Medical journal entry - Day 3325

I'm out for a short ride the other day.  My mind was wandering again - this time as I contemplated my age, the way my body is slowly falling to bits and my weight.  Specifically the effect that my weight, the packet of crisps, the bar of chocolate and the bottle of diet coke might be having on my blood sugar today.  

Life is very fickle.  Good fun most of the time but it IS something precious that surely needs to be looked after.  I don't want to bugger myself up for the future by wearing black or doing all the wrong things today.  I would like to be on this planet for as long as possible.  But I've been on the wrong foot and walking with my knickers on the wrong way around for way too long.

I don't think wildlife has the same kinda thoughts does it?  It's mostly about waking up, having a poo and a pee, finding food, shouting, fighting, mating and then going back to sleep innit?  Ah, to be a teenager again...  

I spy what looks like a frisbee in the road ahead.   It's for sure a very flat hedgehog.  Looking like an over abused tube of toothpaste with what looks to be the remains of its filling spread down the road.  How flat?  Well get yersen a piece of paper..  Go on...   Now, draw on it your bestest drawing of a fat hedgehog leaning on a bent pogo stick.  Done?  Great.  Now put it on the road outside your house and...  Voila!  

I've been a little worried recently.  Not this time about the general mild ache at the top of both hips which is probably a sign of fewer cycling miles in the years ahead.  No, something else has appeared on my back.  A scab of a thing on my right shoulder in a place that reminded me of the contortions needed back in the day to check for bum sores without a mirror.  For sure I'm gonna use mirrors for this one and make sure that I'm not wearing socks and not stood on a polished floor when I take the photo.  Thanks Andy :-)

I couldn't be sure that there wasn't a mole there previously as its a place not often seen without eyes in the back of yer head.  A peril of living alone perhaps?  I had scratted at it, some raised skin thingy, which two days later left me with a rather angry looking dark red and golden scab with a ragged edge.  Seething in its own dramatic way trying to make a proper spectacle of itself..

Having problems on bits of skin that one has never had problems with before is a little bit worry-some.  One has to be careful of skin issues as one gets older perhaps don't two?  I do think about the risk of a skin cancer forming on historically sun scorched places.   

I remember the days once upon a time when as a child on the beach at Scarborough or as a young man in Greece I used to get frazzled by the sun.  Proper AAARRRGGGHH I'm on FIRE burns which could be used as a torch during the short nights to illuminate the bedroom.  There were no sun lotions back in those days; and, even then the best Piz Bruin stuff in Greece was in fact just a coconut marinade to help one gently fry oneself in the midday sun.   As a kid it'd be forearms plunged into the bathroom sink full of cold water and copious amounts of camomile lotion which was the only solution we had in the ‘70’s after a hard day at the beach.  

I'm thinking about it, that is of the risk of cancers everywhere to be truthful about it.  Cancer finished off both mum and dad and Jean and Geoff and Tony and Barry and John and and...  It's one reason why I donate to CRUK you see.  But also because I see my dad in me.  I'm developing similar minor problems to when he was [and now that I am] 58 years old.  Hmmm, or issit that I just have too much time now to worry about such things whilst being alone during this COVID pandemic?

Anyway after many attempts I get an appointment to speak to a drug pusher over the phone.  I send in the photo's as best I can which look like a reflection of a contortionist trying to route a left hand carrying a camera over a right shoulder on the very longest way round to scratch an arse.   

Skin lesions are a priority so I'm in.  Same day.  The drug pusher called back with a pair of year 4 students in tow for the 'on line' consultation.  Both of whom tended to fixate on the 'have you lost any weight?' (hell NO!) or 'do you feel ill?' (NO) or tired (YES but only after cycling 150 bloody miles!) in their attempt to diagnose I suspect their first ever cancer patient just before the doctor chopped them both off and interjected with an 'ahem! oh I've had a problem with the conference call Mr Tyssen...' and promptly restored the conversation to normal.  

The young pretty flexible nursey was instructed to see me and has taken much better photos whilst bent over aiming at my shoulder from between her legs as I watched her in a mirror.  Phwoarrr...  Ah, to be young and flexible eh?  I now only expect to have a call back if they are worried about anything.  Fingers crossed.  Nothing so far.  

