Printer Problems Resolved!

Thursday. 10.30 a.m. Another much cooler day, thank goodness. My digital thermometer currently reads 76ºF.

I have been absolutely determined to get my HP printer up and running. I have been going through the set-up process with a helpline engineer at HP. It turns out that my MacBook didn't have the small bit of software called drivers installed, which was partly responsible for the thing not working. Then one of the ink cartridges was found to be damaged or not allowing the printer to function, so I am being sent a replacement. I bought the printer back in around April, so that's at least five months without it performing. It now means I can AT LAST print out some of my writing material and begin to edit it.

4.00 p.m. The printer works! I have run off several pages, including a part of the longer bit of writing. It is working using Wi-Fi, so there's no need to use the cable, meaning I can keep the printer in my bedroom on the newly-acquired unit I got from Amazon, and connect from my MacBook in the lounge.

Friday. 9.05 a.m. It's a bright and sunny morning. In this flat, this time with the window closed and the electric fan on, my digital thermometer reads 80ºF.

We are hearing, on BBC Breakfast this morning (although I expect other media are carrying the story.) about the 87-year-old man who collapsed in his garden and his family constructed a shelter for him as he has fractured his pelvis, and had to wait a staggering 15 HOURS for the ambulance to arrive. I know it's terrible, but why doesn't someone do something to remedy such a situation? I know it might be due to what is called 'bed blocking', where there is nowhere for patients to go, once they have been discharged from A and E, for example, into a care home, or have nobody at home to look after them when they leave the hospital. In the case of ambulances not being able to reach a patient who collapses at home, such as the gentleman mentioned above, why don't they use 'rapid response' paramedics, who have cars and not ambulances, to deal with such cases? Surely this is one solution, even if a patient needs hospital treatment, the paramedics can give that person some practical help until they can be moved to a hospital. Then, why not have a sort of reservoir, a ward where people can go, to wait until they are moved to a care home or other place? This was done when I had my first heart attack. I went onto a ward after I had been through A and E and was then released to the C.C.U. (Coronary Care Unit.) sometime later.

Saturday. 6.30 a.m. Another fine and sunny morning. My digital thermometer is currently reading 69ºF. The window is open, so at least the air that is being brought in is cooling the room.

Hospital Visit

(Friday) I've been to visit one of the leadership team from Shenley Christian Fellowship, who is currently in Milton Keynes Hospital with some sort of leg infection. I have him on Facebook and he's taken a photograph to show the extent of the infection, and how his leg has blown up (if that's the right way to describe it.) and not looking nice. As it's such a short walk to the hospital, I decided to walk, thus making it easier because I wouldn't have to drive and then find a space to park the car. I found out he was in ward 22 and had a vague recollection where it was, because it was one of the wards Carol was on at some stage or other. Once there, I totally forgot where it was, thinking it was up the stairs when you enter from near the Cardiology department, but then, having enquired of a member of staff, that it's not actually in the main building, but on it's own, nor a short walk from the cafeteria and the shop. It then dawned on me that it was close to the M.R.I. scan unit. as far as I remember, just over the fire road (called, presumably, because that would be where fire engines would come in if the hospital caught fire.) and close to the courtyard which was set up with tables with umbrellas on them and where they had a barbecue last year, as part of the 70th Anniversary of the foundation of the N.H.S., and a BBC television crew set up cameras to interview staff and shown on Look East, live that evening, a day when I went to see Carol on Ward 22 and during that exceptionally hot summer we had last year. Ward 22 is upstairs and on the ground floor is the Endoscopy department, where Carol had to go for a scan at the beginning of the process which eventually gave the diagnosis that she had bowel cancer. Not the best memory to have, but still part of the same story, unfortunately.

I went up the stairs to the ward entrance and had to press the button beside the door to gain entrance. I think it has a camera on it so that staff on reception can see who's wanting to enter. I had to press several times before someone came to let me in, I think one of the doctors.

