dunno

Much is made of the Hippocratic oath, inspired by the Father of Medicine, Hippocrates, who was born on the Greek island of Kos in 460BC.

Hippocrates inspired me, too, on a trip to the island in 1980.

I recall quite clearly that I uttered an oath of my own - "%$%^%^ &#$@$"- as a burly nurse jabbed a needle into my backside at the local hospital where I had sought help with a sudden bout of asthma.

My asthma has been controlled as a adult, and I have been able to do pretty much what I want to do thanks to long-term preventative medicine, short-term reliever inhalers and a better personal understanding of what might trigger an attack.

But as a child, it was very much out of my control. Doctors did not seem to understand it and neither did my parents (doh, it is hard to imagine that someone did not twig that having two adults smoking in the house was not such a good thing for me and my sister Kate, who also suffered from asthma).

I heard recently that asthma is like trying to breath through a straw, and that sums it up pretty well.
It sets off a chain reaction.
Not enough oxygen to the lungs.
Not enough oxygen to the blood, resulting in sapping of energy.
I remember quite clearly the nights as a kid in the 1960s and '70s I woke up in the dark terrified as I wheezed and coughed and rasped and gasped for breath. You have no idea how close I came on occasions to promising my life to the priesthood as long as God let me make it through to morning.

I also remember my first (and hopefully last) trip to hospital with asthma.

It was 1964 and I was five.

My mother wrote in my baby book: "John has had second attack of asthma. Is in hospital. He has tried very hard not to cry and has been very good, but after three days he is getting very upset when we leave. It is very upsetting when he clings to me and cries."

The doctor initially wanted me in hospital for three days and in that time I was a model patient.
But when three days were up, I wanted to go home.
I think the doctors had to let me go eventually because the stress of it all just made me worse, not better.
The episode probably explains why I have such little time for people who fail to deliver on their promises.

Over the next 10 or so years, asthma was a fixture in my life.

We tried all kinds of treatments, but not much helped.

I remember a physiotherapist, Miss Mac, giving me a pong pong ball to practise blowing around the room and get my lungs exercising.
But it was a vicious circle. I needed to exercise but exercise triggered my asthma.
That, I guess, is one of reasons I never became a champion athlete (coupled with a sad lack of co-ordination). We did not have short-term relievers in those days and I feel envious now when I see elite footballers go to the sideline for a puff on their inhalers.
The only silver lining I can see is that I can probably blow ping pong balls further than they can.

I had various injections, but always in my arm, and oral tablets but they all had side effects that made me feel like a zombie.

We even tried a chiropractor in Hobart. All was fine when he was just clicking my middle vertebrae around but my faith i him was tested when he tried to stop an actual attack by stimulating a vertebrae near the end of my spine. There was only one way to access it, and you can use your own imagination on that. The relief was minimal and needless to say that was the last time I went to him.

I also tried hypnotherapy, but that did not work.

What worked best, I think, was moving out of home in my late teens.

Funny that, seeing as I did what most young men did: did not eat properly, did not look after myself, went to too many parties and gave up regular sleep patterns. Oh, and foolishly I smoked cigarettes, too, for a while.

Asthma was no longer a constant companion in my life, but I still did have occasional attacks.

Like on Kos.

I was there as a tourist.

I can normally feel an asthma attack coming on, but not this time. It came from out of the blue and got worse and worse.

Finally, I took myself in the hospital.

I do not know if the hospital was the same one Hippocrates founded when he returned to his home island.

I strongly suspected though that some of his original equipment was still being used. Things like hypodermic needles.

I was quite prepared for the jab though. I was willing to feel like a zombie, even risk tetanus, as long as I could breathe freely again.

I rolled up my sleeve but the nurse holding the syringe shook her head and told me in broken English to drop my trousers.

"%$%^%^ &#$@$," I yelled as she jabbed me.

I think they appreciated that feedback. Being big on oaths, and all.

©2003 John Martin. All Rights Reserved

 

 

 

 

If you liked this short column perhaps you'll like my new comic fiction novel, which has nearly 250 pages of laughs. Check out the first chapter here free

OR ORDER YOUR COPY NOW