Homecoming

It is now a week since the actual op. If (and only if) you want to see what the scars and bruises look like at this stage, have a look…

Not pretty but bear in mind I feel fine, wear normal clothes, have showers and manage pain with normal paracetemol. There are numb spots on my chest which are probably forever and I need to learn not to hunch up around these. There is surprisingly little actual pain, though I do get tired and feel I’ve been punched through a wall by the Hulk…

The days of the operation and recovery weren’t too bad for me, less good for my partner as there was a long wait for me to come round. Apparently I would start thrashing, not a good idea with tubes in and out of every part of me, so they would give me a bit longer to sleep. In then end it was in to hospital Sunday afternoon, op started Monday morning, awake Tuesday morning being offered tea and cornflakes on the set of 2001: A Space Odyssey or intensive care as it was really. Later that day I was on a nice quiet ward, and I was home on Saturday. That’s a pretty quick process but dozens of tests and milestones ticked off (walking around, eating etc.) meant I was good to go.

Not crossing my legs is hard as that’s my normal position. Sleeping on my back isn’t as bad as I expected as I’m slightly siting up on the backrest, £17 well spent.

The next few weeks will be restful. I’m interested in what the cardiac rehab will be like, how to manage the ‘ideal’ cholesterol-kicking diet and doing long time. Posts will be sporadic I expect.

Preparing

Only a few days left now until I go in. We have made all kinds of preparations.

Anticipating a long recovery with quite a bit of sitting around, I’ve laid in a supply of books and DVDs.
Expecting to need to sleep on my back (which I never do) propped up (the way people used to sleep in bygone centuries) I’ve purchased a kind of mini-deckchair propping-up device, and a V-shaped pillow.
Had the shower fixed.
Paid attention to my spiritual life.
Renewed wills – not being pessimistic, this is always a good thing to do no matter how simple your affairs are.
Sorted out phone numbers and told people what’s going on – trying to avoid Jen being besieged with calls.
Collected all the stuff listed on the ‘Come to Hospital – it’s Fun’ booklet – slippers, towels, money for papers and the like. Got pajamas that do up at the front as pulling overhead may be tricky.
Perhaps because of all the displacement activity, I feel quite calm now.

Nothing left but to get it done!

Meeting

Yesterday was the day to meet the surgeon, get the ‘final answer’ diagnosis and begin preparing for the big day. All of this happened at Broadgreen in under three hours. I’ve heard Broadgreen (Liverpool Heart and Chest Hospital, LHCH) praised for its ‘patient centred’ approach. If ‘patient centred’ means little waiting, friendly staff who explain why they do things, and nice surroundings then I’m all for it.

After a brisk round of tests (bp, bmi, blood, swabs, breath, x-ray all done in under 30 minutes and some urine handed over in an Innocent Smoothy bottle with a bit of label saying ‘visit us at Fruit Towers’ still sticking to it) we were seeing the lady who will be doing the work. This obviously was a big scary meeting but I’m 100% confident in the surgeon. Staying as I am isn’t an option unless I want to live in fear of a heart attack and not be able to run up a staircase, so I (gulp) signed the consent form.

After that, flagging now, we saw a nurse who did more tests to prep me for being admitted. The good thing about this is, it means there’s no need to come back until the op itself. Plenty of literature was handed over: there’s no lack of information. It was an emotionally draining morning and it was great having Mrs B there.

That will be at the end of the month. Even I won’t be blogging during an operation, and probably not in the early drugged-up daze, but hopefully I’ll be at the keyboard again soon after Easter.

Calming down, hearts everywhere

I had a good chat with the GP today. (How often do you hear that said?) As well as sorting out some of the practicalities of the wheelbarrows-full of meds I’ll be getting, he reassured me that
- I’m not in imminent danger of cardiac arrest
- I should be able to endure the occasional burst of adrenaline
- Moderate exercise is a good thing.
In other words, I don’t need to try and cocoon myself in cotton wool.

So I’m feeling reassured, at least for now. I expect this will be a bit of a rollercoaster but never mind.

One thing I’ve noticed is, being attuned to anything heart-related at the moment, how widespread ‘hearts’ are. I don’t just mean everyone has one, but that pictures of hearts, metaphors about hearts, and general heartiness are everywhere. Avoiding them would be impossible. Similarly, it seems that all TV programmes, films and books involve scenes in hospitals. There’s no escaping this stuff.

Bricking

Hmm, not so good now. Underlying dread is making me feel weird and sometimes panicky, despite my head knowing this should all be OK. Prospect of not being at work is curiously alarming – like losing an identity, and losing yet more control. I guess a lot of this is about letting go, and letting others do what’s best for me.

Stuff that helps:
Facing up to it and reading factual accounts of successful treatment
Relaxation tape (actually it’s not a tape, showing my age there – MP3 download to be precise)
Reiki – a friend did this at work and it was fab

Acclimatising

Second day after the angiogram. Puncture wound not sore at all now. Surprisingly, no bruising – that’s how gentle it can be. Went shopping with no ill effects. Feeling less scared – hopefully adapting to the whole scenario. Trying to think of it as a routine fix, helped by the many accounts of people who have had a bypass.

