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CTV News
14 hours ago
- Health
- CTV News
How the atomic bombing of Nagasaki tore apart Japan's understanding of motherhood
FILE - In this Sept. 13, 1945, file photo, the Urakami Catholic Cathedral in Nagasaki, Japan, stands waste in the aftermath of the detonation of the atom bomb over a month ago over this city. (AP Photo/Stanley Troutman, Pool, File) When Kikuyo Nakamura's adult son discovered bumps on his back, she assumed it was just a rash. Still, she urged him to go to the hospital — better safe than sorry. Hiroshi, her second son, was born in 1948, three years after the U.S. dropped an atomic bomb on Nagasaki. As a survivor of the bombing, Nakamura had long feared she might pass on health problems to her children. In 2003, at age 55, Hiroshi went to the hospital. Two days passed without any word from him. Then three. Then a week. Eventually Nakamura went to the hospital, where her son told her: ''They're going to do more tests,' she told CNN. The results showed he had stage 4 leukemia –– an advanced stage of blood cancer that had spread to other parts of his body. According to Nakamura, the doctor told her that she had given her son cancer –– suggesting the radiation that caused it was passed on through breastfeeding when he was a baby. When Hiroshi died, six months later, his mother was left to believe she had essentially killed him; a thought that still haunts her more than two decades on. 'I was overwhelmed with guilt and suffering… Even now, I still believe what the doctor said, that I caused it. That guilt still lives in me,' said Nakamura, who is now 101-years old. Those who are exposed to nuclear radiation are generally urged to stop breastfeeding in the immediate aftermath of an atomic blast. But experts say there's no concrete evidence that first generation 'hibakusha' –– atomic bomb survivors of World War II –– can pass cancer-causing material to their children, years after exposure. As the 80th anniversary of the U.S. bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki approaches, aging survivors — some, like Nakamura, more than 100-years old — are sharing their stories of suffering and resilience, while they still can. Many of them were young women, either pregnant or of childbearing age, when the bombs fell and have lived much of their lives under a heavy shadow of fear and stigma. They were told by medical practitioners, neighbors, even friends and family that their exposure to nuclear radiation could cause them to have children with illnesses or disabilities –– if they conceived at all. Even when infertility or a child's disability had nothing to do with radiation exposure, hibakusha women often felt blamed and shunned. Those with visible scars from the blasts faced barriers to marriage. Physical wounds were harder to hide — and clearer proof of exposure. And at a time in society when a woman's worth was closely tied to marriage and motherhood, this stigma was particularly damaging. It caused a large number of women survivors –– many of whom had PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) –– to 'hide the fact that they were hibakusha,' according to Masahiro Nakashima, a professor of radiation studies at Nagasaki University. 'In a society like Japan — where gender discrimination and male dominance have been deeply rooted — women were especially affected by radiation,' Nakashima told CNN. Lifelong scars Radiation exposure did affect some second-generation survivors, depending on the timing of pregnancy. The embryonic period — generally ranging from weeks 5 up to 15 — is especially sensitive for brain and organ development. Women exposed to radiation during this window had a higher risk of giving birth to children with intellectual disabilities, neurological issues, and microcephaly, a condition marked by a small head and impaired brain function, according to studies from the joint Japan-U.S. Radiation Effects Research Foundation (RERF) –– a successor to the Atomic Bomb Casualty Commission formed just after World War II. Other studies showed that women hibakusha faced long-term health risks themselves. A 2012 RERF study found that radiation exposure from an atomic bomb raised cancer risk for the rest of a person's life. Solid cancer rates for women at age 70 increased by 58 per cent for every gray of radiation their bodies absorbed at age 30. A gray is a unit that measures how much radiation energy a body or object takes in. For men, solid cancer rates increased by 35 per cent. Nakamura was 21-years old and was hanging laundry outside around 11am when the bomb fell on Nagasaki on August 9, 1945. She says she was 5 kilometres (3.1 miles) from the epicentre –– a little beyond what experts call the area of 'total destruction.' The young mother saw a bright light, followed by a loud boom and a powerful gust of wind that flung her into the air. When she regained consciousness, her house was wrecked — furniture was strewn everywhere and glass shards covered the floor. She called out to her own mother, who had been helping Nakamura care for her eldest son. Relieved they weren't physically wounded, the family fled to an air raid shelter. It wasn't until the next day that Nakamura grasped the scale of destruction. Relatives living near Nagasaki University, closer to the blast, all died. Nakamura says she didn't suffer any effects of radiation exposure. She had her uterus removed four years later, and at age 70, doctors found a tumor in her abdomen, but her physicians told her neither issue was linked to the bombing, she said. The psychological trauma, however, has stayed with her ever since. Ashamed of her own exposure, she feared the stigma would also pass to her grandchildren. 