Dr Google....anyone else googling symptoms?

I have been recently suffering from an itchy neck. No rash; not been bitten (no stray vampires round these parts); no new products; never remember to put perfume on anyway. So, I did a quick survey of the school mums (I like surveying the school mums...it's surprising, the things you can learn on a playground). "Itchy neck anyone?" No takers...we had lumpy skin on legs, itchy scalp, many instances of recurring norovirus but no joy for me. So, I did what any other normal person in need of urgent medical assistance does...consulted Dr Google. Dr Google is great; you get an appointment the same day...within seconds in fact; no sitting around with ill people waiting to be seen and he'll introduce you to his colleagues; Dr Yahoo is very esteemed, so I'm told. The reason for my pondering? Well, I've been reading those intellectual papers again! Ariel Leve depicts this phenomenon in her very astute article for the Guardian (see intellectual) and so much of it rings true; although I would contest her opinion that before t'internet people waited to see their GP for a diagnosis...she obviously has never owned a copy of Dr Mariam Stoppard's Family Health Guide. So, my itchy neck? Well Dr Google has informed me that there may be a possible 16 medical causes; Dr Expert at Netwellness.org gave me a second opinion and pointed me in the allergy direction but hey, I still have 1,398,998 other opinions to consider...

Dummy Mummy? Are You? C'mon admit it...

There's the...
Yummy mummy and the...
Slummy mummy's and now the ...
Dummy Mummy.

WHATEVER NEXT?!!

Scummy mummy (I'm a bit untidy but I have some standards)
Gummy mummy (oohhhh DO NOT get me started on teeth, gums and pregnancy. I knew a woman who lost all her teeth when she was pregnant, they just fell out...guess she'd be a gummy mummy; did have the most perfect set of false one though).
But Dummy Mummy....to be fair to Ms Cooke ,I think she was only depicting a certain type of mother in her article (c'mon we all know at least one; dwelling in the deeper most regions of Nappy Valley) but she certainly has raised a lot of hackles; opened a can of some very disgruntled worms etc etc. In truth, I think once you've had your first and they've reached an age when they can start answering you back, the dummy mummy stance does lose momentum. Most of the 2nd/3rd/4th time mums (not all Ms Cooke appears to have met the exception to the rule) I know are more interested in discussing their varicose veins and receding gum lines than nipple cream and breast pads (well I want to give the Dummies a little bit of what they fancy). Either that or they just want a damn good night out, teamed with a lie in until midday. Maybe she's trapped in the inner most sanctum of Nappy Valley...in fact she should pack her Pacapod, steal a Bugaboo and scoot over my way...where we mainly just moan about "stuff"; anything will do...(although sometimes, for variety, we may complain).

coffee, chocolate and choices

Why is it that if I eat three quarters of a bar of chocolate and hide the rest, I feel like I haven't really eaten any chocolate at all? A bizarre sense of denial? I mean I can hardly deny the evidence on my hips can I? The other thing I feel the urge to do, is hide chocolate, just in case...JUST IN CASE OF WHAT?! A national shortage? My sig. other questions my need to hide chocolate as foolish and self defeating: "If you buy it just eat it and enjoy". No! No! No! I don't need to enjoy it, it just needs to be there. My current bar of choice is the newly revived Wispa which I think is due in part to the fact that's always on at 3 for £1 in the excellent co-op. The other thing the excellent co-op is brilliant at is fair trade; everyone knows about fair trade and if not then the fair trade Foundation spells it out on it's excellent website. So, when I'm busy shovelling three quarters of a bar of chocolate down my throat, I got to thinking about it. I saw a superb documentary film not long ago called Black Gold. In a nutshell, it follows the journey of Tadesse Meskela and his attempts to get a fair price for the coffee growers of Ethiopia by representing coffee growers co-operatives; it's inspirational and moving. The growers wanted nothing more than what we take for granted; an education for their children, clean water, shoes, fair pay but instead found themselves ripped off by rich, western middlemen. When I first saw the film, I felt like going through the cupboards and discarding anything not fair trade; then I fell into the usual apathy that is common amongst many people, "I can't afford it" I bleated. However, after a recent viewing of Black Gold, I have made it my mission to be socially conscious because it does affect so many lives; if I can afford a new pair of shoes, a new hair cut, to send my kids to dancing and football then I can afford to be more aware of the difference that one purchase can have.

antenatal depression...how many?

Pregnancy related depression is supposed to affect about 10%-15% of the population...well those are more the figures for postnatal depression (PND); I think antenatal depression (AND) is more uncharted. Why would this be? Maybe it's not as severe as postnatal depression; maybe pregnant women feel guilty about feeling dreadful when they are at a stage in their life when everyone says they should be "glowing", "blooming" and all the other words we associate with the state of pregnancy. Anyway, I had it so, yes, one major distraction there but part of my story and therefore not to be ignored. I knew I was getting depressed, I was experiencing bits of obsessive behaviour, worrying needlessly about the well being of my kids, checking on them, panic, nausea, tears...and it came to a head one Friday. I'd been to see the GP, I wanted medication but my very good GP was on this occasion reluctant; so I carried on drowning in negativity until at least I ground to a halt. It was a Friday and I couldn't manage to cook the kids dinner. No, I didn't even get to the cooking bit...I didn't know how I was going to manage to do it; then I started panicking about how I would get my daughter to her swimming lesson the following Monday. I was I ever going to manage to cook dinner on that day too (I don't like cooking but this wasn't some elaborate rouse to get out of the chore....honestly!). Anyway all this resulted in me seeking out the kind of help I needed; I found my route through and things began to improve; the perinatal care I received was fantastic and I thoroughly enjoyed the last few weeks of my pregnancy. My only regret? That I didn't access the perinatal services earlier, that I kept quiet..thinking I was tired, stressed...whatever label I attached to feeling depressed; that I couldn't admit to feeling this way; that I gave into the guilt of not enjoying being pregnant. I got help and I was OK but, man, I could have been OK months earlier. On a very serious note I would urge all expectant mothers to get some help if they are experiencing any amount of depression: GP's, midwives, family, friends...even sitting in A & E until someone has time to see and assess you: it is all worth it. Any sort of depression is capable of occupying, possessing your very being and sometimes it's hard to break free but it can be done...