Wednesday, 24 February 2010

Another post about coursework

Statue of boy on elephant in the park
It's Sunday afternoon, and I'm just taking a break from the latest coursework, which is all about eating out with coeliac disease. I have to plan a session with some newly diagnosed adults, and justify why that session should be held, and put together resources, and submit the rationale, plan and resources for marking. At the end of term, I actually have to deliver my planned session to other students who are standing in for adults with coeliac disease, and get assessed for that too.

Last week's tally, not counting the hours at home spent on coursework, came to:
  • one badminton match (lost 7-2, but GG and I won the 2)
  • about 16 hours of lectures
  • one short discussion with tutor
  • one piece of coursework handed in
  • about 10 hours driving (snow on the M1)
  • one trip to the vegetable shop and walk about town
  • one film (The Damned United), one episode of Jeeves and Wooster, one episode of The West Wing and one episode of our newly started Christmas present: The Wire
  • two visits to the pub.
I have had several off-line comments to the effect that Mr A's cooking sounds wonderful - it is, it certainly is, but I still want more vegetables and less fat and salt! Today he's planning to use the rest of the crab in a dish with lemon and spaghetti. I'm having some extra veg on the side.



It's Wednesday, the weekday when I don't have to go to school. I was going to be taking the filthy car for its service and MOT, but the garage phoned to postpone because their MOT man has put his back out. Mr A is away today and tomorrow delivering a Flash course, and soon I will be starting to look into the background for my research proposal, which is 'The food choices of visually impaired people'.

The data analysis coursework is finished, barring a final read-through, and the coeliac disease rationale, aims and learning outcomes are in the bag. I was disappointed to find out yesterday that one bit of coursework I had planned to start on 20 March needs to be started a great deal sooner, because I am supposed to cook part of it during a practical next Thursday.

Onwards and upwards.

Saturday, 20 February 2010

All work and very little play

Rows of books in the library
At risk of tempting fate, the coursework is going quite well. I have a timetable that stretches out to the end of March, and one week in I seem to be just about ahead of the game.

The iron deficiency anaemia coursework had to be handed in yesterday, so I read through it on Wednesday and found a huge error in my calculations. I would never have noticed it if I hadn't come back to it after a break, so thank goodness for finishing early.

I also thought I'd finished the research data coursework, but when I talked to the lecturer who set it to clarify a couple of points, I realised I hadn't. Part of the worry was that I managed to stay well within the word limits even for the first draft, which made me suspect that I had missed something crucial.

While I'm doing all this coursework before, between and after lectures, Mr A has taken over many of the household chores. He is now in charge of cooking, and is mostly planning ahead, although he could improve his timing by reading the recipes better. Earlier in the week, supper was delayed by 90 minutes because he hadn't realised the potato dish needed an hour in the oven. But it's all very good, even if provision of any vegetables other than tomato is fairly scanty. This week we have had braised pheasant, baked mackerel, cabbage with bacon, asparagus risotto, a potato stew with cheese and tomato, and last night, tomatoes stuffed with crab.

What we aren't dealing with are any surfaces within the house other than the kitchen worktops. They are all covered in dust and/or filth. Mr A does a bit of hoovering every now and then, but dusting, cleaning hard floors and bathroom surfaces is not where his talents lie. He is working hard though, getting on very well with the Open University modules, and finding it very satisfying. He also has a couple of days paid work next week.

News just in: Lola II is finally connected to the Interwebnet. Let's hope for some contributions before long, even if it's just to help me out.

Monday, 15 February 2010

I interrogate Mr A

Close up pink rose
This morning's lecture was relatively short, so I'm sneaking some time with my dearest blog, before ploughing on with a data analysis exercise for the Research Skills module.

I finished some more coursework this week, which involved interviewing a friend or family member who has supposedly been diagnosed with iron deficiency anaemia. In the process of investigating their diet, we must judge whether or not their food and drink intake is likely to be contributing to the anaemia.

