Review

ACCORDING to the latest medical opinion, it seems I have a 1 in 5 chance of suffering another stroke in the future – which, I’m reassured to hear, is quite low.

The new medication seems to be working as prescribed.

My blood pressure is normal; my cholesterol count is under control; none of the scans show much that’s untoward – a little clogging in the arteries of my throat, but not unduly worryingly so.

So, it seems, I’m a hoppy bunny again.

Except, of course, that I actually have had a stroke, and I’m not fully recovered from it yet.

And whether I ever shall fully recuperate is something of an unanswerable question.

But still, I come away from the review today feeling a little more optimistic about my future health prospects.

Slow cooker quandary

I’VE BEEN reviewing slow cookers with the thought of maybe purchasing one.

I rather fancy doing stews and casseroles and soups and the like, and I’m told slow cookers are just the ticket for such things.

And like everything, the more you pay, the more bells and whistles you seem to get – the problem is to decide which ones I’m genuinely likely to find useful and which not.

The variations are quite staggering, though. Price-wise, there are the cheap and cheerful types for under £20, to the so-called “professional” models costing more than £100. Feature-wise, too, I have to decide do I need a timer? Do I require rice-steamers, chicken roasters and keep-warm devices?

Suddenly, the simple idea of a slow cooker takes on head-scratching proportions.

Why, oh why, does life have to be so complicated?

A spot of Indian alchemy

SO HERE I am indulging in a spot of gastronomic alchemy again, putting together an experimental spicy prawn stir-fry.

Actually, this dish is such a quick one to do, we’re literally dining within minutes of starting it – the rice and naan bread accompaniments are the longest things to cook.

What I really love, though, is the mixing up of the various spices – turmeric, cayenne pepper, cumin, coriander all mixed up with the raw prawns. The aromas are simply marvellous and demonstrate the genius of Indian cuisine in putting together these amazing blends.

I heat up a spoonful of groundnut oil in my trusty wok, and when it’s smoking-hot, I toss in some mustard and cumin seeds and a splodge of garlic purée and cook until the seeds start popping – about 1 minute in total.

I then drop in my spiced prawns and cook them until they turn bright pink – about 2 minutes in total!

And there I am, ready to serve up. This particular combination of spices gives the meal a delightfully sour edge to the heat.

My only criticism of my effort is in the boiled rice, which I feel is a little bland; a crisp, green salad I think would have gone better with these prawns. But still, no worries, we both manage to clean our plates, and we finish off the meal with a little French Brie afterwards.

Yes, on the whole, quite nice!

Revivals

IN THE time while my stroke has rendered me somewhat hors de combat, it seems there have been changes taking place.

First, most noticeably, spring has arrived in a torrent of colour and new growth; it’s as if I’ve suddenly woken up after a very long sleep and I’m seeing the world with fresh eyes.

I had hoped to grow some more of my own vegetables this year, but my incapacity has put something of a damper on such physical exertion. Even now, although I feel much like my old self again, I’m not sure if I dare to put myself to it – I still do tire rather easily, and my leg is still a little leaden.

My interest in cooking has revived with my appetite though, and I’m back at my experimental cook sessions – today I do us a quick and delicious spaghetti alla carbonara, using up some pancetta bacon and a heap of grated parmesan cheese, all tossed in an eggy mixture. We wash it down with delightful Italian rosé wine – very nice indeed.

 I’ve even started scanning photos again, this time of our first visit to Cyprus in 2004 – and my goodness me, I’m staggered by how sunny the island looks, such a contrast to our visit this year!

So, yes, I’m pleased to report that I seem to be reviving with the springtime.

A disconcerting feeling

IT’S TAKING the needle-bruises on my arms longer to vanish than the symptoms of my stroke.

Not that the symptoms have completely gone, you understand; I still have a little deadness in my left leg, although I’m no longer dragging it around like something extraneous to me.

