New years Eve is always a odd time for me. A time to look back and a time to look forward too. Looking back it seems a long time ago that I nervously made my first post to this blog, but in fact it's only 4 months. In that short time I've documented pretty well all the things that have happened to me on the medical front. I've met some amazingly kind people in the health service, and no doubt I'll meet many more as the operation time draws closer. One should never generalise, but the people who have cared from me - and I used those words advisedly - have been truly a credit to the NHS. Everyone, from my GP onwards has seemed to take a personal interest in my health, and it's a reassuring thought that such people are around. I dare say that none of them will ever read this, but at least I'm making the statement.



Looking forward: Well, there's a thing! After having half of my life restricted by heart disease, I'm really looking forward to a time when I can just go for a walk without wondering if I can make it up that hill, or thinking that I have to get back and it's just as far and will I be able to do it? Only last winter my wife had to rush home to get the car because of a terrific angina attack just around the corner from our house, certainly less that a quater of a mile, but I just couldn't take another step. I really thought that I might croak at that time, and my wife was scared to leave me to get the car. It really was one of those dire situations that it's impossible to predict and whatever decision was made could have been wrong. Fortunately she made the right one, and I got into the car and was driven home - all 250 yards of the way. I'm hoping that this sort of thing will be in the past.



I suppose there will be pain. After all they are going to cut open my chest and so on, but at least they are going to do something, and I can take the pain if I get the benefit.

2008 might be a very good year indeed !

It's Christmas Eve. At long last it's here. The shops have closed (Thank Goodness) and we're all set for the main event. I went to the hospital this afternoon to the Diabetc Clinic, it being six weeks since my last visit. Great news! In spite of not taking the Roziglitazone my long term test shows a slight improvement. The last time I was there it was 7.6, which was pretty good but this time it's down to 7.5. The target level is 7 dead, which is aparently ideal. I'm told that it can be done if I increse my dose of Gliclacide to two a day, so obviously I'm doing that from today

Trust

I’ve been thinking this past few days about trust. It’s a funny feeling to literally place your life in someone else’s hands, someone you have never even exchanged a word with. I know Mr Cale has a brilliant reputation and I’m not getting cold feet about the op – well, not much – but he’s going to deliberately stop my heart to do the job, and that’s pretty final if by some chance it won’t start again, after all, in America, that’s how they execute people!

So trust is pretty important. I do trust him, after all, he’s done the op over 400 times, but there is that niggling doubt. What if he’s had an argument with his wife, a parking or a speeding ticket? What if he’s got a hangover, or maybe is just having a bad day, I mean – it must happen, it sure as hell happens to me, and to everyone I know. Trust could go out the window then.

All that said, its Christmas, a time for families. I’m going to be with mine this year, and we won’t be doing much socialising. After all, if it all goes wrong – and it could, 4 people in every hundred either don’t survive the op or die shortly afterwards – it might be my last one with them. Time with them is very precious just at the moment.

It’s a become a cliché to say that “there are no atheists in foxholes”. I’ve never really professed to be one, I simply can’t get my head around religion as a whole. I never will, I don’t think, and I lack the faith that my brother has, but this year some of the carols that my wife and I have sung had some very real resonances for me.

Since I started this blog I've always tried to be truthful in what I write, what's the point in anything else? But it sometimes quite hard to lay your innermost feelings out for public display. The blog is also to help work things out in my own mind, and it definately helps there, so I suppose it's worthwhile, but by gum, I'll be glad when the operation's done with and I'm writing about the recovery and convalescence!

The Letter

Well, it's here. I got home today and went through the post and there it was. A sort of anonymous brown envelope addressed to me with "in confidence" written in the window part. I knew even before opening it that it was from Castle Hill. So, it seems I have to go through to Hull on the 9th of January for a pre op assessment and to check i haven't got any infection(s). I think this must be to check for MRSA a so called superbug that is resistant to anti-biotics and is frequently picked up in hospital. I'm pretty sure that I'm ok, though one can never really tell until after the test, but it's nice to know that they take such care.

