In The Wars

Today

My poor sister has been in the wars. Barely over her epilepsy seizures and she has a Milroy's cellulitis attack. (See my August 2007 blog for more on this condition.) Apart from being painful and unsightly, the cellulitis also confers a very high temperature. High temperature is also an epilepsy trigger so she's in double jeopardy, so to speak.

My brother has also had cellulitis this summer and my sister in Canada had an attack that lasted nearly four months. Must have been rattling with antibiotics. All of them now have permanently disfigured legs that have a tendency to leak lymph under stress and are very vulnerable to injury. Just like Daddy, in fact.

Although I have suffered since my teens, I've somehow retained legs that look normal and behave pretty normally too.

In My Day

Milroy's disease doesn't always present from birth; commonly it first appears in the teens or twenties. When I noticed, at the age of 18, that my right leg was bigger than the left, the medical profession didn't make the link, swinging from thinking I had a heart condition to putting me on a diet.

It was in 1968 that my flatmate Sue and I decided to join a group of others to see Tyrannosaurus Rex at the Brighton Dome. We caught the train from Worthing and were soon in our seats. I don't think I liked the music much anyway, but I was more concerned about the fact that I was beginning to feel most peculiar. I felt dizzy, hot and cold, and sick. Unwilling to travel back alone, I sat out the concert, somehow willing myself into an uneasy doze.

I persuaded Sue that I was too ill to join the gang at the King and Queen pub and we went back home; me feeling worse and worse. I went straight to bed and passed a night of sickness and fever dreams. Sue was very good at nursing and brought me water etc when it became clear I couldn't put my foot to the ground. I don't think I made the connection even then, but I did write to my parents. Back came a note from Daddy telling me not to brave it out but to call a doctor and ask for "Streptomycin sandwiches". He knew exactly what was the matter with me and he and Mamma came down to my bedside.

Since then, I've been acutely aware of the condition and have always been alert to early symptoms and carry antibiotics. Which may be why I can still wear Pradas.

Paul used to have this joke "what's a streptotrap? One you catch streptomycin".