Hard hearted, me? Well, technically speaking, there are parts of my heart that are hard. Take my arteries, for instance. On Friday I was lying on a trolley in a hospital with a tube going up my femoral artery to my heart: it was then pumped full of dye to show where my arteries are causing a problem (the problem being angina) and how bad it is.
I've had plenty of time to get used to the idea of having heart disease. My father had his first heart attack when he was in his thirties. His brother and sister have had heart attacks. His father died of a heart attack, so did his uncle, and so did his grandfather. It was safe to assume that I would one day develop the heart disease that every member of his family has had, but somehow I didn't think it would be just yet. After all, women are supposed to be protected by their hormones from heart disease, at least until the menopause, and I'm a long way off that. I guess that's why I tried not to think about the pains in my chest last summer. I thought it was because I was unfit, so I joined a gym. Didn't get any pain while I was there, but when I stopped going because I had a bad cough the pains started up again, and were worse than before. I finally went to the doctor just after Christmas and after a load of tests, got the 'good news'. Ah well, it's not the end of the world. My aunt and uncle are still alive and kicking (although the uncle looks as if it's the bucket he's going to be kicking pretty soon) and they're well over 20 years older than me. I've found out earlier than they did, so am taking preventive steps (and pills. Lots and lots of pills. And more exercise ...) so I'll probably outlive them all. Having said that, it was still a shock and I've felt pretty depressed ever since.
I've had plenty of time to get used to the idea of having heart disease. My father had his first heart attack when he was in his thirties. His brother and sister have had heart attacks. His father died of a heart attack, so did his uncle, and so did his grandfather. It was safe to assume that I would one day develop the heart disease that every member of his family has had, but somehow I didn't think it would be just yet. After all, women are supposed to be protected by their hormones from heart disease, at least until the menopause, and I'm a long way off that. I guess that's why I tried not to think about the pains in my chest last summer. I thought it was because I was unfit, so I joined a gym. Didn't get any pain while I was there, but when I stopped going because I had a bad cough the pains started up again, and were worse than before. I finally went to the doctor just after Christmas and after a load of tests, got the 'good news'. Ah well, it's not the end of the world. My aunt and uncle are still alive and kicking (although the uncle looks as if it's the bucket he's going to be kicking pretty soon) and they're well over 20 years older than me. I've found out earlier than they did, so am taking preventive steps (and pills. Lots and lots of pills. And more exercise ...) so I'll probably outlive them all. Having said that, it was still a shock and I've felt pretty depressed ever since.
Friday's angiogram showed narrowing of one of the 3 major arteries, so I'm going to have to go back for another procedure and have angioplasty, and have a stent fitted. That involves another tube, this time containing a balloon and a mesh (the stent), being guided up to my heart. Once it's in place, the balloon will be inflated. This will expand the mesh, which will hold open the artery. The balloon is then deflated and removed.
I'm trying very hard to adopt a 'Whatever' attitude, rather than a 'What the fuck?' attitude - I need to save my emotional energy for fights that are worth it, instead of getting worked up about people who leave dirty spoons in the sink at work, instead of putting them in the dishwasher (or washing them!) and the fact that I am expected to help out other departments, when no other bugger in any other department will lend me a hand. It's simpler to just do it and shut up than to argue, but it's a lesson I'm finding very hard to learn.
Of course, timing is not good. The angioplasty is due in about 4 weeks - the same time as I'm supposed to be going to London for the weekend, and the same time that my new suite is due to arrive. Ah well, no point in getting worked up about it.
No comments:
Post a Comment