I had no idea where on ward 22 Danny was. It's not like a general ward, where you have patients in a sort of communal area, each with curtains that pull round on a track whenever you need privacy, a bedside chest for your personal belongings and a table on wheels that moves up and down and on which you have your meals. But on this ward there are separate rooms, some single, but a couple, like the one Carol was on, had four beds, and they had the use of their own bathroom and toilet (which I soon discovered I wasn't supposed to use, something to do with cross-infection, although I could use a toilet on the main body of the ward.) As I walked along the corridor, hoping to find the nurse's station, which is usually central to any hospital ward, and which is where there is usually a receptionist and ward administrator/manager, and where the door to the ward is opened when you press the door button outside in the corridor, I came upon the doctor who cared for Carol and was responsible for her pain control. Doctor Ben, but I don't remember his surname. A very easy to talk to young man and very good at his job, and was seen on occasion when Carol was in Willen Hospice.

He turned to me and spent some time chatting to me. It was obvious that he knew of Carol's passing, well, he would have known, working as he did at Willen and spending a lot of time with us, trying to get Carol's awful pain under control, which was the main reason she went into Willen Hospice. I can talk about this now, write it on here, but only a few months ago, I would have found writing this extremely traumatic, but actually, but writing about it now, it's sort of therapeutic. He asked me how I was coping, and I said that it was a sort of roller-coaster ride, up and down, at the moment, more down. I told him I had been prescribed medication to help me sleep, and was currently on Diazepam which was helping me calm down as well as sleep, but that I was getting panic attacks (I don't know why.) and was caused mostly because of being messed around my various government departments regarding benefits and also, not having my rent paid in full by Housing Benefit. He asked me if I was getting any support. I said I had been to Willen and had some bereavement counselling, but it had finished because the lady who counselled me didn't think I needed any further support. I said that I had been to Macmillan to see the counsellor there, but I was told what the Willen lady had said and that I was moving forward, especially with my volunteering at Camphill. He told me that I should go back to my doctor as the N.H.S. should have some sort of support for me in my situation. Perhaps going back to get support from Willen Hospice might be part of the answer. I'll have to wait and see.

I wasn't sure exactly which room Danny was in, so Dr Ben asked a nurse, who wasn't sure and had to consult a list, but eventually we discovered which room it was. I walked round the ward, which is so much quieter than the average ward. I remember when I was in hospital after my first heart attack in 2006, on the C.C.U. (Coronary Care Unit) at Bedford Hospital, there was a corridor which passed more or less straight through the ward, and, even in the middle of the night, you'd get people walking through, almost always talking at full volume, and then there was a noisy refrigeration unit on the roof outside the window which made the most awful sounds all through the night. And on top of that you had new patients being bought in, on beds usually, and the nurses weren't exactly quiet.

I was directed to Danny's room. A single room. His wife Chris was there, but no sign of Danny. He was in the bathroom. For some strange and totally unaccountable reason he couldn't open the door. If it would have been me I would have been stressed, because the thought of being trapped in a room with a door which I couldn't open wouldn't be a pleasant experience. I don't like enclosed spaces at the best of times, but being stuck in a bathroom or toilet when the door doesn't unlock would be my worst nightmare. Most N.H.S. facilities, usually toilets, have similar locks which are usually easy enough to open (I recall the bathroom when I worked as a Support Worker at Country Cottage in Everton, part of the N.H.S. Learning Disabilities Service, where the bathroom had similar locks to those in the hospital and all the equipment, grab-rails, waste bins with that strange mechanism that you weren't supposed to push down with your hand and coloured yellow, even the taps and shower units and flooring were the same.) so I had a vague idea how to get out, even if it meant pulling the red cord which would call a nurse to your assistance. Then suddenly Danny appeared, but not from the door into the main room. I presumed there was a second door which opened out into either the corridor or the adjoining room. He looked pained. The leg which is causing so much trouble, probably an infection, is bound up with bandages but it's a bright red, from what you can see. He looked in real pain and managed to get to the bed and lie on it. But in these wards there are never enough chairs. Usually a high-backed one with padding for the patient, but visitors get to sit on plastic chairs. They may be one in the room, but if more visitors come then you have to hunt them down, usually stacked elsewhere on the ward. I remember several years ago, when I had a brief stay in hospital, following a rather prolonged angina attack which meant I had to remain in hospital for a couple of days, Carol needed to sit down and sat on the bed. Just never do that! It's against the rules. There was a very officious woman of indeterminate age (I think her role was probably ward administrator, but I'm not sure, but she might have been a volunteer.) Carol got told off for sitting on the bed and when she started reading my notes (which were kept in a folder in a slot at the end of the bed, she got even more of a telling-off! Even though we were husband and wife, she wasn't supposed to look at my notes, which could have been read by anyone who came on the ward. Now, with new computerised technology, all notes are stored on a computer system (which was being started up whilst Carol was in hospital.) so it would now be very difficult for anyone without the relevant password to get into such personal and sensitive material. All patients, when being admitted to a ward, has to have a paper wrist band put on, which shows your name, date of birth and has a bar code which is read by a scanner when a  nurse comes to do your 'Obs,' or gives out your medication.