I used Mr A as my subject, and the analysis showed that while he was probably getting plenty of iron through his diet, he was also taking in a great deal of salt and saturated fat. We actually talked about what we might do, and checked some of the labels on foods we have. He tends to have a can of Heinz soup for lunch - it's quick and easy - but it contains 2.6 g of salt, which is more than 40% of the 6 g limit we are encouraged not to exceed. [In fact, the recommended intake is actually only around 4 g, but the government rightly decided that this would be dismissed by most people as unrealistic and unachievable.] So he might be looking for a different lunch option. Perhaps we'll work on the saturated fat issue at a later date...

Other highlights of the last week:
  • I attended lots of lectures
  • played a badminton match (we lost, but it was close)
  • went to see a lecturer about Diet Therapy last semester
  • had an appointment with the dentist
  • met my project supervisor about my forthcoming research project, of which more later, no doubt
  • went to the pub just the once
  • watched an episode of Jeeves and Wooster and two films: Moon (with Sam Rockwell), and A Night To Remember (with Kenneth More).
Valentine's day was unmarked by any unusual demonstration of affection in Lola Towers (although the usual level was maintained). A mystery card did arrive for me, which as ever was from lovely Lola II. We haven't heard much from her lately, have we? Of course she has been busy, and moving house has deprived her of most telecommunications options, including Internet access. And of course I haven't had time to meet up for any Lola II-related adventures. Even so, I can reveal that she also received some Valentine communication, and not from me. I wonder if this might be contributing to the lack of blog attention we have been seeing...

Thursday, 11 February 2010

Weekend on Dartmoor

On a Buckfast bridge
I picked up my two exam results on Friday, and despite my reservations, I did fine (again). So that's good, and set me up nicely for the weekend ahead.

You may remember that Friday afternoon finds me further from home than usual, at the main university campus, for lectures on Clinical Pharmacology - it was antibiotics, antifungals, antivirals, asthma and Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease on this occasion. Then it was into the car and head for home (1h 20m), a swift loading of chattels (20 mins) and back in the car for the journey to Dartmoor (another 4 hours). As we approached our destination, it started to rain quite heavily, then very heavily, and then we were up on the narrow unlit moor roads hitting patches of fog as well. We arrived at around 10pm.

This trip had been planned for some time - Mr A had volunteered to book a 'camping barn', which was essentially an old cowshed cleaned out so that folks can roll out sleeping bags and cook indoors. The toilet/shower area was very basic too: unheated and with concrete floors. But it was cheap and convivial and eight of us planned to spend two nights there.

Only seven made it on Friday night. We assumed that Mr B had looked at the weather and decided to travel on Saturday morning - but no, when he did arrive on Saturday morning he told us that he hadn't printed any maps and had tried to rely on his Satnav, which had brought him close, but not close enough. He simply couldn't find us, and with no mobile phone reception and too late to make enquiries in pubs, he was quite unable to do anything but sleep in his car. Dartmoor is a barren and inhospitable place at the best of times, let alone late at night in a storm.

Saturday was a beautiful day, no sign of the torrential rain of the night before. We decided to visit Dartmoor Prison Museum, built in 1806-1809 to house French prisoners from the Napoleonic Wars. It was empty for some time after 1815, then re-purposed in 1850 to house convicts - these days it holds Category C and D prisoners. The museum attendant provided a lot of information (but so quietly that most of us couldn't hear him). It seems that prisoners are not categorised according to what they have done, but on how likely they are to escape. Category A means that not only are they keen to escape but they are likely to have outside help; B are keen but lack the outside support; C aren't actively trying to get out but would take the opportunity if it presented itself, and D are either institutionalised or pretty much rehabilitated and working towards their release date.

Any old rubbish connected with the prison seems to have been deposited in the 'museum'. Some of it was very interesting - the glass case full of makeshift tattooing gear, weapons and keys confiscated from prisoners, for example. Some of it was disturbing - the blueprints for a whipping frame and the frame itself, religious scenes painted by a prisoner, and an assortment of oddly painted garden ornaments produced in the prison workshops and available for purchase. Some was just odd - intricate models made of matchsticks, collar studs from one ex-prison officer, a letter written by a prisoner about how good the dog handlers were to his old mother when she visited him.

