As I was returning from my daughter’s flat I met a woman walking her dog. The dog was a Staffordshire bull terrier which, she assured me, was a very friendly animal. And so it turned out. The dog’s name was Kito, which is Japanese.
The woman told me that her partner was suffering from liver failure and was taking eight different medications each day. One of his symptoms was severe swelling of the stomach, so he was taking a water tablet to reduce this. I’m guessing it was probably Bendroflumethiazide. He was suffering from severe swelling of the private parts as well, which the medication was also supposed to reduce.
He had already been in the toilet for three hours that day. (I met her just after one o’clock.) She believed she would have to call an ambulance, which sounded likely to me.
He had caused these problems himself by drinking too much alcohol over a long period. She was trying to help him by secretly diluting his vodka. I have no idea whether or not she would get this one past him.
He was on the transplant list, which raises a question – does it make sense to donate a liver to someone who is still addicted to alcohol?
She showed me a cut on her hand which she had sustained the previous evening while drunk. She thought it would need stitches but artfully placed butterfly sutures would probably have done the job.
She was a kind and well-intentioned person who gave a lot of information to a stranger.
We exchanged names and she gave me a friendly parting hug. I hope to meet her again.