The Most Disgusting Diseases in the World (and How to Catch Them) – part 2

Following on from part one, and in the same vein for which Punch magazine was known, I bring you four more of the most disgusting diseases in the world.

I had to include acromegaly as the insistence of my son whose interest in endocrinology began at the tender age of four when we were on holiday in Switzerland and happened on a particularly florid case of the condition. By then, the diagnosis could have been made from a cable car 50 metres away (which it was).

“Mummy, why are that man’s hands so big? And why has he got pillows instead of shoes?” He pointed, I told him not to, and so on, until I noticed the man in question who really was sporting pillows strapped to his feet.

I explained about the pituitary gland and growth hormone, and my youngster thereafter abandoned Postman Pat books in favour of the British Medical Journal.

However florid acromegaly may become, the onset is invariably subtle, with coarse skin, greasy hair, an increase in hat size, a little deepening of the yodel, and difficulty making watches or doing up lederhosen. To avoid resembling our Alpine acquaintance, it’s best to seek help while you can still fit into your ski boots.

Even pillows may not be roomy enough if you’re infected with wuchereria bancrofti. Everyone seems to have heard of elephantiasis but there are two important things to note: you don’t catch it from elephants, and it usually begins with just a few enlarged lymph glands on the groin. Walking is therefore still possible, for a while. Swelling sets in later, often only in one leg, and sometimes in the scrotum too, should you possess one.

Eventually the skin develops rough folds and warty outgrowths, and the scrotum, if affected, can hang down to the knees, which poses problems at the tailor’s, and elsewhere. Prevention is key. Use a mosquito net, and avoid falling into Burmese septic tanks if you want to wear both legs of your trousers at the same time.

If you dislike rodents, you’ll hate Lassa fever. Transmitted by rats, it was discovered in the Nigerian village of the same name, which you might like to make a note to avoid on your travels.

After it was first described in 1969, the department of health send circulars so that no GP would miss this diagnosis.  As the years passed, I never saw a case, but the bumph was useful for wobbly dining tables.

Lassa has an insidious onset with symptoms that resemble other conditions, like fever, malaise, a flushed face, red eyes, nausea, and vomiting. Later, the nose, gums, mouth, stomach, and lungs bleed spontaneously – a plague of blood, with a high mortality rate. As I recall, Lassa is similar to other haemorrhagic fevers such as Marburg-Ebola, Green Monkey Disease, and Crimean-haemorrhagic-Congo-Hazara fever, though I’d have to check under the dining table to be sure.

Anyone who’s unconscious when arriving by plane from West Africa runs the risk of his drunken state being mistaken for Lassa fever, with the result that masked attendants whisk him off to a plastic tent in the nearest isolation unit until the tests are back. I need hardly add that the outlook is far worse when Lassa fever is mistaken for excess alcohol.

Next up is typhus, not to be confused with typhoid. Typhus is caused by germs called rickettsiae which breed in the gut of the louse, and spread to humans via louse faeces. Louse bites are itchy, and scratching them rubs infected droppings into the skin.

Weakness is one of the early symptoms, and it all goes downhill from there, eventually, if untreated, leading to multiple organ failure.

As alarming as typhus is, Tsutsugamushi fever (aka scrub typhus) is much more popular with medical students, because it has so many syllables and because it forms a painless but picturesque ulcer covered with a crust. More importantly, unlike other forms of typhus, an attack of Tsutsugamushi gives no immunity against further infection. Medics can therefore imagine repeated episodes of scrub typhus at each outbreak of acne, and some of them have been known to scratch for years after exposure to a single lecture.

In the next instalment of The Most Disgusting Diseases in the World (and How to Catch Them): head, shoulders, knees, and toes.

You may also like to catch up on The Most Disgusting Diseases part one.

Are You Proper Old Yet? Ten Ways to Tell

Sixty is the new thirty, they say.

Well, I have news for them, and for you. It isn’t.  

FreeImages.com/C Glass

While there’s no precise age at which one suddenly becomes old, there is a constellation of telling symptoms that can serve as a guide.  While I’ve written on the subject before, this time I’ve devised a highly scientific questionnaire to determine whether you are in fact properly old.

1. You need to sit down to put your socks or tights on. On the rare occasions that you don’t, it’s because you can’t find your socks.

2. Despite turning up the volume on the TV, you still can’t hear the dialogue, let alone grasp the plot.

3. You once had legendary nights out. These days, a nice cup of tea and a slice of Battenberg cake are far more appealing.

Royal Doulton teacup

4. Besides, high heels have become intolerable.

5. You’re shorter and your back is more bent than it used to be, and now you can no longer correct your posture by sitting up straight. Don’t you wish you’d listened to your mother?

6. You always make sure you wrap up warm, just as your mother told you to.  In fact, you now realise she was right about everything. Including those winkle-picker shoes. FreeImages.com/Terri-Ann Hanalon

7. Health is now a major preoccupation. If you and your friends were to stop discussing medical problems, there’d be no conversation at all.

8. On the rare occasions that you’re not collecting a prescription, you still make use of the chair the pharmacist keeps by the counter.

FreeImages.com/Alfonso Lima9. Of course, you groan with relief every time you sit down.

10. You may well have an iPhone and use Siri. Your most common request? “Siri, tell me what I’m doing here.”

There may be one or two other pointers as well. Please pitch in and let me know what I’ve missed out. Sorry, but my memory isn’t quite what it used to be. Can’t imagine why.

***

In case you missed it, The Times newspaper has just published a piece called Let the Elderly Make Love, Not Cocoa.