Wrote a poem. Drank tea. Felt like I was getting my life back.

Angiogram day

The angiogram process took from 11-6, plus travel and parking time. I have nothing but praise for the nurses and doctor. Even for a squeamish patient like me, it was bearable – particularly as Jennie could stay with me most of the time.

They brought in everyone they were doing and settled us all down. A lot of waiting as with many health things. Progressively, I was eased into the process, a file with my bed-number filling with information as the day wore on. My turn came to go into the treatment room. I was surprised by how large the room was. They put plastic covers over the big cameras, like people so proud of their new suite that they leave it wrapped in cellophane. Cold gel slathered on my ‘Brazilian’ area. Local anaesthetic and some prodding around. Random bits of surroundings: the typefaces on notices, the Diazepam-enhanced muzak which seemed to be the same cover-version band, perhaps some kind of package deal performing-rights copyright deal saving the NHS valuable pennies: ‘I get high with a little help from my friends’: indeed. The cameras moved around, alien-abduction style. Pictures were taken. It took 30 minutes.

Then the kind Geordie doctor gave me the initial result. Artery ‘disease’ too diffuse to treat with angioplasty or stents. I will need a bypass. ‘Don’t worry, we can fix this!’

[Swear words]

Two hours recovery time. Brittle humour. Chicken sandwich, sweet tea like the taste of mercy itself. The weirdness of having a lump of collagen in my groin. Hearing about the next steps: consult with surgeon, probably done in 6-8 weeks.

So there we have it. Not what I was expecting. I’ll be honest with you, I’ve cried my ************* eyes out, cursed God and sneered at the information leaflets. But I’ll get through it.

Hearty metaphors

At the moment, I wake up in the morning and after a minute or so think ‘Oh, I have angina.’ It’s a bit like realising that I’m on holiday, or living in a new city, only not as positive. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life just thinking I have a disease – I don’t want an ‘angina story’ to over-write any other stories. On the other hand I’ll need to pay attention to it, basically forever, so I need some way of thinking about this stuff that is neither a doom-laden victim script or a Pollyannaish ‘what a great gift I have been given’ form of denial.

Looking tentatively at books and websites about heart health, I have seen a lot of pictures of smiling sixty-something couples hugging on beaches. The guy always looks like Ronnie Biggs at the height of his exile, with an open-necked shirt revealing a manly chest covered in white hairs. ‘Heart disease? We’re loving it! Let’s book another Saga holiday…’ This doesn’t exactly speak to my condition – and I would suggest misrepresents the demographic somewhat, now that folks in heart-disease decades are just as likely to be, say, attending Glastonbury, or turning up for work.

Perhaps I need something with a bit more romance to it? I occasionally get pains in my shoulder from the fragment of Nazgul knife left in me at the battle on Weathertop; sometimes walking is heavy going as I carry the Ring to Mount Doom… Yes, I could be Frodo Baggins. But, hero that he is, Frodo gets a bit mopy after the first book and all that stuff about going to the Grey Havens brings us back into Saga holiday territory.

So what then? Maybe there isn’t one story for this. Life involves playing many different roles. So my daily practice could be about gently reminding myself that I need to do a bundle of heart-friendly things, not because being an ‘angina patient’ is my defining identity, but because it makes sense to support my arteries so that they can support everything else I want to do and be. I’m in the process of figuring out what that ‘bundle of heart-friendly things’ might be, but it’s shaping up as

Relaxing
Not something I’m good at, but rather than ‘avoid stress’ (which names ‘stress’ as a monster from which to flee, stressfully), letting in some moments to let go, get distance within each day is going to be vital I think. This could include meditation, making time to read but also plain old doing nothing.

Eating well
I’m sure a good diet can be fun. Jen has knocked up some delicious grub in the past few days and I’ll be having a go soon. Again I’d rather think I’m choosing to eat healthy stuff rather than avoiding fat and bad cholesterol.

Exercising
I need help figuring this one out as it is exercise that brings on the symptoms. But clearly I have to exercise more not less so finding a way will be a necessity.

Big stuff
Not sure what to call this, but getting into the flow of creating something, or doing a bit of a big project like my walk to Brighton, feels so good that it must be right. Purposeful action, outside the arena of paid work, could be what I’m talking about? This isn’t an every-day thing but just to remember that there’s some cool big stuff to do (eg get the map out and plan the next route) is restorative.

Dark chocolate taste test

Apparently dark chocolate – the very dark kind that’s nearly all cocoa – is full of heart-helping goodness. So much so that tiny amounts might actually be good for you (but don’t take my word for it.) With this in mind I bought a stack of bars and tried a little corner of each.

Here’s what I found:

Seeds of Change Organic Dark Chocolate – 70% cocoa
Nice, but a bit syrupy tasting

Divine 70% Dark Chocolate
Creamy, slightly vanilla aftertaste

Green & Black’s 70%
Not at all bad, nice and crunchy like a classy chocolate should be

Green & Blacks Organic Dark Chocolate – 85% cocoa
Whoa – this one is all about the cocoa. Challenging but rewarding, like a good malt whisky.

They’re all pretty good, I might give Seeds of Change a miss but seek out G&B. They do some cute little bars as well.

This speaks for itself

Thanks A x