'If people knew that my son died of leukemia, especially before they (my grandchildren) got married, others might not want to marry them. I made sure my children understood that. We kept it within the family and didn't tell anyone else about how he died,' Nakamura said. But encouraged by other survivors, she finally spoke publicly about her son's cancer in 2006, three years after his death. 'I received phone calls and even letters from people who heard my story. It made me realize how serious the issue of inherited health effects is in Hiroshima and Nagasaki,' she said. Even though she now knows it's unlikely she could have caused her son's cancer, she says as a mother, the feeling of guilt is a burden she'll forever carry. 'I still feel so sorry. I keep apologizing to him. I say, 'Forgive me,'' she said. The children who never followed The unique burden of hibakusha motherhood is something Mitsuko Yoshimura, now 102-years old, never got to carry. Separated from her parents and sister at a young age, she always longed for a family. She moved to Nagasaki for a good job in Mitsubishi's payroll department — just months before the U.S. dropped the bomb, turning the city into hell on earth. 'When I got out to the road, there were people with blood gushing from their heads, people with the skin peeled off their backs,' she recalled. Being just a kilometre (0.6 miles) away from the epicentre of the blast, her survival was nothing short of a miracle. In the months that followed, she stayed behind to help the injured. But her body suffered too. 'My hair fell out. Whenever I tried to comb it with my hands, strands would come out little by little,' Yoshimura said. She also regularly vomited blood for months after the blast. Still, she endured. She got married a year after the war ended. Her husband was an atomic bomb survivor, like herself, and their marriage marked a fresh start for the couple. But the child they longed for never followed. She had two miscarriages and a stillbirth. Yoshimura lives alone now; her husband having died years ago. In her home in Nagasaki, where photos of children and grandchildren might be, there are dolls — a quiet substitute for what was lost, she said. At their remarkable age, Nakamura and Yoshimura both know they don't have much longer to live. But that gives them greater urgency to educate younger generations about the toll of nuclear war. 'People really need to think carefully. What does winning or losing even bring? Wanting to expand a country's territory, wanting a country to gain more power, what exactly are people seeking from that?' Nakamura asked. 'I don't understand it. But what I do feel deeply is the utter foolishness of war,' she said. By Hanako Montgomery.
CNN
2 days ago
- Health
- CNN
How the atomic bombing of Nagasaki tore apart Japan's understanding of motherhood
EDITOR'S NOTE: This story is part of As Equals, CNN's ongoing series on gender inequality. For information about how the series is funded and more, check out our FAQs. When Kikuyo Nakamura's adult son discovered bumps on his back, she assumed it was just a rash. Still, she urged him to go to the hospital — better safe than sorry. Hiroshi, her second son, was born in 1948, three years after the U.S. dropped an atomic bomb on Nagasaki. As a survivor of the bombing, Nakamura had long feared she might pass on health problems to her children. In 2003, at age 55, Hiroshi went to the hospital. Two days passed without any word from him. Then three. Then a week. Eventually Nakamura went to the hospital, where her son told her: ''They're going to do more tests,' she told CNN. The results showed he had stage 4 leukemia –– an advanced stage of blood cancer that had spread to other parts of his body. According to Nakamura, the doctor told her that she had given her son cancer –– suggesting the radiation that caused it was passed on through breastfeeding when he was a baby. When Hiroshi died, six months later, his mother was left to believe she had essentially killed him; a thought that still haunts her more than two decades on. 