We moved on to Buckfast Abbey, which is a modern abbey completed in 1937, but built on the site of a medieval monastery. It's OK if you like abbeys, and I thought the modern stained glass was effective. After stocking up with a few provisions in Buckfast village we headed back towards the barn, stopping only at the 3rd highest pub in England, the Warren House Inn. This pub boasts a fire in one fireplace that is said to have been burning continuously since 1845, and was cut off for some time when it snowed recently.

The seven of us in the pub
Back in the barn, we cobbled together a dinner comprising leftovers from last night's supper and the morning's breakfast, and then played the Bucket Game. This consists of writing names on pieces of paper, putting them in a bucket (a saucepan in this case), drawing them out one by one and trying to convey the name to a partner against the clock. This has been introduced many times to different types of friends, but this was the most extraordinary group Mr A and I have ever had the pleasure of playing with.

Part of the problem was the age range - several years older than Mr A down to a recent graduate at less than half his age. Part of the problem was our diverse range of interests and occupations influencing our choice of names. Early 20th century painters knocked up against a TV kangaroo, a 19th century philosopher rubbed shoulders with an Irish freedom fighter, and we had more than one chat show host. But the main theme was that unlike any other group of people I've played with, none of them was satisfied until they knew who these people were and exactly what they had done. We had frequent breaks to clarify these details, and loud exclamations of disbelief that any friend of ours could possibly not know who Jimmy Somerville was until it was pointed out that Jimmy Somerville came to fame 25 years ago, before certain people were born. I wasn't sure that anyone was actually enjoying the experience, but when I suggested we might stop, they insisted that they wanted to carry on.

Our second night was warmer than the first, because Mr B had brought a new tent for Mr A, and we thought we'd erect it to see how it looked. Having done so inside the camping barn, we decided it would be fun to leave it up and sleep inside. On Friday night I'd suffered a little from the cold, and had to get up in the night to forage for additional insulation. Inside the tent was much more cosy!

We'd been very lucky with the fine weather on Saturday. Sunday was not so nice: cloudy, drizzly and overcast. The group split up, and Mr A and I went south to the Devon coast for a view of Burgh Island and then a late lunch with our friends, the Nuclear Family. They moved to a small Devon town from Leamington Spa just under a year ago, and seem very contented with the change.

The return journey was long but the weather was kinder than the outward journey. Since then, and for the foreseeable future, I have been and will be seriously short of leisure time. I have nine deadlines for coursework, and seven weeks to complete it all. Each item takes longer than a week to finish. I need either a machine that can achieve time dilation (like that whatsit that Hermione had in the Harry Potter film), or a chat with an existential philosopher if I am to work out how it will all get done.

Saturday, 6 February 2010

Too much to do

No time to write, and more importantly, no time to do anything worth writing about. I've handed in one lot of coursework, although loads more keeps being set.

This is the term when I'm doing seven instead of the normal six modules. Nutrition through different stages of life, more dietetic practice (double module twice a week), community nutrition, molecular nutrition (about how nutrients interact with DNA), pharmacology, and research skills (in anticipation of our projects next semester). More work, and less time to do it. Standards will have to slip, there seems no other way to fit everything in.

Mr A and I have gone away this weekend on a trip planned long ago, and I shall be away for a weekend for Lola II's birthday at the end of the month. I don't think I'll be leaving the house for any other reasons.

So here for your enjoyment, in place of any real information, is one of my favourite segments from the wonderful comedy partnership of Armstrong and Miller.

Wednesday, 3 February 2010

What I've been reading

Image of the book cover
The Robots of Dawn
by Isaac Asimov

narrated by William Dufris
"A millennium into the future, two advancements have altered the course of human history: the colonization of the galaxy and the creation of the positronic brain. Detective Elijah Baley is called to the Spacer world Aurora to solve a bizarre case of roboticide. The prime suspect is a gifted roboticist who had the means, the motive, and the opportunity to commit the crime. There's only one catch: Baley and his positronic partner, R. Daneel Olivaw, must prove the man innocent."
This futuristic murder mystery makes the fundamental error of solving the case by introducing a twist at the end that the reader couldn't possibly have anticipated - mind reading. And there's too much sexy business in it, and Isaac Asimov's fame does not arise from the subtlety and elegance of his descriptions of relations between men and women. So a little unsatisfying for that reason, but all right on the whole.


