Diary of a Life-Changing Event
Created | Updated Oct 15, 2011
August 1999 was when my life took a turn that was to see a devastating blow to all my ambitions and hobbies at the time, including where I chose to live as well as work.
While I was preparing to travel to Scotland for my annual six-week climbing expedition on 3 August, 1999, I collapsed with severe chest pain while hitching the caravan to the Land Rover. Being somewhat astute, I realised immediately something was not quite right and decided to postpone the trip till after I had seen my doctor.
On the Monday morning I presented myself to the surgery and saw my GP, who immediately sent me to the nurses' section for an ECG. The nurse carried out said ECG then told me to stay put and went to
fetch the doc. He immediately informed me that I had a severe heart condition called Ischeamic Heart Disease, basically blocked and furred arteries and that I now had severe angina. He prescribed a variety of meds and sent an instant urgent referral off to a cardiologist.
I explained that I was actually on holiday and due to travel to Scotland and asked if it was still safe to do so. He asked what sort of holiday and when I said staying in my caravan and walking/climbing, his response was, let's say, less than enthusiastic. He told me I would be lucky to carry a hold-all up a flight of stairs, let alone a 65-litre backpack up Ben Nevis! I took that as a no, then. I then spent the next four weeks just pottering about at home, playing on the PC,
getting very bored.
I decided after four weeks to return to work early, against the doctor's advice, but hey, I knew better - or so I thought. Eight days after return to work the chest pains were so bad that I was using GTN
tablets virtually every hour, which is not recommended, so after some harsh words from my boss I drove myself to hospital and presented myself to casualty. Driving yourself to hospital with chest pain is not a recommended course of action. I explained to the receptionist in accident and emergency what had been going on and as I was doing so her hand reached over to a button on the console in front of her. Before I realised what was happening a nurse, a doctor and
a porter with a trolley appeared alongside and I was whisked off into resus! I was hooked up to all manner of machines, all beeping, clicking and clacking. There were fancy electronic injection pumps that were feeding medicine in a a specific rate, and when they ran low alarms would sound. The heart monitor alarm went off several times. Frankly, it was enough to give one a heart
attack!
This part ends with the fact that I ended up with a stay in hospital of seven weeks first time round. I was in intensive care for two weeks, a high dependency unit for a further two weeks then the cardiac ward for a fortnight with a week at a local hospital for what was termed 'preparation for going home'. The moral of the story for part one is don't do as I do, do as the doctors say!
