I realise I should have posted this some weeks ago , but a lot has been going on and it slipped what is left of my mind . A follow up to my earlier stay in hospital .
The week after I returned from hospital one afternoon I got a phone call . It was from the hospital . A different one this time , Bart’s , their heart unit . A voice said it was a “something” unit nurse , they had been reviewing my case . I assume because my stay in hospital the week before had been brought to their attention . Would I accept a “private” cancellation , I would accept an operation in an open field if offered . I had been told the operation waiting time was likely to be several months , and probably be nearer to Christmas than not , so naturally I said yes . I didn’t know what a private cancelation was , and I didn’t ask .
Could I manage the 28th on July , yes I could , it was six weeks away . The procedure was to replace a heart valve via cathaterisation , they stick a tube in the artery in your thigh and poke it up to the heart then stuff a new valve down it . All very modern , and involves two overnight stays in hospital then a short period of recovery . The alternative is open heart surgery , a much lengthier and dangerous process all around .
There were a couple more phone calls and a postal MRSA test , all going smoothly . Then one Friday I received another phone call , there has been another cancellation , could I manage to come in on Monday the 13th , 3 days notice . Yes I could , the sooner the better , a tad disruptive , but then so is a bloody malfunctioning heart valve , so bring it on .
My friend Mayra , was going to help me with the going in , the coming home , and the first days care when I got home . She had taken time of work and canceled her holidays to do that around the 28th . It was too soon for her to change for the new plans for next week so substitutes were brought in from the bench . Izzy would take me in , and LJ would bring me home , bags were packed , and we got there at 5pm on the Monday .
As the word “private” cancellation had been uttered I was imagining my own on-suit room with all mod cons , but that was not to be . I was taken to the day unit where the beds are in bays with a curtain over the front , it was just like my stay in A&E a few week previously , except a tad quieter . And typically my bed was opposite the toilets , just like most restaurant tables I get .
Most people turn up on the day of the procedure and return home that evening , a few , like me , arrive the evening before , then stay the following evening to make sure everything is working . I was the only overnighter . Although this makes for a quiet night there is a side effect , because people in this ward are normally nil by mouth pre op , and then need to be fed at obscure times aprè op , the ward does not figure on the catering rounds , you can seriously miss out on tea and food .
The day of the op I was wheeled across to the catheterisation lab and placed on a table , surrounded by instruments , lights , x-ray machines , and screens , which were all being covered in anti-splash covers , just in case my blood escaped . there was an anaesthetist on hand , even though you are awake through the whole thing , and he had his own screen , just where I could see it , perfect . After a good look around the room I gave them permission to start .
It is a painless procedure , apart from the cutting the skin to gain access to the artery , and some electrical “tingling” when they speed up the heart to make it appear stationary , and thus easier to work on . The team were constantly talking to each other about what they were doing , and I had my monitor , what more could a nosey old git want . Everything went well and i was returned to my room , there given a cup of tea and a sandwich . I was connected up to a heart monitor , who as it turned out would become my closest companion for the next week .
The following day I would keep asking when I was going home , and keep being told I had to wait for the doctors to review the procedure . With a valve implantation there is a 10% risk of a stroke , due mainly to flaked off of material in the veins as the valve goes in , and 10% risk of needing a pacemaker , which in my case was increased to over 15% , because of pre-existing problems with my heart . This was apparently causing some argument between the valve team and the pacemaker team , whom I had yet to meet .
The argument was destined to last 3 days , during which I was attached to my monitor by 11 leads 2m long . Eventually I was transferred to a proper ward , on the Friday , mainly because the day ward was shutting for the weekend . then I was told by the nurse , that from the notes I was going to have a pacemaker fitted and the procedure was taking place on Sunday and I would be allowed home , if all was well , on the Monday .
