Last Wednesday, Hubby and I were out on a shopping trip to Cromer for provisions, expecting to complete it with chips from No 1 in Cromer. A place rightly unafraid to say exactly what it truly is. But in the end we had to skip the chips. And considering why we had to eventually skip the chips, then eating chips should never have been on the menu.
I'd woken that morning with the sort of tightness in the middle of my chest I'd been intermittently experiencing, in a lighter manner for a couple of days. These fleeting moments of chest tenseness had been around since a cold I'd had in April. The cold lingered as a chesty cough and then left me a parting gift of this on and then off again tightness. Experiencing it most strongly when the weather changed to warmer and humid, or colder and humid.
But on this morning, it had felt from the moment I woke up, far more intensely taught than ever before. Before it had been easy to just put it down to stress, because the tightness would ease off with rest in an hour or so. The early warning signs had been vague, and were not the classic 'heart attack' ones you are told to look out for. Also, there was a lot of self kidding going on. Preferring to turn a blind eye to the significance of minor discomforts, because, after all, they did go away.
However, on this occasion, the aching tenseness was constant and persisted in becoming slowly worse. Until the point when we were out walking in Cromer, and I said to Hubby - I think you need to take me to Sheringham Medical Centre, something is not right here. The ECG showed nothing, my blood pressure was a little erratic, but maybe as much a sign of me getting emotionally worked up, than a symptom. But they had to send me to Norfolk & Norwich Hospital, for tests the local surgery was not equipped to do. These would ascertain if I'd either had, or was in the middle of having, a heart attack.
Initially they'd called an Ambulance, which I was quite looking forward to travelling in. But in the end they thought my condition was stable enough, to let Hubby and I drive there. They didn't seem overly alarmed, though remained concerned. Later a nurse at Norfolk & Norwich Hospital said, that if I'd arrived via an Ambulance, chances are I'd have been dealt with more rapidly. Which is useful to know for a future occasion, but not useful right after we'd embraced the self help initiative.
The Norfolk & Norwich ( hereafter N & N H ), is a University Hospital, attached to the UEA. I'd guess it is the largest hospital in the whole of Norfolk, serving a huge catchment area. It has a well served, modern looking Hospital campus.
Arriving clutching my Doctor's referral they took one look at it, immediately began doing my blood pressure, another ECG, almost before I'd said hello. These activities were soon to punctuate entire days at regular intervals. Constant ECG's and testing of blood pressure, to update how things are or are not progressing. Once we arrived in A&E and entered the hospital administration, our pace of advancement did slow. We waited an hour to have the first blood test, more than an hour and a half for the results to come through, and then to see a Doctor for the first time.
He said that most of the blood test was totally fine, but a high level of an enzyme was present in one, which meant my heart must have been encountering some type of stress. They did another blood test to ascertain if that level of enzyme was a rising or falling one. To indicate where we might be in this unspoken of 'event'. Whatever the result, I was going no where. Once a bed was found in the Coronary Care Unit I'd be in overnight, at the very least.
Then off for an X Ray. To press my torso in a firm embrace with a white opaque glass surface. There is something I rather like about modern medical tech, it has a form that communicates competent reassurance, And I get quite engaged and excited about being involved with it. Its a bit like one has entered a science fiction mothership. To the point of my not really worrying about the existential threat in present moment that much. And then we went back to A&E to await the results, and hopefully that much promised bed. We'd arrived at N&NH around 1pm, it was now 10.30pm. Hubby decided it was best to go home, as there was no sign whatever when I would be found a bed.
An hour after he'd left, I started with a headache, which progressed imperceptibly into nausea and wooziness. A nurse, saw my face suddenly turn ashen grey, rushed over, to find my heart rate had rapidly plummet from 48 to 28 and was proceeding to go further downwards. The rapidity with which these circumstances changed alarmed everyone - including me. No one shouted action, but I was instantly surrounded by furious activity, in a gaggle of people asking me questions, pulling off or fixing on pads and wires, whilst being rushed on a trolley into the Emergency ward. This was just like it is in the movies. All the while I was struggling to keep myself conscious. This, I thought, might be how my life will end, in a rapidly moving blur of ceiling tiles, lights and extractor fans. Whilst the increasingly distant voices of medics, urge me to stay with them, and I drift off into the ether.
The crisis passed. I was now parked in the Emergency Ward, still awaiting the bed. With nothing else to engage with, I became obsessed with the screen showing my ever changing heart rate and blood pressure. So I know there was another minor heart rate dip from 50 to 35 that lasted barely a moment before popping back to normal.
I now could recognise the sense of an all enveloping dizzy feeling when it begins. As if I would be swallowed up by my own shallow breathing. But after the 'incident' everything appeared to stabilise, the taughtness eased, then disappeared. Now pumped up with all sorts of drugs, narcotic and otherwise, let's just say I was ever so slightly wide eyed. Whilst I lay there under a couple of thin blankets in a chilly underground ward. There was not much chance of a deep sleep, for sleep was now associated with drifting off into the ultimate unconsciousness, but I did manage a substantial nap. At around 4 am the bed in the Coronary Care Unit came free.
SHERINGHAM DIARY NO 114 - In Coronary Care - Part Two.
Will follow sooner than you'd expect.
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