Dr Maurice Gueret’s ‘Rude Health’ column

Keeping you up to date with all the latest in supermarket diagnosis, Maurice Gueret puts his varifocals on bagpipes.

I was leafing through an Aldi magazine recently, as men do, to keep themselves abreast of offers in fine wines, fly-fishing rods and lump hammers. The doctor in me spotted what I thought was a perfectly functioning colonoscopy machine. There it was — a long, black waterproof tube, allowing flexible gooseneck inspection. It came with a camera head, bright LED illumination and a high-resolution screen to watch video from a safe distance. Not only that, there were three retrieval tools, a mirror attachment and batteries included, all for a super price of €69.99. Alas, when I put on my new varifocals to investigate further, I discovered that the device was intended to help men navigate their way around cavity walls, suspended ceilings and boilers, rather than the dark innards of the human bowel. I did alert gastroenterology colleagues to this amazing household offer, but feedback to date hints that by the time they get home from a long day scoping, they are done with manouvring bendy cameras around twisty tunnels.

During Heritage Week, I paid my first ever visit to the Lady Chapel at Saint Patrick’s Cathedral, D8. It’s quite a stunning place, originally used by French Huguenots who came to Dublin to escape persecution. The purpose of my visit was to hear a fine lecture by historian Albert Fenton on Church of Ireland women who played important roles during the 1916 Rising. It focused mainly on three doctors. There was Kathleen Lynn, who acted as chief medical officer during the Rising, and went on to found St Ultan’s Children’s Hospital. Isabella Webb set up an emergency hospital on Merrion Square to deal with the wounded, and later founded the Children’s Sunshine Home, which in its early days treated youngsters with rickets. And Dorothy Price was a guest in the Vice-Regal Lodge (now Aras an Uachtarain) and kept a fascinating diary of events during Easter week. She later became Ireland’s foremost medical expert on TB testing and immunisation. Though unmentioned in Noel Browne’s autobiography Against The Tide, the work of Dr Price is credited with saving the lives of many thousands of Irish children from the scourge of consumption. We have yet to hear whether our new children’s hospital will be named in honour of a heroine of child health in Ireland. These three formidable women of Irish paediatrics are all equally deserving.

I wrote recently about the symptom of coprolalia — the involuntary utterance of serious profanities — and suggested a few medical causes for it. Well, Peggy writes to tell me of a case she spotted in a private hospital some years ago. She was in the post-op recovery room, when a still-doped young lady was wheeled in on a trolley, effing and blinding like there was no tomorrow. What we call hypnopompic coprolalia was a source of great amusement to the staff. When Peggy asked whether she herself had said anything out of place after surgery, the nurses said they had a full recording and would use it for blackmail! A sense of humour has not been outlawed in our health service. Yet.

Scotland is one of my favourite golfing destinations. As long as you avoid hotels where the outdoor bagpiper wakes up all bedrooms at 6am. This summer, a new ailment was identified called ‘bagpipe lung’. Manchester doctors published a case report of a 61-year-old man who played the bagpipes as a hobby. He developed a nasty cough and became progressively more breathless. His symptoms eased temporarily when he took a three-month sabbatical in Australia — without his bagpipes. But on his return to the UK, he went back to the hobby and his condition deteriorated. He died in hospital two years ago. Doctors now believe that there were fungi living in his instrument and that inhaling their spores set off an inflammatory disease in the lungs. They have called for better guidance on how to clean all wind instruments, having found evidence of similar case reports involving saxophones and trombones. They advise doctors to brush up on the promotion of wind-instrument hygiene. I’d advise selling the bagpipes and taking up spoons.

It was a very sad summer for the medical profession in Ireland. There were a lot of deaths for such a small group, and the loss of ear, nose and throat surgeon Aongus Curran in a boating accident on Lough Corrib was particularly felt. I didn’t know Aongus personally, but we had corresponded and I knew him by reputation. Previously unheard stories of great personal kindness and of his consummate skill as a head-and-neck surgeon were everywhere after his tragic death. When patients lead the tributes, you know that somebody very special has left the flock. And far too soon. Another colleague I would like to mention is Dr John Craig, who passed away in late August. John looked after three generations of families in Tallaght and Walkinstown, and made a huge contribution to the health and welfare of people there. One of his many patients wrote to tell me that it was so very sad that he did not get the long retirement he richly deserved. “The manner in which he carried out his duties was way beyond the normal GP practice. His out-of-turn visits to patients at home or in hospital were a source of great comfort. If we had more people in our health service with his work ethic and commonsense approach, our health service might be in a better place.” There is no higher tribute one could add.