Well, it just goes to show doesn’t it! We went on holiday with the children and it only seemed to make things worse. That makes it sound like we had a bad holiday – we didn’t. In fact we had a brilliant time for 99% of the time, but somehow this thing is preying on my mind. I tried to laugh it off, and my family (bless them) joined in with me. Somehow things went a little too far and I went “off on one” as my wife says. It wasn’t deliberate but it caused a lot of upset, just at a time when I didn’t want it to.
I don’t know if it’s psychosomatic (spelling?) or what, after all, I’ve lived with angina for years without being unduly worried by it. Some times have been worse than others, but I’ve lived with it for so long now that I’ve just become used to it.
Until now.
Now, I worry about the pain. Is this the one that’ll roll on into a full blown heart attack? Will I survive it if it does? Help seems so near, yet so far away too. I almost wish I hadn’t gone to the doctors originally – than a least I’d not know about the second chance. It didn’t help that the hotel was at the foot of quite a steep slope and it had to be climbed up laboriously each time we wanted to go into the town. I took it in stages, but I felt like an old man, actually, I am an old man. Men much older than me were making it up that bloody slope in quick time.
I’d give anything to take back those harsh words but I can’t. I guess the strain is getting to me a bit. When my daughter reads this I hope she’ll understand
Sunday 30 September 2007
Friday 21 September 2007
A week away...
Well, that's it, were off on holiday for a week, and I'm so looking forward to it!
A weeks sunshine, a few drinks, the company of the family and letting them spoil us for a bit sounds just the recipe. I'm going to forget all about the op, the worry, the research and the blog. I'm going to enjoy myself in the company of my wife and family. What could be better? Nothing!
The only thing is that I have to endure my wife's packing mania. I'll swear that if she could pack a lawn mower (just in case) she would. My wife is the only person I know who packed raincoats for a visit to Las Vegas! And, of course the bags have to be weighed. I think that 20 kg is a reasonable amount to put into a case, and a reasonable amount to take for a weeks hol - not my missus!
It always works out that MY case weighs more. When I start moving stuff around to her bag, I find I'm moving ladies shoes, tights some underwear and make up. Heaven knows what the customs man would make of it if I were to be stopped and searched. I have an awful metal picture of him holding up some frilly underwear and saying "...and did you pack this case yourself sir?" I suppose they've seen it all before, but it always seems that my bag will carry the excess baggage charge, while carrying her baggage! No doubt about it - I married a clever woman!
A weeks sunshine, a few drinks, the company of the family and letting them spoil us for a bit sounds just the recipe. I'm going to forget all about the op, the worry, the research and the blog. I'm going to enjoy myself in the company of my wife and family. What could be better? Nothing!
The only thing is that I have to endure my wife's packing mania. I'll swear that if she could pack a lawn mower (just in case) she would. My wife is the only person I know who packed raincoats for a visit to Las Vegas! And, of course the bags have to be weighed. I think that 20 kg is a reasonable amount to put into a case, and a reasonable amount to take for a weeks hol - not my missus!
It always works out that MY case weighs more. When I start moving stuff around to her bag, I find I'm moving ladies shoes, tights some underwear and make up. Heaven knows what the customs man would make of it if I were to be stopped and searched. I have an awful metal picture of him holding up some frilly underwear and saying "...and did you pack this case yourself sir?" I suppose they've seen it all before, but it always seems that my bag will carry the excess baggage charge, while carrying her baggage! No doubt about it - I married a clever woman!
Wednesday 19 September 2007
Questions, questions
I have so many questions really. When will I have the op? What are my chances? (yes - I know they're good - but how good - or bad) Will it be the new type of surgery with the beating heart method? If not, how will my heart be re-started?
All these and many more questions buzz round in my head as I do my daily grind of work, and yet I know I'm going to forget a critical one when I meet the surgeon. I'm so very glad my wife is coming with me. She has a way of remebering the important things somehow
All these and many more questions buzz round in my head as I do my daily grind of work, and yet I know I'm going to forget a critical one when I meet the surgeon. I'm so very glad my wife is coming with me. She has a way of remebering the important things somehow
The letter
I had a bit of a surprise today. I came home for a spot of dinner and there was a letter waiting for me from the hospital. I have an appointment with Mr Cale (the surgeon) on the 16th of October. I wasn't really expecting that as I already have an appointment with Dr Durham in November. I can't read too muc into it as I have little idea of what's going to happen, but it shows that things are moving on.
