Most readers of N.O. have had turns and then procedures – let’s just say I’m catching up, having never had anything like this before.
By “this”, I mean not just the event but the whole NHS hospital scene. In 1987, I stayed one night in an American services hospital near Exmouth – lower back issue. In 1989, I broke my wrist bobsledding in Finland and was kept some nights. That’s it. Some people seem to have lived half their lives in hospitals and know all the ways and wherefores.
So with this third visit, there were two things going on – the event itself and then a grand time getting into hospital life and writing notes on same.
The event itself
The docs called it a “heart event” so let’s run with that. What sets it apart from many who’ve had similar is that, for political reasons, I have firewalls and other security measures to prevent people getting to me.
Not so good though if you want them to and everything’s barred, plus the neighbours are never there, plus the only person who could get in is often in London or somewhere else in the country.
Critical circumstances often determine success or failure, perhaps it’s a bit of intervention from above but I turned out to be lucky with this first attack, others are coming up in the next weeks and months.
So many I later met in hospital had done the same – noted mild symptoms a month or so earlier, but they were so low level and then disappeared that nothing was done.
So many only acted once the attack had happened. Lying on top of the boat’s upper girders, I was feeling a bit ill which had been going on for days, I went upstairs and lay down – that’s when it hit heart, back, arms.
And that’s when I realized it was building up for the big one in a minute or so [later confirmed by the doctors] and I could not move, could not breathe. The breathing was the worst part aside from the pain.
It was only by shuffling to the next room somehow and then back that the symptoms allayed enough to grab the phone, straight to the GP [must be a record], she sent the ambulance and I’d not even got the trousers on when ambulance arrived. Craziness – I had to walk downstairs to let them in, locking the door behind.
I was in the ambulance when it came on and the GTN went under the tongue. Seven minutes later, I was out of danger and thinking there were nice aspects to this whole business.
It was rather good the way I was rushed in, as in General Hospital [not that I ever watched it] and was found a cubicle at about 5.15 p.m.
Then various things happened:
I think you’re starting to see the theme here – the pincushion effect but with ladies rushing about everywhere as well. So, yes they were torturing you but ever so nicely. Her name is Agustina by the way.
I’m knackered again now, so more next time.