The Results

January 13th 2016,  It’s been over a week since my angiogram and I have to go to New Cross hospital to speak to the consultant about their findings. Since all this has come to light there have been so many friends and relatives who have told me stories of people who have had stents or  a bypass.” They all come out of it well and there is no reason to worry and that’s the end of it”. Except that isn’t the end of it. All the stories and experiences of others DO reassure me of the outcome but as for not Worrying..

At the Hospital I am called into the consultants office. He introduces himself and I sit down. He fills me with confidence and on first impressions comes across as someone who knows more about open heart surgery than me. At this point I still haven’t been told I have to have the triple bypass and I still cling to the faint hope I can get away with stents. After a brief examination we watch the Angiogram on his monitor where he points out the blockages in the arteries then he deals out the news.

There is no sugar coating or plastic models of dolls with their entrails hanging out. he just says ” you will need a quadruple bypass” ! Somehow the mention of a quadruple and not the triple bypass has really taken the wind out of me. He tells me because I am young and healthy  the results should be good. It’s funny how many times I am getting told I am young and healthy now I am rotting from the inside out. I am told the waiting list is around 3 months but he wants to get me in earlier if possible as I am at high risk of a heart attack. How did I get to this point ?

January 19th 2016, It’s a Tuesday and I’m at work. I can’t see any point lounging about at home feeling sorry for myself. I have worked with the same people for the last 25 years and they are more like family. My boss has had a triple bypass 12 months ago so there is no better person to understand what I face and if I’d took the decision to stay at home he would have understood. My phone rang and I was surprised to find it was my doctor. They had been looking at the x-rays that I had done when I went to A&E and have just noticed something and they are sending me for a CT scan ! A few days later I go to my doctor for a repeat prescription and to discuss this new finding. He confirms they are suspecting that what they are looking at is a 2-3cm tumour but need to wait for the results of the CT scan. I can’t be that unlucky can I ?….

The Angiogram

Before I tell you about the procedure I have to admit I have a bit of a problem when it comes to needles. I think it originates from my childhood when my sister had an encounter with TB. Her illness meant that I would have to endure a series of needles. Did they coax me with offers of ice-cream or sweeties if I was big and brave?……. no. They PINNED me down with five people and skewered me while I’m kicking and screaming. I’m no psychoanalyst but I’m sure Sigmund Freud would be tutting right now.

Monday 4th January 1016. I’m nervous but the Consultant has told me if they locate the suspected blockage they will insert the stents and all will be ok and I can get back to normal life. My eldest son, Sam takes me to the hospital as I’m told I wont be allowed to drive for four days after. After finding the department and checking in I’m given a bed to wait in. I have been handed a open backed nightie and a pair of disposable underpants to change into, not the most fashionable items of clothing. They check my blood pressure, insert a cannula in the back of my right hand then take swabs of my nose and groin in case I am bringing infections in with me, then we wait.

Just after lunch time I am wheeled to the “catheter ” room. I am the first of the afternoon patients for the angiogram and as I sit in the wheel chair I notice a rack of what looks like bicycle brake cables hanging up. I wish they hadn’t put me in this room as I am now fighting to stay calm. A few minutes pass and I get wheeled into a operating theatre where I’m taken by surprise at the number of people in gowns and masks here. I’m feeling panicky but I climb onto the table as they ask me to. people are talking to each other and I hear the surgeon say he is not happy with the cannula in my right hand and he wants another on in my left. There are so many working on me all at the same time I cant keep up with what’s happening. I feel the sting in my left hand as the new cannula goes in, they give me another sedative and there is a cold liquid being poured over my right arm, also someone is wrapping what I take to be a blood pressure band around my lower left leg. I feel the catheter going up my right arm and I am tensing as it feels like a knitting needle under my skin. they keep telling me to relax! how can I relax ? they give me another sedative to calm down but the surgeon keeps pulling my arm straight. I am light headed now and I am sure that if I’d had breakfast as I was told I could they would be sliding about right now.

Then suddenly it’s over. People are moving about tidying up tubes and monitors and the surgeon is talking to me. Briefly he explains I have disease in 3 of my arteries and I will probably have to undergo a triple bypass as He it not sure stenting would be the best option anymore. I am feeling mixed emotions. On the one hand I feel relief that the Angiogram is over but I am also aware that I have some major obstacles ahead of me. Back at the ward I have to wait four hours before I can be released to go home just in case there are complications. I get a follow up visit from a lady who discusses the net steps with me. I am told that the surgeons get together every other Friday (probably with a pint and a packet of scratchings)  to review each patient and the best course of action needed. I will then be given an appointment through the post to go and discuss with the consultant what will happen next.

As my son drives me home I reflect on the outcome of the day and what I now face. First I realise this is going to be major surgery and second I had better start to Man up to injections. It can’t get any worse than this can it ?…..

