
Warwick Davis's wife Samantha died hours before hospital discharge, inquest finds
The actor and campaigner Samantha Davis, the wife of Harry Potter star Warwick Davis, died after suffering a cardiac arrest hours before a hospital was planning to discharge her, an inquest has found.
Davis, who co-founded Little People UK – the dwarfism charity known as 'an essential resource for little people and their families' – died aged 53 at London's University College hospital on 24 March last year.
Prof Fiona Wilcox, of Inner West London coroner's court, concluded during Davis's inquest on Monday that she had died of arrhythmic cardiac arrest after complications of essential surgical treatment.
Davis was admitted to hospital on 7 February last year following a sudden loss of mobility in her lower limbs after a disc prolapse. On 20 February, and then again on 14 March, she had a thoracotomy operation – a surgical procedure where the chest wall is opened.
Upon the second surgery, her condition improved and the University College hospital at Westmoreland Street was planning to discharge her, the inquest heard. However, Davis went into cardiac arrest at 11.25pm on 23 March and was pronounced dead in the early hours of the morning on 24 March, following a failed resuscitation attempt.
Wilcox said: 'I am satisfied that the medical cause of death should be arrhythmic cardiac arrest and complications following left thoracotomies.
'In my view, the stress of everything together has precipitated this arrhythmic cardiac arrest in a lady who was not known to have any previous arrhythmia problems.'
According to Wilcox, Davis had achondroplasia, a bone growth disorder that results in dwarfism, which was 'complicated by very severe spinal problems' requiring multiple surgeries from 2016.
The coroner said: 'In my view, if this compression hadn't occurred, Ms Davis simply wouldn't have been so unwell. She wouldn't have needed two lots of major surgeries.'
She commended the 'excellent care' provided by the hospital, noting that it was 'frankly heartbreaking' that the surgery itself was successful only for complications to arise and to cause her death.
Upon her death last year, Samantha Davis was described by her husband as 'the greatest love of his life'. Speaking about his wife, he said: 'She was a unique character, always seeing the sunny side of life. She had a wicked sense of humour and always laughed at my bad jokes.
'Without Sammy, there would have been no Tenable quizshow, no Willow series. No Idiot Abroad series 3.'
Warwick Davis said Samantha was his 'most trusted confidante and an ardent supporter of everything I did in my career' and that having her by his side felt 'like having a superpower'.
He dedicated his Bafta film fellowship award to his wife during an emotional tribute at the ceremony in February.
Additional reporting: PA Media
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STV News
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- STV News
SNP MSP Maguire announces she is now cancer-free
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Medical News Today
4 days ago
- Medical News Today
Heart health: A mango a day may lower blood pressure, cholesterol
New research has found that eating mangoes daily may have health benefits in postmenopause. CWP, LLC/Stocksy Postmenopause may increase the risk for certain health conditions, including heart disease. A new study found that eating two servings of mangoes each day may help support postmenopausal heart health by lowering blood pressure and 'bad' cholesterol levels. The researchers also discovered that mangoes caused less blood sugar increase, which lowered quicker a few hours after consumption, when compared to eating plain white bread. Postmenopause refers to the time period when a person exits menopause and they do not have their menstrual cycle for at least 12 months. 'Postmenopausal women are one of the least studied groups in the [United States], yet it's a significant hormonal shift that will impact nearly half of the population,' Robert M. Hackman, PhD, research nutritionist in the Department of Nutrition at the University of California, Davis, told Medical News Today . 'As estrogen declines, women face significant changes in heart and metabolic health, like higher blood pressure and cholesterol.' Hackman is the lead author of a new study recently published in the Journal of the American Nutrition Association — and supported by a research grant from the National Mango Board — that found eating two servings of mangoes each day may help support postmenopausal heart health by lowering blood pressure and 'bad' cholesterol levels. Additionally, researchers discovered that mangoes caused less blood sugar increase that lowered quicker a few hours after consumption, when compared to eating plain white bread. For this study, researchers recruited 24 cisgender women between the ages of 50 to 70 who were overweight or obese. Over two weeks, study participants consumed about 1.5 cups of mangoes each day and visited a lab a few times to have measurements for their blood pressure, cholesterol, and other body metrics collected. 'We chose mango because it's a nutrient-dense fruit with fiber, antioxidants, and bioactives that support heart health,' Roberta Holt, PhD, associate researcher in the Department of Nutrition at the University of California, Davis, and co-author of this study, told MNT . 'Previous studies have shown a positive effect on blood pressure and lipid management with mango consumption.' 