Daveleicuk, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons
On Tuesday 11th February at 08:10, I had a heart attack. The alarm had gone off at 07:30, downstairs, I made tea for myself and Mrs. 10210, bringing it back upstairs. We sat in bed chatting before she got up, I looked at my phone, ending up on Going Postal to see what had been happening. Mrs. 10210 was now downstairs having her breakfast, she was going out just after 09:00. I felt a pain in my back, thinking it was the way I was sitting in bed, I tried moving to ease it. Suddenly the pain moved from the back round to the front, I swore a couple of times, it hurt, lying down I wriggled about to see if it would go away. It didn’t, the pain moved towards my right arm, nothing I could do helped. Someone was jumping about on my chest. Banging on the floor, Mrs. 10210 came running up the stairs. “I’m having a heart attack, call an ambulance,” mixed in was every swearword in my vocabulary. My breathing was short and rapid, I was writhing about on the bed. She didn’t tell me the ambulance dispatcher had said it would be up to two hours. Our daughter arrived, she had been dropping off the grandchildren at school before heading to work. She works as head of admin at a local hospital, she was on the phone trying to get an ambulance here sooner. As she was doing that, it came down the road, twenty minutes after the original call. The ambulance staff were efficient, there were loads of questions, in between, they tried to slow my breathing down by telling me to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. I was given an aspirin, followed by a squirt of GTN spray and a drink of Oramorph to ease the pain they then hooked me up to an ECG machine for a heart trace. By now my jaw was aching, I found out later this is a classic sign of a heart attack. A phone call was made, clothes were being hastily put in a bag for me. I was helped to dress, I had to walk down the stairs, one in front and one behind, a trolley was outside the front door. I remember thinking before I left the bedroom, the paramedic had left black marks from his shoes on the wood flooring, Mrs. 10210 would have the arse about that. Strange what you think of.
It was off to Glenfield Hospital, rather than being taken to A&E at another hospital, it is a hospital that specialises in heart care. Straight into the CDU, (Clinical Decisions Unit), I thanked the ambulance people, Mrs. 10210 sat on a chair next to me waiting. The doctors and nurses must be well practiced in this sort of thing, I was hooked up to monitors, blood pressure tested, more Oramorph, a thing on my finger to check my blood oxygen levels. The pain was easing, whether it was the morphine or a general easing of the pain, I didn’t know or care. I remember being given tablets to take, no idea what they were, it was followed by tea for both of us. After midday it was an echo sound on my chest to see what damage had been done. I wasn’t told anything, doctors and nurses came and went, the whole place was running at full pelt. There was an injection into my stomach, followed by a blood thinning tablet. Occasionally an alarm would sound and you could hear the staff running. With me stabilised, and later in the evening, Mrs. 10210 left, she would be back in the morning, she was replaced by our daughter. During the evening, someone came to check on me, she was checking for bedsores, my feet and backside were photographed. The night was noisy, I’m not sure I slept much, there were constant checks, blood pressure was checked every couple of hours. I can’t remember peeing, but no doubt I did.
Day 2
Still in the CDU, still being checked constantly, I was to be moved onto a ward when a bed became available. Had cornflakes for breakfast. Doctor came round, said I would be in hospital until a stent was fitted. The move happened around 15:00, I was wheeled up to a four man bay. Once settled in and hooked up to a heart monitor, then another ECG, the heart monitor was connected to a wi-fi unit, I could move about. I went for a wash and to clean my teeth. Afterwards, my feet, arse and elbows were checked again for bedsores. One thing that happens in hospitals is you are asked the same questions over and over, it’s a constant request for full name, date of birth, if I have any allergies and am I in any pain. I had chosen peri peri chicken for my evening meal, it’s tasty, but not enough, afterwards, there was a hot drinks trolley with crisps and biscuits.
Opposite me is Harvey, he came in for a stent, they couldn’t perform the procedure due to an issue with his arteries, he then caught an infection and has been waiting for it to clear before they can try again, he doesn’t say much and keeps his curtains closed most of the time. Next to him is Charles, on his bedside table are urine bottles, the last time I was in hospital, they were stainless steel, now they look like they are made of paper mâché. He pees a lot, is very well spoken, and he farts. If farting was an Olympic sport then he would win gold. He does it when he is talking, eating, sleeping and when he is just lying in bed, it’s constant, there is never a ‘pardon’ or ‘excuse me’. To my left is Reg, he is quiet, but says odd things, not sure what is wrong with him. We are all roughly the same age, being blokes, there is very little conversation.