To A&E or not to A&E, that is the question

The traumatic events of the week had taken their toll on me both physically and mentally. I had tried to obtain an appointment at the doctors surgery to get the increasingly frequent chest pains checked out but there were no spare slots that day. The doctor had warned me that if the pains didn’t go away then I should call an ambulance. The pains would go eventually but they also came back with very little exertion. I made the decision to call a taxi and pop down to the Queen Elizabeth A&E department, I had just flown across the globe I was dammed if I was going in an ambulance.

Armed with a thick book in preparation for a long wait the taxi driver dropped me off at the hospital. By the time I had walked up the hill from the car park to the A&E department I was in pain again but this time with each step I felt safer. If I was to collapse now they would fix me. After explaining my situation to the receptionist, rather than sitting down to a few chapters of my book I was sent straight down the corridor to the emergency room. Without pause I went from a ECG, blood pressure then to a booth where they wired me to a monitor and a sample of blood was taken. They checked my blood pressure regularly and every now and again a doctor would come and ask me questions. My heart was beating irregular at that time whether it was the arterial  problem or just anxiety I didn’t know. After a short while a porter wheeled me down the corridor to the x-ray department where they took a chest x-ray.

After several hours back in my booth with regular checks I started to feel more relaxed and with it came a growing sense of unease. I felt no pain now but I also felt like I was wasting the doctors time being here. The doctor came around  just after lunch time and we had a short chat, he explained he thought the increase in pain was probably bought on by the stress of the weeks events and I could go home. All through the mornings activities I was assured it was better to be safe than sorry and I had taken the right course of action to be there. There is no doubt that our NHS is stretched to the limit but I doubt there is more dedicated doctors or nurses anywhere in the world…

A Bad Week

Saturday 28th November. less than 24 hrs since the news that I had heart problems and would have to endure a angiogram, the phone rang. It was my sister, Sue, telling me that she had just had news that mom had collapsed from a heart attack . Mom and her friend had been on holiday in Turkey for two weeks and this happened as she was getting on the coach to go to the airport. The medics had started her heart then sent her to Hospital where she was now in intensive care and in a coma. After speaking to the Turkish hospital and discussing the severity of the situation with Sue we decided I needed to fly out there.

Until now I have always ticked the boxes when it comes to travel insurance. This time however there were boxes I couldn’t tick. If you don’t answer truthfully you may as well not take insurance out. one such question ” do you have any undiagnosed symptoms” ?  well…..yes.  The angiogram diagnoses problems and hopefully fixes them at the same time. After some phone calls and discussions between the agent and his supervisor  I secured some travel insurance at 10 times the usual cost.

It’s mid day on Monday 30th November and I’m standing on the platform at New Street station, Birmingham. The pain is there as I’ve been walking to quickly and my thoughts are running away with me. The task I face is daunting and, as I stand waiting I start to question if I’m up to it. I finally make it to Antalya,  Turkey in the early hours the following day after spending 8 hours waiting for a transfer  at Istanbul. I have arranged a transfer from the Airport straight to the Hospital. As we speed through the residential streets in excess of 110 KPH in his battered Peugeot with the metal on metal sound of his brakes, I reflected that any other time this would be scary.

The lady in charge of foreign patients ( Anastasia). informed me I could see Mom shortly,so I sat outside and waited. I like to think of myself as grounded and not overly emotional so I was prepared to see mom in any state. Anastasia lead me down a series of corridors and down stairs to what must have been intensive care. There was a ward with approximately 8 beds all occupied with patients hooked up to machines.  After washing my hands and putting on a face mask they led me over to Moms bed. So much for being strong. All hope immediately vanished and I cried. After a short while I composed myself and forced a few words of comfort out to Mom. Outside the hospital I faced the task of phoning family to tell them of the situation but each time I broke and couldn’t even find the words to hang up.

I walked across the town to find my hotel and checked in. The following day I had a slow walk from the hotel to the hospital. I had found texting was a easier way of communication and didn’t betray my emotions. My eldest son (Sam) had asked if I was eating ok. I realised I hadn’t eaten since the morning of departure and promised I would get something later. This time when I went to see Mom I spent more time with her and spoke more . I watched the heart monitor and listened to her breathing. As I left I stroked her hair, told her I loved her and if she was tired it was ok to go to sleep now.

Later that afternoon I got the phone call I knew was coming. Anastasia asked me to return to the hospital. There was no need for questions. I was shown into the surgeon who had put Stents into Moms arteries in the hope of saving her. He just said simply “It’s over” . He looked a typical family man with a caring face and he expressed his sadness for my loss. We hugged and I thanked him for trying then left. After the emotional phone calls I started walking back but found myself stopping for food. Was this inappropriate or just realising it was over ? who knows.

The journey home was slow and uncomfortable. Sitting in Istanbul’s crowded departure lounge I had pains in my chest and I seriously questioned whether I should board the plane. With the fear that someone would have to come get me if I didn’t, I got on the plane. I was so thankful that my Sister and Brother-in-law picked me up from the Airport back home when I landed on Thursday.  I was tired and emotionally drained but the usual 40 minute drive home took 2 and a half hours due to motorway closures. As we sat in the gridlocked traffic I looked up at the sky waiting for the plague of locusts….