This is a warts an’ all musing upon the particular medical state I find myself in as I approach my 86th Birthday.
As a soi-disant shortarse (I have lost c. 3 inches in height over the past five years or so.) I never was tall – put it down to being a wartime baby!
I played cricket and football for my Grammar School in Portsmouth and then as a youth in Liverpool played regular football and formed a small cycling club – mostly going over the water into North and Mid-Wales. We switched to fixed wheel and that was fun on the hills around Bala and other places!
I was also a strong swimmer, The hardest sport I played was as a member of the 3 Para water polo team versus the Maltese Engineers.!
All in all I felt pretty fit but did not consider myself a ‘fitness freak.’
In 1960, finally shrugging off my boring office job, I joined The Parachute Regiment. I had, in fact, enlisted in The Royal Marines so I could ‘go home’ to Eastney
I had resigned my job, packed up, said my goodbyes to my two best mates when I received a letter saying ‘Hmmm.. sorry to inform you but you are one half inch short of the minimum height requirement.’
So, feck you Marines – your loss, and I joined the Paras. I left voluntarily after 17 years in the rank of Warrant Officer Class One.
The training was hard but I did not have too much difficulty on the physical side and was one of only six recruits who passed in our starting complement of fifty hopefuls.
Just to explain a little of the spirit inculcated over five weeks of basic training. Our first jump was to be from a tethered wartime anti-aircraft balloon over Queens Parade Aldershot.
I was number two in the cage, the method was to sit on the edge of the hole with legs dangling awaiting the order to jump. Number one was a stocky, fit, Jock lad.
HE REFUSED TO JUMP. My recollection is that I told him to move out of the way in strong terms so I could go.
Preamble and a little bit of trumpet blowing (if not me, Who?. I am worth it!).
My ‘fighting weight’ was ten and a half stone. I was horrified one time in civvie street to discover that I was approaching fourteen stone!
I gave up football at age 45 – prompted by a young lad whom I tackled from my favourite left-half position. He ended up flat on his back in a puddle! ‘Oy, grandad he said. If I had known you wanted the ball so much I would have given it to you!!
I had the honour of representing The Army in Bahrain and The Army in British Guiana at football. Memories, ah memories!
Today I went for my regular INR test which measures the efficacy of Warfarin on blood clotting. Reading was 2.9, target range is 2-3 so nurse pleased (not filth!).
BP 110/60 – same as a month ago. Though it has been higher. Pulse rate 57 which is up from my normal range of 43 – 47 so that is a good thing. I have recently been playing with my medication – I have several tablets and I have no real idea of the effect one upon the other. From time to time I do not take a blood pressure tablet – my BP lately has been excellent!
Weight 12st 4lbs which is higher than I want but I make sure I am well-nourished. But there are are a couple of kickers.
I was diagnosed with Atrial Fibrillation many years ago and I have a little hardening of the left aorta. At some point I was told I had a fatty liver. i.e. non-alcoholic fatty liver disease – no idea of present status.
The condition which blights my life is Lymphoedema. One small vascular ulcer on the left shin and a largish patch of raw ulcer on the right shin. Painful…………
What makes it worse is the tendency to shed fluid through the wounds – the exudate can be like a slow tap dripping.
The reason for this situation is venous insufficiency. Reduced pressure from the heart and arteries furring up. I awake with legs like a ballet dancer and within an hour my knees have ballooned and we are back on the merry go round.
The result is I now use a cane and hobble along fairly slowly. It is my firm belief that the present training and protocol cannot ‘cure’ the problem. I have been like this for three years, I know a lady who is still suffering after nine years of treatment.
Bless the nurses, they are great but logic tells me that changing the dressing every three days disturbs the top layer again and leaves, as I know to my cost, a painful raw wound.
I have come across a Doctor (Professor) Shady Farrah of the Technio Institute of Tel Aviv.
He is researching a new type of wound healing gel – please look him up and see the results of his research.
In Swansea there are five separate ‘Wound Clinics’ – they have the capacity to be open all day treating the problem but cannot because of shortages of staff.
I have been trying to assess what is the cost of the attention I get on my visits. Two nurses and quite often a senior nurse. Duration close to one hour. Estimate of materials used – c.£15.00.
Dr Farah’s system could save billions – In my email to him I told him to be aware of BIG PHARMA!!
If I have a message to pass on it is this:
Be aware of how time flies
Good health is not a given. Work on it.
Keep an eye on the markers of declining good health
Keep your mind active
© Gillygangle 2026