Several nurses came in to do the various checks, to do the obligatory 'Obs,' give medications and check Danny's leg, which looks redder and as painful as ever. All these checks done by technology. Then Carline Swann arrived, another member of S.C.F., who I have seen in church but have not had an opportunity to speak to. She seems to know a great deal about nursing and care (not sure what her job is exactly.) and as a result of her arrival another chair was required. Another difficulty of these small rooms, never enough space when you have several visitors requiring seating. And those plastic chairs which are in all these wards for visitors, made of plastic and not as comfortable as they might be. I think they have them as they would be easier to clean for hygiene purposes, but you begin to slip off the seat after a while. So, by this time it was my time to leave and bade farewell, just hoping and praying that Danny's leg heals soon so he can leave hospital and return to his home.

Carol Having Surgery . . . Or Possibly Not

Carol has been visited by a whole range of different people during Thursday whilst I was with her. She has continued to be in a great deal of pain and for me it's really difficult to see her struggle with this horrible thing and not be able to do anything to help. During the afternoon she was visited by the palliative care team who are involved in managing the pain. Then some of the doctors came and did an examination and decided that some of the pain is due to an abscess that would need surgery to drain to relieve the pain it is causing. In very quick succession, barely 20 minutes or so, a surgeon came to see her to discuss this and it was decided that a further scan would be needed to be able to see how things are shaping which should help the surgeon. We were expecting the scan to be during the time I was with her, but, having been on the ward since 10 o'clock I had to leave at around 2.15. Unfortunately I need to get some rest. Carol was concerned that the scan (not exactly sure whether it's a C.T. scan or M.R.I scan.) would mean she would be in a lot of pain because of laying on the bed they use for this procedure, although the doctor in charge of her pain said that they would give her extra medication to help relieve this, but it would be no use if they didn't know more or less exactly when the scan would be because it takes at least 20-30 minutes before the medication takes effect. 

The surgeon came back with the paperwork for consent to the surgery and this was duly signed by Carol and he discussed further the procedure that would be involved. As I write this (7.35a.m) we're not entirely sure what time the operation will be, but apparently after 8a.m. So I'm not sure exactly what time she's likely to be back from the  operating theatre and, no doubt, awake after the anaesthetic. As a result I will have to contact the ward to discover all this or to get them to telephone me when she's back on the ward.

Anyway, I still managed to take Alfie out for his usual walk (well, it's a walk for me, but more like a trot for him, whilst all of the time he's yapping excitedly.) Yesterday we didn't go, because I just didn't feel 100%. Just one of those days, unfortunately. Nothing bad, just that some mornings my medication can make me feel queasy. A surprisingly mild morning. Eaglestone Park looking more than ever autumnal. The days are beginning to draw in and it's getting dark earlier and the mornings darker, longer. If Alfie had his way he'd be going out in the dark, but it wouldn't be such a good idea, so going out at around 7.15 is a good deal more sense.

Later. 8.50a.m. Carol has now texted me and apparently she's not having the operation. No doubt they've looked at the scans and decided against operating to drain the abscess. Not sure at the moment exactly what's going on and probably won't know until I go into the ward a bit later this morning. All a bit up in the air, as you might expect.

