Next week sees the secular New Year. And with each impending arrival of the New Year comes a time for reflection. Television, radio and the newspapers will fill copy with a review of the major events of 2012. In the UK this will consist primarily of the Queen's Jubilee and the London 2012 Olympics, both rip-roaring successes. Both events lifted the mood of the nation at a time of economic austerity, and enabled the population to indulge in its own peculiar, understated form of nationalism, while celebrating Britishness and enjoying the sporting success of both the home nation and those from overseas.
My personal recollection of 2012 is, like so many other years, something of a mixed bag. The one key event which made this past year unlike any other was being diagnosed and treated for angina. While I have always known that I was not immortal, this was a stark reminder of my own mortality. Even before undergoing the angiogram and surgery in September I had made peace within myself so that had the worst happened I was entirely prepared mentally. Fortunately, nothing of the kind happened, and I have been on the road to recovery ever since. Recovering from cardiac surgery also meant that I had to review the manner in which I supported my beloved Tottenham Hotspur. It has meant learning to be less outwardly emotional, more sanguine about matches, and to accept that I am unable individually to change things on the pitch. I cannot tell you at this point in time whether or not this has contributed to me enjoying matches more or less, but hope it is the former.
I was very lucky in the past year to have made friends with two authors, who both gave me an appearance or two in their recent publications. I was more than fortunate to have become acquainted with the legendary sportswriter, the great Julie Welch, who came to interview me in the early days of 2012 for her book, Spurs: The Biography. A thirty-minute interview turned into a several hour recollection of common interests and passions, notably all Spurs-related. We have remained in contact since then, and I am glad to be able to call Julie my friend. Through Julie I was contacted by Anthony Clavane, and made an appearance in his Does Your Rabbi Know You're Here? I felt very lucky to be invited to the official launch of this book, which came at an auspicious personal time for me, and provided a tremendous boost to my recovery. I cannot recommend both books enough; they are an excellent addition to anyone's library of books about football. Julie's has interest beyond the Spurs' fan alone, while Anthony's serves as an excellent volume of social history centred on football.
2012 has also been notable for the eurocrisis, and the inevitable economic austerity measures which have taken place. While there may be an economic case to be made for tax rises and reductions in government spending, it is hard to escape the feeling that some members of the UK government take a special pleasure in watching the general population suffer. I remain hopeful that living in a democracy means that we, the general population, can enjoy a high degree of schadenfreude when they are dismissed from office at the next general election. Despite the economic gloom, the squeezed disposable incomes, the rising prices, and the unemployment, there seems to be something of an emotional climbing away from the abyss at present. The mood seems to be slowly lifting and I would not be at all surprised to find 2013 the year in which the UK economy begins a slow but steady climb away from the "great contraction", which began in 2007 with the financial (sub-prime) crisis in the USA. If the EU can come to grips with its structural issues it will help immensely, both within the eurozone, the EU and the wider global economy.
I am looking forward to 2013, and hoping that for me it is a year of improved health. I am also looking forward to being more productive in my academic output, and have already begun writing an Economics textbook for MBAs (I really must fill in the contract and send it back). I have a couple of other research projects on slow-burn in the background as well, and with a little luck and some commitment on my part my CV will continue to fill up. However, nothing is more important than family and my wife and I will celebrate 16 years of marriage on January 26th. It is hard for me to imagine what kind of madness prompted her to accept my marriage proposal in the first place, let alone put up with me for such a long time. But, whatever the cause I am decidedly grateful for the effect. It is impossible for me to imagine what life without her would have been like. Similarly for the output of the marriage, two (almost) teenage children of whom I am immensely proud! My son is a gem of a lad, with a passion for technology; my daughter is still finding her way in the world, and currently has ambition to become something of a MasterChef. But on the wedding anniversary of her parents, my daughter will become Bat Mitzvah at our local synagogue, and I feel sure my wife and I will both be glowing with immense pride that day. I can only hope that my heart does not burst with too much pride.
My other desire for 2013 is to see Spurs be more successful than in recent years. Yes, they have been improving and showing more consistency than heretofore, although coming fourth in the Premier League and yet being denied a Champions League slot still rankles as grossly unfair. My dream is to see Spurs win a trophy or two this season. While I hope we can achieve a Champions League placing (not least because of the extra cashflow it brings) history books list winners of trophies, and Spurs' history is primarily one of cup wins.