'Postmenopausal women face unique cardiovascular risks, and we wanted to see if adding mango to the daily diet could make a measurable difference,' Holt added. 'As someone who's studied diet and vascular health in aging populations, it felt like a natural next step to explore mango's potential in this group.' At the end of the study, researchers found that two hours after eating mangoes, study participants experienced a drop of about 6 points in their systolic blood pressure, and a 2.3 mmHG reduction in their mean arterial pressure . 'Systolic blood pressure and mean arterial pressure are important indicators of how hard the heart is working to circulate blood,' Hackman explained. 'Even small reductions in these measures can lower the risk of heart disease and stroke over time. So seeing a noticeable drop shortly after eating mangoes, as well as sustained improvements with daily intake, is a promising sign that eating mango daily may help support cardiovascular health in a meaningful way.' 2 weeks of daily mangoes 'Total cholesterol and LDL are key markers linked to heart disease risk. Lowering these levels, even modestly, can have a positive long-term impact on cardiovascular health. The fact that we saw these changes after just two weeks of daily mango consumption suggests it could be a simple, food-based approach to help support better cholesterol management, especially in postmenopausal women.' — Roberta Holt, PhD Researchers also conducted a follow-up study with six participants who were asked to consume about 1.5 cups of mangoes on one lab visit, and about 3 oz of plain white bread on a subsequent visit. Scientists observed that while participants' blood sugar levels rose after eating both foods, it increased significantly less after eating mangoes compared to white bread. Additionally, study participants' insulin levels peaked and declined quickly after eating mango, but remained elevated two hours after eating white bread. 'That finding highlights how not all carbohydrates affect the body the same way. While both mango and white bread contain carbohydrates, mango (leads) to a smaller rise in blood sugar and a quicker return to normal levels,' Holt said. 'That's important because large or prolonged spikes in blood sugar can increase the risk of insulin resistance and other metabolic issues over time. Mangoes, with their fiber and bioactive compounds, may help blunt that response, making them a viable choice for blood sugar management,' he added. MNT had the opportunity to speak with Adedapo Iluyomade, MD, a cardiologist with Miami Cardiac & Vascular Institute, part of Baptist Health South Florida, about this study. 'I was pleasantly surprised that a simple whole-food swap nudged both systolic blood pressure and LDL cholesterol downward in just two weeks — results we usually struggle to achieve without medication,' Iluyomade commented. 'At the same time, the serving size (about two mangoes a day) and the small, generally healthy sample mark this as encouraging but not yet practice-changing.' 'Cardiometabolic risk climbs steeply after menopause, yet women remain under-represented in nutrition trials,' he continued. 'Food-based strategies that are easy to adopt can fill the gap between lifestyle advice and pharmacotherapy, giving patients more autonomy and allowing clinicians to personalize care rather than rely on data largely derived from men.' Just mangoes or other fruits, too? 'A longer, randomized study using a realistic one-cup daily serving — and a matched control fruit — would clarify whether the benefits persist and are mango-specific. Adding ambulatory blood-pressure monitoring, insulin sensitivity testing, and gut microbiome profiling in a larger, more diverse cohort would help pin down mechanisms and real-world relevance.' — Adedapo Iluyomade, MD MNT asked Monique Richard, MS, RDN, LDN, a registered dietitian nutritionist and owner of Nutrition-In-Sight, for her top tips on how readers can incorporate more mangoes into their diet. The 'king' of fruits 'Mangoes, known as the 'king of fruits' in India, are rich sources of nutrients that support immune and heart health such potassium, magnesium, and vitamins A, B6, folate, C, and E, as well as phytochemicals such as mangiferin, anthocyanins, gallic acid, and kaempferol to name a few. Some studies have suggested that these phytochemicals are cardio-protective against inflammation, oxidative stress, and support blood vessel health, as well as digestive health from the fiber and natural enzymes.' — Monique Richard, MS, RDN, LDN For readers interested in trying to incorporate mangoes more often into their diet, Richard suggested a few easy ways: Adding to salads — fruit, greens, or even pasta salads Add to smoothies Puree into salad dressings and marinades, or freeze into Popsicle-like frozen treats or gelato Add to, or substitute for, fruit in a variety of salsa, chutney, and relish recipes Top yogurt, cottage cheese, or ricotta toast Mix with mint or basil to top baked or grilled tilapia, salmon, or flounder Peel and enjoy with a handful of nuts and seeds for a healthy snack Small, peeled portions can be dropped into your juicer to add refreshing sweetness to your favorite vegetable juices Enjoy it by itself as a healthy addition to a balanced breakfast, lunch, or dinner 'Add mangoes to the list of versatile fruits and vegetables that are nutritious, delicious and advantageous to your heart health, and enjoy!,' Richard added.