Later still. It's now almost 3 o'clock and I'm back home from being with Carol for most of the day. She appeared to be much brighter than over the past couple of days. We can't quite understand what happened regarding the surgery which had been planned over the last 24 hours. Infact, Carol hadn't eaten since early yesterday because of the expected surgery. She had a  C.T. scan late yesterday evening and I presume the surgeons looked at the results and decided that surgery was unnecessary and wouldn't benefit Carol. They say an abscess didn't show up on the scan. So, I don't know what to make of this. What surprises me is that none of the nursing staff on Ward 19 were aware that the operation had been postponed. It seems there is a communication problem between the nurses and the doctors. Which is crazy, considering it is them who have to deliver the care to their patients on the ward. The pain doctor had prescribed stronger pain relief medication but this will take several days to arrive from the hospital pharmacy, and it is likely that Carol won't get this until probably Monday at the earliest. Which makes it seem rather pointless if they can't get it to her quicker. Just another problem that needs to be ironed out and I can now see why the N.H.S. has so many problems if these sorts of situations arise.

So, amidst all this, no nearer to having Carol discharged from hospital at the moment, unfortunately, but there's no point her coming home until they've got on top of the pain and to be hones, being in hospital is the best place at the moment.

Later still. About 8.30 this evening Carol rang. She said that Dr Saka, the Oncology consultant, arrived on the ward. It seemed quite late, but he is an incredibly busy man and no doubt found it difficult to fit in all his patients, but his office is just below Ward 19, within the Macmillan unit. He will be coming back between 11 and around 3 on Tuesday so I want to make sure I'm there when he comes.

Ward 19 seems very noisy. Not just the patients, but the staff seem to make an incredible amount of noise. There is a door immediately outside Carol's room and each time someone goes through it, it makes a slamming sound. Also, a female domestic was cleaning one of the bathrooms or toilets close by and dropping the toilet seat repeatedly, getting really annoying. Then an elderly patient was walking up and down the ward using a Zimmer frame to walk with and it was making a dragging sound as if the wheels hadn't been oiled in years or the brakes were still on (not that the wheels on a Zimmer frame have brakes, but it seemed like they were locked firmly) Anyway, you would think that a ward would be a quiet and peaceful place where you could rest and recuperate, well, that's what I imagine it would be like. If I remember correctly when I had my first heart attack in 2006 and I was on the C.C.U. (Coronary Care Unit) at Bedford Hospital, I'm almost certain they had at least an hour's quiet. Not that it's ever quiet on any hospital ward, what with staff coming and going and new patients being moved in and out.

Even later. Carol rang me on my mobile at home. She told me that Doctor Saka came to see her on the ward. at around 7 o'clock. She asked him about the new chemotherapy treatment which can't proceed until her current situation is under control, the infection, which is being treated with antibiotics as well as the intense pain. He told her the cancer can be treated successfully and that he would be back to see us both on Tuesday between 11a.m and 2p.m., so I will make sure that I am on the ward when he arrives.

Changes To Medication

What I haven't mentioned, since describing in fairly accurate detail, my couple of days in the John Radcliffe in Oxford, were the changes  made to my medication. Some were added, whilst some were removed and some had their dosage changed.

I had taken Isoborbide Mononitrate 20mg, Bisoprolol 5mg, Candesarten 4mg, as well as Lansoprazole 20mg. and soluble Asprin 75mg.

The Candesarten has now been removed and the dosage of the Bisoprolol reduced to 2.5mg. I now have Ramipril 2.5mg and a statin called Atorvastatin 80mg as well as a drug to help protect the stent called Ticagrelor 90mg which I have to take twice-daily and they've told me that I have to take this for a year as it's to prevent any clotting around the stent which could lead to further complications.

I was reluctant to continue with any type of statins because I have had side-effects. At the time of my first heart attack in 2006 I was put on one called, I believe, Clopodrogel and a statin called Pravastatin (I may be wrong as to brand name or which is or isn't a statin.) At that time, during the week I was in the C.C.U. unit at Bedford Hospital, I began to develop what seemed like flu-like symptoms, so the nursing staff moved me off the main ward and into a side-ward, as they thought I might be infectious. As it turned out it wasn't actually flu but the side-effect of the possible use of the statins I was on. I have been tested over the last few years to keep my cholesterol levels as low as possible, but I had side-effects from taking which ever type or brand of statins it was (at the moment I have forgotten the brand name, but possibly called Plavix.) Because I managed to have my cholesterol levels at a well-controlled level, done mostly by eating healthily, taking a fair amount of exercise (we used to be members of a gym, and used the swimming pool regularly until Carol's cancer diagnosis.) I got the cholesterol levels in my blood to around the target of under 5mmol. So my doctor took me off the statin drug because I had muscle pain and some digestive problems. I got a certain amount of discomfort in my stomach, for example. The lansoprazole capsules are to protect my stomach as a result of taking most of the other medications.

