Being kind to my future self

Photo of the week: My birthday present from Keith. A pack of 14 wild dogs

Highlight of the week: I spot a leopard. Four lions cross the Luangwa and thwart the crocs.

Lowlight of the week: A tragic accident in the north of the park. The valley reels in shock

Maximum temperature: 31 degrees Celsius

Rainfall: Seventeen drops of rain. Mostly felt on Keith’s bald head.

My nephew Hamish is a sharp pencil. That sharp pencil gives my sister Sam, his mother, philosophical tips from time to time. A favourite tip marked his transition to  genuine adulthood. Mum, I’ve started being kind to my future self: I’m now making my pack lunches the night before. I’m even tidying and organising my room, so that I can find things. I iron my clothes as soon as they are dry, so that I look sharp for work. Sharp and kind to his future self.

Hamish and I are clearly from the same stable. I believe in being kind to my future self too. I think it’s in my DNA.

Planning ahead probably addresses my inclination to catastrophise. This came to a head when I was running the department of paediatrics at James Cook from 2015. Keith would nudge me to write lists to put on my bedside table, so that I could park my racing mind overnight. That cunning plan kept me sane and rested throughout 5 turbulent years at the helm. Now the habit of writing lists is deeply ingrained. Indelible.

Crossing things off is now ever more satisfying. Allowing me to look back and pat my own back, as I over-achieve in retirement. Our pal Bruce gave us sage words on retirement. He pipped us to the finishing post by more than a year: In retirement you will find that you can only do one thing in a day. Don’t over schedule. Stick one thing in the diary. The plumber might just take all day, so keep the rest of your diary fallow. Wise council. But my lists tick on. And tick off.

In 2019 we move to North Yorkshire: My efficiency drive fits well with country living. We now have a 10-mile drive to get to the proper shops. Aldi and Tescos sit at arm’s length. Planning is vital to keep me on an even keel. At first, we toy with home delivery for our groceries. The lure of virtual Waitrose is tempting. But the decadence doesn’t suit us. After 2 weeks we seek excuses to head to civilisation, away from the cows. So now, once a week, I do a meal plan. Write a shopping list. And head into York to buy the goodies. Acting in this way, I am being kind to my future self. Weekly meal plans are virtuously looking after my future health. Created when hanger (sic) is far away. The cupboards are fully stocked with positive choices. Not junk. Choices from the Bible according to Joe Wicks. We have no corner shop, except for a post office a mile and a half away. To tell the truth: Come the apocalypse: we will ride it out. We are stocked to the gunwales.

I click my fingers and we are back in the room. Our kitchen diner in Kapani, South Luangwa to be precise. Maslow’s hierarchy helps me to prioritise in Zambia. Food is at the top of the pecking order. Without food I descend into despair. Curled in the foetal position. Hangry and unable to contribute to society as a whole. Previous tours of duty have been conducted without early meal planning. Add to this the uncertainty of being on-call 24/7 for 3 whole months and we have to admit that this particular army fails to march on an empty stomach. Emergency provisions need to plug the gaps. But meal plans now need to replace previous voids. Previous mini famines in Africa which have stemmed from supply chain issues or inadequate planning. Even the absence of electricity in bygone days has conspired to rot our food. The dodgy cold chain has stolen our thermostasis and our nutrition. Brain fog on brain fog. I would stare into a reasonably well stocked fridge and reach apoplexy. Unfit to choose lunch.

This week, our Reduce your chance of stroke and heart attack programme starts up again. We have 2 weeks before we start work in the clinic. We put this time to good use. Although we miss our first planned camp stay because of the antics in Qatar and Iran. Our Karma plays out well. We have 2 more days to get all our s**t in a sock. To sort out study books. Paperwork. Medication. Unpack all the bags. Do some shopping. Re-pack our bags. And then we head into the bush. To our first camp.

We are now old hands. Experienced with our programme’s mechanics. We meet with the staff. Explain the process. Set up two rooms. A waiting area. The scene is set. The hive starts buzzing.

