How are you my hearties? It’s been a strange few days I’ve needed to get my head around. Those of you who follow me on FB know that I’ve been waiting for my repeat echo to say what happens next and I had it on Monday. Unfortunately for me it didn’t show improvement in terms of my EJection Fraction (hearts ability to pump blood round the body) and my anterior myocardial wall (heart muscle). My EF is still in severe bracket and my anterior wall still dead so I’ll be getting an ICD (an implantable cardioverison device affectionately called an ‘I can’t die’ by the community as it shocks you back to life if or when your heart stops. It also gets you out of dodgy rhythms which is most likely why I’ll need one) (see pic above for the one I’ll likely get) anyway I was gutted. Had I achieved an extra 5% of EF I wouldn’t have needed one. Now, when I spent 10 days in bed post heart attack, scoffing chocolate orange, boosts (a candy bar in the UK), kit Kat chunky (my fave) and more, I achieved an extra 15% EF!! Now I’m home and attending cardiac rehab, eating heart happy food and resting I achieve sod all!!!!!! So next time you see me scoffing my body weight in quality street chocolate remember, it’s for the good of my health!! Please post your EF stories below id love some hope and any HF improvement….

anyway, I posted on FB and told my nearest what had happened and immediately the standard reactions began. I am a very fortunate person in the sense many people care for me. It’s reciprocated believe me but one of life’s joys none the less. My all time favourite quote is ‘the greatest thing you’ll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return’ and love comes in many forms. The one you have for your hubby when he lets you have the TV remote to watch Eastenders (special moments), the one you have for your babies which is unconditional (until they shit on you, a story for another day), the one for your family which for years seems grudging but eventually you see how awesome they are and the one for friends, the family you got to choose yourself. Oh, and the one for KFC and Macdonalds (and Justin Bieber) I digress, my point is I have these amazing people and the poor Gits don’t know what the hell to say to me anymore and so resort to the old classics like ‘you’re strong enough to handle it’

‘You are the strongest person I know’

‘when shooting an arrow it must go backwards before it goes back’

‘can I borrow your hair straighteners mine have broken..oh no wait that one doesn’t count!

But are we strong? Seriously? Is it strong just to keep putting one step in front of the other with the hand you’ve been dealt stuck in your pocket? Is it strong just react to something you can’t control? Is it strong to sob in a corner at 2am, shaking uncontrollably whilst looking at pictures of your children wondering how much of their life you’ll get to see, realising youre STILL not married and your devout, dear departed Roman Catholic Gran, Mary, will be furious when you arrive in heaven having lived ‘over the brush’ and you know she will because she once stopped speaking to you for a month when you said the words ‘bleeding hell’, wondering why you were saved if life was going to be so bloody hard and devastating for all around you, in complete denial that the edema in your legs because of hormones even though you’ve never had it before, being torn between wanting to scoff sweets because you’re dying anyway to holding back because you won’t die if you’re healthy, to googling ‘what does an ICD shock feel like?’ And ‘what’s the latest age you can have a heart transplant and how long will it last?’ Because if that’s strength then I am FUCKING IRON MAN (excuse the language)!

We aren’t strong are we? Inside were just terrified little people with sick hearts wanting to live so badly that in some cases we’ve forgotten to actually live.

I’m trying so hard to get me back. I’m doing it all; taking Valium (nice), seeing a cardiac psychologist (not so nice, she’s nice I just don’t like reliving my worst memory when I realised a wasn’t a size 14 anymore), I joined support groups (some fab some not so fab) in some groups there’s almost a competitiveness to some members. You ask a question and then get belittled because your  case isn’t as severe as theirs in their opinion. It’s horrible and the last time I join any ‘bag for life refunds due to damage’ support groups!!! I love my scad UK support group and my ICD UK support groups as they’ve been such support to me. One member actually makes a sterling point. He has suffered numerous cardiac arrests due to an electrical fault in the heart, he has an ICD. He had a wake for himself and invited all he knew to celebrate his life after his ‘deaths’ and he says ‘when your head finishes spinning as it inevitably will, you’ll still be in the exact same position, so why bother?’ I do like this chap. But I’m on the team that finds its hard to share his wonderful view. I’m the bitter ‘how can her heart be ok when she eats lard for breakfast????’ Club member – sorry.