Image of the book cover
Curse of the Spellmans
by Lisa Lutz

"When private investigator Izzy Spellman is arrested for the fourth time in three months, she writes it off as an occupational hazard. She's been keeping surveillance on her new next-door neighbour (suspect's name: John Brown), convinced he's up to no good - even if Spellman Investigations management (Izzy's parents) disagree."
I mooched this, meaning that I received it free by post in exchange for Mooch points rather than money. I just wanted something easy to read, and very much chose it at random. It wasn't very good really, and written in a very quirky style with lots of annoying footnotes, except for one section towards the end where all the different plot points were brought together. Now that the exams are over, I should be able to read something a little more taxing, and therefore more satisfying than this pap.

Saturday, 30 January 2010

The plumbers - episode four

Rainbow in a blue sky with storm clouds
We have had the plumbing brothers back in to finish off all the remaining plumbing jobs. I shall remind you of the history of our previous encounters:

Visit 1 - to replace bath, toilet and basin plus taps in upstairs bathroom. All seemed to go well, although the brand new bath taps and associated pipes didn't seem to deliver water at an adequate rate.

Visit 2 - to install a wonderful new insulated hot water tank to replace the previous ancient copper one. It was discovered that in the process of draining the header tanks, polystyrene balls were drawn into the hot water and heating system, and this is what may have been causing the impaired flow to the taps. We are left without heating or hot water for the weekend.

Visit 3 - Monday morning following visit 2, with the plumbers due to return to restore our hot water any minute, a leak from supply pipes under the bath results in a large hole in the living room ceiling. Hot water is restored, but over the ensuing weeks, we confirm that the flow to the bath is still compromised. We also discover that the bath overflow leaks - more water dripped through the living room ceiling after overfilling the bath, and one of the radiator taps in the downstairs shower now leaks very gently into a puddle on the floor.

Visit 4 - last week - to resolve the issue with the bath taps, fix the bath overflow and leaking radiator, and finally install the bathroom towel radiator. Obviously the header tanks must be drained again, and this time the ballcock sticks so that when water flow is restored, the tank in the loft overflows through the ceiling of Mr A's office and the upstairs hall (the overflow drainage pipe has somehow become disconnected).

No significant damage has been done - the ceiling didn't come down and seems to have dried out OK, although there appears to be a fine crack which we shall investigate. While we are fairly certain that our plumbing brothers are properly qualified, there are a number of other possibilities:
- we have a ramshackle old house where unexpected things can happen, and/or
- our plumbers are not very good at anticipating the worst and covering all eventualities, and/or
- they are very, very unlucky, and/or
- they are incompetent cowboys.

I think the first two options are the most likely. It is a great shame, because they were recommended by Alf, whom we trust and so far has not let us down. They are likeable chaps, and reliably answer the phone and turn up when they are supposed to. It is very difficult to find a good plumber, but I don't think we can trust them any more - each visit has caused some additional problem, and it is clear that even if they are entirely competent, they are not equipped to deal with the unexpected challenges that our house provides.

* Picture was taken from Hadrian's Wall, December 2004

Wednesday, 27 January 2010

Homework: seven things

It's been a while since it last happened, but I've been tagged for some homework. It's not too onerous, so here are Seven Things I Haven't Mentioned Before On This Blog. Some of them are not very interesting, though.

1. I really like lentils: orange, green, brown, whatever. Most people have an aversion from early exposure to badly-cooked tasteless brown glop, much the same as school tapioca did for me. But mum always made a wicked lentil soup, and it was one of the first recipes I asked her for when I went to university. I have progressed beyond soup, onwards and upwards to lentil salad, seasoned with a vinaigrette or spiced up with some chilli. Dhal - loverly.

