Martyn Hooper

The Documentary that has been nine months in the making will be premiered on the same day of the Symposium.

The Date is Thursday June 9th.  I am busy trying to secure a grant that will cover the cost of hosting the event (around £4,500) and the venue will be determined by whether or not the grant application is successful.  If it is successful the event will be held in Wales, if not then we will be seeking sponsorship to host the event in London.

The Documentary – Living In The Fog - will be shown at the event and so the venue will probably be a cinema.

Speakers who are confirmed attendees at the Symposium are:

Professor David Smith – Professor of Ageing Medicine, University of Oxford.

Professor Helga Refsum – Professor of Nutrition, University of Oslo, Visiting Professor of Nutrition, University of Oxford.

Dr. Edward Valente – Marketing Manager, Axis-Shield Diagnostics.

Dr. Fiona Porter-Smith – a General Practitioner and member of the society who devised and analysed our survey.  I may have to present these findings as Fiona is due to give birth just before the event!

I am still waiting to hear back from two other speakers who will  almost certainly be present.

The idea behind the symposium is to bring together doctors who are aware of the serious issues relating to the diagnosis and treatment of Pernicious Anaemia in particular and B12 Deficiency in general.  We, as a society, are aware of these issues, as are some notable doctors.  Yet nowhere is this information being widely disseminated throughout the medical profession.  The hardest bit will be getting doctors who are, as yet, completely unaware of these serious issues to attend.

If you are considering attending the event please be aware that the content of the papers (with the exception of me or Fiona’s) will be highly technical and based on complex science.  The Documentary will be easy to understand though.  Please call the office if you are interested in attending.

More of this as it develops…..

A lady telephoned the office yesterday asking for some advice.  The call was transferred to me.  I was aware that doctors are reluctant to prescribe B12 for whatever reason, but this latest call drove home to me the magnitude of the problem that we face.  The conversation went like this:

Me – “How can I help”

Caller “I’d like some advice please”

“Certainly, but I have to advise you that I am not medically qualified and your doctor is the best person to advise you of any medical matter”

“That’s the problem”

“Okay – go ahead”

“Well, my doctor has run all kinds of antibody tests on me and I have tested positive for Intrisic Factor Antibody”

“So you have Pernicious Anaemia!”

“Well, I have all of the symptoms on your checklist apart from one”

“Then you have Pernicious Anaemia”

“But my doctor won’t diagnose me with having it – even though My Great Grandmother died from it”

“Why won’t your doctor diagnose Pernicious Anaemia?”

“Because she doesn’t trust the test and thinks it might be a mistake”

“So what has she diagnosed”

“Depression”

“Let me get this right – you have nearly all of the symptoms, you have a family history and you tested positive for the Intrinsic Factor Antibody?”

“Yes – that’s correct”

“And your doctor thinks you are depressed?”

“Yes – she wanted to prescribe me anti-depressants but I refused.  I’m not depressed, but I have no energy, can’t think clearly, have memory problems and have pins and needles and numbness in my legs and feet – I don’t know what to do.”

“What is your doctor going to do next?”

“Order the Intrinsic Factor Antibody test again to rule out Pernicious Anaemia.”

“That test is around 40% accurate and so there is the chance that the test will come back negative”

“I know – what can I do?”

“The only thing I can advise you to do is ask to be seen by another doctor”

“I thought that was what you would advise”

I ended the call and shook my head.  This is, after all, a harmless vitamin.

This is a true story that happened just after Christmas 2010.

I had taken a seasonal job delivering ‘Meals on Wheels’ to elderly housebound people in the mountainous area to the north of Cardiff in Wales.  The service is provided by the local authority who charge a minimum amount for a two course hot meal that is delivered using a fleet of small vans.  In the winter Meals on Wheels is especially useful as not only does it guarantee that the most vulnerable in the community receive a well balanced hot meal, but it also means that the customers also have a visitor who might be their only human contact every day who is able to identify any problems encountered by the client and relay that information to social services.  It’s a valuable service.