Nonetheless, skin problems are becoming quite the norm for me nowadays.  I know many of you are not quite as flexible as me so please do watch out for the itchy and scratchy stuff especially if it cannot be explained.  

I reckon my background Type 2 diabetes thingy is for sure to blame.  My left leg puncture wound is now into week 6 and is taking an age to close up / heal but is looking better / healthier since I stopped covering it every day with a plaster.  Good.  Since being diagnosed as Type 2 I do occasionally get unusual skin blemishes out of the blue.  No doubt caused by poor circulation issues as diabetes tends to damage the smaller blood vessels first.  So can lead to strokes too which would I guess result in me riding around in tight wobbly circles with one eye closed and my tongue hanging out.  

It's a long journey to resolution for sure.  No I'm not adding photo's of my scabby bits, Howard!  This is not a medical journal!  

Nursey also took a good interest in the slow healing of my leg and so the need to recheck for diabetes as it's been 2 years since my last blood test.  Thank you COVID.  For sure she easily recognises a fat fecker when she sees one but asks me again whilst surpressing a snigger how much I weigh.  'Dunno...' says I but the clothes fit the same as last time I was weighed at the surgery so that'll be 125kgs then.  That's a couple of pounds off 20 stone in old money.  I'm happy that she accepted my blood pressure reading (129/79 or so) rather than trying to redo it as last week I almost blew the top off the pressure gauge at the hospital.  It's a white coat thing.  I'm always stressed when sat in sanitised waiting rooms.  Or when being chased by snakes.  

You should have seen the shocked look on her face and heard the unbelievable 'you what?!' when I told her I was again cycling up to 150 miles per week.  Yeah, I stretched it a bit which I've often done when confronted with a beautiful young woman.  She looks me up and down in the same manner as the two old boys in the Land Rover did when we started the ascent of the Bealach Na Ba as part of the NC500 ride in 2019.  Like the old boys, I see her smile, turn away with a grin and mumble, 'Yeah really'...

I fundamentally believe that the cycling is doing me good.  I do keep my shoulders covered so as not to shock any other road users with my fatty bits nor to have any more appointments with a skin doctor.  If I take bread out of the diet and if my legs can stand the lack of carbohydrates then I do hope that my HBA1C will again normalise for the rest of the year.

I'm staring at the request to give blood bit of paperwork given to me by nursey who will now be waiting patiently for my sample results to come back in.  HBA1C takes over 3 months to change so I'm not gonna be in any rush to donate until I've been off the bread and been cycling for at least a few more weeks.  I do not want to end up on any tablets before absolutely needed.  Anyway, I do feel good!

For sure I'll then know whether things are generally OK or not.  If I cannot get HBA1C under control under a low carb and hard exercise regime it will force a hard talk with the drug pusher to explore all the alternatives to avoid going back on the tablets.  I hope between us we can find another way. 

No I'm not going to ask my crap nav for directions. 

And forget the cancers Wayne, you're probably gonna die of a heart attack!

Ciao for now..

PS

This blog is based on my memories mainly from rides out and for sure riding a bike for 3 plus hours does give me plenty of time to think.  I do of course try to embellish it for effect and to generally make it less funny.  I am sorry if the bum, testicle and other f'narish comments in my blog offends you - well at least it makes me chuckle as I write and I guess that's the primary reason why I do it...  

Also it's OK but please don't feel concerned as you watch me go slowly [or is it 'slowly go'?  Dunno - if grammar is that important to you then you should've given up on this blog years ago..] mad / senile / juvenile / broken / disassembled [delete as necessary] before your very eyes.  After writing the entry called 'I am Pagliacci' a couple of my mates called to make sure that I was OK.  I think they thought I was suicidal.  Great innit if writing has such an effect on folk.  I took their concern as a compliment on my writing style.  However, such entries are few and far between - a bit like a snow shower in the Sahara or of finally finding some rocking horse poo.... 

For sure it'd be an even more boring 'n dry read if I wasn't a bit jiggy with it.  

How boring could a long bike read be?  Ask a racing snake... 

PPS

I hear that the NHS has been looking for an anaesthetic replacement for putting people into comatose sleeps.  This blog is now on their shortlist...

CFN..