It's strange really, nothing has changed and yet everything has. I've gone from being resigned to a life of continuing with heart pain to hoping that something could be done, to anticipating what life will be like without my old enemy - and yet I still go to work, write up this blog, and life continues as normal. Inside I'm in turmoil. I'm in a mixture of hope and anticipation, and fear and doubts. There's one thing sure, I'm going to make sure I say what I have to say to family and friends before the big day. Come hell or high water, I'm being given another chance. I intend to grab it with both hands, but there is always a little nagging doubt somewhere...
It's strange really, nothing has changed and yet everything has. I've gone from being resigned to a life of continuing with heart pain to hoping that something could be done, to anticipating what life will be like without my old enemy - and yet I still go to work, write up this blog, and life continues as normal. Inside I'm in turmoil. I'm in a mixture of hope and anticipation, and fear and doubts. There's one thing sure, I'm going to make sure I say what I have to say to family and friends before the big day. Come hell or high water, I'm being given another chance. I intend to grab it with both hands, but there is always a little nagging doubt somewhere...
Tuesday 18 September 2007
Prescriptions
Isn't it strange how times change? Not that long ago if you were given a prescription in the late afternoon or early evening by the doc you had to look in the local paper to find which chemist was open late (till 7.00 pm normally) then rush to the other side of town to find a long queue waiting. Now you go to the 24 hour supermarket. I got mine today and had the blood test done at our local ASDA supermarket. It took only a few minutes and then I was back at work. It's certainly convenient, but no wonder little chemists are closing
Monday 17 September 2007
The G.P. Meeting
Well I’ve now found out how to avoid those annoying little typos and misspellings that have plagued my previous posts. I simply write the post in word, do the spell check then copy and paste into the blog – simple eh.
I had an appointment today with my GP. I’m a patient of a group practise and I’d never met this lady before. It was a fairly sobering experience. As she went on discussing how the angio had gone and so on, it became clear that she was concerned about several things, not least of which was my job, which is fairly physical.
In the end I asked her straight out (bearing in mind my daughters wedding) that If it meant being unable to walk her down the aisle, then I’d rather not have the op.
She replied straight from the shoulder, that I had a lot more chance of walking her down the aisle by having the op than by not having it. I then asked if I didn’t have it, would I still be here in five years. She was pretty guarded in her answer, but made it clear that I would be much better off having the operation than not having it and that statistically the odds were in favour of the operation, rather than doing nothing.
That’s quite a sobering thought
I had an appointment today with my GP. I’m a patient of a group practise and I’d never met this lady before. It was a fairly sobering experience. As she went on discussing how the angio had gone and so on, it became clear that she was concerned about several things, not least of which was my job, which is fairly physical.
In the end I asked her straight out (bearing in mind my daughters wedding) that If it meant being unable to walk her down the aisle, then I’d rather not have the op.
She replied straight from the shoulder, that I had a lot more chance of walking her down the aisle by having the op than by not having it. I then asked if I didn’t have it, would I still be here in five years. She was pretty guarded in her answer, but made it clear that I would be much better off having the operation than not having it and that statistically the odds were in favour of the operation, rather than doing nothing.
That’s quite a sobering thought
Sunday 16 September 2007
Heart2hearts
As you can imagine I've been surfing around to try to find some information about the op and so on. One of my earliest ports of call was heart2hearts.co.uk. This is an amazing support site run by a lady called Sue Reynolds. There is lots of information here, including some personal stories. One in particular hit home. Rogers story is very relevant to me, as he had his op in Hull too. He gives a vivid blow by blow account of his operation and after care. I found it both a little intimidating and - well frightening I suppose, but it was also factual and understandable, both of which I feel the need of right now. Anyway, I've placed a link to the site in my links section.
Saturday 15 September 2007
Thoughts and musings...
I went to the theatre last night with my family. Isn't it strange how before we have children we can't imagine what it's like and moments after they are born we can't remember life without them? Our two have always been the biggest things in our lives (I'm speaking for my wife too because I know, but she feels just as I do over this), and going out with them is a treat I always look forward to. ofcourse they are grown up now. My daughter is 31 and my son 25.
The only thing that raises any doubts in my mind about having the op is that my daughter gets married next year. She's marrying a lad who I both admire and like enormously, and who I know will treat her well and look after her as he should. But I simply HAVE to walk her down the aisle. If there is any doubt on that, well she'd be disappointed, and I'd be heartbroken!