New Statesman
5 days ago
- New Statesman
How Britain fell into the K-hole
When we hear that Elon Musk was prescribed ketamine, as he admitted in 2024, what are we supposed to conclude? Is it a sign that ketamine has entered the mainstream of 21st-century culture? Is it a part of a Silicon Valley wellness vogue, or illicit drug culture? Does it connect to Musk's nihilistic right-wing politics, or to the rainbow psychedelia of Burning Man? Is it therapy, or is ketamine itself the problem? Ketamine has certainly entered the mainstream of cultural reference, and the mainstream of recreational life, in the UK as well as the US. An estimated 269,000 Brits aged 16-59 years old used the drug in the year ending March 2024. But despite its prevalence, there remains little consensus about what the drug represents, or indeed what it actually does. Opium had Thomas De Quincey, acid had Hunter S Thompson, but no laureate of ketamine has yet emerged to guide the curious reader through the experience or share the insights that changed their life. Casual observers may have some impression of what a ketamine user looks like from the outside – somewhere on a spectrum from stumbling to comatose – but little idea of the state of consciousness they are experiencing. But we might have expected this. Unlike, say, cannabis, cocaine or mushrooms, ketamine has no deep history or hinterland: it is a product of pharmaceutical modernity. In the last 50 years, however, it has been put to many different uses, accruing layers of meaning that bleed across one another: from medicine to drug of abuse, dancefloor high to mystical experience. Its multiple identities mirror the broad spectrum of its effects. Depending on the dose and method of administration, it can be anything from a mild and pleasant giddiness to a white-knuckle ride into another dimension. Nonetheless, there is something about the experience of ketamine that is uniquely resistant to description. It lacks the signature qualities of other psychedelics; there are no recognisable visual motifs or classic movie depictions of ketamine trips. Its hallmarks are a dissociation of mind from body, felt in large doses as an intense acceleration into an inner space where sensation, dream and memory blur. Time and space become unmoored, reality seems to be constantly shifting; after 20 minutes or so, the pace slows and the external world gradually reasserts itself. The experience is pin-sharp and vivid in the moment but elusive in hindsight, like returning to consciousness after an anaesthetic. Which, in fact, is exactly what's happening. In its original incarnation ketamine was a surgical anaesthetic, developed by Parke-Davis (once America's oldest and largest drug maker) and first deployed in the early 1970s, notably in the Vietnam War. It was ideal for military use because, unlike most anaesthetics of the day, it didn't require continuous infusion or special breathing apparatus: a simple intramuscular injection was enough to separate consciousness from body for the duration of an emergency procedure. Its disadvantage, however, was what became known as 'emergence reactions': on regaining consciousness, patients complained of confusion and nightmarish hallucinations. A new generation of anaesthetics, notably Propofol, soon came onstream to replace it, and ketamine found its place in veterinary surgeries, where the patients registered no complaints about its side effects. My first sight of ketamine was in the late 1980s, in the south of France, when a troubled rich-kid movie producer from California produced a medical vial of clear liquid and a needle and announced that this was the latest miracle treatment for substance abuse. He had been given it by John Lilly, the cybernetics and consciousness researcher who had famously taken huge doses of LSD in a sensory deprivation tank. 'Vitamin K', as it was often referred to in these circles, was one of several novel mind-altering compounds that had recently emerged from the clandestine West Coast network of underground chemists and psychotherapists. Others, most of them known by a cryptic alphabet soup of initials, would turn out to include MDMA, or ecstasy. If emergence reactions were unwelcome in Vietnam, to the psychedelic underground they were not a bug but an infinitely fascinating feature. Lilly was among the early adopters to discover that 150mg of injected ketamine, around a quarter of the full anaesthetic dose, catapulted the user almost immediately into an experience comparable in intensity to the peak of a huge LSD trip. Taking multiple doses in his sensory deprivation tank, Lilly left his body 'floating in a tank on the planet Earth' and conversed with extra-terrestrial intelligences as they ushered him through an ever-expanding series of alternate universes. Subscribe to The New Statesman today from only £8.99 per month Subscribe Gradually a new generation of