But similarly I have readers who don’t know how to help their loved ones through, what to say/do. There isn’t much you can do really, being there is good, I love a hug but not everyone does as I found out on a train recently when the man next to me explained ‘he had a cold and  wasn’t crying and to never touch him again’ be there when it’s dark and fear truly kicks in. I’m sure you’re tired but that 20 minutes sitting next to someone in fear can be a huge comfort. And don’t feel you have to be overly positive all the time, we know how good/bad what we’re facing is. We aren’t idiots. So please don’t tell us that getting an ICD is a good thing – it isn’t. It’s a necessary evil. Having a fully functional heart is a good thing! Imagine how you’d feel if you didn’t? Would you feel so fearless? Sometimes it’s what we need to hear ‘I am so sorry this happened to you, it’s shit and cruel and unfair and you don’t have to be strong today so cry or talk to me I can forget my feelings for a while and be strong I promise’. And most of all ‘I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll be here for you until you come back’. They are good things to say. But we have an obligation too. To try our best, not wallow all day every day and remember they almost lost someone they loved (you/me) and that will have had an impact. Maybe they are as scared of you going to sleep as you are.

But for the carers amongst you sometimes we don’t want to talk hearts at all. We do that in our little community. Maybe we want to hear how you are? How your love life is going? Did you sleep with Mark at the Xmas party???? Well?  Did you Lucy?? Or maybe you might just message to ask if you can borrow our hair straighteners because yours are broken. It’s all good, just be there in whatever way you can be.

As always thanks for reading, next blog on cardiac rehab so please email your stories. Share the blog I get so many messages saying it’s helping people and that means so much to me. Also I’m very egotistical and I’d like a bigger audience 🙂 much love xxx

 

 

Hello, so sorry I’m late with this. Fact is I’ve been shattered off my BB’s and had a shed load of Eastenders to catch up on but hope you’re all well? I promised you installment 2 and here we are. I will admit things got peculiar when I posted part one after I was accused of ‘making it up’. Very surreal let me tell you. Anyway, I checked to see if I hadn’t simply become delusional rather than had a heart attack and I was informed that yes, I am delusional because I still think you can lose weight eating KFC if you chase it with diet coke and fruit but also Yes, I did have a heart attack. We good?

So back to the story, here I am in the back of the ambulance listening to my mum jabber on about how it should be her laid here and not me. And I’ll admit to snapping inside because it seemed such a daft thing to say! But I laid in silence. In my head I was going over all I hadn’t done. I may never get to see my sons grow up, judge their girlfriends the way I was judged (I’m looking forward to that), eaten enough red velvet cake to make me sick, had strong words with Theresa May (ok this is a pipe dream, but I hold it close) and I’d never met, touched and held Justin Bieber. Sigh. This Bieber thing is relatively new. I was never a fan and considered him a child until I saw a video of him covered in tattoos and writhing around with the most gorgeous teeth (teeth are my thing) ever! And I fell in lust and I am ashamed. I am 37, he is 22. I am the mother of three boys and should the day arrive where one turns 22 and has a 37 year old thinking things about them as I do Justin B, I’ll be sending them to Outer Mongolia for their own safety! But seriously, the big one; I hadn’t lived to the point of no regret as a mother, wife and person. I hadn’t got to know my baby, what he liked or disliked, what he laughed at, what he believed in. He was 7 days old and I may never see him again. Had I instilled good values in my other two sons? Could they love easily? Forgive without grudge and fearlessly chase dreams? And I’d never married Kris, the man I lived for and loved without condition. (Still haven’t) So I wasn’t happy or about to give up without a fight. So many things flashed through my mind BUT as they geared up ready for when I went into cardiac arrest my beautiful, little heart kept beating and when I tell you what they found in the lab you’ll be amazed too!