Blood pressure is now being taken every four hours including as I was to find out, through the night as well. Lights out was between 22:00 and 23:00, Charles is talking in his sleep, something about a young girl, he should be so lucky, he is also farting, it’s constant. Reg has started swearing, he will be mumbling then will say clearly, ‘fuckers’, then continue mumbling. Someone in another bay is calling for a nurse. “Shut the fuck up,” shouts Reg. The calling stops for about five minutes before starting again, this time Reg is out of bed and standing in the corridor. “Fucking shut up”, he is shouting towards where the noise is coming from. All this time Charles is still farting. A nurse comes and helps Reg back into bed, he goes off to sleep mumbling. Drifting off to sleep, I hear a nurse saying “can I check your blood pressure and I have an injection for you?” Blood thinner injected directly into the fat round my stomach.
Day 3
06:00, blood pressure, Reg in the next bed slightly confused, says he will be going home today, the nurse shakes her head as she does his blood pressure. Charles, still farting, cornflakes and toast for breakfast, I’m beginning to learn, every time the tea trolley comes round, ask for biscuits or crisps, even though I’m not hungry, I will be later. More staff come round asking if anyone needs help with a wash, only Charles does, he asks those doing the washing to mind his ‘swollen testicles’, there is no privacy in hospital, everyone hears anything said.
After breakfast, I was taken for a more thorough echo gram, once done and back on the ward, I am asked what I want for lunch, I opt for ham sandwich and a side salad. Mrs. 10210 is visiting this afternoon, Harvey has his wife and daughter, they have brought him lunch from home. Charles who has had an injection to help relieve his water retention is now calling for more water bottles, everyone can hear him peeing and farting, Mrs. 10210, looked over towards his bed, he is standing up filling one of the bottles, for all to see. Reg has some strange visitors, possibly a daughter and two older women, not sure if one was his wife. Charles, has his wife and daughter. Mrs. 10210, checks before going if I am on the list for the next day, sadly not. After roast chicken for my evening meal, I have a visit from our daughter, she has brought drawings the grandchildren have done, she stays until it is the end of visiting. I spend some time looking through the menu I have for the food, you can tell I’m in Leicester, there are twenty different curries and a Halal section.
Reg has been given a sleeping tablet tonight, so hopefully we will all have a good night’s sleep. How wrong I was, the same person as the previous night is calling for the nurse again, Reg is swearing, “I’m going fucking home, I’ve had enough of this shit.” I can hear him pulling stuff out his locker, he rips off his heart monitor and is out in the corridor swearing at everyone, a nurse gets him back into bed, but he gets up again, this time there are two to put him back into bed. It doesn’t work, he tries to climb onto a shelf above his bed, then when he is pulled back, he starts fighting with the nurses, one of them hits the emergency button, I can hear people running down the corridor. I’m not sure how many, there is a lot of shouting and struggling before he is subdued, his bed is wheeled out the bay and someone else is moved in, Reg has been moved to next to the nurses station where he can be observed all the time. When I closed my eyes after that, I was waiting for something else to happen, fortunately, other than the sound of farting from Charles and my new neighbour, the rest of the night was quiet.
Day 4 change round
My new neighbour is a Parqui, thin chap, wears a woolly hat all the time, has a problem with his heart and lungs. As soon as breakfast is over, Harvey is moved to another ward, his space is empty until the afternoon. The consultant came round, didn’t say much, said I would be done soon. It’s now Friday, nothing will happen over the weekend. Chicken stew and dumpling for lunch, Mrs. 10210 is back again, as she had done previously, she checked before she left to see if I was on the list for Monday, I wasn’t. There I was on Friday evening, thinking it would be Tuesday before anything would happen. During the afternoon, the space where Harvey had been was filed by another Asian, this one had a catheter and used a commode, he had been in hospital for five weeks, no idea what was wrong with him. It’s not a pleasant sound listening to someone sitting on a commode. In the evening, the Parqui next to me was listening to Indian music on his phone, time to put my earbuds in and listen to an audiobook. Fortunately, other than Charles’ usual noises the night passed off peacefully.
Day 5
Charles has been given his injection and starts peeing, he will tell anyone who will listen he had over fifty pints of fluid extra in his body which he has to pee away.
There is a major crisis this morning, the toaster is broken, I ask for two boxes of cornflakes instead, the second one is passed over grudgingly. Visiting begins at 11:00, it doesn’t stop the Asian across from me having four visitors at 10:30. Rules are obviously only for white people. Mrs. 10210 is having the day off, our son and his girlfriend have come up from Swindon to see me. We spend a happy couple of hours discussing their upcoming wedding, before they head off to see Mrs. 10210.