How to Alienate Your Doctor in 10 Easy Steps

Articles in newspapers and magazines often give advice on how to get the best out of your doctor. The idea is to maximize the benefits of a consultation and to relieve pressure on the NHS at the same time.

National Health Service logo

But where’s the fun in that?

With a little planning, you could properly annoy your doctor instead. Here’s my advice based on decades working in the NHS, together with one or two favourite tips from my fictional GP colleague Geoff, the doctor in Hampstead Fever.

Hewlett Packard Rapaport Sprague stethoscope

I like to think these are steps almost anyone can take.

1 Prepare for your appointment by not showering or washing for two weeks. Don’t wash your clothes or change your underwear either. With clean clothes, you’re just not playing the game.

2 Bring a list. It should include all the symptoms you’ve had in the last five years. Aim for about 20 or so different complaints.

3 if you don’t have enough symptoms of your own, bring the family. A babe in arms, a couple of hyperactive toddlers, and a deaf granny should do the trick.

4 Kick off the consultation with, “This won’t take a minute, doc.” Which is true. It will take an hour.

kitchen-clock

5 To help your doctor’s diagnostic skills, offer a couple of well-chosen newspaper cuttings or internet printouts. You know the kind of story: Vaccines Kill Millions, or New Miracle Cancer Drug. On no account must you allow your GP to dissuade you. After all, Dr Google is so much better than a living breathing doctor with actual qualifications.

6 When the baby’s nappy needs changing, leave the soiled one behind in the doctor’s bin. This ploy is a good one for the summer months.

7 It’s only polite to take your chewing gum out before saying, “Aah.” Leave it in a tidy blob on the GP’s desk.

8 Exhibit your verrucas, ingrown toenails, chilblains, or bunions at every consultation (what do you mean, you don’t have any?). Before you put your sock back on, it’s de rigueur to get it the right way round by shaking it vigorously at your GP.

sock

9 Don’t ask for an antibiotic for your cold. Demand one. You know your rights. If necessary, remind your doctor that you pay his or her wages.

10 Save your best symptom till last, and mention it only when you’re about to leave. Thus, hand on the doorknob, you can say, “While I’m here, doc…”

FreeImages.com/Robert Eiserloh

With a bit of practice, you should be able to piss your doctor off without even trying.

***

For the really perverse who actually want to get the best from their doctor, here’s my advice, along with some wisdom from fellow GP Mark Porter in The Times.

The Disease Nobody Knows About Until it’s Too Late

If you know much about sepsis, chances are the condition has affected your family.

Sepsis has a high mortality and kills 37,000 people a year in the UK, about 1,000 of them kids. So this week I’m parking the levity and using my blog to sum up what you need to know about sepsis. Photo by Jean Scheijen FreeImages.com/Jean ScheijenUnderstand what it is.

Sepsis is when the body responds to severe infection in such a way that it attacks its own organs and tissues. Without treatment, this quickly leads to organ failure and death.

Most people have heard of blood poisoning (septicaemia) which is much the same thing. But doctors now prefer the term sepsis because there isn’t always blood poisoning in this condition.  

Sepsis isn’t exactly a household name – yet. Personally I think ‘sepsis’ sounds weaker than either septicaemia or blood poisoning, but we’re stuck with the term that scientists agree on.

Know the signs.

The symptoms depend on age, but the main point is that there isn’t any one specific sign like, say a swollen jaw with mumps. A child with sepsis can have a high fever, or an abnormally low one. The younger the child, the vaguer the symptoms.

Here are some signs to look out for in children (from the UK Sepsis Trust’s Paediatric Pocket Guide):

symptoms of sepsis in children

And here are some signs to watch out for in adults (from the UK Sepsis Trust’s excellent Symptom Checker card):

symptoms of sepsis in adults

If I could highlight just two consistent points about sepsis, they would be these:

You or your youngster will be more unwell than expected.

Things get rapidly worse, especially in children.

Understand who gets it.

Anyone can develop sepsis from a bacterial infection (or sometimes a virus or fungus). But some are more at risk, like the very young, very old, pregnant women, diabetics, and people on long-term steroids.

The initial infection can be a serious one like meningitis, or seemingly trivial, like a horse-fly bite.

Surgery can be linked with sepsis, especially emergency operations on those in poor health, or with peritonitis or bladder infections.

scalpel

Know what to do.

Sepsis is a medical emergency and needs urgent hospital care. Don’t waste a single moment.

Sepsis isn’t one disease, but rather a syndrome that cuts across almost every medical speciality. The first doctor you see could be a paediatrician, a gynaecologist, an orthopaedic surgeon, or your GP, and sepsis may not feature at the top of their list. That’s why it’s so important for you to mention it. When you see the doctor or nurse, make sure you say, “I’m worried about sepsis.”

Thanks for bearing with me.

Litmann type stethoscope

Here’s a selection of further reading if you’re interested.

The UK Sepsis Trust is a charity founded to save lives and improve outcomes for survivors of sepsis by instigating political change, educating healthcare professionals, raising public awareness and providing support for those affected. For their general factsheet on sepsis, click here

Sepsis Awareness Month: Rory’s Story. One mother’s personal account.

Three and a Half Heartbeats by Amanda Prowse. A novel of love, loss, and hope about a family devastated when their child dies of sepsis. And proceeds go to UK Sepsis Trust.

Plunkett A, Tong J. Sepsis in Children.  BMJ 2015;350:h3017. A detailed medical article from the British Medical Journal.