I arrived at Blackpool at 3.57am. The irony was I’d been saying for weeks ‘we should go to Blackpool, see the illuminations’ as Blackpool each year display fab Christmas lights on the sea front and we used to take a horse and carriage down before we moved away. Anyway here I was in Blackpool no horse, and the only lights flashed blue. A team stood waiting, no one smiled (they’d been called out of bed I since learned and were knackered ha) they took me into a room and inserted more needles, looked at my ECG and didn’t say a word. Mother was told to go to relative room and I was wheeled into the cath lab. No one spoke to explain what was happening they simply grabbed my arm and off they went. They tried to insert the wire into my right arm 11 times but failed as you can see from my picture. They took my left and just then, at that point my cardiologist held my hand. He didn’t speak he just held it. And then let go to begin again. Finally the wire passed into my heart and the dye went in. I could hear mumbling and arguing and finally he said ‘ok get out of there asap’. Sounded like my first sexual experience but it was me who uttered those words! I laid silent, I hadn’t felt anything even the local anesthetic injection hadn’t bothered me. I was in shock! Luckily the chest pain has subsided. I was wheeled to CCU and my world was about to change forever!

The GTN drip was placed and I felt like I had a constant hang over, a potassium drip put up and a mountain of pills were given to me. I had a nurse called Lizzie. I loved her. How she coped with me in those first few days I’ll never know. She’s also the first person I’ve ever farted in front of without wanting to die! I hate toilet humour! I don’t like people farting and had never even done it in front of kris but my tummy was in trauma. I had to let go. It was to loud to deny. Luckily she laughed with me and then I cried. ‘I’m so scared’ I told her. ‘Mel, you’re going to be ok and have a lush Christmas’ she promised. It was November and I couldn’t see beyond the hour. The clock on the wall ticked away and I watched it every second. I couldn’t sleep no matter what anyone said. I know you’ll know what I mean when I say I couldn’t sleep as I was afraid to die while doing it. Finally at 8am my doctors appeared. Now, as we’ve discussed cardiologist don’t have the best bedside manners really. My fear was irrelevant, my living was all that mattered to them.

‘Ok Mel you’ve had a rare type of heart attack caused by a Spontaneous coronary artery dissection, usually caused by hormones in pregnancy making arteries fragile, your LAD artery has split from top to bottom, it’s impressive actually’ it didn’t frigging feel it.

‘Your blood pressure being so high and the upset of your premature birth created a perfect storm. Do you know why the hospital didn’t treat your BP?’ Er they were knob heads? I didn’t say that, i just shook my head.

‘we need to do some tests to see how bad the damage is so well just do an echo now’

The room was cleared and the echo done. I could see with my own eyes one side couldn’t work well. She finished and this time The female cardiologist said ‘There’s damage do you see? Someone will come and explain’ Why can’t you explain? I need to know now!! Is what I should have said but I just couldn’t speak. An hour later a new cardiologist appeared.

‘Hi Mel, by now you probably know that things aren’t too good. I’ve contacted wythenshawe transplant team but the problem we have is you take medication for another condition that makes you a risk of rejection’.

thats how I learned I needed a transplant! Just like that! He was so relaxed he may aswell have said ‘by now you probably know that Asdas own washing powder is shite for whites and you’re better off with Daz but your washer might not like it. Fancy some cake?’ But I said nothing. I couldn’t. I was numb. I wrote a couple of Facebook updates and sent a message or two but for that day or so I may aswell have been mute. For years my family have willed this to happen. My other half desperately begging the gods for me to shut my gob at times but not like this. Kris finally came into the room. My Dad had told him at 7am and he’d had to drive over after sorting the kids. I’ll never forget the look on his face. He was scared. I’ve never wanted anyone more. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl but in that moment I wanted my OH to hold me and never let go. Anchor me, tell me how our baby was, our children? But still I couldn’t speak but to say ‘don’t leave me’. They’d told me I was at risk of sudden cardiac death (or an electrical storm) for 3 days so for 3 days I clock watched and I kid you not. I was like a kid waiting for Xmas morning. They kept saying my heart had, had an insult. But to me an insult is a cocky 8 year old kid telling ‘your Mama’ jokes and calling you fat and running away!! I’d almost died they’d made it clear it was incredible I hadn’t. That’s not an insult. That’s a horror movie and somehow I find myself in the lead role!!!!