As I have only been taking the new medications for a few days, I haven't experienced any side effects. I do get a dry cough which comes from nowhere. I'm not sure which medication causes this. But yesterday evening, after I'd taken the medications for my 6 o'clock administration, I had very violent diarrhoea. Sorry, but there's no other way to describe it. I'm fairly certain it was caused as a result of one of the medications I was on, possibly the Atarvastatin or a combination of that and another medication. I had to take Immodium to control this. As I write this post at 6.35 a.m. on Saturday I feel queasy and just hope I don't get the 'runs' again. 

Bloodtests and other Matters

I hadn't had a blood test for at least a year. I'm keen to keep a check on my cholesterol levels because if it's too high there is always a risk of another clot which could lead to me having another heart attack. I'd had a letter from Ashfield Medical Centre to have my blood pressure done at their self-service unit within the waiting area of the surgery, which I did a week or two ago. It's not difficult to do and they've now put it behind a screen so that you don't have to endure other people waiting watching you, which rather put me off doing it myself. It is easy to use and the instructions are clear and the machine prints out the results and then you hand this over to the receptionist who then adds it to your notes. In some ways I suppose this is a good idea because it frees up the staff to do other things and you just do it yourself so you don't have to make an appointment.

As regards giving blood for a test has always been a bit of a problem for me. For a start, I don't like needles, particularly when they're stuck in my arm, or leg or any other part of my body. When I was in hospital, particularly when I was in the C.C.U. (Coronary Care Unit) at Bedford Hospital  I had some of the blood-thinning medications administered by hypodermic in my stomach. I think Carol had the same when she was in hospital. It's not to painful, but I think just thinking about it is unpleasant. As regards the blood test giving-of-blood, my problem is that it goes back to quite a few years ago when I lived in Bedford and probably at a time when I changed doctors surgeries and had to have an early-morning blood test and wasn't supposed to eat anything for around 12 hours beforehand. I went along to the blood-test unit at Bedford North Wing Hospital in Kimbolton Road. The actual taking of the blood wasn't too bad. It was when I left I went outside and then felt woosey and had to sit down on a low wall as I was feeling positively faint. I keeled over and fell on the ground, not pleasant, particularly as I wasn't capable of getting up. At that precise moment I think an ambulance arrived and I heard running feet as people were coming towards me. I could see them, but I heard them. I was taken into a building on the hospital campus and had a chance to recover and was then taken to Accident and Emergency to be checked over before being sent home, but the whole incident was somewhat embarrassing because I shouldn't have fainted as a result of the blood test. Most likely it was caused because I hadn't eaten for 12 hours. It's that horrible feeling when I have given blood that I'm going to feel faint and will pass out that is the worst part of the whole thing and I have to make sure I'm laying down when they start the procedure so there isn't a repetition of what happened all those years ago.

When I was in hospital after having my heart attack in 2006 I had to endure giving blood virtually every day of the week I was in the C.C.U. This was often a problem and on one occasion the nurse who did it couldn't find a suitable vain and wanted to take blood from the back of my hand, which I wouldn't allow. On an earlier occasion when I'd gone to my doctor when I lived in Bedford the nurse insisted  that a second nurse be present when I had to give blood, almost making it appear that I was the cause of the problem when they could find a vain and I was told it was because I had narrow veins or something or other, which didn't help either, but then on another occasion the nurse (or phlebotomist, to give the proper term for someone who takes blood) said she's use a special, narrow hypodermic needle which were supposed to be used on children or babies. Also, if I had such narrow pains, it might have contributed to my heart attack. Anyway, of someone of my age, I have exceptionally good skin tone and you can't see any raised blood vessels as a result. Drink plenty, I was told, before you go to have a blood test, because if you're dehydrated, your veins don't expand apparently which makes the finding of a suitable vain virtually impossible. I can see what they mean, because a hose without water in it isn't rigid, one filled with water expands, as it would a vain with blood in it.  When I came out of hospital after the week of being on the C.C.U. in 2006, one of my arms was black and blue with bruising where they'd taken blood. When Carol was in Milton Keynes Hospital recently she had a P.I.C.C. (Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter) line inserted for her chemotherapy and they used that to take blood from her arm.