It's funny really, while the actual operation is in the future and I have no date to work on it seems almost unreal. I laid last night wondering how I would feel on the night before the op. No doubt I'll be a bit nervous, scared maybe, but I'd go through with it. After all the two worst possibities are to die during the op or to wind up sitting in the corner of the nursing home, dribbling from the side of the mouth and having some young person looking after me. Both of these are pretty unlikely but could possibly happen.
Actually the thought of dying doesn't really worry me, after all what better way is there to go than being cared for by experts and drifting off into a painless sleep that you just don't wake up from? So that doesn't worry me. The thought of missing out on the family does though. I'd hate to miss my daughters wedding - or my sons for that matter, as soon as he decides that it's his turn.
There are so many things that we want to live to see. I remember wishing I could see my little girl (as she was then) growing up, and fearing that I wouldn't make it to do so. How we change as we go through life. Now I really want - almost need - to see my first grandchild I remember being told that I'd be lucky to see 50 and that my heart was in the same position as that of someone aged 65 (I was 40 at the time so now it must be that of an 85 year old eh!), yet here I am, still kicking and still enjoying life - at least so far
The only thing that raises any doubts in my mind about having the op is that my daughter gets married next year. She's marrying a lad who I both admire and like enormously, and who I know will treat her well and look after her as he should. But I simply HAVE to walk her down the aisle. If there is any doubt on that, well she'd be disappointed, and I'd be heartbroken!
It's funny really, while the actual operation is in the future and I have no date to work on it seems almost unreal. I laid last night wondering how I would feel on the night before the op. No doubt I'll be a bit nervous, scared maybe, but I'd go through with it. After all the two worst possibities are to die during the op or to wind up sitting in the corner of the nursing home, dribbling from the side of the mouth and having some young person looking after me. Both of these are pretty unlikely but could possibly happen.
Actually the thought of dying doesn't really worry me, after all what better way is there to go than being cared for by experts and drifting off into a painless sleep that you just don't wake up from? So that doesn't worry me. The thought of missing out on the family does though. I'd hate to miss my daughters wedding - or my sons for that matter, as soon as he decides that it's his turn.
There are so many things that we want to live to see. I remember wishing I could see my little girl (as she was then) growing up, and fearing that I wouldn't make it to do so. How we change as we go through life. Now I really want - almost need - to see my first grandchild I remember being told that I'd be lucky to see 50 and that my heart was in the same position as that of someone aged 65 (I was 40 at the time so now it must be that of an 85 year old eh!), yet here I am, still kicking and still enjoying life - at least so far
An Update on the Angio
I got a letter from the doctor yesterday, giving me an appointment for the 19th of November, I think to discuss the results. I already know them really, and I've made up my mind to have the op done. I was hoping for something before then, but at least I was put straight onto the waiting list for the actual operation in Hull on the day of the angiogram, so there is no wasted time there.
Friday 14 September 2007
The angiogram (2007 style)
I visited the docs and he told me I'd have to have another angiogram. The very thought of which filled me with dread. I could instantly see Killingbeck in my head. Of course we forget that time moves on. Now the procedure is performed in York. They have a ward dedicated to it and it really is more or less routine - unless it's happening to you of course. I was told to arrive at 8:15 am and not to eat anything after 6 am. I arrived a little early and was met by a really charming nurse. The whole ward was light and airy, almost like a hotel rather than a hospital. The give away though, is the beds.
I undressed and put on some rather tasty paper knickers (sexy I thought, I might get some for later...) and the nurse went through the consent form and so on. Blood pressure was taken "A little elevated", she said "but under the circumstances..." Then it was a wait for a few minutes.
In no time I was walked into the X-Ray room and told to lie on the table. Rod Stewart provided background music, while the doctor tore away the paper knickers and exposed the site where the catheter would be inserted. I can't pretend i wasn't nervous, but as the doctor was a female, the twin male fears were uppermost in my mind. Don't get and erection, and for heavens sake don't fart! Fortunately neither happend.
She carefully disinfected the whole area using something that was ice cold, then gave me a local anaesthetic. In all honesty, that was the only pain I felt in the whole procedure, and that was completely insignificant.
Then the catheter went in. Possibly my mind is playing tricks here, but it seemed much smaller than the one used at Killingbeck, and it seemed the the lady who actually manoevered it was much more deft at doing so. The table on which I was laid moved in every direction, while the camera above my chest seemed to always stay pointed at one position. It looked like it was on some sort of gimbal arrangement, so that no matter how the arm holding it moved the camera stayed pointing at my heart.