From what I understand the actual operation will be withing the next couple of weeks from the 9th, so it's all systems go now. I'm really quite relieved to get the letter as i was just starting to wonder if something had gone wrong and I was going to be delayed for longer. Anyway, it looks like next year will be pretty momentous, in one way or another. I'm looking forward to spring!

I had a rough night last night. Lots of Angina pain and little relief from it. The spray seems pretty useless and the only cure seems to be to sit up. It's not easy doing that without waking my wife, so tonight I'm going to sleep in the spare room. I'm not looking forward to that - after 36 years together I'm kind of used to having my lady alongside and I'll miss her, but I think it's better this way, she looked absolutely whacked this morning, but she still went off to work.

I keep looking at the post when i get home myself, hoping there will be a letter from Hull asking me to come through for the pre op tests and so on, but none so far. The waiting is starting to get to both of us a bit now. I know my wife is worried about me and we both collect the post as quickly as possible when we arrive home. I'm getting pretty fed up of hearing from mailshots of how DFS are having there last sale of the year (but the new year sale will start on Boxing day - mark my words) and how there are unmissable bargains to be had. Oh well, if i wanted a new dining suite or something, at least I'd know where to find it.

I think we both just need to hear from Hull now. September, when I started this blog seems a long time ago now.

Another new month...

So now I can say (hopefully) that the op should be next month. I hope it is, then I'll be recuperating in the spring period, the time of year I love best. I'm so looking forward to being able to go for walks and so on in the spring sunshine, what a treat that will be.

Its amazing how my mouth isn't sore at all today. I was pretty impressed with the dentist yesterday, today I'm more so. Well, now I'm all ready. I'm only waiting for the letter, the worries about whether my mouth problems would hold back the operation have gone and I really feel that progress is being made

Like so many other things in life, the thought of the dentist was worse than the actual treatment. I was almost trembling when I finally got myself into his chair. Several bad experiences in the past have imprinted this irrational fear, but try as I might I can't seem to conquer it. Anyway, this guy is good - very good.

My appointment was at 2:30pm today and I went along, nipping off from work for the apointment. I still had a few deliveries to make and I knew I'd have to do those, come hell or highwater. The dentists name is Mahesh Vasireddy, and he did a hell of a job, giving me lots of local anasthetic, before doing a small filling then getting to work on pulling the others. I can honestly say he didn't hurt me at all. The very worst I suffered was a little discomfort, and even now as the anasthetic is wearing off its not unbearable.

The really good thing about it is that I'm now ready to go. The minute the letter comes I'll be off. No hesitation and worrying about whether my teeth will pass muster, they're fine now, and I have an appointment for 6 months time with the same guy. I'll still be terrified when the time comes, but that's just the way I'm made. I'll go - and I'll be glad to do so. National Health dentist are rare indeed, and a really good one is not to be lost

Well, I haven't posted anything for a few days,primarily because nothing much has happened. I think it will tomorrow though, which is why I'm writing this now.

Tomorrow, I have an appointment at the docs and later in the day an appointment with the dentist. I'm scared fartless of dentists, and I know that I have to have two teeth pulled. I'll have them done, of course, because I have a feeling they might stop me having the op - and I REALLY want that, but I am dreading going. Anyway, for those who might at some time need the same operation, and it seems to be coming more and more common, make sure your teeth are in good order. According to my handbook the surgeon may refuse to operate if he thinks your teeth may cause an infection.

I'm going to work now, but I'll write more later.

Confused? - you will be!

A moment of consternation this morning. Because I take so many pills now I have a little gizmo that can hold a weeks supply of tablets. You simply slide back the lid at the right time and it dispenses the tablets that you need. It’s a bit of a faff to set up once a week, but you can see at a glance if you’ve missed any and it also makes sure you have a week in which to get a repeat prescription, so it’s a pretty useful little gadget.