Lola II from above, walking by the sea2. Before Lola II and I were called Lola, we shared a house in Manchester, which had a very stained carpet in the living room. Mum sent us a bottle of 1001 carpet cleaner (that had a price sticker in shillings and pence). The instructions were to rub the stains with the liquid, and then dab the area dry. While I reclined on the sofa, my sister did the hard work of vigorous rubbing, then I leaned over and lightly dabbed the area with a cloth. "Over to my assistant, Lola," she said, parodying some TV show of the time. You really had to be there to understand how funny this was, but we both liked the name so much that we adopted it. That was in 1991.

3. I have just been contacted via Facebook by my very first boyfriend. I can't remember how old I was, but still at school, possibly aged 15 or 16. He was very nice, made me laugh, and we must have gone out for, oh, maybe six weeks if memory serves. Two months? Three? It seemed like a long time back then. I wrote him a letter saying I didn't want to go out with him any more, and walked all the way to his house and back one day (and he lived a long way away) to deliver it. I don't think we ever met again.

Monkey in her natural habitat4. Lola II and I once went to the Good Food Show in Birmingham, and volunteered to be guinea pigs in a cooking demonstration area, led by a presenter with a proper chef and a small audience. We were each given stickers to write our names on. As the demonstration proceeded, we all followed instructions at our workstations, mixing this and heating that. The presenter wandered around, talking to each participant, and was astonished to find not one, but two Lolas in her group. "What are the chances of that?" she said.

5. I have neither owned nor wanted either a pet or a child since I was old enough to be responsible for one. Actually, I'm not sure I'm old enough now.

Lola II lying on her back and reading with a head torch6. After she'd finished university, Lola II signed up to a programme that took her to Japan for a year, to help out with teaching English at a secondary school, and I went to visit her out there.* I'd travelled for an eternity by plane and train, and finally reached her apartment in the early evening local time. I was completely exhausted by the travelling and the time difference. Lola II wanted to celebrate my arrival and catch up on everything, but I just needed to sleep, and she was most disappointed that I needed to go straight to bed.

I woke up in the night, completely disorientated, but needing the toilet. It was dark, I didn't know the layout of the apartment, I staggered out of my room and tried one of the doors, which turned out to be Lola II's bedroom. She woke up, delighted, thinking I'd now recovered from the journey. I was still asleep, just wanting the toilet, standing there in the wrong room in a stupor, trying to find the complex mix of words of reassurance to thank her for her concern, that I would be better later but just now I still needed to sleep but still appreciated her welcoming gesture, and I was actually looking for the toilet.

What I managed to say was, "Shut up!"

In the morning, after I had apologised as best I could, she told me that I had pulled the door shut over the telephone cable, wedging it so hard she could hardly open it next morning.

7. I have just seen the most extraordinary music video - apparently one of several by the same artist, Lior Narkis. Don't worry too much about the lyrics, it's just an ordinary bland pop song ("You're sweet, I want to hug you"), and stay with it even though it seems rather tasteless - it all gets very surreal just after 2 minutes.

Another monkey
* This is what has fuelled my passion for sushi ever since. I'm not sure that any non-Japanese sushi can match that perfect mixture of rice, fish, vinegar, wasabi, soy: all the flavours melding together and hitting the tastebuds in perfect harmony for the first time.

Sunday, 24 January 2010

Artificial nutrition support

Bowl of chickpeas with dollop of yogurt and steam rising
Well, a couple of people have asked, "How did it go?" The simple answer is that I really, really don't know. Just two exams and loads of time to revise should be a recipe for confidence, but it didn't work out like that.

I've written before that I didn't really like Health Promotion much, and it was a difficult subject to revise. I like facts that I can remember and connect together to build up a picture - a biological system, or cell functions, or some other physiological process. With research I can make more of the whole than the simplified parts we are given in basic lectures, so in an exam I can usually show some insight or original thought, which I believe is what gets particular credit in that setting. With Health Promotion it didn't to seem to get more sophisticated the more I looked at it. I didn't manage the time in the exam very well, so the last question was very rushed, and I probably only managed one original thought in the whole thing.