All tingling sensations in both arm and leg have disappeared, though, and generally I seem to have come out of the other side a bad week – of stomach upsets and loss of appetite, of searing leg cramps and the dead hand of lethargy.

Oh, I still tire easily, of course – that’s probably going to take weeks, maybe months, more to overcome – but on the whole, I have to consider myself very lucky indeed to have got off so lightly!

Anyhow, today we ignore the dreadful weather and decide to visit the Pub, the Geriatrics’ Corner, and it seems ages since we last were here. It’s the normality of the place that I can’t get over. There’s Liam, behind the bar, greeting me with a quiet smile, as always; there’s the Times puzzle pages ready for our attention, there’s Al, our gardener and handyman, on his usual stool by the wall, there’s the clock over his head ticking away – all as if nothing had happened.

And it seems that, for the Pub, its staff and most of its customers nothing has happened; they’ve barely been aware of my absence, still less of everything I’ve been through.

For a moment, it seems as if time and space have somehow been bent out of shape. Can it really be that so much can have happened to one person, while leaving everyone else untouched?

It's a disconcerting feeling, I can tell you!

Stroke

I’M SITTING on the trolley-bed in the Accident & Emergency department of Lancaster hospital, awaiting the ministrations of the medics, and I’m wondering to myself if, now that I’m getting older, I can expect more of the same of this type of experience.

I suppose it’s inevitable, really.

It begins last night. I am viewing the late movie on the box, when suddenly my foot begins to tingle with what I take to be pins and needles. It quickly spreads to the rest of my leg – a kind of tingling numbness – from foot to upper leg.

I try to walk it off, but already it’s clear this is something very different.

I wonder weather to wake My Good Lady, but decide against it – no sense in disturbing her for what I hope might still be nothing. Maybe by tomorrow it might be back to normal…

In fact it isn’t, it's worse. The tingling feeling has actually spread to my left hand. I can prevaricate no longer. I get up and as gently as I can I tell MGL that I think I’ve suffered a stroke.

She immediately rings NHS Direct, and they soon dispatch a paramedic unit to check me over.

They aren’t absolutely sure, but they think I should be taken to the A&E unit of the hospital, to be more thoroughly examined.

It’s the beginning of a very long day, of being hooked up to monitors and of being generally scanned and probed and x-rayed, with long, long spells of tedium in between during which nothing seems to be happening.

Finally, finally! – the result that I’ve now steeled myself to expect: it is indeed a stroke, albeit a mini one, and with some luck, the symptoms might clear up completely. On the other hand, maybe not. We’ll have to wait and see.

After spending nearly nine hours in the place – with only a sandwich and a belated cup of tea by way of refreshment – my discharge paper is drawn up and I’m allowed to go home.

I have to go back on Monday for further scans, and the boring part is that I’m not allowed to drive for twenty-eight days in case I have a sudden further attack – a common occurrence, it seems.

A friend comes and collects us and takes us home, and also provides us with some homemade vegetable soup and a piece of shepherd’s pie – both of which we devour as if we hadn’t eaten for a week!

LATER: I’m please to note that already some of the numbness has begun to fade and that I’m no longer walking about like lame duck. Here’s hoping for the best, fingers crossed!

Relief, at last

WELL, IT’S all over bar the shouting. The bathroom, I mean.

And, lord, what job it’s been! I thought having a new kitchen installed was going to be an upheaval, but that was as nothing compared to the bathroom!

The floor alone took four days to lay, and the ceiling had to be done twice.

But when the fitter finally departed, there was our gleaming new shower-room, ready for the use of…

The OT even came today, and prescribed a perching stool for My Good Lady – we duly went off this afternoon and collected it.

She can now look forward to her first shower – and I can affirm that it is like a semi-religious experience!

There are just the Venetian blinds to be fitted at the window, and of course the small matter of payment…

But it’s done! Complete! Finished!

Oh, the sheer overwhelming relief that that thought brings…