'I was overwhelmed with guilt and suffering… Even now, I still believe what the doctor said, that I caused it. That guilt still lives in me,' said Nakamura, who is now 101-years old. Those who are exposed to nuclear radiation are generally urged to stop breastfeeding in the immediate aftermath of an atomic blast. But experts say there's no concrete evidence that first generation 'hibakusha' –– atomic bomb survivors of World War II –– can pass cancer-causing material to their children, years after exposure. As the 80th anniversary of the US bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki approaches, aging survivors — some, like Nakamura, more than 100-years old — are sharing their stories of suffering and resilience, while they still can. Many of them were young women, either pregnant or of childbearing age, when the bombs fell and have lived much of their lives under a heavy shadow of fear and stigma. They were told by medical practitioners, neighbors, even friends and family that their exposure to nuclear radiation could cause them to have children with illnesses or disabilities –– if they conceived at all. Even when infertility or a child's disability had nothing to do with radiation exposure, hibakusha women often felt blamed and shunned. Those with visible scars from the blasts faced barriers to marriage. Physical wounds were harder to hide — and clearer proof of exposure. And at a time in society when a woman's worth was closely tied to marriage and motherhood, this stigma was particularly damaging. It caused a large number of women survivors –– many of whom had PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) –– to 'hide the fact that they were hibakusha,' according to Masahiro Nakashima, a professor of radiation studies at Nagasaki University. 'In a society like Japan — where gender discrimination and male dominance have been deeply rooted — women were especially affected by radiation,' Nakashima told CNN. Radiation exposure did affect some second-generation survivors, depending on the timing of pregnancy. The embryonic period — generally ranging from weeks 5 up to 15 — is especially sensitive for brain and organ development. Women exposed to radiation during this window had a higher risk of giving birth to children with intellectual disabilities, neurological issues, and microcephaly, a condition marked by a small head and impaired brain function, according to studies from the joint Japan-US Radiation Effects Research Foundation (RERF) –– a successor to the Atomic Bomb Casualty Commission formed just after World War II. Other studies showed that women hibakusha faced long-term health risks themselves. A 2012 RERF study found that radiation exposure from an atomic bomb raised cancer risk for the rest of a person's life. Solid cancer rates for women at age 70 increased by 58 percent for every gray of radiation their bodies absorbed at age 30. A gray is a unit that measures how much radiation energy a body or object takes in. For men, solid cancer rates increased by 35 percent. Nakamura was 21-years old and was hanging laundry outside around 11am when the bomb fell on Nagasaki on August 9, 1945. She says she was 5 kilometers (3.1 miles) from the epicenter –– a little beyond what experts call the area of 'total destruction.' The young mother saw a bright light, followed by a loud boom and a powerful gust of wind that flung her into the air. When she regained consciousness, her house was wrecked — furniture was strewn everywhere and glass shards covered the floor. She called out to her own mother, who had been helping Nakamura care for her eldest son. Relieved they weren't physically wounded, the family fled to an air raid shelter. It wasn't until the next day that Nakamura grasped the scale of destruction. Relatives living near Nagasaki University, closer to the blast, all died. Nakamura says she didn't suffer any effects of radiation exposure. She had her uterus removed four years later, and at age 70, doctors found a tumor in her abdomen, but her physicians told her neither issue was linked to the bombing, she said. The psychological trauma, however, has stayed with her ever since. Ashamed of her own exposure, she feared the stigma would also pass to her grandchildren. 'If people knew that my son died of leukemia, especially before they (my grandchildren) got married, others might not want to marry them. I made sure my children understood that. We kept it within the family and didn't tell anyone else about how he died,' Nakamura said. But encouraged by other survivors, she finally spoke publicly about her son's cancer in 2006, three years after his death. 'I received phone calls and even letters from people who heard my story. It made me realize how serious the issue of inherited health effects is in Hiroshima and Nagasaki,' she said. Even though she now knows it's unlikely she could have caused her son's cancer, she says as a mother, the feeling of guilt is a burden she'll forever carry. 'I still feel so sorry. I keep apologizing to him. I say, 'Forgive me,'' she said. The unique burden of hibakusha motherhood is something Mitsuko Yoshimura, now 102-years old, never got to carry. Separated from her parents and sister at a young age, she always longed for a family. She moved to Nagasaki for a good job in Mitsubishi's payroll department — just months before the US dropped the bomb, turning the city into hell on earth. 'When I got out to the road, there were people with blood gushing from their heads, people with the skin peeled off their backs,' she recalled. Being just a kilometer (0.6 miles) away from the epicenter of the blast, her survival was nothing short of a miracle. In the months that followed, she stayed behind to help the injured. But her body suffered too. 