The second exam was Diet Therapy. The subject is actually very interesting, and extremely relevant to what I'm hoping to do at the end of the degree. About half of it is about accumulating facts, and the other half is applying those facts to a situation with a patient in it - making deductions, drawing conclusions, appreciating limitations. The main problem was that it was a double module - twice the amount of material to learn, but only two hours for the exam.

I went into the exam fairly confident of my knowledge, but there was absolutely no time to think or consider a question; it was about reading the paper as quickly as possible and then launching straight into an answer. Given that real, qualified, experienced dietitians would probably have more time to consider a situation presented to them, it seems harsh to expect us novices to work so quickly. I was careful to manage the time allowed, but it was almost impossible to put anything other than basic information in there - no time for original thought, and plenty of scope for making mistakes. So maybe I wrote what was wanted, but maybe not. I really can't tell.

I haven't written about the content of the course for a while, so perhaps this is a good opportunity. The Diet Therapy module covered some aspects of professional behaviour: ethics, proficiency and standards of conduct. There was material on trauma, surgery and burns, all of which produce a similar response in the body. We looked at specific conditions including Motor Neurone Disease, Parkinson's Disease, Multiple Sclerosis, dementia, HIV/AIDS, cancer and stroke, all of which have the common consequence of undernutrition at some point. Dysphagia, a problem with swallowing, is also a frequent symptom, sometimes caused by the illness, sometimes a side effect of treatment.

The rest of the material was about undernutrition - how to recognise it, assess the situation, plan a nutritional intervention and monitor results. We learned about nutritional support of various kinds, from food fortification using everyday foods, supplements on prescription or over-the-counter, and artificial nutrition support, via tubes into the stomach or intestines, or intravenous. Palliative and end-of-life care was also included, since one of the issues might be withholding or withdrawal of artificial nutrition and hydration, e.g. for permanent vegetative state or end-stage dementia or cancer.

That's quite a lot, isn't it? It all has to be evidence-based as well, so I know what the National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence (NICE) says about most of these conditions, as well as Dietary Reference Values suggesting how much of different nutrients ought to meet our requirements. Given that I learned pretty much the whole thing, it would have been nice to be able to show off a bit more in the exam.

[If you're not fond of my treatises on complex dietetic subjects, then you might prefer to stop reading now - see you next time!]

For example. I could tell you the procedure for inserting a fine-bore nasogastric (NG) tube, and what the potential complications are. This is a short-term feeding option (less than 4 weeks), but if the patient is unconscious, it might be better to use a Ryles tube, which has a wider bore but is less well tolerated if the patient is awake - it's often used in critical care and burns. A longer term option is a gastrostomy - a tube that goes directly through the skin and stomach wall into the stomach. It can be put in place using an endoscope down through the nose into the stomach to make sure the incision is in the right place (a PEG), but for someone with MND who needs constant respiratory support, it can be placed radiologically (a RIG). And there are other types.

One of the problems of feeding directly into the stomach is the risk of aspiration, where the stomach contents are regurgitated and enter the lungs, and if this happens (perhaps because of vomiting), then feeding into the upper part of the small intestine (jejunum) past the stomach's pyloric sphincter might be indicated. This can be a short term nasojejunal tube, an extension via a PEG into the jejunum, or directly into the jejunum (a jejunostomy). Another reason for post-pyloric feeding might be gastric stasis, when the stomach isn't doing its job, and food just sits there without being moved on past the pylorus.

This is all very well if the only problem is that for some reason not enough food and fluid can be taken through the mouth to meet requirements - maybe the patient is unconscious, can't swallow safely or has an obstruction in the upper GI tract. If the lower GI tract is accessible and functional, it should always be used - it is thought (but not certain) that the microorganisms in the gut are kept in check somehow by food coming through and being digested and absorbed. If that isn't happening, one hypothesis is that gut bacteria are somehow 'translocated' across the intestinal barrier and cause trouble in the body.