Our first camp this year is Puku Ridge. And the adjoining Chichele Presidential lodge. Built for KK. Dr Kenneth Kaunda. The first president of Zambia. A man who truly loved the bush. He supported South Luangwa becoming a national park. With protection for wildlife. In return, they built him a lodge. The old lodge was decommissioned about 5 years ago. This year marks the opening of the newly built lodge. It is truly amazing. Beautiful. Stylish. Presidential. We are given a family suite to work in. This is still low season, so the lodge is almost empty. We set our kit up in all the splendour. Keith takes one wing of the suite. I take the reception area.

We join the staff daily meeting. Both lodges come together. It’s 07:30. About 60 people roll up. The meeting starts with a prayer. Christianity the norm. We then take the opportunity to preach. The managers pitch in. Healthy eating. Less salt. Less sugars. Nsima now taboo. Roller meal the new idol. Activity the buzz word. We discuss our programme. Screening a big part of it. We are asking people to be kind to their future selves. Protect your future. Choose from doable options that resonate. Sing our hymns. Pray to our Gods.

Soon we have a steady stream of parishioners. Many returning participants. It’s a pleasure to catch up with old friends. And make new friends. Our previous followers are doing well. Many have lower BPs. Slimmer tummies. Many are regular attendees at the BP and diabetes clinic in Kakumbi.

Invisible ills declare themselves as ever. 45% have BP. 5% have sugar diabetes. They join our church. Happy to take our communion wafers. Happy to accept the lifestyle Gospel. Almost homeopathic doses of drugs when needed. But smokers sit open mouthed as Keith shares the news of their expected future bedroom disappointments. Then, whilst they are trying to hide their discomfort, he predicts their early demise. Insult. Then injury. The ball is then left in their court.

In 3 days, we see 55 people. We work from 07:30 until 17:00. A short break for lunch. No time for game drives. But enough leeway to steal glances out of landscape windows. Perched on a hill. Looking down on the plains. Elephants march to the river. Under orders from The Colonel. Journeys of giraffe. Buffalo. Impala. Zebra. Puku. Unrivalled views from unrivalled offices.

At the end of the day, we retreat to our luxury bedroom at Puku Lodge. Just 1km away. Delicious food our reward for our labour. We fall asleep to the sounds of the bush. We reset ourselves for another day. After bottoming out Puku and Chichele we head further south. To the southern bushcamps. 7 camps in 2 days. Another 57 people seen. A brief reset at Kapani and our compass turns north. In 4 days at Tafika we see 93 more.

This is now the 3^rd year of our programme. We have recruited 480 people, mostly aged over 40. And seen another 500, younger than 40. All have been screened for hypertension and diabetes. All offered treatment for their hidden ills. All now ably supported by our new BP and diabetes clinic at Kakumbi. Set up with your generous support last year. We care for those afflicted with old strokes but, touch wood, new strokes and heart attacks now seem rare. Could this be a fluke or a happy consequence of the new services? It’s hard to know, but it sustains and drives us.

Your generosity is what really sustains our programme. You support the hypertension and diabetes clinic in Kakumbi. Three staff run the clinic on 2 afternoons every week. You fund their work, and supplement the government provided medication. You ensure that people are offered treatment to normalise their blood pressure. Or control their diabetes. For that, we are truly thankful. For that, the people in the South Luangwa Valley truly thank you.

Our new mantra echoes inside my head, as I tap out this blog: What can you do today, to be kind to your future self? Hamish’s DNA imprints on our Valley. Our shared mantra reverberates around the Valley. People are planning to be kind to their future selves. Through healthier diets, and more active lives. Through kicking bad habits, and adopting good ones. Through consistently taking tiny doses of medicines, that ward off stroke and heart attack. Their kindness to their future selves will be harvested come rain or shine. Just as well, since proper rain is not expected here for quite a while.

The view from our office

Our new improved "doc" house

Not very good at hiding

Lion yoga. 

Fast food for hyenas. An unfortunate  impala lies mutilated and abandoned in the mud.