 

i was going to blog about medication today but then someone had the bravery to send me their story and it was equally as upsetting as my own and as I have spent the day being referred to a counsellor for PTSD, I figure I may as well show the same bravery and get this story out of my system. I have the Kleenex handy and a massive bar of chocolate (serotonin) as well as Valium!

its been one hell of an 10 weeks! I was expecting my 3rd and final baby and at 20 weeks pregnant I had experienced some chest pain. It was a ripping, burning pain and it radiated down my left arm. ECG was normal and I was given some Omeprazole and Valium. I went home and it passed. The pregnancy progressed without event until 31 weeks when my waters spontaneously broke. I argued he couldn’t be my son as I’m late for everything and yet here was this baby wanting out. Guess I’m just not that comfy! Anyway, we decided to try and keep him in for a while, you know I promised him an Xbox etc, nothing worked and I ended up having a c section bang on 32 weeks. the surgeon began to open me up and I chatted away with the anaesthetist about his Dutch roots and my love of terrible music (his opinion), where we would be headed on holiday (not together, that would be weird) and then he was out. I heard a cry and breathed a sigh of relief and then came the blow, he was being ventilated. I literally felt my heart break. They explained their reasons and rushed him away to Neonatal intensive care unit. Kris and I sat in shock. It’s surreal, wanting to be with your baby but being stitched up (I’d also asked for a tummy tuck but I’ve since realised they didn’t give me one!!). I went to the recovery room and then to close observation unit as I have a medical condition. The doctor came and told me Sonny was doing well and I should try to relax but I couldn’t, I was devastated he couldn’t breathe on his own. He needed me and I couldn’t be there. Here now comes an idiot family member to make my agony worse but ill leave those two out of this as I don’t want my anger to explode my heart. But to say these two should enter the Darwen awards and I wouldn’t stop them, is an understatement. Anyway, in close observation I noticed my heart beat looked funny on the monitor. It would go beep, beep, buzz (and flatline) and I could feel it. But they dismissed it. I was move to post natal and allowed to see my son. It will to this day and my last be one of the most incredible moments of my life. He was tiny at 5 pounds 3 and was in an incubator. I was allowed to stroke his head but not hold him while ventilated. I cried. The day after I was finally allowed to hold him as he was placed on BiPAP. Amazing! Ok lads I’ll stop now this isn’t a birth story hahah. I know how you don’t get emotional at things like this… I went back to th ward and had my BP taken and it was 157/100 and she wasn’t happy. She called a doctor who blamed stress, possible I guess but my HR was dropping. 50,40,38,37,36 and finally i was moved back to the delivery suite. BP now was 180/115 and I looked awful. Heart felt odd and I’d started with chest pain. They believed it stress and indigestion and other prescribed Valium and an anti acid. I took both and nothing happened. Odd thing was this awful anxious feeling I had like something was terribly wrong, like Donald Trump had won the presidential election and….oh wait…shit, that happened! But you know what I mean? The feeling of impending doom they call it. A classic heart symptom and made worse when they shut the door on you and leave you alone. I was afraid so I called my Dad. He came in at 4am by now my BP was 230/130 and I wasn’t allowed to see my baby. My chest pain was back and some bloods were taken. I was then given more diazepam and ranitidine. Nothing happened and by now I hadn’t slept for two days. I’d been frantically mailing a friend of mine who is a comedian now but was once an obstetrician. We’d looked at all possibilities, DVT, PE but those scans were clear. ECG was needed but never offered. Finally a cardiologist comes to see me at lunchtime the next day. I don’t wish to be rude but if he’d spent as much time examining me instead of his appearance id probably have avoided my STEMI. He loved himself, sharp suit, arrogance and thats where he came undone. ‘No, far too young for a cardiac event. Give some Ramipril for BP she can go home. Oh and frusemide. ‘But what about my HR?’ ‘Oh it’ll settle you may need a pacemaker when you’re older but we’ll see you as an out patient for that’. Ok then. Off i went. Spent the day with my baby in NICU singing I got you babe (I was Cher and he was sonny but frankly he didn’t pull his weight) and I went to my Mums at 8.30pm.

