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!
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