'My hair fell out. Whenever I tried to comb it with my hands, strands would come out little by little,' Yoshimura said. She also regularly vomited blood for months after the blast. Still, she endured. She got married a year after the war ended. Her husband was an atomic bomb survivor, like herself, and their marriage marked a fresh start for the couple. But the child they longed for never followed. She had two miscarriages and a stillbirth. Yoshimura lives alone now; her husband having died years ago. In her home in Nagasaki, where photos of children and grandchildren might be, there are dolls — a quiet substitute for what was lost, she said. At their remarkable age, Nakamura and Yoshimura both know they don't have much longer to live. But that gives them greater urgency to educate younger generations about the toll of nuclear war. 'People really need to think carefully. What does winning or losing even bring? Wanting to expand a country's territory, wanting a country to gain more power, what exactly are people seeking from that?' Nakamura asked. 'I don't understand it. But what I do feel deeply is the utter foolishness of war,' she said. Reporter Hanako Montgomery Editors Sheena McKenzie, Todd Symons Producer Junko Ogura Senior Video Producer Ladan Anoushfar Visual Editor Carlotta Dotto Video Editor Estefania Rodriguez, Daishi Kusunoki
CNN
2 days ago
- Health
- CNN
How the atomic bombing of Nagasaki tore apart Japan's understanding of motherhood
EDITOR'S NOTE: This story is part of As Equals, CNN's ongoing series on gender inequality. For information about how the series is funded and more, check out our FAQs. When Kikuyo Nakamura's adult son discovered bumps on his back, she assumed it was just a rash. Still, she urged him to go to the hospital — better safe than sorry. Hiroshi, her second son, was born in 1948, three years after the U.S. dropped an atomic bomb on Nagasaki. As a survivor of the bombing, Nakamura had long feared she might pass on health problems to her children. In 2003, at age 55, Hiroshi went to the hospital. Two days passed without any word from him. Then three. Then a week. Eventually Nakamura went to the hospital, where her son told her: ''They're going to do more tests,' she told CNN. The results showed he had stage 4 leukemia –– an advanced stage of blood cancer that had spread to other parts of his body. According to Nakamura, the doctor told her that she had given her son cancer –– suggesting the radiation that caused it was passed on through breastfeeding when he was a baby. When Hiroshi died, six months later, his mother was left to believe she had essentially killed him; a thought that still haunts her more than two decades on. 'I was overwhelmed with guilt and suffering… Even now, I still believe what the doctor said, that I caused it. That guilt still lives in me,' said Nakamura, who is now 101-years old. Those who are exposed to nuclear radiation are generally urged to stop breastfeeding in the immediate aftermath of an atomic blast. But experts say there's no concrete evidence that first generation 'hibakusha' –– atomic bomb survivors of World War II –– can pass cancer-causing material to their children, years after exposure. As the 80th anniversary of the US bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki approaches, aging survivors — some, like Nakamura, more than 100-years old — are sharing their stories of suffering and resilience, while they still can. Many of them were young women, either pregnant or of childbearing age, when the bombs fell and have lived much of their lives under a heavy shadow of fear and stigma. They were told by medical practitioners, neighbors, even friends and family that their exposure to nuclear radiation could cause them to have children with illnesses or disabilities –– if they conceived at all. Even when infertility or a child's disability had nothing to do with radiation exposure, hibakusha women often felt blamed and shunned. Those with visible scars from the blasts faced barriers to marriage. Physical wounds were harder to hide — and clearer proof of exposure. And at a time in society when a woman's worth was closely tied to marriage and motherhood, this stigma was particularly damaging. It caused a large number of women survivors –– many of whom had PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) –– to 'hide the fact that they were hibakusha,' according to Masahiro Nakashima, a professor of radiation studies at Nagasaki University. 