SHERINGHAM DIARY No 114 - In Coronary Care - Part Two

There followed a time filled with many firsts, via a Coronary Care Ward. My first full day in a hospital critical care ward. My first urination in a recycled patent bottle ( whatever you do don't overfill them ) My first use of a commode. My first day in the hands of the NHS (kindly attentive, well organised and reassuring). My first day where everything was summoned at the press of a button. My first bowl of NHS porridge and coffee (actually, more acceptable than you'd think).

I was told I'd be in hospital for a few days, at least. Depending on what tests showed. At some point I was to have a Percutaneous Coronary Intervention and Coronary Angiography. Which sound mighty impressive as terms. One is a quite simple procedure that floods the heart with a staining ink to highlight all its internal structure. Depending what they find, they intended to use Space Inducing Balloons ( I love that term ) to enable any blocked arteries to be widened. I'm in a queue, so it would to be a couple of days before the operation happened.

In the meantime I got delightfully pushed around on my trolley bed from ward to ultrasound lab and back again. Impressed by the confident and skilled way the hospital porters push and negotiate the corridors, sometimes executing extremely tight turns. They bang into nothing, no doors, no nurses, no patients. They are such unsung heroes.

I reach the Echo Lab where they perform an ultrasound on my heart, particularly concerned with detecting any sign of ill health in thevarteries. The lab technician played back the sound of each artery, which has its own distinctive sound and rythym pattern. All was OK, and did not highlight any major issue. The consultant implied they rarely showed sufficient detail anyway. He could finally be definite, I'd had a heart attack, which he suspected had caused no damage to the heart. The damage was elsewhere, so the next thing was to investigate the state of my arteries.

My first night I was in a room on my own. The second night I'd been moved to a ward in the Coronary Care Unit, which was not as good. The ward took till gone eleven before it quietened down. The staff being some of the noisiest. Then there was the guy in the bay next to mine, he had chronic emphysema, among many other things wrong with him. He had the loudest lengthiest chestiest ruttle of a cough, that's sounded as though he will puke up the entire innards of the universe. I was offered earplugs, but as I said to the night nurse, I didn't think they'd really be any help. Miraculously, I did eventually get a few hours sleep.

In the morning I felt fine. Unexpectedly I was quickly picked up and whisked off for my Angiogram, just before breakfast. Then whisked back, because someone had jumped the gun. Having not had breakfast, nor my morning meds, the essential prep was lacking. A couple of hours later I was picked up again, but that journey was aborted on the way, as a primary incident had just taken precedent. It would now be in the afternoon, time not yet known. 

There'd been the tantalising prospect of going home dangled in front of me. Depending how the Angio went, whether they need to install any Space Inducing Balloons, and were able to do that there and then, plus anything else unforeseen that needed attention. So a lot of 'ifs' there, perhaps not to invest too strongly in, outcome wise.

Third time lucky, I made it to the Angiography surgery corridor. Again I found the tech side quite fascinating. The operating table had straps and grips. With a white curved X Ray machine, shaped like a massive microscope circled over it. They applied a local anesthetic so you don't feel much in your arm. They inserted a tube up a major artery that fed up to and into my heart. My arm tingled in a very pronounced manner, it felt, like it had suddenly become a radiating sparkler. 

The Angiogram showed one thin artery, a Cx* was clogged, all the others were fine. The surgeon decided to not put in any Space Inducing Balloons ( Ah, shame, I was looking forward to talking about them endlessly) this was because in a narrow blocked artery they might make the situation worse. He thought drug treatment would do a better job at clearing any blockage. My heart was hunky dory.

The Angio was the last of what had been a full on day for that department. So there was a bit of an end of term atmosphere. My being able to be discharged, however, took another six hours. Whilst we waited for the incision in my wrist to heal sufficiently well. I was given a whole load of medicines and info that will take time to weave a lifestyle around. Life will have to proceed differently from now on. It's a challenge that it would be foolish not to be up for.

Cx* - Short for circumflex, it's one of two branches off a main artery that deliver oxygenated blood, apparently. Oh, the joy of googling.