Tonight, I have decided to have one of the curries, chicken saag, it’s tasty, but lacks one of the key ingredients, chicken. There were only two small pieces. Jam sponge and custard for dessert which sent my blood sugars soaring. My diabetes medicine has been stopped as it can interfere with the angiogram, not sure how, had insulin injected into my stomach later during the night.
Nothing much happens in hospital during the weekend, I think everything is on hold until Monday.
Day 6
Joy oh joy, the toaster has been repaired or replaced. Mrs. 10210 and daughter visiting today, Parqui next to me has food brought into him, it stinks the whole bay out. Life has settled into a routine, not one I’m enjoying, one thing I have noticed, neither of the darker people in the bay have bothered much with personal hygiene, while Charles is washed, and I am having a daily shower, neither of the others seem to bother. Today while my visitors and others are here, Charles lets one go, it went on for ages and sounded like it was very wet.
Day 7
By 09:00 I have had my tests done, taken my medicine, had a shower and am ready for the day. The dayroom is a dismal place, there is a TV on but no one is there watching it. Back sitting on my chair I am listening to Parqui music, I thought music was haram. More bloods taken, the consultant comes round and is surprised I am still waiting, six days after the event, he says it will be soon. I’m fed up and bored, Charles is getting on my nerves, the other two have nothing to say. By the time Mrs. 10210 arrives, I’m feeling low, she tries to cheer me up, she goes off to see the nurses to tell them how I am, one of them suggests I spend some time in the day room! She does come back with some good news, I am second on the list for the next day. That evening one of the nurses explains what will happen in the morning, she also says my groin has to be shaved, she said she would do it if I didn’t want to. I said I would manage OK.
Day 8
Woken as usual at 06:00, with all the tests done, I went for a shower, had my shave, an inspection would be carried out later. On the bed were paper pants and a gown, I left them as I was told it would be 11:00 before I was called for. At 09:00, I was told there was a change of plan, I was to be first. Quickly changing, I was asked as usual, my name, date of birth and what procedure I was going for, with the information confirmed I was wheeled off in a chair. It wasn’t far to go, across from the ward I was in. There were around five or six in the room, the surgeon, his assistant and several others. I was moved onto a bed of sorts, bits were put either side to stop me moving. There was a huge screen, my name and details were on it. It was decided to enter via my right arm rather than my groin. My topiary skills would go unseen, a heavy blue sheet was placed over me, there was a hole where my wrist could be accessed. The area was cleaned up and I could feel something being put in my arm, a drip was hooked up to the canula in my other arm. Equipment was pulled towards my head, I asked what it was, “look on the screen, you will see your heart.” The surgeon would call out and the camera would move, sometimes I could see, other times the camera blocked the way. I could feel things happening in my chest, at times it was painful, like another heart attack, I guessed they were working on the blocked artery and the pain was from the pressure. Twice I had to be given morphine for the pain. I must have sounded like a baby with my whimpering. Forty minutes later it was over, I was told it had been successful, a stent had been fitted and a balloon was used in one of the other arteries. A pressure bandage was fitted on my wrist over the artery they had cut into, it was pumped up to stop the blood spurting out, over the rest of the day, the pressure would be released gradually. Wheeled back to the bay I lay on the bed and rested, I thought about what had just happened. Around midday, I dressed and had lunch, I had been checked numerous times, the heart monitor was disconnected, no longer required. A nurse tried reducing the pressure on my wrist, but there was a spurt of blood, so it was increased again. A doctor came round to see how I was, she said once the meds had been sorted I could go. Mrs. 10210 wanted me to stay in for another night in case there were any complications. I said nothing, I would be guided by the nursing staff. By 19:00, the bandage was off, the doctor returned saying I could go as soon as a letter for my own doctor had been done. The nurse came in with a bag of medicine, it was tipped on the bed, he went through each one saying what it was and when it needed to be taken. The information was repeated in the letter of which we had a copy, with shoes, a jumper and a coat on, that was it, just over ten hours since I was taken for the operation, I was on my way home. It was wonderful to be in my own bed, I am now on my third day at home, I still feel weak, I want to go for a short walk outside tomorrow, it will be a while till I am back up to my three to four miles daily, but hopefully it will come. There are small pains in my chest at times, hopefully they are as a result of being messed about with and nothing else.
My experience with the NHS on this occasion cannot be faulted, the emergency response was speedy and did what they had to do, stabilise me. Once in the hospital the care and attention from the staff was excellent.
I’m now at home and slowly recovering, I’m not sure how long it will take, there is some trepidation about doing too much in case I cause a repeat, hopefully my confidence will return and I will be back to a ‘normal’ life.
© 10210ken 2025