'In a society like Japan — where gender discrimination and male dominance have been deeply rooted — women were especially affected by radiation,' Nakashima told CNN. Radiation exposure did affect some second-generation survivors, depending on the timing of pregnancy. The embryonic period — generally ranging from weeks 5 up to 15 — is especially sensitive for brain and organ development. Women exposed to radiation during this window had a higher risk of giving birth to children with intellectual disabilities, neurological issues, and microcephaly, a condition marked by a small head and impaired brain function, according to studies from the joint Japan-US Radiation Effects Research Foundation (RERF) –– a successor to the Atomic Bomb Casualty Commission formed just after World War II. Other studies showed that women hibakusha faced long-term health risks themselves. A 2012 RERF study found that radiation exposure from an atomic bomb raised cancer risk for the rest of a person's life. Solid cancer rates for women at age 70 increased by 58 percent for every gray of radiation their bodies absorbed at age 30. A gray is a unit that measures how much radiation energy a body or object takes in. For men, solid cancer rates increased by 35 percent. Nakamura was 21-years old and was hanging laundry outside around 11am when the bomb fell on Nagasaki on August 9, 1945. She says she was 5 kilometers (3.1 miles) from the epicenter –– a little beyond what experts call the area of 'total destruction.' The young mother saw a bright light, followed by a loud boom and a powerful gust of wind that flung her into the air. When she regained consciousness, her house was wrecked — furniture was strewn everywhere and glass shards covered the floor. She called out to her own mother, who had been helping Nakamura care for her eldest son. Relieved they weren't physically wounded, the family fled to an air raid shelter. It wasn't until the next day that Nakamura grasped the scale of destruction. Relatives living near Nagasaki University, closer to the blast, all died. Nakamura says she didn't suffer any effects of radiation exposure. She had her uterus removed four years later, and at age 70, doctors found a tumor in her abdomen, but her physicians told her neither issue was linked to the bombing, she said. The psychological trauma, however, has stayed with her ever since. Ashamed of her own exposure, she feared the stigma would also pass to her grandchildren. 'If people knew that my son died of leukemia, especially before they (my grandchildren) got married, others might not want to marry them. I made sure my children understood that. We kept it within the family and didn't tell anyone else about how he died,' Nakamura said. But encouraged by other survivors, she finally spoke publicly about her son's cancer in 2006, three years after his death. 'I received phone calls and even letters from people who heard my story. It made me realize how serious the issue of inherited health effects is in Hiroshima and Nagasaki,' she said. Even though she now knows it's unlikely she could have caused her son's cancer, she says as a mother, the feeling of guilt is a burden she'll forever carry. 'I still feel so sorry. I keep apologizing to him. I say, 'Forgive me,'' she said. The unique burden of hibakusha motherhood is something Mitsuko Yoshimura, now 102-years old, never got to carry. Separated from her parents and sister at a young age, she always longed for a family. She moved to Nagasaki for a good job in Mitsubishi's payroll department — just months before the US dropped the bomb, turning the city into hell on earth. 'When I got out to the road, there were people with blood gushing from their heads, people with the skin peeled off their backs,' she recalled. Being just a kilometer (0.6 miles) away from the epicenter of the blast, her survival was nothing short of a miracle. In the months that followed, she stayed behind to help the injured. But her body suffered too. 'My hair fell out. Whenever I tried to comb it with my hands, strands would come out little by little,' Yoshimura said. She also regularly vomited blood for months after the blast. Still, she endured. She got married a year after the war ended. Her husband was an atomic bomb survivor, like herself, and their marriage marked a fresh start for the couple. But the child they longed for never followed. She had two miscarriages and a stillbirth. Yoshimura lives alone now; her husband having died years ago. In her home in Nagasaki, where photos of children and grandchildren might be, there are dolls — a quiet substitute for what was lost, she said. At their remarkable age, Nakamura and Yoshimura both know they don't have much longer to live. But that gives them greater urgency to educate younger generations about the toll of nuclear war. 'People really need to think carefully. What does winning or losing even bring? Wanting to expand a country's territory, wanting a country to gain more power, what exactly are people seeking from that?' Nakamura asked. 'I don't understand it. But what I do feel deeply is the utter foolishness of war,' she said. Reporter Hanako Montgomery Editors Sheena McKenzie, Todd Symons Producer Junko Ogura Senior Video Producer Ladan Anoushfar Visual Editor Carlotta Dotto Video Editor Estefania Rodriguez, Daishi Kusunoki
Washington Post
4 days ago
- Health
- Washington Post
Ultra-processed foods make up over half of Americans' calories, CDC says
More than half of the calories Americans consume come from ultra-processed foods that studies have increasingly linked to health problems, according to new federal data released Thursday. The data illustrates how pervasive such foods have become as Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. vows to crack down on the unhealthy products that are often inexpensive and palatable.
