Walking along a crowded street wearing a device with wires attached made me strangely aware of how dodgy it might appear to others, however it was all perfectly innocent as I’d just been to the hospital to get a 48 hour heart monitor fitted. My beats per minute rose a little when the penny dropped that I should probably quickly check to make sure I had no cables dangling from under my jumper, but thankfully everything was securely strapped to the waistband of my jeans. Wishing to avoid any unnecessary panic I chose to return straight home rather than risk setting off any shop alarms.
Fortunately this monitoring was taking place during a weekend, which avoided enduring a ‘show and tell’ session in the office. I must admit that while most of the time I managed to forget I was wearing it, trips to the bathroom were a little more complicated than usual due to having to untangle myself, but overall the whole thing went without any major hitches.
I now have to wait for my cardiologist to examine all of the data, and hopefully the results will provide him with everything he needs in order to make a decision about the next course of action regarding my ongoing valve issues. A few years ago this would’ve required a two-day stay in a hospital ward, but thankfully nowadays all of this can be done while you go about your daily business. Technology really is a wonderful thing…
The last time I was up at 6am it involved a flight to somewhere fabulous, however this was no holiday; quite the opposite. A good friend was taking me miles out of my comfort zone, in every sense of the word, to a specialist heart centre in order to undergo tests, including one cheerfully named a ‘stress echo’. Any test including the word stress was never going to be much fun, and so the tone was set for the day.
I can’t remember the last time I was on a bike and I’ve certainly never ridden one topless, but there’s a first time for everything. In my mis-spent youth, having a man I’d only just met apply cold gel to a probe and run it across my bare boobs would’ve been considered a ‘blindin’ night out‘, however, when you’re past your prime, not to mention stone cold sober, it’s surprising quite how bashful you become. Onlookers included a nurse, my cardiologist and a registrar (should’ve sold tickets!)
Well, the good news is that my heart muscle is fine, the not-so-good bit is confirmation that I will, at some point, face valve replacement surgery. Ho humm… There’s also a slight issue regarding tachycardia as my resting heart was beating 100 times per minute, but it may have been partly due to anxiety. At least I’ve now had a thorough cardiac review and have been able to speak to my cardiologist in person about my concerns, and I’m now reassured that I’m not about to suddenly conk out unexpectedly. I do still have to undergo a 48 hour heart monitor test, so there’s more fun to be had from the NHS at the end of the month, so I shall look forward to that. Wonder how many beats per minute it’ll do after a couple of espressos…?
At my scheduled cardiology appointment I had the usual ECG with a side-order of echocardiogram before spending half an hour discussing my recent health issues with the heart valve nurse. I was reassured to discover that the leaky valves are no worse, however due to some new chest ‘niggles,’ along with swollen ankles and the cough that I’ve had since January, I’m now going to be asked to return in a couple of weeks time to have a heart monitor fitted. I shall apparently be wearing my funky tech for two days so they can see what’s actually going on with my ticker, so that’ll be fun.
In less exciting news I’m also going to be facing an invasive angiogram to find out whether my arteries are furring up like an old kettle; which could explain my symptoms. I have to admit I’m less than keen but I have little choice if I want my cardiologist to make a full and accurate diagnosis. Although it’s positive that the NHS is doing all it can to check every inch of my insides, it’s not a procedure I relish.
Oh well, at least for today I’ve come away with a little bag full of new tablets to try out in the meantime, so hopefully by the time I have to have my arteries filled with something colourful that’ll show up on an xray I might’ve stopped hacking my lungs up. Fingers crossed!
Since January, I’ve been feeling distinctly below par with a cough, and as yet none of the NHS bods who’ve seen me so far can tell me why; despite numerous tests, let alone come up with a cure. It hasn’t stopped me from getting on with my new job and it certainly didn’t prevent me from enjoying a week of Spanish sunshine back in March, but it’s been quite draining nonetheless.
So, after weighing up various pros and cons, I’ve just booked another holiday (as you do) and I’m feeling better already! It won’t be for a while, which will allow time for my medical woes to hopefully be fixed, but at least it’s something nice to look forward to. This will be my very first proper ‘adults only‘ holiday, so that’s going to be quite a revelation I suspect, and as usual I’ve opted for all-inclusive in The Canaries.
Ahhhh… I can picture it now… sun, sand and sangria… and absolutely no need to worry about acting ‘inappropriately’ around other people’s offspring. I have a feeling this could get messy… how fabulous!
Unlike some, I may not be able to list more than a hundred names in my circle of friends, but I’m hugely grateful to have the small, but perfectly formed, group of people in my life who are always there whenever I’m in need.
After several weeks of enduring a persistent cough, and assuming that there was no reason to trouble the NHS because “It’s just a virus” and “There’s a lot of it about“; not to mention the fact that it’d be easier to get a date with Johnny Depp than a GP appointment these days; I found myself two days ago hardly able to breathe and feeling extremely unwell.
Despite it being late in the evening, my selfless chum came to pick me up, took me to the hospital walk-in centre, and then waited two and a half hours with me until I was finally examined, before returning me safely back home. As it turns out I needed antibiotics, so it really was necessary for me to seek medical assistance asap to avoid things turning nasty.
I’m a very lucky lady indeed and I’ll never take my mates for granted. I really do appreciate everything they do for me. Thank you…!
Just over two and a half years ago I was a size 22 and weighed 13 stones! After cutting out all the junk food, using a smaller plate and doing lots of walking I’m now a very happy and healthy size 12-14. However, despite my achievement, the NHS, (my cardiologist in particular), doesn’t share my joy and it’s all because of numbers.
Due to my height (lack of) the fact that I actually weigh 12 stones, (despite looking and feeling ‘normal’), my BMI is 30 which puts me in the ‘obese’ category! All the various weight-to-height charts suggest I should weigh 9 stones, which would technically leave me having to lose another three stones… despite the fact I’m already down to a size 12-14!!!!
Luckily, I have the common sense to be proud of what I’ve achieved, but others in a similar position might feel disheartened. This has two potential outcomes; either they’ll give up, return to an unhealthy diet and regain all the weight they lost, or they’ll develop an eating disorder.
While I realise that many people do need to lose weight in order to ease pressure on joints and bones, common sense needs to prevail, and once you are at the stage when you’re finally comfortable in your own skin then throw away the scales, stop the weekly weigh-ins, and just enjoy being fabulous!
It’d been a whole year since I’d last seen my consultant cardiologist, and when I went for my follow-up appointment today for the results of my annual heart scan I fully expected a simple three minute consultation to say that nothing has changed and to return for my next scan as planned the following year. Luckily, a friend took me there and I have to admit it was good to have a bit of moral support. It’s not nice to sit in the cardiology department on your own for any length of time, surrounded by people who clearly have major medical woes.
After hanging around for what seemed an eternity I was eventually ushered into a small consulting room, where my consultant told me that the two iffy valves in my ticker (aortic and mitral) hadn’t got any worse, which is what I’d expected all along but was nice to actually get confirmation. The other positive news was he was now putting me on a new two-year programme, so no more annual scans and appointments – yay! They’re also setting up a one-stop heart clinic, so in the future I can get my scan done in one department and then pop along to see a cardiac nurse for the results the same day, which would be excellent. While I’m obviously thrilled to get such positive news, I’m not entirely sure why I couldn’t have simply been sent a letter with that information; no wonder the jolly old NHS is skint!