Lunch out / French toast crumpets with elderflower berry compote
Today started with the annoying sound of my phone alarm, waking me in time for my telephone appointment with my new consultant. I silenced the alarm and went for five more minutes of lying in bed, from which I was woken 20 minutes later by the clatter of my phone falling from my hand. Thank you, gravity!
The consultation was far more helpful than I expected. I did have to go through the whole sorry saga again, but after that the consultant said he thought he knew what was wrong with me: an “extremely rare” genetic metabolic condition with the tongue-twisting name of Multiple-acyl-CoA-dehydrogenase deficiency, or MADD (which I said was quite an appropriate acronym for me!🤪).
It does seem like a good match with my symptoms (and my late sister’s), and it is associated with extended use of the antidepressant sertraline, which is also a match for us both.
The consultant is going to write to my GP with a treatment plan. If it is MADD, my symptoms should apparently improve dramatically with treatment, although any kind of food poisoning or stomach bug could land me back in hospital so I’ll probably have to carry some sort of information card in case of emergency. If it isn’t MADD, it will probably be one of a related group of genetic conditions and I’ll have to have more tests to try and work out which one.
At least I now have a label for my condition, if only a partially confirmed one atm, and a chance for a massive improvement in my quality of life. Maybe it’s a good thing I haven’t yet spent a thousand pounds or so on a mobility scooter after all!
Then, after a mad scramble of shower, food for mum and me so I could do tablets for mum and me, we went out for lunch with some friends at the local pub, The Red Lion.
This is, in many ways, an archetypal English pub – low beams, flagstone floors, a big open fire, dogs lounging in various inconvenient spots (including a little shih-tzu type who wagged her way over to me in the manner of a dog who knows precisely how cute she looks in her little raincoat) – but comes with added Michelin awards for its food.
Everyone opted for fish and chips, while I went for the rare (in every sense!) treat of a steak ciabatta roll1 and paprika fries. It was delicious, as was the apple and cinnamon crumble tart with apple sorbet and creme anglais I had afterwards. (You know the place is posh when it serves creme anglais rather than custard!)
I even treated myself to a bottle of cider: Thatchers zero alcohol is very similar to its alcoholic cousin, and I will definitely be getting it again.
Mum only ate about half of her small portion of fish and chips before deciding she’d had enough: I think she eats so randomly that her stomach can’t handle a full meal anymore. Within an hour of getting home mum was asking what was for dinner. I wasn’t really hungry but had in my metaphorical back pocket the concept of French toast crumpets, to which mum enthusiastically consented before realising she didn’t know what French toast was.
I’m pleased to say she enjoyed the reality, particularly with my elderflower and berry compote (i.e. frozen mixed berries heated with a generous splash of elderflower cordial). It was rather good if I do say so myself.
Tomorrow is a peaceful day until the afternoon, when we have a grocery delivery and then an appointment at the hairdresser’s. I am greatly looking forward to the latter, as the front of my hair is currently just long enough to be constantly falling into my eyes.
Goodbye, front bit of hair: you won’t be missed.
- I know it looks practically raw in the photo, and it was, just like I asked. I prefer my steak cooked ‘blue’ or, as my vegetarian sister put it “so it still moos when you stick a fork in it”. ↩︎
Is it pineapple sponge today? 