i ate some dinner, cried lots about leaving my son and laid on the sofa to watch some comedy. I watched two of my fave comedians Jack Whitehall doing his Lion King routine and Joe Lycett doing his Lorraine routine. Both exceptionally funny lads and lovely people. Now, I’m not saying it’s definitely their fault I had a heart attack, but I am saying it started during their videos. I’m not saying it’s their fault because that would ruin their careers but if I don’t get tickets to every tour they do I will start saying it’s their fault 🙂 The pain gripped me all at once. No warning. It tore down my chest and into my left arm. I shot up and said ‘it’s happening again’ I swallowed a bottle of gaviscon and ate a handful of diazepam. I waited and paced and it didn’t shift. I asked my dad to massage my upper back as it was radiating there and I’d been told it was a spasm so he began ‘massaging’. He was terrible at it. I was literally being kneaded like a pile of dough. It wasn’t helping. ‘Bread and milk’ he proclaims, I heard that’s good for this and I used to do it when I used to get heart burn’. I tried and it didn’t work. My mother chimes in ‘she needs to go to the doctor tomorrow and get something for this anxiety not drink bloody milk’ Dad bites ‘oh that’s right, ignore the thick-o builder, what do I know?’ Mum ‘oh shut up David! It’s obviously stress’ Yes ladies and gentlemen as I lay having a coronary my parents start a domestic!! Eventually Dad goes to bed and mother is watching me. I’m pacing, I walk out into the back garden and breathe in the air. It’s so painful and now it’s going into my right arm and jaw. I walk into the kitchen and start to vomit in the bin. ‘I’ve eaten too much dinner’ I announce. I decided to try some yoga! I get into (and this is no joke) the corpse position and start deep breathing (but not before swallowing another handful of Valium and the rest of the gaviscon. I moved from corpse to downward dog and then announced ‘fuck this, call an ambulance’. My mum had been trying to get me to agree to one for hours but as the hospital had said it was heartburn and stress I didn’t want to look stupid. Meanwhile I started tidying the kitchen.

You see from what I’ve heard men and women are very different when it comes to heart attacks. Men will likely collapse down struggling to breathe. Women will finish the ironing. Men will call out in pain, women will call out who they want to win X factor!

Joking aside I knew I was in trouble. Something inside you let’s you know. I gave in and fell down finally. And saw the blue lights through the window. Two girls walked in and asked what was wrong.

‘Please help me’ was all I could say. My  mother however had lots to say. Now If you knew my mother you’d know she means well but also talks well. Once the paramedics had been told about her high HR and stress and how she was a former a and e nurse they moved onto me.

They said it was probably nothing but needed to do an ECG. I was wired up and one was taken, then another and I heard my Mum call out ‘oh my god, she’s had one!’

I didn’t understand. The paramedic leaned over to me and said ‘listen Mel, you’ve had a massive heart attack’. And all I could say was ‘OK’.

Then it was pandemonium. Take this, I’m injecting this, put this under your tongue. They turned to my brother and said ‘can you get a little water for me?’ He said ‘in what? A glass, a mug’ I don’t care was the reply. The one time he  was hospitable was the wrong time. They dissolved the asprin and I drank that too.

I was too sick to go to our local hospital (I wasn’t bothered I mean, they’d almost killed me) so we were having an hours drive to the cardiac centre of excellence in Blackpool. I was very lucky. I hadn’t spoken since the ‘ok’ but now there was something I had to know. As they injected my morphine I whispered ‘am I going to die?’ ‘Not now I’m here’ was the reply. And off we went. Me and my anterior STEMI were on our way to Blackpool at 4am. See part two of the Event for answers and the real question you’re pondering ‘were there any sexy doctors to make this worth it?’

Guys it took me 8 attempts to write this! Major part of recovery. Share your event below if you haven’t already and thanks if you have xx

 

I don’t know about you but I (and certainly many I’ve spoken to) become a little hypersensitive to their bodies in the days/weeks/months proceeding their events. Some of us have 999/911 added to our friends and family numbers, just kidding (ahem). But it’s a scary time when many things can be confused with a new event, one that you simply don’t want to be invited to.

many of us cannot lie on our left hand sides. Doctors will argue there is no physical reason for this, I will argue that until they’ve felt it they can piss off! For me at least I am simply acutely aware of my heart when lying on my left. I feel each beat (and my heart isn’t playing nice at the moment giving me lots or ectopic beats or PVC’s which before your event you probably wouldn’t have even noticed. So many people get these little extras, but when you’ve had an event they can only mean one thing…..

YOU ARE ABOUT TO GO INTO VENTRICULAR TACHYCARDIA and DIE!!!!!!!

yes you, the very person that probably passed off a heart attack as ‘indigestion’ is now so hyper aware you believe death is always imminent. The extra beats begin, you start mentally saying your goodbyes and then….nothing happens!!!!! No collapse, no ICD Fire, no cardiac arrest…NADA!!!