Sometimes it can't be helped, and the gut is simply not working well enough to absorb sufficient food to meet requirements, whether the food is coming orally or through a tube (enteral nutrition). Maybe the blood supply to the gut is insufficient (ischaemia), or there is an obstruction (perhaps from a tumour), or a critical section has been removed (e.g. Crohn's disease), or the absorptive structure of the gut has been destroyed by radiation enteritis as part of cancer treatment, or there is a risk of losing too much fluid through a stoma (ileostomy or colostomy), or the pancreas or liver aren't secreting digestive juices for whatever reason.

Then we have to consider parenteral nutrition, which is intravenous feeding. The difficulty with this is that our bodies are designed to absorb food through the gut. Any absorbed carbohydrate (mostly glucose) goes straight from the gut to the liver via the hepatic portal vein, and the liver only releases a little at a time into the systemic circulation. Arteries and veins other than the hepatic portal vein aren't used to high glucose concentrations, and don't like it - this is the source of some of the problems relating to diabetes.

I suppose that artificially feeding into the hepatic portal vein isn't a viable option, so the best alternative must be the largest vein possible, so that lots of blood flows past and quickly dilutes the intravenous glucose. For long-term parenteral nutrition a 'central line' does this, but it's not a trivial procedure to put one of those in, so often a peripheral vein is used. Nutrients can only go in very slowly, and with lots of fluid to make sure concentrations aren't too high and cause phlebitis, which is inflammation of the vein. Too much fluid can also cause problems, and that's aside from the risk of sepsis (used to be called blood poisoning) because you're putting stuff directly into the bloodstream.

So NICE best practice evidence-based guidance tells us to use the oral route for feeding if at all possible, then enteral feeding, with parenteral nutrition as a last resort.

And I didn't have the opportunity to write any of that in the exam.

Friday, 22 January 2010

We win a badminton match

Ginger Graduate at Christmas partyI played in a badminton match on Monday, with a new and enthusiastic (young) partner whom I shall call Ginger Graduate. That's a picture of him there, at the recent Christmas do. He used to play badminton for his university, and joined our club when we moved to the new venue, but this was the first match he'd played for us. It seems that grown-up league badminton is a bit different from the student experience, where they offer loud encouragement, sledging, and various other forms of vocal and physical gamesmanship intended to put off the opposition.

I had to take him aside, and confide to him that shouting "Keep it up, Jo" and "Fantastic shot, Nicky" were not the sort of thing that we are used to. We occasionally say "Oh, good shot," just loud enough for the closest players to hear, and perhaps clap quietly when really crucial points are won. While it's perfectly acceptable within the rules, his behaviour would meet with disapproval with most of the league teams, who are composed of ladies and gentlemen like myself, well past the flush of youth. We are fiercely competitive, but do not like to show it so overtly. We are very old-school British.

Anyway, I'm hoping that he becomes my regular partner, because we won the match, with GG and me winning two of our three games (and the third was very close). This should be put in perspective - the first season I played League matches with this club, we didn't win a single one. I barely won any games within the matches. The second season, I reckon we might have won maybe one or two matches, and with a change of partner I managed a few more games. I don't think we have risen above the bottom position in the League tables, ever. But that's fine, I really like the people and the club, and playing badminton is nearly always good fun whether we win or lose, as long as people are friendly.



Today brings my second and last exam of this session, and I'm feeling a bit better about it than the other one. It's still going to be unpredictable, because the module is huge - it took two sessions a week last term - and there is a compulsory question in which they can ask absolutely anything. But in a few hours' time it will be over, and I can get on with having fun for two whole days before lectures start again, 9 a.m. Monday morning.

The plumbing brothers are due to turn up at home today as well, and I have left Mr A with a list and instructions to help him remember what needs doing, in order of priority. Mr A has been a boon over the revision period, especially in comparison to this time last year when he was stressed to the eyeballs in a failing business. He's been hoovering and cooking and shopping and washing up, being (mostly) considerate and looking after me. I've promised to treat us to a meal out tonight, and I'm looking forward to it already.

Now, must stop wasting time, and get on with reviewing my copious revision notes.