The Sun
03-08-2025
- Health
- The Sun
I nearly died after eating omelette at hotel buffet in Gran Canaria – but it was my daughter who was scarred for life
WHEN Michelle Dell booked a summer holiday to Gran Canaria, she expected two weeks of fun in the sun. But just days after arriving, the Sheffield mum fell gravely ill - and before long, she knew she was dying. 17 17 The terrifying ordeal left an even deeper scar on her daughter Lizzie, then 11, who developed a devastating phobia that ruled her life for the next 12 years. Michelle tells The Sun: 'I feel lucky every day of my life to still be here but, also, I have felt terrible guilt for what happened to Lizzie - wondering if we could have done anything differently. 'It took me four years to recover and I now have lots of long-term health problems. 'None of that matters though, because I'm still here.' The family's nightmare began in the summer of 2012 after jetting to Gran Canaria in the Canary Islands with friends. The group upgraded to a new four-star hotel in the popular seaside resort Playa del Ingles after two nights, because the first one they had booked was disappointing. Michelle, along with husband Wayne, 52, and daughters Lizzie and Rosie, then 10, were in an apartment, with six other pals on the trip located next door. On the third night of the holiday, the group went for a buffet dinner in the hotel's restaurant. Michelle says: 'As all-inclusives go, this one felt good quality and the choice of food was good. 'I'm a bit of a clean freak and it seemed very clean. What is salmonella, what are the symptoms and treatment? 'I and five others in the group went for the Spanish omelette, which tasted perfectly good.' The group headed out for a few rosés, gin and tonics and Spanish lagers at a nearby bar. But the next day, things took a dramatic turn. Michelle says: 'In the morning, I went onto my balcony and our friends next door said one of the group had been up all night sick with a bug. 'We had a bit of a giggle and made light of it because we thought it was very minor but as I was talking, I thought, 'Oh goodness, I need the toilet.'' Michelle suffered sudden diarrhoea, but assumed it was a minor travel bug. Within hours, four others were sick. Michelle was getting worse with every passing minute. It was like the worst horror film I'd ever seen. There was blood all over the floor, sick everywhere and she was screaming in agony LizzieDaughter She says: 'I was doubled over in agony. I'm not really one to make a fuss but it was absolutely the worst pain I've ever felt in my life. 'It was as though somebody's hands were inside my tummy twisting it and the pain wouldn't stop.' The hotel doctor was called and tried multiple times to put a cannula in her arm to get fluids in, but Michelle was too poorly and couldn't be rehydrated. Michelle says: 'By this time I felt like I'd been drugged and was drifting in and out of consciousness.' Wayne and Michelle had tried to shield the girls from the events unfolding by asking them to stay in their beds - which were separated from their bed by a small partition wall. But for Lizzie, hearing her mum's screams was distressing. Lizzie says: 'When I did see her it was like the worst horror film I'd ever seen. 'There was blood all over the floor from the cannula being taken in and out. 'There was sick everywhere because mum was vomiting so much. She was screaming in agony.' 17 17 17 17 Taken to a local hospital in Maspalomas, she was given fluids and sent back to the hotel hours later - still with no diagnosis. The next day, on day five of the holiday, she collapsed again and was rushed to a larger hospital. Doctors soon discovered she had contracted an extreme case of salmonella - a bacterial infection linked to food poisoning. Michelle says: 'My body was swollen and huge with the fluids. My eyelids couldn't even open properly. 'I remember phoning my mum in England from my bed and saying, 'I think I'm going to die.' 'There was something telling my brain: 'It doesn't matter what you do now, your body's taken over.' I thought my internal organs were shutting down.' As the rest of the group began to recover, Wayne stayed with the kids, trying to keep things as normal as possible. In despair, Michelle called him. She says: 'I told him, 'You need to come back to the hospital because something's happening. I'm falling really ill again'. 'He was having pizza with the girls, but I insisted, 'You need to come now. This is really serious'. 'The staff kept saying, 'You are fine'. I'm not a melodramatic person but when he came in, I sobbed. 