However your 2012 has been and whatever you wish for 2013, I wish you every health and happiness, and if my predictions are accurate, an improvement in your prosperity.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Friday, December 14, 2012
Have a heart
In September of this year, some three months ago. I spent some time at the London Chest Hospital in Bethnal Green. For some months I had been having chest pains, which mainly occurred when walking and also when under stress, and they had been getting more severe and more painful with each passing week. A visit to my GP in early May led to a visit to my local "rapid access chest clinic", who diagnosed me with angina. Caused by blockages to the arteries, I was then referred to the London Chest Hospital for an angiogram to check out what seemed to be a minor case of angina. I was told I might need to have a stent (a small tube) inserted, but that such an operation alongside the angiogram would probably take no more than an hour, it being a non-invasive procedure.
So, on September 11th I showed up nice and early at the London Chest Hospital, a little on the nervous side, but also hungry and with rapidly declining blood sugar levels not having eaten since 5:30am that morning. I had been given to expect to be done and on my home around lunchtime, but should have know better.
The nurse who eventually received us (there were three of us awaiting cardiac surgery that morning) 45 minutes after we had been told to arrive informed us that there was an "emergency audit" of the labs (meaning operating theatres) and that operations would start around 12:30pm. Fortunately, there was a little food (dry cream crackers) in the waiting area, which helped my still rapidly reducing blood sugar levels. But at 12:30pm I was called to walk to the lab. Fully clothed I climbed onto the operating table, and was given diazepam to relax my muscles, so that they could insert the catheter into the arteries and undertake the angiogram. Unfortunately, the arteries in my arm were a bit less-than-linear, so they opted to not go via my wrist. Next thing I knew two very attractive young nurses were whipping off my trousers so they could go in via the groin artery! The angiogram makes use of a very dark dye which is pumped through the arterial system and shows up on an X-ray screen. It was clear that several of my arteries were clogged, and would require treatment of some kind.
The surgeon came to chat with me and told me that at least FOUR stents would be needed and that I might like to consider opting for a bypass operation which they could perform there and then. However, the combination of nerves and diazepam made me feel less than suitably equipped for making such a momentous decision. I was also given the option of leaving hospital and re-booking once I had decided which way to go: stents or bypass. This seemed like the worst of all possible worlds. So, armed with the information they gave me, I opted for the stents to be inserted.
At first it seemed quite a pleasant if boring experience, lying on a table, feeling very little going on inside me, with only the surgeon, nurses and other medical staff buzzing around chatting to each other in technical terms. The first three hours passed quite easily, but by the fourth I was starting to feel some internal pain, for which I received morphine. On the table for nearly four hours was quite an experience, and the final 15-30 minutes I found quite painful indeed. But it was soon over, and I was moved upstairs to the ward.
Because the operation had been lengthier and more complex than originally expected I was kept in overnight. Which meant I woke up on September 12th (my birthday) in the London Chest Hospital! After many chats with all manner of medical staff I was finally released in time to go home for a birthday tea with my family.
Recovery has been a long and arduous process, but I no longer feel the oppressive pain of angina. I still get odd tweaks and sensations in my chest cavity, but these might be the product of a fertile imagination. I have spent the last eight weeks undergoing cardiac rehab at home (well, mostly walking in the park and the streets) with regular calls from the cardiac nurse or physiotherapist. I had my last session with them yesterday, and was told I had made a 34% improvement over the eight weeks. I am still awaiting my final checkup with the surgeon, which should have been on 3 months, but with an ageing population I suspect calls for his services are pretty hectic. And I need to continue to learn to avoid stress, so try not to worry about such things too much.
I have received much support during this time from family and friends, including many friends whom I only know through online contact via social media. The support and encouragement of those who have also been through this experience has been invaluable to me, and helped me even when things seemed bleak. I have become much more aware of my own mortality, which does nothing to permit one to enjoy the good things in life without worry. I try to live each day as it comes in much the same way as I always did, but there remains this nagging doubt that the inevitable heart attack is just a matter of time. I have tried to take on board all of the advice I have been given with regard to diet (more fruit and veg, more oily fish) and exercise (30 minutes a day, 5 days a week minimum), and there is no doubt that this has helped my recovery. I don't know if private medical care would have been better, but I cannot fault the NHS for their care of me, for which I thank them from the bottom of my heart. The only remaining thing which would help me continue to recover all the quicker would be for Spurs to stop letting in late goals and throwing away points. A Premier League campaign which saw Spurs win the title, or a cup or two, would be just the tonic the doctor ordered!