The vans that are used to deliver the Meals on Wheels are not especially adapted for their purpose.  The food is kept hot using thick, insulating boxes.  If the food is loaded onto the van at 10:30 in the morning it is still piping hot at 3 in the afternoon when the last deliveries take place.  The insulating boxes just sit on the floor of the loading area and are stacked up.  The winter of 2010 has been the coldest for decades with widespread snow disruption.  This has meant that the vans that are normally used have had to be replaced by four-wheel drive vehicles that are driven by their owners who volunteer their services free of charge although they do get remunerated for the fuel used.  Using the volunteer drivers over snow covered roads means that the delivery time is longer than usual, but it ensures that the service is kept running.

It was a bitterly cold Wednesday that saw me struggling to drive to the Community Centre that acted as the depot where the meals are prepared.  I skidded and slid all the way to the village that housed the community centre and arrived ten minutes later than I was supposed to, even though I had left my house twenty minutes earlier than usual, allowing extra time for the journey because of the snow.  Some of my fellow workers had not managed to get to the centre and so my lateness was completely overlooked and the supervisor was genuinely glad to see me.

“You’ll be working with Annette and Josh today” she told me, adding “Josh is a volunteer 4×4 driver – that’s him over there with Annette”.

I walked over to where Annette was chatting to a tall, well-built black man.  Annette acknowledged me and broke off her conversation with Josh.

“I didn’t think you would make it” she said.

“I nearly didn’t” I replied.

“Martyn, this is Josh who is driving us today”  John smiled revealing a set of pristine white teeth. He offered his hand and I took it.  It completely covered my hand – his hands were as big as shovels. He was tall and well-built with broad shoulders and a large chest – the results no doubt of having done many years of hard manual work with his two shovels.

“Pleased to meet you” he said cheerfully.

“I’m pleased to meet you too” I replied.  Turning to Annette I asked how many deliveries we would be making.

“Twenty two – we’ve had a lot of telephone cancellations – they didn’t want us to injure ourselves delivering their meals” she said, to both Josh and me.  “We are just waiting for three more dinners to be plated and then we can finish loading and start”.

“This is going to be fun” I said.  Josh laughed and agreed with me.  Annette placed the last few dinners into the Land Rover.  I climbed into the back of the vehicle where a bench type seat ran the length of the loading area.  There was no seat belt.  This was an old vehicle.  At my feet were the boxes of hot food that filled the Land Rover with the aroma of roast lamb and vegetables.  The windows began to steam up.

All was going well.  Josh certainly knew how to drive in snow and ice and, apart from one small skid, he negotiated the steep hills and sharp bends admirably.  We delivered the last of the meals just before 2:pm and we headed back to the depot.  Snow lay everywhere, and the route that we took back was picturesque as the sun glimmered on the white blanket.  We turned off the main road and headed down a lane that would save ten minutes on our journey.  As we gingerly made our way between high hedges we noticed a farm tractor ahead that had stopped next to a gate and the farmer was offloading bales of hay for the sheep that were in the field.  We couldn’t pass the tractor as it was a narrow lane and the farmer hadn’t pulled into the little recess just in front of the gate.  The atmosphere inside the Land Rover suddenly changed and Josh turned very angry.

“Why oh why here of all places” he shouted, startling both Annette and me.  “I hate this lane, and I hate this gate – why didn’t he pull in?  How long are we going to stuck here – here of all the places to have to stop?”  He suddenly leaned across Annette and locked her door before quickly locking his at the same time as he brought the vehicle to a halt.  He stared ahead.  “Look” he said as he held out his arm and rolled up his sleeve.  I couldn’t believe it.  The thick hair on his arm were standing completely upright.  His eyes were wide open and darting from side to side.

“What is it Josh?” Annette asked.

“I can’t tell you now” he answered in a voice full of panic. His shoulders were haunched, his breathinng was shallow and rapid.  He was extremely tense and nervous. This was a different man to the one who had been so cheerful a minute earlier.

The vehicle fell silent whilst Josh twisted and squirmed in his seat.  “I hate this place” he shouted, then kept repeating in a lower voice to himself “I hate this place, why here, I hate this bloody place”.

It seemed like an hour but in reality no more than four minutes had passed when the farmer closed the gate, waved at us, and got back in the tractor.  We followed the tractor out of the lane and back onto the main road where he pulled in to the side to let us pass.  Josh let out a huge sigh and we both noticed that his shoulders relaxed and he started breathing normally.