Having got the catheter in the right position the dye was inserted. Again I felt the hot flush as it was pumped around my body. It struck me how remarkbly efficient the heart is at pumping, because I could feel it go upwards first to my head, then down to my feet in less than a few seconds. Its a strange feeling, but nothing to worry about. Then it was pretty well over. I suppose i spent about 20 minutes in the X-Ray Dept. then I was wheeled back into the ward. Julie - she of the iron grip - came and told me exactly what she was going to do - remove the catheter and apply pressure to the small hole left in my skin. Julie was slight, pretty, nice and ruthless! I NEVER want to cross her. She applied pressure alright. How she did it I don't know, but she held my artery closed for at least 10 minutes before pronouncing her self satsified that it should be alright. During this time the doctor also dropped in very briefly to tell me of the results of the angio - no waiting this time for a fortnight! It seems that three of the coronary arteries are restricted. He suggests that a triple by-pass operation is required. Thats about all I know right now. I'm waiting for an appointment to discuss the results with him properly, but at least I know what's what. Julie kept popping back every few minutes to check on me, but she'd done a good job first time. I later asked her how she had the strength to do it and she told me that mine was pretty easy really - she'd held one for over half an hour! Tough girl that - and lovely with it.
Then it was pretty well 3 hours bed rest and a visit to the loo to make sure everythng worked (it did), phone my wife and home.
If you are waiting for one of these, I can honestly say there is really no need to worry, I'd got through it again tomorrow if need be, and it's great to have the result almost instantly
I undressed and put on some rather tasty paper knickers (sexy I thought, I might get some for later...) and the nurse went through the consent form and so on. Blood pressure was taken "A little elevated", she said "but under the circumstances..." Then it was a wait for a few minutes.
In no time I was walked into the X-Ray room and told to lie on the table. Rod Stewart provided background music, while the doctor tore away the paper knickers and exposed the site where the catheter would be inserted. I can't pretend i wasn't nervous, but as the doctor was a female, the twin male fears were uppermost in my mind. Don't get and erection, and for heavens sake don't fart! Fortunately neither happend.
She carefully disinfected the whole area using something that was ice cold, then gave me a local anaesthetic. In all honesty, that was the only pain I felt in the whole procedure, and that was completely insignificant.
Then the catheter went in. Possibly my mind is playing tricks here, but it seemed much smaller than the one used at Killingbeck, and it seemed the the lady who actually manoevered it was much more deft at doing so. The table on which I was laid moved in every direction, while the camera above my chest seemed to always stay pointed at one position. It looked like it was on some sort of gimbal arrangement, so that no matter how the arm holding it moved the camera stayed pointing at my heart.
Having got the catheter in the right position the dye was inserted. Again I felt the hot flush as it was pumped around my body. It struck me how remarkbly efficient the heart is at pumping, because I could feel it go upwards first to my head, then down to my feet in less than a few seconds. Its a strange feeling, but nothing to worry about. Then it was pretty well over. I suppose i spent about 20 minutes in the X-Ray Dept. then I was wheeled back into the ward. Julie - she of the iron grip - came and told me exactly what she was going to do - remove the catheter and apply pressure to the small hole left in my skin. Julie was slight, pretty, nice and ruthless! I NEVER want to cross her. She applied pressure alright. How she did it I don't know, but she held my artery closed for at least 10 minutes before pronouncing her self satsified that it should be alright. During this time the doctor also dropped in very briefly to tell me of the results of the angio - no waiting this time for a fortnight! It seems that three of the coronary arteries are restricted. He suggests that a triple by-pass operation is required. Thats about all I know right now. I'm waiting for an appointment to discuss the results with him properly, but at least I know what's what. Julie kept popping back every few minutes to check on me, but she'd done a good job first time. I later asked her how she had the strength to do it and she told me that mine was pretty easy really - she'd held one for over half an hour! Tough girl that - and lovely with it.
Then it was pretty well 3 hours bed rest and a visit to the loo to make sure everythng worked (it did), phone my wife and home.
If you are waiting for one of these, I can honestly say there is really no need to worry, I'd got through it again tomorrow if need be, and it's great to have the result almost instantly
Start here if you want up to date info
So I suppose this is where my blog really starts. Previous posts have been about the past, but from now on it'll be pretty well news as it happens...