So, on September 11th I showed up nice and early at the London Chest Hospital, a little on the nervous side, but also hungry and with rapidly declining blood sugar levels not having eaten since 5:30am that morning. I had been given to expect to be done and on my home around lunchtime, but should have know better.
The nurse who eventually received us (there were three of us awaiting cardiac surgery that morning) 45 minutes after we had been told to arrive informed us that there was an "emergency audit" of the labs (meaning operating theatres) and that operations would start around 12:30pm. Fortunately, there was a little food (dry cream crackers) in the waiting area, which helped my still rapidly reducing blood sugar levels. But at 12:30pm I was called to walk to the lab. Fully clothed I climbed onto the operating table, and was given diazepam to relax my muscles, so that they could insert the catheter into the arteries and undertake the angiogram. Unfortunately, the arteries in my arm were a bit less-than-linear, so they opted to not go via my wrist. Next thing I knew two very attractive young nurses were whipping off my trousers so they could go in via the groin artery! The angiogram makes use of a very dark dye which is pumped through the arterial system and shows up on an X-ray screen. It was clear that several of my arteries were clogged, and would require treatment of some kind.
The surgeon came to chat with me and told me that at least FOUR stents would be needed and that I might like to consider opting for a bypass operation which they could perform there and then. However, the combination of nerves and diazepam made me feel less than suitably equipped for making such a momentous decision. I was also given the option of leaving hospital and re-booking once I had decided which way to go: stents or bypass. This seemed like the worst of all possible worlds. So, armed with the information they gave me, I opted for the stents to be inserted.
At first it seemed quite a pleasant if boring experience, lying on a table, feeling very little going on inside me, with only the surgeon, nurses and other medical staff buzzing around chatting to each other in technical terms. The first three hours passed quite easily, but by the fourth I was starting to feel some internal pain, for which I received morphine. On the table for nearly four hours was quite an experience, and the final 15-30 minutes I found quite painful indeed. But it was soon over, and I was moved upstairs to the ward.
Because the operation had been lengthier and more complex than originally expected I was kept in overnight. Which meant I woke up on September 12th (my birthday) in the London Chest Hospital! After many chats with all manner of medical staff I was finally released in time to go home for a birthday tea with my family.
Recovery has been a long and arduous process, but I no longer feel the oppressive pain of angina. I still get odd tweaks and sensations in my chest cavity, but these might be the product of a fertile imagination. I have spent the last eight weeks undergoing cardiac rehab at home (well, mostly walking in the park and the streets) with regular calls from the cardiac nurse or physiotherapist. I had my last session with them yesterday, and was told I had made a 34% improvement over the eight weeks. I am still awaiting my final checkup with the surgeon, which should have been on 3 months, but with an ageing population I suspect calls for his services are pretty hectic. And I need to continue to learn to avoid stress, so try not to worry about such things too much.
I have received much support during this time from family and friends, including many friends whom I only know through online contact via social media. The support and encouragement of those who have also been through this experience has been invaluable to me, and helped me even when things seemed bleak. I have become much more aware of my own mortality, which does nothing to permit one to enjoy the good things in life without worry. I try to live each day as it comes in much the same way as I always did, but there remains this nagging doubt that the inevitable heart attack is just a matter of time. I have tried to take on board all of the advice I have been given with regard to diet (more fruit and veg, more oily fish) and exercise (30 minutes a day, 5 days a week minimum), and there is no doubt that this has helped my recovery. I don't know if private medical care would have been better, but I cannot fault the NHS for their care of me, for which I thank them from the bottom of my heart. The only remaining thing which would help me continue to recover all the quicker would be for Spurs to stop letting in late goals and throwing away points. A Premier League campaign which saw Spurs win the title, or a cup or two, would be just the tonic the doctor ordered!
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