Come Saturday afternoon no one has told me I’m to be given a pacemaker , or what it involves , whenI told the nurse she said “really ! ” , I mean I had done my own research , as far as I could , I was not objecting , just in the dark . An hour later a surgeon in full scrubs was by my bed , first contact with the pacemaker team , he explained all , and was clutching the consent forms , well consent tablet , which i waved my finger over . Later that evening all access to food was cut off .
The procedure went ok , except I was not allowed to watch , so I had an even longer look around the room before they began . Swift efficiency , I was introduced to everyone , operated on , said goodbye to every one and was back on the ward , connected back up to my machine , all with the promise of just an overnight stay , fingers crossed . And so it was .
Now I have reconditioned heart with a gee-up mechanism should it slow down . Mayra collected me on the Monday , now all I have to do is return to the ward with some requested Palestine badges . I would have done it sooner but I came down with COVID after I got home , not hospital related I must add , then Millie died , and on life went .
A tale I should have told of Millie….
I was busying myself about the flat early one morning when the phone rang . The cool voice of a receptionist asked, “Mr Adams when was the last time you saw Millie”. It was the vets, with a simple query but it was one of those calls when the your heart does a flip, was she OK, had she been runover, injured, who knows what had happened. I had last seen her about 30 minutes ago when I gave her her breakfast, I was still in my PJ’s. They said not to worry, someone had brought her into the surgery as she was a stray, would I be able to pick her up.
It turned out she had been taken to the vets by someone for a check up prior to giving her to their mother. They claimed the cat had been hanging around their barbecue for days, and was obviously under fed, and uncared for so they were going to give he to their mother, who needed a pet for company. But the first thing the vet did was to scan her for a chip, and up sprang my name, so they called me. Well obviously I would come and pick her up, could they just give me time to shower and get dressed. 50 minutes later I was calling into my local vets.
Err, no, they don’t have Millie. When the caller had said the vets I assumed it was the local one where Millie was registered. But no, it is somewhere else, where I do not know. Fortunately the call came in on my mobile phone. On retracing the number and calling it I discovered the vets is some miles away. So I have to call a cab.
On picking her up I worked out that people over the back of my garden, a few doors down, had noticed her hanging around when they had a barbecue. Funny that, domesticated cat turning up where people have food, giving it large with the appealing eyes. She was such a nice, good natured cat they felt she would make a good gift to their mother, too bloody true.
No harm done in the long run, although Millie seemed to have given their garden a wide berth in the following months. I never did identify who it was, but it left me with an abiding, unreasonable grudge against all the residents of that road.
I was busying myself about the flat early one morning when the phone rang . The cool voice of a receptionist asked, “Mr Adams when was the last time you saw Millie”. It was the vets, with a simple query but it was one of those calls when the your heart does a flip, was she OK, had she been runover, injured, who knows what had happened. I had last seen her about 30 minutes ago when I gave her her breakfast, I was still in my PJ’s. They said not to worry, someone had brought her into the surgery as she was a stray, would I be able to pick her up.
It turned out she had been taken to the vets by someone for a check up prior to giving her to their mother. They claimed the cat had been hanging around their barbecue for days, and was obviously under fed, and uncared for so they were going to give he to their mother, who needed a pet for company. But the first thing the vet did was to scan her for a chip, and up sprang my name, so they called me. Well obviously I would come and pick her up, could they just give me time to shower and get dressed. 50 minutes later I was calling into my local vets.
Err, no, they don’t have Millie. When the caller had said the vets I assumed it was the local one where Millie was registered. But no, it is somewhere else, where I do not know. Fortunately the call came in on my mobile phone. On retracing the number and calling it I discovered the vets is some miles away. So I have to call a cab.
On picking her up I worked out that people over the back of my garden, a few doors down, had noticed her hanging around when they had a barbecue. Funny that, domesticated cat turning up where people have food, giving it large with the appealing eyes. She was such a nice, good natured cat they felt she would make a good gift to their mother, too bloody true.
No harm done in the long run, although Millie seemed to have given their garden a wide berth in the following months. I never did identify who it was, but it left me with an abiding, unreasonable grudge against all the residents of that road.