1982 to present
So from then on my wife took the leading role in our marraige. She took on new challenges in the world of work, and somehow took care of me as well. On a recent holiday a street vendor made the remark, after looking at my wife, "You're a lucky man!" I've known that for years.
Llife drifted on, we had our triumphs and our setbacks. I lost my bus drivers license because of health issues, and really I loved my coach driving job, even though it was only part time. We sold the business, and I went for a less stressful life. I drove a taxi for some 8 years, but then medical tests were introduced there too, so finally I resigned myself to doing my present job. It's not that great, but it's pretty easy and I still enjoy it even after 11 years.
Slowly, almost imperceptively, my health deteriorated. It was discovered a few years ago that I was diabetic, which didn't help and Angina was making it's presence felt more and more often. It limited me on what I could do, and it also limited my wife, because where I go, so does she. Some two years ago some friends visited York and wanted to climb to the top of the central tower of York Minster. I was dubious about trying, but decided to go for it with them. I thought I was going to die! The pain was intense and I was virtually on my hands and knees by the time we got to the top, and it took over 30 minutes to recover enough to chance going down again. Walking up hill had become impossible except for very short burst of maybe 20 yards or so then rests, then continue for another 20 yards.
Finally, after a series of Angina attacks at night that woke me up, I decided it was time to see the doc again
Llife drifted on, we had our triumphs and our setbacks. I lost my bus drivers license because of health issues, and really I loved my coach driving job, even though it was only part time. We sold the business, and I went for a less stressful life. I drove a taxi for some 8 years, but then medical tests were introduced there too, so finally I resigned myself to doing my present job. It's not that great, but it's pretty easy and I still enjoy it even after 11 years.
Slowly, almost imperceptively, my health deteriorated. It was discovered a few years ago that I was diabetic, which didn't help and Angina was making it's presence felt more and more often. It limited me on what I could do, and it also limited my wife, because where I go, so does she. Some two years ago some friends visited York and wanted to climb to the top of the central tower of York Minster. I was dubious about trying, but decided to go for it with them. I thought I was going to die! The pain was intense and I was virtually on my hands and knees by the time we got to the top, and it took over 30 minutes to recover enough to chance going down again. Walking up hill had become impossible except for very short burst of maybe 20 yards or so then rests, then continue for another 20 yards.
Finally, after a series of Angina attacks at night that woke me up, I decided it was time to see the doc again
Thursday 13 September 2007
The results (1982)
About a fortnight later I saw my doctor again at York District. We discussed the results of the angiogram and (again from memory of long ago) he told me that two of the coronary arteries were blocked, but the third and main one looked pretty clear. As this was the case, there was little they could do and as long as the remaining artery remained clear, I was okay. If, however it blocked, then it was pretty well goodnight Vienna. With that comforting thought, I was left pretty much to my own devices until really quite recently
The angiogram 1982 style
I had friend drive me to Leeds. On entry into Kilingbeck I realise what a treasure we have in our District Hospital. Killingbeck was grim! It was probably late Victorian, built a bit like I imagine a workhouse to be, and had portakabins all over the place. The weather didn't help it was a grey and dismal day. I can't remember what month it was, but it felt like the most dreary day of November.
I checked in and made my way to the ward. I can't remember ever missing my wife more than in that lonely walk. I was met again by the most incredibly caring young girls and men. Each one seemed to be intent on making it their business to make me feel more at ease and forget the awful surroundings of the place. I was given a bed and left to undress and so on.
The next day I went for the angiogram. It's a long time ago now, and my memory may be playing tricks, but I remember having to have a bath in this really horrible disinfectant before hand. It was a really violent orange and seemed to be fixed to my skin for days afterwards. No amount of scrubbing seemed to move it, and it was all over the lower part of my body. I tried to imagine what my wife would say when she saw it and couldn't. Then it was into th X-Ray room and on with the show!
Again the staff couldn't have been nicer. They tried to make me feel at ease but it's difficult when there are wires and ECGs and so on attached to your body and you feel completely out of your depth. I remember one of the doctors probing with a catheter that looked about the size of a small telegraph pole up my femoral artery, while I laid there feeling sick and terrified as he said that I could view the screen if I wished. I didn't, but it's a strange feeling knowing that someone has got a foreign object deep inside your body and is looking inside that most vital of organs, your heart
Eventually after what seemed like hours of pushing probing, pulling back and manoevering the dye was injected. I got an istant hot flush that rapidly spread through my body, right to the tip of my tongue and several X-Rays were taken. Then it was back to the ward and a nurse applied pressure to the small hole in my groin to stop the bleeding. It took a long time to do so as i was taking Warfarin at the time. I'd stopped as I'd been told to do 2 days before, but my blood still refused to clot, and every time she released the pressure even slightly blood spurted out like a small oil well gusher. Eventually, of course the bleeding was controlled and i was ordered not to get out of bed for any reson whatsoever until 24 hours had passed. Rarely have I been so glad for a day to pass.