Thank god! And it doesn’t matter than your cardiologist who has decades of experience has stuck you on a hundred monitors and repeatedly told you that they are benign and to remember your heart has had a shock and needs time to heal; you know better and each flutter repeatedly has you mentally prepping your will (in my case it’s very quick as I have sod all to leave anyone)

But this is all normal and it’s what happens when fear takes hold. Paramedics become your pals as they frequent your home. And of course because your ECG still looks dodgy you end up spending wasted hours in a and e waiting for troponin levels that deep down you know will be normal because this pain came on after a lamb vindaloo but truth is you can’t risk it. You can never risk it!

Anxiety hits and it’s deep and strong. No reason at all you will hyperventilate, you’ll worry that’s breathlessness and serious but if breathing focus gets rid of it or it came on suddenly as you were sat doing nothing it’s most likely anxiety, you’ll feel small and without confidence and reliant on so many others to make you feel normal.  And they will suck at it! They’ll try their hardest but my god they’ll say all the wrong things such as ‘I don’t know how you’re coping’ IM NOT!!

‘You must feel so lucky’ oh aye, top of the world.

‘youve been saved for a reason’ yes I’m curing cancer as we speak!

‘I bet you live life for now eh?’ I will do when this crippling anxiety pisses off!

the way people assume we should respond to near death is often very different to how many of us do.

you want to dance like no one is watching, but you’re scared you’ll fall and your blood thinners will kill you off.

You want to love without fear, but your scared he’ll say the wrong thing, you’ll cry and your heart will explode.

You want to live each day like it’s your last but that means crying in a corner full of regret! Why didnt I sleep with every man I had the chance to? Why did I say no to that extra slice of pie yesterday?????

You want to…..Piss off with all your cliches!

The classic is this ‘don’t be scared I mean, none of us know how long we’ve got. I could leave this house and get hit by a bus’ YES Lesley, and if you say anything like this again it’ll be me driving the bus!!!!!

Truth is it’s a true statement but for those of us in heart failure or who have already had a significant event or issue, the bus is revving outside our door. This was told to me by another Scadsister and It made complete sense. And also those who say stuff like that, they don’t mean it; if they thought they’d get hit by a bus when they left your house they’d move in!!

fact is anxiety is a massive side effect of cardiac problems. For some it’s fleeting, for others it’s something we have to work on. Therapy, meds (be careful here many cause arrhythmia so always check with cardiologist) and most of all support. A hug goes a long way with us. And don’t forget for those supporting cardiac patients to tell us how fantastic we look each day even when we don’t! It helps. None of us want to look sick!! I spent a tonne of money on make up I’m now too knackered to put on ha.

Anyway, stay strong guys and girls. Tomorrow we’ll talk medication so have a list of yours handy (how many times do you hear that?)

also comment below on your false flags post heart event. And share the blog people. Let’s have a fab community sharing stories that make us smile xx and remember… This too shall pass Xx

 

 

I know I said I’d tell you my event story next but the truth is each time I try to write it I have a huge panic attack haha. The last thing anyone needs is to walk in and find my hyperventilating on the floor. ‘My God, what happened?’ ‘Ah I was just blogging, who knew it was such an extreme hobby these days?’ I promise I’ll get brave one day and tell you all the gory details but as yet I haven’t been able to revisit where it happened either, no bad thing really as the BIG event happened at my Mums house and she drives me mental anyway so I have a good excuse to stay clear. ‘Dinner? You know that will do my PTSD no favours, Mother.’ But let’s look at day one post cardiac event shall we? It’s by far one of the worst days of our lives, no? During the actual event you are so focussed on pain or survival or unconscious so you don’t think too much, but after you’re stable, in bed and have had the ‘talk’ from your cardiologist, your mind awakens and BOOM, it ain’t pretty. I’d had all the meds, was tubed and wired up to the max with beeping everywhere and o2 being forced up my nose (not the phone network, the air) and in came my professor and cardiologists. Now, cardiologists are a different breed to most other physicians. Smart, self assured, dare I say arrogant? But you need them to be. The bedside manner isn’t always the best as you’ll see now….