Anyway, I was loading it up this morning with my metformin tablets. I take 3 a day for seven days, so I just take out 21 from the blister pack and put them in the gadget. As I was doing so I noticed that some had different numbers embossed on them. I wasn’t sure, but I wondered if they were dosage numbers, so I rang the chemist. The thing was that different numbers came out of the same blister pack which I found a bit worrying.

The pharmacist seemed concerned too and asked me to bring the tablets in for checking. I did, pretty well straight away. I got the impression that she didn’t really believe that two different numbers came from the same pack and she took a couple more tablets from the blister pack to check. Sure enough, they were numbered 96 and 43. We were both a bit gobsmacked, and she immediately offered to change them for me, which I accepted, inwardly worrying that I had taken different doses without noticing.

However, she came back a few seconds later beaming. The tablets are all stamped 96 – on one side, and 43 on the other!

It seems a funny way of going on and a cracking method of sowing alarm and confusion, but at least I know now, and I’m ok with the dosage.

Another consultation

Another visit to see my cardiologist Dr Durham at the local hospital today. It was quite amusing in some ways. The clinic ran smack on time this morning, as indeed it mostly does nowadays, and we were all shuffled through to wait in the waiting area. Unfortunately there was some building work going on and some guys with Kango hammers and various other incredibly noisy tools were on a production drive!

We sat, almost unable to speak above the noise, looking at the sign which said “Quiet Please” and smiling. It could only happen in York.

When Dr Durham appeared he walked along the corridor wafting building dust away with his hand as he passed. He nodded to my wife, and I said something about him “looking so young.” She replied, in the sort of voice she normally reserves for talking about George Clooney or his type, “Yes, young, good looking, handsome, clever, rich…
I stopped her there. Can’t have a lady of her age getting carried away now, can we?

The actual consultation was over pretty quickly as there is very little to be done until after the op. I got some new tablets to counteract the angina pain at night, but that was all really. After the consultation we walked to the dispensary to collect my prescription. While we were waiting another youngish lady walked in and handed in her script too, then walked to the end of the waiting room and started doing karate moves. I stared. I couldn’t help it. As you may have gathered by now, my wife and I are pretty close and we sort of turned to each other and smiled. In my case it was a smirk I suppose, but I could barely control myself. In the finish, I cracked and started laughing. My wife nudged me (violently!) to stop, but that only made it worse. I know we shouldn’t mock but sometimes I just can’t help it,

A good day

Today has been one of those good days, though I must admit I didn’t think it was going to be.

I’m a big NHS fan. I’m only 2 years older than the NHS so really I’ve been a user of it all my life and it’s really coming through for me now.
My GP was in a bit of a conundrum regarding one of my tablets that I take for Diabetes. Roziglitazone is not recommended for people who have heart problems, but it’s an extremely effective diabetic drug. As I have both difficulties my GP sought an expert opinion and I visited the consultant today. After a very careful examination and an extensive interview and questioning session, the specialist decided that I should stop taking the tablets. He also recommended that I check my blood sugar levels using a meter. This is something that I have tried not to do as I don’t want to become one of those people who seem to be paranoid about what they eat and what effect it has on them, however, there’s no point in seeing the expert if you don’t take the advice that’s given, so I agreed.

I waited for a short time before a specialist Diabetic nurse arrived with a meter and showed me how to use it. This is really quite a sophisticated device that not only tells you pretty instantly what your sugar level is, but stores the result and produces a running average. I’ve just looked up the price of this little gizmo, and with all the bits and bats that go with it, there wouldn’t be much change for fifty quid. If you take that and all the drugs that I take (far too many to mention) I simply dread to think how much this illness would cost if I was a private patient.

Talking of private patients, I’ve found, with some help from one of my sons friends, a NHS dentist today. That’ll be good as I need to have some dental work done prior to the operation and the cost looked like it was going to be horrendous – certainly several hundred pounds.

So, all in all a good day. Lets hear it for the good old NHS

Workmates...