“I’m sorry” he said as we got out of the Land Rover and walked into the depot.  Both Annette and I mumbled something about it not mattering.  Josh hadn’t said another word on the way back to the depot.  This is the first time he had spoken since the incident with the tractor.  “Sit there and I’ll get you a mug of tea” Annette told him, and Josh walked slowly to the table Annette had pointed to.

“What the hell was that all about” I said to Annette as we waited to be served.

“I don’t know but he was absolutely terrified” she replied.  “I have never seen anyone behave like that before” she added.

We carried three mugs of hot tea to the table that Josh was sitting at alone.

“You deserve an explanation” he said, staring into the mug.  Neither Annette or I said anything.  We certainly didn’t argue with his statement as we both wanted to know what had happened to turn this pleasant, easy-going man into a frightened and unpredictable neurotic.  We waited whilst Josh continued to regain his composure.  He shuffled uneasily in the chair and, without looking at either of us related the events of ten years earlier that had been the reason for his sudden change in behaviour.

“It was just after Christmas ten years ago” he began.  “The 27th of December 1999 – four days before the new Millennium.  It was a Monday and it was a beautiful clear night at seven o’clock.  I was driving home after taking my mother shopping in Cardiff in the winter sales.  It was the day after boxing day”.  His voice started to tremble but he checked himself, took a deep breath, sipped is hot tea and carried on, in a slow determined manner.

“I had had two mugs of tea with my mother and was driving home through that lane – the one we were stuck in.  I needed to take a pee really badly but thought I would make it to the pub just opposite where we left the lane and re-joined the main road.  I soon became obvious that I needed to go before then and so I pulled into the little recess where the gate was.  The gate that the farmer emerged from”  He paused, and for the first time looked up at Annette and I before returning to stare at the table.  He took another sip of tea and continued.

“I went through the gate which was closed but not locked, walked a few paces behind the hedge so nobody could see me from the lane – although there was no traffic around – and did what I had to do.  I closed the gate as I strolled back to my car and suddenly felt uneasy.  I looked to my left and there, in the passenger seat, was a man.  A thin white-haired man in an old black jacket who just stared at me.  He just stared.  Didn’t say a word – just stared”.  Josh’s eyes were wide open and his shoulders were once again haunched.  “I know this sound crazy but he was talking to me just by staring.  He was saying ‘just drive, just drive, don’t ask questions just drive’. I drove.  Oh yes – I drove like a madman.  I didn’t care for danger – I just wanted to be with other people.  I wanted to drive as fast as I could to the pub at the end of the lane.  In less than five minutes I was screeching to a halt in the pub car park.  The windows of the bar had no curtains and so quickly did I drive into that car park that a couple of regulars at the bar looked out of the window to see what the comotion was outside.  I got out of the car as quickly as possible.  I was away from the glaring man.  I was so relieved.  I wanted to confront him, ask him what he thought he was doing.  My heart was pounding, my legs were weak but I was going to scare the life out of that mererable creep just as he had frightened me.  I waited for him to get out.  He didn’t.  I bent down to the driver’s window to tell him to leave my car.

There was nobody in there.  The car was empty.  The staring man had gone.

“That is so creepy”! blurted Annette.  “Oh my God- that is so creepy” she went on.  “No wonder you were spooked”.

Josh said nothing but stared at the table as he drank his tea.

“Oh well, we’d better be starting for home” I said.  Annette started to put her coat on then Josh said “There’s more”.  Annette sat back down at the same time as me.  We watched Josh.  Josh talked a little quicker.

“I was so astounded that I went into the pub and ordered a whisky.  I took it to the table nearest the fire and stared into the fire.  Had I imagined it?  No way.  Had I been dreaming?  No way.  I tell you that man with the stare that could speak was in my car.  How he had got out I didn’t know.  I wanted to go home as fast as I could then.  I downed the whisky and headed for the door.  As I was passing the bar a man came in through the door in a terrible state.  He blurted out to the men at the bar - “I’ve just run over a woman.  She went right over the roof of the car”.

The men at the bar immediately stood upright.  One of them said “Where is she now?”

“I don’t know”.

“What do you mean you don’t know?  Did you stop?”

“Of course I stopped.”

“Is she hurt” demanded one of the men.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I stopped the car and got out to help her – but there was nobody there”.

The bar went silent.  The landlord spoke.  “Did she run out of a field through a gate?”

The man looked stunned.

“Yes – but the gate was shut”.