‘So Melissa you’ve had what’s known as a SCAD, pregnancy hormones caused your main LAD artery to split top to bottom and your heart was starved of oxygen and this caused a heart attack, ok?’

‘well it’s not ok but yes, I understand’

‘your heart isn’t working well at the moment so we contacted another hospital to get you a heart but sadly they won’t accept you on their list due to your existing condition’

‘What???????’

‘did no one mention transplant?’

‘no, I guess it must have slipped their minds!!!’

‘anyway we have other options but for now we’d like to medically manage you. This means we’ll use only drugs and complete rest. You must stay in bed and use the bed pan. If you need to pass a bowel motion you must not strain as it can cause a repeat event or a split in another artery. So let it just happen. You must not use water that will take your breath away to wash with, and try to stay calm’.

And then the examination. Cardiologists talk in numbers and then tell you to ignore them. Drives you mad, for example he listed:

systolic murmur, BP 220/115, heart rate 98, SATs 96, ejection fraction 20%.

For the none cardiac amongst you, your Ejection Fraction is how well your heart pumps. 20% isn’t great! But after her lists the numbers he says;

‘ignore them!’ Ok but why take them if we are ignoring them?

‘im not ignoring them but you should’ Ok but how can I now if you’re not ignoring them?

‘well I am ignoring them to some degree I’m looking at you instead of the numbers’

arghhhh! Too confusing!

Anyway, I’d had another shock and thus my stomach had begun to gurgle and come to life. I needed to go, badly but his words rung in my ears, no pushing or straining. Now even when you have a normal, ER, poo you have to help it along a little. Unless it’s bad!! And I was too scared so I held it in. Eventually the urge passed and they began giving me a solution to make it easy for me to go. It certainly made me WANT to go but I wasn’t risking it, no way Jose!! So I kept taking the solution in hope eventually it’s just come out without help but the same time I wouldn’t dare help so I had the worst urge to go and then lacked the follow through if you pardon the pun. I spent the whole week with a look on my face that can only be compared to Hilary Clinton when asked about Donald winning the election, one of repulsion, one of frustration, one of resistance and one of utter revolt. Eventually, 2am one morning I couldn’t cope. In came the bed pan and I waited expecting little. I think the words I used were ‘My God’ in fact I think the nurse who took it away used those words too. Awfully embarrassing. But it was done and I’d survived!

this brings me to many things we fear doing post event.

1) Crying! So we start and then stop and then start and the stop like some crap doll you buy your kid that cries in one position and stops in another. We mustn’t cry, our hearts might explode!

2) coughing! We mustn’t cough as the heart may explode.

3) sneezing! See above! I was actually very lucky as my first sneeze happened when I was with a doctor and after he said ‘see, you’re ok’ he was used to me asking if things like this could cause an explosion of the heart.

4) sex! I still haven’t, I may never! Even if Ben Affleck walked in now I’d have to offer him a cup of tea and a bit of cake over my body. Damn it!

5) all subsequent poos for around 2 weeks.

And the worst one, laughing.

It’s awful, I can’t tell you what ridiculous things scare us in the early days…. Share yours below.

The one thing everyone discussed was time! How important it was. In the first 3 days after an event you are at high risk of death and so you are closely monitored and if you go anything a defibrillator comes with you. Not good for your mental state but there it is. I took things too far, I’d heard with each 6 hour period that passes you were safer and so I clock watched. I didn’t sleep, talk, eat I simply watched the clock and with every successful 6 hours I celebrated with a  ‘YES’! Out loud and without apology. In the end I had to explain before they called the psychiatric team!

Back to options, the next discussion was Bypass where they take an artery from your leg  and graft it to your heart to bypass the damaged one. Sometimes they call this Coronary Arterty Bypass Grafting. A surviving sister messages me today to say when she was in ICU and he soon medicated she kept hearing staff use the world Cabbage and obviously thought they were disrespecting her fellow patients who may well not be conscious only to discover they were discussing whether to bypass her or ‘cabbage’ her. I loved this story!

So, did I need bypassing? Did I need a transplant? What was happening? Find out next time…. Ha I’ve always wanted to say that!

guys I can’t believe your support and messages. So keep them coming and share away. I’m trying to make as many hearts smile as I can. Xx