...or colleagues as it now seems fashionable to call them. Whatever you call them I work with a pretty good group of lads. Everyone from the manager to the youngest lad in the place has gone out of their way to help today. I feel quite humbled. Its all been done with great humour, maybe a little friendly sarcasm, but it's most definately been done to help me, and I really appreciate it. Our boss even sent out a young lad with me this morning to help with the heavy stuff - and to learn about where I go so that he can drive if need be.

None of them know about this blog, and I aren't going to tell them until later, but I'd just like to put on record how much I enjoy working with them. I couldnt have better - friends, not workmates

A new month...

Well, the month has turned, so now it looks better saying that it should be about 2 months to D-day rather than 3. I went to the docs this morning as I was a bit concerned about the bad night a couple of nights ago. I saw another new doc, they seem to grow them in the back garden at my practise, but she seemed very thorough and efficient. I thought she was going to sign me off from work for a moment, something I really don't want just now, but instead she gave me a certificate allowing me to work, but on light duties only.

I'm quite pleased at that because some of the heavy pails of paint and thinners are becoming a bit of a problem sometimes. I can manage them as long as there arent too many, but if I have a vanload, as I quite often do, they can be a bit of a problem. So I go back tomorrow and we'll see how we go

Nothing much to add really. I'm just into the waiting game now. I'm hopless at waiting, I just want to get it over and done with, but I have to wait my turn. I don't begrudge it, after all there are many, many people much worse off then me, but it's just just there, in the background in every waking minute.

I had a bad night last night. It seemed that every time I laid down I got angina within a few minutes. I took my spray several times, but really there seems to be no real relief until I sit up. This wakes up my wife too, so she was looking tired this morning. We've never slept seperately before, but I'm seriously thinking of moving into the spare room if things don't improve, much as I hate the idea.

I still can't find an NHS dentist - they seem to be as rare as hens teeth, so it looks like I'll have to become someones private patient, and I can't tell you on here how much that rankles with me. The British system of dentistry seems to be still in the 30s as regards open access - there isn't any, f you want to be treated under the NHS! Of course if you become a private patient, they can see you next week. I suppose that's why I'm a van driver and my potential dentist rides home in his Mercedes.

I'd better be careful - I could become a fan of Trosky

Yesterday we went to have a look at the hospital that I'll be going to for the op. Its called Castle Hill Hospital in Hull. Actually, it's in a small town just outside Hull called Cottingham. It's much bigger than I realised and looks to be a series of ward bungalows, at least the bit we saw did. Anyway I put it into the sat nov for the car so that my wife could find her way there in the dark, as it will be in Jan.

Autumn days

Today has been one of those beautiful Autumn days. The rees are dropping leaves and the colours are lovely and the sun has been shining from a practically cloudless sky. Its been just the day for a long walk in the country, kicking leaves like a kid and just enjoying being alive. I couldn't do it though. The first reason was that i was at work, but also I can't take the cold air. I'm not sure why, but when the air gets chilly I'm pretty useless. So even if I hadn't been working I couldn't have done much about it - one of those thngs I suppose.

Actually, one of the reasons I enjoy my job (delivering to the motor trade) is that it gets me out and about. I get paid (but not nearly enough!)for pretty well enjoying myself

But next year - next year after this op - you just watch me go!

The surgeon

Well, today's the day! I see Mr Cale the cardio-thoracic surgeon today. I have no real idea what to expect, but I'm hoping for at least an idea of when I can have the op and get back to living a normal life. I'm just going to work now, but I'll post later today as to how it goes...Wish me luck!

Later:

Well we went to see Mr Cale and really it was a bit of a none event. It's strange isn't it, I don't normally care too much about my appearance, but to see this man I shot home and got changed into my best suit. Quite why I flt I had to is maybe a doctor could answer, 'cos I can't! Actually, I saw his registrar, a nice guy who's nationality I could really decide on, other that he was from the Indian sub continent. He expained carefully and understandably what was going to happen, how long the average stay in hospital is (about 7 - 10 days), and the procedure for the physiotherapy regime afterwards.