'I told him, 'I am not fine. I'm going to die. You need to tell them to get me a doctor now to do more tests. Please make them understand I'm just not a hysterical woman. I am ill'.' The worrying rise in salmonella cases By Isabel Shaw, Health Reporter SALMONELLA cases are at a record high in Britain - and there are some key signs you can look out for. In the most recent outbreak, over 100 people were sickened and 14 rushed to hospital after eating tomatoes. Health officials urged Brits to be on high alert for the symptoms of salmonella infection, which can last anywhere from four to seven days. Cases hit a record decade high in 2024, soaring by almost a fifth in a single year to over 10,000 cases, UKHSA data shows. Separate statistics reveal cases in the first quarter of 2025 were even higher than 2024, with some 1,588 cases logged between January and March 2025, up on the 1,541 reported over the same period in 2024. By comparison, there were 1,328 reports between January and March 2023. Children under 10 were particularly affected, accounting for 21.5 per cent of cases. Salmonella, which lives in the guts of animals and humans and spreads through contaminated poo, can cause a sudden bout of fever, vomiting, explosive diarrhoea, stomach pains and headaches, often striking within hours of eating tainted food. The bacteria, which often taints food if grown in dirty water or handled with grubby hands, attacks the gut lining, damaging cells and stopping the body from soaking up water. This is what leads to the painful cramps and non-stop diarrhoea as the body flushes out the water it couldn't absorb. Most people recover without treatment, but in rare cases it can turn deadly. Around one in 50 sufferers go on to develop a serious blood infection, according to the World Health Organisation (WHO). Young children, the elderly and those with weakened immune systems are most at risk of complications. Thankfully, deaths remain rare in the UK, with fatal cases making up just 0.2 per cent of reports. Wayne fought Michelle's corner and doctors agreed to retest her. They found she had sepsis, a deadly immune reaction to an infection that needs to be treated rapidly. One of the key symptoms of sepsis is someone saying they feel like they are dying, according to the UK Sepsis Trust, as well as a high temperature, chills, a rapid heart rate, a rash that doesn't fade when pressed and breathlessness. The body overreacts to the infection and starts attacking itself, damaging its own tissues and organs. 17 17 17 Michelle began to stabilise after her treatment was changed, with a new antibiotic. Later, doctors told her they believed it was the hotel's Spanish omelette that caused her illness, due to the timings of events. Friends also told Michelle that other guests, like the five in her party, had eaten the omelettes and got sick too. Michelle's daughters flew home with the rest of the group after the fortnight holiday ended and went to stay with their grandparents, while Wayne stayed at Michelle's bedside. She gradually started to feel better, and flew home a week later, but has been left with after-effects, as 40 per cent of survivors are. She lives with chronic fatigue (also known as myalgic encephalomyelitis, or ME), non-epileptic seizures, chronic migraines and functional neurological disorder - a problem with how the brain receives and sends information to the rest of the body. 'I'd give myself black eyes' It wasn't just her life that was changed though. Daughter Lizzie, who was traumatised by her mum's brush with death, was also deeply affected. Lizzie says: 'I'd seen my mum so ill in the hotel, and then we'd seen her in hospital looking grey and almost dead. 'The second I got home, the first thing that I got in my head was, 'OK, so I'm not going to eat.' In my head, it was a case of, 'If you eat, you could die'.' From a healthy 11-year-old, Lizzie grew anxious and gaunt, surviving only on bread sticks, cereal and packaged snacks. In 2017, five years after the holiday, 16-year-old Lizzie suffered a full-blown panic attack on a train after seeing someone being sick. She says: 'I'd never had one properly like that so when I got home I Googled my symptoms and that's the first time I read about emetophobia – a fear of vomiting. That was me.' It spiralled into constant anxiety and self-harm, as Lizzie tried to focus on anything but the fear. 17 17 17 17 'There were days when I had seven or eight panic attacks and wherever I was – on a plane or on a train – I'd start screaming,' she says. 