Another Complication

Another Complication 

Monday morning, 1 March, started well. I had a good night, got up for breakfast, managing half a Weetabix (I was always a "two Weetabix a day" girl, but I knew I'd have to build up slowly!) and tea, feeling really relaxed.  I went out to feed the fish, and walked around the garden, just enjoying the sunshine, and being home. I had rests throughout the day, and come the afternoon, mindful of the physiotherapists' advice that I should walk every day, and go a little further each time, I decided to get my coat on and do my 6 minutes stint outside. 

As it turned out, it was not such a good idea after all. A cold wind had got up, and although I reckoned I was warmly dressed enough, I felt terribly cold. Back indoors, I checked my pulse rate - I knew it should have gone up, and then slow down back to normal after a fairly short time; but on this occasion, it didn't; my pulse rate carried on increasing, and it was extremely frightening when nothing seemed to calm it down.

I rang Al, and he gave us several tips on how to check what rate my pulse was going at, but it became impossible to count, and he said I should not wait, but ring 999 and request an ambulance. 

I took his good advice, and within a few minutes, the paramedics arrived and started carrying out checks on me, with the decision quickly made I needed to be taken to A&E at the local NHS Hospital, under sirens and blue lights! Good grief - this was not the homecoming I had hoped for, but clearly they thought it necessary. 

Throughout the journey, the paramedics kept checking on me, and on arrival I was taken straight through to A&E. I was put in a cubical, and a lovely male nurse came in to see me  and fit a cannula, and then over the course of the next couple of hours, I was seen by various Doctors, who confirmed I had Atrial Fibrillation, and they prescribed bisoprolol and magnesium and furosemide - and probably other medications I can't remember! - and ECGs.  When I explained I had undergone aortic valve replacement surgery a week ago, one cardiac specialist told me about 40% of patients who have surgery develop AF, so it wasn't exactly unexpected; but it would have been nice to have been in the 60% of people who managed to avoid it.

It was all very nerve-wracking, to say the least, but during my stay, I met many very kind and concerned Doctors and nurses, and at last my heart rate returned to a normal rhythm. I was told would probably have to stay in hospital for a few days to see how things were going, and that I also had a pleural effusion on my lungs, which might need to be drained - this would be done under local anaesthetic and was not a difficult procedure. It was pretty horrible to realise I might have to face yet more treatment - even if only minimally invasive! - after having gone through so much already.

There was no bed available on a ward for me, so I was still lying in A&E when to my total surprise and delight, Al suddenly materialist by my bedside!

"Oh, Al!" I said, " I can't believe you're here!"

"Well, Grandma," he said, "you know if you want to see me, all you have to do is dial 999!"

As soon as he knew I was going to be taken to A&E, Al had got in his car to drive up to London. In the meantime, Wendy had made sandwiches for me - again, a selection of cheese, shredless marmalade and strawberry jam - and put them in a bag with bottled water, my toothbrush and toothpaste, tissues, etc. - in fact, anything I might need over the next day or so, and as soon as Al arrived, she had given him the bag to bring to me in the hospital. 

It was just wonderful to have him with me, even if only for a few minutes; it was a great morale-boosting treat to know he was there! 

After some further time in A&E, a bed became available on the Medical Receiving Unit, so I was transferred there, and the staff continued monitoring me, making sure my heart rate stayed stable. I had regular visits from various specialist doctors, who were all kind and helpful, and with varying ideas about how to keep me safe in the future; with some, I also had such interesting conversations; they all came from different backgrounds, and I learned so much.

I ended up spending 4 nights in the Department. It was decided I should take Bisoprolol to help my heart maintain a steady rhythm, and medication called Rivaroxaban, to keep my blood thin enough to protect me from further problems. I would have to carry a card to show I was taking it, but it least Rivaroxaban would not require me to have regular check-ups, as I would if I was on warfarin.  

I had to laugh a bit, because the pharmacist who came up to see me to explain the seriousness of taking Rivaroxaban was very particular about telling me that yes, I would be able to drink alcohol whilst on these pills, but I must be very careful not to get to a stage where I could be so intoxicated I might fall over, as that could cause me to have serious bruising and blood loss...  

"It's fine," I said, "I actually don't drink - or only very rarely: say a sip of champagne to toast the Bride and Groom at a Wedding - I don't like the taste of it!"

I also explained one of the reasons I don't drink is because I sing a lot, and when I am on stage, I want to be razor-sharp, my concentration on my performance  totally focussed... but still I got the idea that she didn't quite believe me, and repeated I would have to be careful not to over-indulge. 

"Well, then," I said, "I shall just have to make jolly sure I don't fall off the stage!" Heigh ho.  It's sometimes hard to convince folks that my real enjoyment - and the equivalent of most people's "wine o'clock" moment after a hard day's work - is actually a lovely hot cup of tea, a bar of Cadbury's Dairy Milk chocolate, and the Telegraph cryptic crossword!

It was also confirmed I had what one Doctor called Dressler's syndrome, which is fluid in the pleural cavity of my lungs. This is also common after heart surgery, and can be removed by inserting a needle and aspirating the fluid. I was really disappointed to hear about this development, but I was reassured that it was a simple procedure, and if I needed to have it, it would be carried out under local anaesthetic. 

By Friday, the consensus was that I was back in normal heart rhythm, and if another echocardiogram showed all was well, I could go home. I was so relieved; I knew I'd have to stay on the bisoprolol 2.5 mg tablets, but it was a small dose, and if it kept everything running smoothly, that was fine by me.

The echocardiogram was satisfactory, so I had another evening discharge, with Bob and Wendy coming to collect me. It would be lovely to think I can now look forward to really being at home now, and making a good recovery in my own time!

Whilst I was in hospital,  I'd had time to think about the way Bob, Wendy and Al had really been there at all times for me, ready to fight my corner - especially organising my move to a better room at the hospital where I'd had the operation - and making sure I had whatever I needed after my emergency trip to A&E. As I've said before, it's not in their natures to be very demanding and "front of house" - that's usually my role! - but they had done me proud and I got inspired by and for them. I wrote "Rottweilers" as a tribute to all their successful efforts:

ROTTWEILERS!

You have become Rottweilers,

With snarling lips and fangs

You will get across the drawbridge

’Ere portcullis clangs.

 

For there are many arrows

You’ve had to dodge and jinx

And other tireless dangers -

Like rampant, pouncing lynx!

 

And still you have to persevere

Any by some cunning guile

Get through until we won the day

And hurdled every stile. 

 

You all have fought my corner

When troubles came to knock;

Four strong, we cling together,

We stand as solid rock.

 

Alexandra Wilde

 

Written in Hospital A&E, March 2021