me of a cure for chilblains and despite the fact that I have used it in the past and know that it works, I still avoid resorting to it until the point that I can not suffer a moment longer.
The cure is urine.
Anyone who has been through ante natal care is no stranger to collecting their own urine. For a well hydrated person not suffering from any infection, urine is a fairly innocuous substance. However, in common with most bodily secretions and excretions, it retains the power to revolt and disgust.
When my chilblains took me to that tipping point where desperation outweighs revulsion, it was time to administer the cure.
I tend to put my pelvic muscles to the test and wee directly onto a piece of cotton wool which I then dab onto the affected area. It seems the most efficient way of going about the business.
The relief was instant and the improvement was visible by the following day.
I am wearing my good walking socks now and have bought a pair of hideous but cosy slippers to keep my feet warm and hopefully avoid a recurrence - but should those angry red patches start bothering me again, maybe next time I won't leave it so long before giving my toes their hap-pee ending.
That angry red patch on my toe is a chilblain and it itches to the point of pain.
Many years ago my mum told me of a cure for chilblains and despite the fact that I have used it in the past and know that it works, I still avoid resorting to it until the point that I can not suffer a moment longer.
The cure is urine.
Anyone who has been through ante natal care is no stranger to collecting their own urine. For a well hydrated person not suffering from any infection, urine is a fairly innocuous substance. However, in common with most bodily secretions and excretions, it retains the power to revolt and disgust.
When my chilblains took me to that tipping point where desperation outweighs revulsion, it was time to administer the cure.
I tend to put my pelvic muscles to the test and wee directly onto a piece of cotton wool which I then dab onto the affected area. It seems the most efficient way of going about the business.
The relief was instant and the improvement was visible by the following day.
I am wearing my good walking socks now and have bought a pair of hideous but cosy slippers to keep my feet warm and hopefully avoid a recurrence - but should those angry red patches start bothering me again, maybe next time I won't leave it so long before giving my toes their hap-pee ending.
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