researchers, including the psychiatrist Karl Jansen, based in Maudsley Hospital in London, began to investigate ketamine's phenomenological properties by interviewing users and recording their testimonies. Subjects spoke of immersion in dazzling white light, rollercoaster rides through the cosmos, lucid dreams, telepathy, meeting their higher selves and becoming God. Jansen wrote a book, Ketamine: Dreams and Realities (2004), and joined a small vanguard of therapists who took advantage of ketamine's status as a licensed medicine to incorporate the experience into psychotherapy, harnessing it to treat alcohol and other addictions. By this time, however, it was clear that ketamine had its own addictive potential. John Lilly was taking it compulsively to connect with his extra-terrestrials, and became convinced that he was a time traveller from the year 3001; his friends and family were obliged to stop him from trying to return to the future for good by hiding his supply and eventually checking him into a psychiatric hospital. Another early advocate was Marcia Moore, a yoga teacher and therapist who explored the drug extensively with her anaesthetist husband, and whose memoir Journeys into the Bright World (1978) remains one of very few sustained attempts to write the ketamine experience. Moore likely froze to death after taking a huge dose in a snow-covered forest in Washington state, and her husband withdrew her book from circulation. By the early Nineties ketamine had entered the UK and was circulating in London, along with the new wave of 'designer drugs', among the psychedelic vanguard of the ecstasy generation. I remember its first devotees as cerebral types, often maths, chess or computing obsessives who became compulsive explorers of its Escher-esque inner worlds. They were astonished to learn that people were taking it in techno clubs: how could you dance while you were having an out-of-body experience? But ketamine, not for the last time, was in the process of taking on another identity, together with a new physical form. The pharmaceutical vials of liquid solution were being replaced by wraps of powder, thanks to the discovery that ketamine was legally available from veterinary suppliers in India. A litre could be brought back on a plane in a drinking water bottle and, when evaporated in a low oven, converted into a mound of fluffy, crystalline white needles, which would cover the cost of the next exotic holiday. The convenience of the powder form made ketamine a staple of dance and rave events. Small sniffs or 'bumps' could be shared on the dancefloor and, especially when combined with ecstasy, produced an agreeably woozy, floaty sensation, like dancing on the moon. It could equally be mixed with cocaine, the cocktail known as a Calvin Klein ('C' plus 'K'), which tempered its dissociative effects with a stimulant and euphoric buzz that sharpened physical, verbal, social or sexual engagement. [See also: Inside the psychedelic elite] All this time ketamine had been quasi-legal, a licensed veterinary product but not a banned drug: a status reflected in its seemingly obligatory media labelling as a 'horse tranquillizer'. By 2005, however, its presence had become too conspicuous to ignore, and it was added to class C of the controlled drug schedules by Tony Blair's government. The effect, as usual, was the opposite of control. Organised crime moved in to supply it along with MDMA and cocaine, spreading it further into the mainstream of the era's booming drug culture. At first, the risk of addiction was considered the main danger of ketamine. The occasional deaths associated with it were typically the consequence of temporary incapacity, for instance drowning in the bath under its influence, a risk now all too familiar after Matthew Perry's highly publicised death in 2023. But in 2007, an entirely unsuspected risk of chronic use was described for the first time: 'ketamine bladder', a syndrome of damage to the lower urinary tract, which in serious cases requires reconstructive surgery or a urostomy bag. In its days as a surgical anaesthetic, patients had never used ketamine regularly enough to make this side effect apparent. From this point on, it became a significant health harm for a growing cohort of heavy users. The mid-2000s was the era that shaped ketamine's enduring image: at once illegal, medically risky, and wildly popular. Its ascendancy as a club drug was indicated by the emergence of dubstep, a genre that was immediately identified as both cause and effect of its spread. Like the drug itself, the sound combined a compulsive rush with a dislocated, mechanised aesthetic, darker and more disembodied than the ecstasy-fuelled styles that preceded it. The term 'wonky' emerged to describe both the music and the chemical dissociation that enhanced it. Literary accounts of ketamine remained elusive, but the drug now had its bespoke