My wife picked me up and we went home together. Home looked wonderful - it always does somehow after leaving hospital.
I checked in and made my way to the ward. I can't remember ever missing my wife more than in that lonely walk. I was met again by the most incredibly caring young girls and men. Each one seemed to be intent on making it their business to make me feel more at ease and forget the awful surroundings of the place. I was given a bed and left to undress and so on.
The next day I went for the angiogram. It's a long time ago now, and my memory may be playing tricks, but I remember having to have a bath in this really horrible disinfectant before hand. It was a really violent orange and seemed to be fixed to my skin for days afterwards. No amount of scrubbing seemed to move it, and it was all over the lower part of my body. I tried to imagine what my wife would say when she saw it and couldn't. Then it was into th X-Ray room and on with the show!
Again the staff couldn't have been nicer. They tried to make me feel at ease but it's difficult when there are wires and ECGs and so on attached to your body and you feel completely out of your depth. I remember one of the doctors probing with a catheter that looked about the size of a small telegraph pole up my femoral artery, while I laid there feeling sick and terrified as he said that I could view the screen if I wished. I didn't, but it's a strange feeling knowing that someone has got a foreign object deep inside your body and is looking inside that most vital of organs, your heart
Eventually after what seemed like hours of pushing probing, pulling back and manoevering the dye was injected. I got an istant hot flush that rapidly spread through my body, right to the tip of my tongue and several X-Rays were taken. Then it was back to the ward and a nurse applied pressure to the small hole in my groin to stop the bleeding. It took a long time to do so as i was taking Warfarin at the time. I'd stopped as I'd been told to do 2 days before, but my blood still refused to clot, and every time she released the pressure even slightly blood spurted out like a small oil well gusher. Eventually, of course the bleeding was controlled and i was ordered not to get out of bed for any reson whatsoever until 24 hours had passed. Rarely have I been so glad for a day to pass.
My wife picked me up and we went home together. Home looked wonderful - it always does somehow after leaving hospital.
In the beginning...
I suppose I’d better start at the beginning. Half a lifetime ago, when I was 36 I had my first heart attack or myocardial infarction. It was a pretty rough time. My wife had just given birth to my son only three months before, plus I was in negotiations to buy a business. I had a sudden crushing pain in my chest and the feeling that something was very, very wrong. I can’t really describe the pain other than to say it hurt like hell.
My wife (a lady who you will get to know quite well in these jottings, and to whom I owe an incalculable amount) called the ambulance and I was duly carted off to hospital, connected to all the paraphernalia of heart monitors and the rest of it. I was diagnosed, treated wonderfully well and discharged some ten days later with instructions on how to modify my life and to stop smoking.
I didn’t, primarily because I’m a fool, and consequently had another one when I was forty. This one made me sit up and take notice, but somehow the smoking thing still defeated me even after two attacks. This second one was much more severe, though still relatively minor in the scheme of things.
Shortly after the attack I received and appointment to go to Killingbeck Hospital (not the most inspiring of names for a place that heals the sick!) for an angiogram.
My wife (a lady who you will get to know quite well in these jottings, and to whom I owe an incalculable amount) called the ambulance and I was duly carted off to hospital, connected to all the paraphernalia of heart monitors and the rest of it. I was diagnosed, treated wonderfully well and discharged some ten days later with instructions on how to modify my life and to stop smoking.
I didn’t, primarily because I’m a fool, and consequently had another one when I was forty. This one made me sit up and take notice, but somehow the smoking thing still defeated me even after two attacks. This second one was much more severe, though still relatively minor in the scheme of things.
Shortly after the attack I received and appointment to go to Killingbeck Hospital (not the most inspiring of names for a place that heals the sick!) for an angiogram.
Welcome
I'm pretty new to the idea of blogging, but others seem to manage pretty well, so I thought I'd give it a go. To be honest, it's mainly to try to assemble my own thoughts, but if you're interested in the ramblings of a man in late middle age as he ponders how he's going to face up to heart surgery, you're more than welcome.
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