I'm still on the waiting list, now it sounds like it'll be about 3 months - so early January maybe. I was sort of hoping for a bit sooner, but it's not to be. My wife hit the nail on the head when she said that there are many, many more people who are worse than me and I'd just have to wait.
She's right, of course - isn't she always?

Tired?

We had guests down last night and I did something unforgivable, I fell asleep. In all fairness I'm pretty sure that it's all the tablets that I'm taking at the moment, and one of the (many) side effects of Ramipril is tiredness, but I felt awful. Ah well, thre's nowt to do about it now, as we say in Yorkshire.

Talking of tablets, I did a quick calculation and realised that I'm now taking 12 a day. Most of these are for Diabetes I suppose (Metformin, statins and a couple of others too) but I also take beta blockers for my heart too. I know I'll probably have to continue with these after the op, at least for a while, but when you consider that 5 years ago I wasn't taking any at all it seems to have been a pretty steep downhill ride. I hate taking pills, it's just another sort of restriction somehow. I seem to have traded one slavery (smoking) for another .

That sounds ungrateful, and I'm not, but I'd been well for so long that it comes hard to be needing to take pills again, especially so many of them.

Anyway, I've got another appointment with my GP tomorrow morning, and on Tuesday, the big one. An appointent to see Mr Cale, the surgeon. I hope to have something concrete to say after that. I'm writing down some questions for him to answer, but I bet I forget something critical.

Well, they got here...

...the pearls, that is. They came via FedX as promised and I have to say she was delighted with them. So am I. Its hard to think that only a few days ago they were on the other side of the world and now they grace my wifes neck.

A chance encounter

I had another blood test today, I think it's part of the Ramipril routine and to keep a general eye on me, so I took myself off to Asda again. as I was walking through the foyer I bumped into Pauline, the lady who took my smoking cessation class some 3 years ago. It was really quite a nice feeling to say that I was still off them. It is strange isn't it, I've become almost evangelical in my anti smoking views. I suppose theres nothing as smug as an ex smoker

Dreams

I had a really odd dream last night. I dreamed I was taking part in a cycle race! No kidding I had the full lycra bit and everything. Now as far as I know, they don't make lycra outfits in barrage balloon sizes - maybe it's one of those "sexual problems" from taking Ramipril!

A new drug

I just checked up on the side effects of Ramipril. They sound pretty interesting! Here's the list from patients UK: My brackets ( ) throughout

Along with their useful effects all medicines can cause unwanted side effects. These usually go away as your body adjusts to the new medicine. If any of the following side effects continue or become troublesome speak with your pharmacist or doctor:
Chest pain,(Huh?) fainting, loss of appetite, a sore or dry mouth, skin rashes, itching, hair loss, numbness in the fingers, confusion, anxiety, buzzing in the ears, balance problems, sweating, sexual problems,(how delighfully vague - what form would that take then?) muscle cramps, dry cough, a stuffy nose, sore throat, feeling sick, vomiting, indigestion, stomach pain, diarrhoea or constipation, headaches, dizziness, light-headedness, tiredness, problems sleeping, changes in taste, pins and needles, fever, muscle and joint pain, swollen ankles, flushing redness of the face or a fast heartbeat.
Important: Ramipril can cause sudden swelling of the tongue, lips, face and eyelids. If this happens contact your doctor or go to the accident and emergency department of your local hospital at once.
If you experience any other worrying symptoms, (other worrying symptoms! - could there be other worrying symptoms, after all that seems to cover most !)which you think may be due to this medicine, discuss them with your doctor or pharmacist

I'm not too bothered about hair loss - I'm pretty bald anyway, and sexual problems sound - er - intriguing, I'll just have to wait and see if any develop.