'Looking back, the panic attacks were just this need to create another feeling other than sickness, so I'd create pain. 'I'd even give myself black eyes from hitting myself.' Though talented Lizzie had won a place at drama school in Manchester, she lived alone and didn't socialise. She says: 'I didn't do anything for 12 years. I went to drama school in Manchester but lived on my own because I didn't want to be around others. 'I didn't go to parties. I didn't drink.' In 2023, Lizzie took a dream job as a Christmas elf in Lapland - but was sent home months later after her weight plummeted from nine stone to just five stone two pounds. She says: 'Being abroad, I was just unable to eat anything cooked by others, so I'd be eating breakfast bars from the local shop and not a lot else. 'It got even worse when my flatmate out there got sick. 'I didn't tell anyone about my worries with food but I was sent home from the job. 'Not long after that I lost my acting agent because I just wasn't well enough to get parts. 'It's really sad because I wanted to live, but I'd completely lost all joy in life. 'I was sick of looking at myself in the mirror covered in bruises.' Michelle, who works as a college lecturer with inclusion students, was desperate to help her daughter. They saw private and NHS specialists, as well as multiple therapists. What is emetophobia and how can you overcome it? By Nik and Eva Speakman Emetophobia is an intense fear of vomiting. It is a debilitating and often misunderstood phobia. It can manifest in a range of obsessive-compulsive behaviours, such as excessive sanitisation, extreme food restrictions, eating disorders, health anxiety, and avoidance of travel, medical environments, and even children. Social withdrawal is common, with many sufferers limiting contact with others for fear of illness, vomit and vomit-causing bugs. While it is especially prevalent among women, emetophobia remains under-recognised within the medical community, despite being the most common phobia seen in our clinic. It's estimated that up to 5.5million people in the UK may be affected, yet provision of effective treatment is still limited. Emetophobia is not innate. It typically stems from a distressing childhood experience, such as a traumatic incident at school or mirroring an anxious parent's behaviour. The key to recovery lies in positively reframing these formative experiences with an experienced therapist. Using a simple self-help exercise can really help. Create two columns - Fears vs Facts - to challenge distorted beliefs with logic and evidence. She says: 'We were in despair because my husband and I felt like we had exhausted every option. 'Then I saw there was an emetophobia class with The Speakmans in February 2025 in Manchester and I just booked it instantly. 'I held out no hope but I was just happy Lizzie was willing to go.' Life change experts Nik and Eva Speakman are known for helping thousands overcome phobias. Lizzie says: 'I went into their workshop and by the time I left they'd literally changed my life. 'I shared my story, very nervously on stage. They completely changed the way I had thought about things. 'They told me: 'Being sick didn't nearly kill your mum, it was the egg. Being sick had actually helped save her.' 'Twenty-five minutes into speaking to them, I felt completely different. 'Two weeks later, I couldn't believe it. I got norovirus. 'I'd spent 12 years trying to avoid being sick and now I had it, full on. 'But I was absolutely fine. I was sick all night, non-stop, no issue, no panic attacks.' Today, Lizzie is thriving - eating normally, running a performing arts school and planning a holiday to Greece. She says: 'I still have some of the thoughts but they don't stop me from eating three meals a day, piling the food on. I just don't worry about being sick anymore. 'I used to think I wouldn't be here for much longer. Now, it's like I am living properly because I haven't for so long'.' Michelle remains full of gratitude having nearly lost her life and watching her daughter turn her life around. 'I cherish every day,' she says. 'I've gone from seeing my daughter's life slipping away to seeing her embracing it. I will forever be grateful to The Speakmans.' 17 17 17 For more real-life examples, practical tips, and expert support, tune in to The Speakmans' Hope Clinic podcast, where emetophobia - and other common issues - are treated live. To learn more about The Speakmans' Emetophobia Masterclasses, email: Events@