soundtrack. In 2014 the UK government responded to its growing popularity by raising its legal status to class B. Since then, levels of use have continued to climb, most sharply among 18- to 24-year-olds, whose usage has tripled in the last nine years. Yet ketamine continued to shapeshift. Just as it consolidated its image as a cheap and disreputable club drug, the psychedelic renaissance arrived with grand claims for its potential as an adjunct to psychotherapy, amplified by celebrity endorsements across the spectrum from Gwyneth Paltrow to Ryan Reynolds, Michael Phelps to Sharon Osbourne. Unlike psilocybin, MDMA and the other psychedelics being promoted for this purpose, it had the advantage of being already licensed as a medicine, which meant that psychotherapists could administer it legally. In the US, particularly California, ketamine clinics mushroomed into a healthcare sector now valued at almost $4bn. Their use of the drug was off-label, meaning that it was only accessible to private patients, typically at hundreds of dollars per dose. Some now offer it by mail order and administer the accompanying therapy via a phone call; others sell it with no therapy component at all. The first UK ketamine clinic, Awakn, opened in Bristol in 2020, charging £6,000 for a course of injections in a clinical setting for the treatment of anxiety, depression, PTSD and addiction. But it closed down in 2024 because of struggles to recruit private patients, and following an allegation of sexual misconduct against its most prominent practitioner. There are, however, many who have found ketamine invaluable for treating depression and PTSD without professional help. How it works is unclear – psychiatrists often resort to the old metaphors used for electroconvulsive therapy (ECT), 'whacking the TV set' or 'shaking the snow globe' – but it seems to offer a jolt that disrupts fixed and overly rigid patterns of thinking. If its action is essentially physiological, as this suggests, it's no surprise that many choose to self-medicate rather than seek mental healthcare that is unaffordable for most and unavailable on the NHS. There is no waiting list for ketamine. With the advent of the dark web, and now the profusion of social media channels such as Telegram and bot sites that make it simple to call up 24-hour delivery via your phone, the drug is more readily available than ever. Jeet Heer recently reaffirmed in the Nation that it is 'the drug of our time', as cannabis was to the Sixties or cocaine to the Seventies. But its prevalence doesn't reflect a single social trend so much as the diversity of niches it has colonised across 21st-century culture. In different doses and contexts, it can be a social lubricant or an intense visionary experience, a blast of sublime confusion or a psychiatric medication. For all these, its essential promise is that it will – reliably, briefly and relatively safely – make reality feel very different. Web-based distribution has personalised and atomised the contexts in which ketamine is used; it is now, like the internet itself, something of an every-drug. Many of the niches it now occupies existed already, created by other substances. As a relief from depression or anxiety, it serves a similar purpose to sedatives such as Xanax or Valium; as a rocket ship to inner space, it rivals other short-acting psychedelics such as DMT; as an aid to psychotherapy, it compares to MDMA or psilocybin; as a dancefloor party-starter, to cocaine. At the most desperate end of the spectrum, it has established itself firmly in the bargain-basement niche for oblivion-seekers once claimed by glue and solvents. The pandemic played havoc with drug supply chains and mass socialising, but ketamine seems to have benefited from it: wastewater surveys suggest that its use in Britain has increased as much as 85 per cent in the last few years. For those who withdrew into their screens and their bedrooms, it was private and easily manageable even at large doses, and it has now overtaken MDMA in popularity among 18- to 24-year-olds. For those who find social events enervating or overwhelming in the wake of the lockdowns, it offers a 20-minute respite in the corner of a crowded party. For others, it makes it easier to tolerate bleak living conditions, overcrowding and fuel poverty. Underpinning all these selling points is a simple one: ketamine remains cheap, at £20 a gram or less, enough for a mind-bending session for a few friends at less than the price of a round of beers. In a sense it has become the alcohol of drug culture: ubiquitous and multi-purpose, both social and antisocial. Like alcohol, the balance of its health consequences is undoubtedly negative, but it's not hard to understand its appeal as a holiday from reality, an accompaniment to a wide range of pleasures, or a palliative for what ails you. [See also: British psychiatry on the brink] Related