Kidding aside, I sure as hell hope they know what they're doing with these tablets

More testing

Well, it's Wednesday and the pearls haven't arrived as yet. I checked up on the fedx "track my parcel" site and the forecast for delivery is now Friday, still in time, but getting pretty close to the "do"

I got phone call from the docs today asking me to go for another blood test. I'm not sure why, but a change of medication may have something to do with it. I'm now taking Ramipril in my morning cocktail of drugs. I looked it up on Patients UK. and it seems that it's to do with kidney problems. This is what the site says about it:

It (Ramipril) is used to treat hypertension (high blood pressure) and to prevent heart attack or stroke in people who are at risk. It is also used to help treat heart failure and may be used to treat people with diabetes who have developed kidney problems.
Ramipril works by causing blood vessels to relax, lowering blood pressure and increasing the supply of blood and oxygen to the heart.

The last time my BP was checked it was pretty well ok, at least that's what they told me, so I'm hoping that it's just being used to help my heart and not because I have kidney problems too. Roll on Tuesday and lets get to see the surgeon. Maybe I'll have something solid to work on then. Just now everything seems to be vague somehow. I feel i need something to get hold of and fully understand

Walks by the sea and oyster contents..

It’s funny how thing go round isn’t it? My wife and I were talking yesterday of times past and times to come. She asked what I would like to do after the op. I thought of quite a few really, but one of the things I’d most like to do is go for a brisk walk around The Marine Drive at Scarborough on a windy day. I haven’t done it for years and I used to love it.

There’s something about the wind in your face and the waves crashing against the sea wall that just makes it magic. I tried a little while ago, but I’m hopeless in any wind at all at the moment. Angina just cripples me and I have difficulty in breathing too. All in all it’s a bit of a bugger! All this will change though – at least I hope it will – after the op.

Talking of long ago, nearly 40 years ago when we were courting I bought my wife some imitation pearls. They were nice, but they were imitation and I distinctly remember promising that one day I’d buy her some real ones. Well a promise is a promise and she has an important staff function coming up and – well I just wanted to say thank you to her for all the care she’s taken with me and … well, you know I just wanted to get them in case something goes wrong - and yes - I know it won't

Anyway, I’ve bought her some. She doesn't know yet, so if anyone knows her, don't say anything. They are real Japanese Akoya pearls, admittedly cultured, not natural, but I know she’ll love them. They should arrive on Wednesday and her work function isn’t until next week, so she should be able to wear them to it. I can’t wait to see her face!

This and that

I’m feeling slightly guilty at the moment. I’m glad to hear that my new found friend in Toronto, Peter, is doing well after his op, how I wish it were over for me too! haven’t posted anything to the blog and one or two things have happened. On the Monday after our return from holiday I had another meeting with my GP. She seems to be gradually stepping up the dose of one of the tablets, apparently they want me on to 20 mg a day by the time of the op.

I’ve been really worried about the words that my daughter and I exchanged on holiday. I feel it spoiled every ones week and I feel pretty bad about it. I invited al the family for tea and a chat yesterday and I think the air was cleared pretty well. One of the problems seems to have been that the kids have never really seen me when I’m having a rough time, and it frightened them both. It’s not surprising really, as I always try to hide it from them to avoid them worrying. Now both of them are grown up, though, maybe it’s time to change.

We do what we do from the best of intentions, but sometimes get it completely wrong. As I was labouring up that hill from the hotel both of my children (why is there no word for adult children – at least none that I know) saw how I struggled for the first time. Both were upset, but neither wanted to spoil the holiday either. We had all looked forward to it for a long time, but after talking to them all last night I know a few tears were shed about me, so I tried to explain to them both last night.

I think I got somewhere and I’m pretty sue the kids are ok with the idea of it now. Both were unsure about the difference between Angina and a heart attack, so I explained. I also took advantage to try to say the things I want to say to all my loved ones at the same time. It got a little emotional, but at least they are said and if the worst should happen everyone knows how much they mean to me. It’s strange how some things become really important to one, even though we normally take things for granted

Home again - a little chastened

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

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!

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

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...

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

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

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.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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.