I also recall when I was on the C.C.U. at Bedford Hospital in 2006 being given warfarin as part of my medication care plan. It's given to help prevent blood clotting. I don't think I can have been given it for long, just until the threat of another clot was reduced. Unfortunately, when one of the nurses came to remove a canal I had in my wrist, she forget about the blood-thinning properties of the warfarin (no doubt not looking at my care notes sufficiently) because as soon as it was removed there was a spout of blood from the place where the canal was in my wrist. Strangely enough I never had a problem with having a canula inserted in my arm when I was in hospital, unlike when giving blood at other times.

10th Anniversary of my Heart Attack

Goodness gracious. How time flies. Sorry to use a really over-worked cliché, but it's true. I can't believe it's ten years since I had my heart attack. The night of 17th and 18th of May 2006 was when it happened. I have written quite extensively in an earlier blog post on here about what happened on that night and how the paramedics came and I ended up in the C.C.U. (Coronary Care Unit) at Bedford Hospital. I feel a good deal better than I did then. Actually, I feel as good as I've felt in a good long while. No real problems.

I've been mowing the grass at the back of the house. (I still refuse to refer to it as a 'lawn.') I did a cut yesterday, and to be perfectly honest with you, it looked really poor. As if it had been nibbled by some strange creature. Scrappy, to say the least. So I've cut it again and now it looks a good deal better. Not really like a lawn (it's never going to be that as it's just horrible grass.  Tough and terrible.) But it looks a good deal better. I've also been Stimming the long grass around the edges and cut some of the twigs that grow up along the fence. It's taken me a while to get the hang of the Strimmer (actually it's not a Strimmer, it's a Qualcast machine. 'Strimmer' is a registered trademark, but it's like 'Hoover' being used as a generic term for a vacuum cleaner.  But it works in exactly the same way.) It was worth buying a more expensive one as the extra power this one has means it does the job far better than a cheaper, lower power machine.)

The shed where the mower and strimmer are housed is beginning to cave in. Or at least the roof is. It has a hole in it. During the winter the wind took some of the roofing felt and left the remains, rotting and just past it, in the garden. So, what happens when the whole roof caves in? I don't suppose our beloved landlord is going to get it repaired. The lady next door, whose shed backs onto ours, had hers reroofed by the Council (they presumably own her house. They repaired the fence when it was blown down by a really severe winter wind some while ago.) The shed is full of the odd belongings of former tenants of this property, such as ancient portable televisions, baby baths, etc etc. Similar leaving are in the other shed, including a really old mattress and other bits and pieces. The meter cupboard, which is at the front of the house, contains similar junk. Why couldn't either the landlord or SmartMove, the agency we originally rented from, have this stuff removed before we moved in? It surely wouldn't have taken too much to get a skip and just throw the stuff away. Too much trouble to expect such a service, without us being charged. Gary, our neighbour the 'other side' suggested he repair the roof of one shed and take away all the junk within and then make one shed waterproof and then put a door in from his garden side so he could use it to store his things. But then he had second thoughts, having spoken to someone further along the street who knows our landlord and said that it might not be such a good idea because once they found out they'd want to charge rent. Also, I imagine that it might contravene our tenancy agreement, sort of 'sub-letting' or something. But it still means that we can't put anything of ours in there, including our bicycles which are still kept in the entrance hall of the house.

730th blog post: Ashfield Surgery Appointment and Over-night stay at Milton Keynes Hospital

Over the course of the past six weeks or so I have been experiencing a rather nasty pain in my chest, rather like an angina attack, bought on by some form of exertion, such as walking. It usually goes off with rest. This happened a few weeks ago when we went to Stowe Landscape Garden and started up as we walked back to the car. I had to stop and sit and it gradually went off. It also happened again last Friday after we'd been to the restaurant for a meal with Carol's work colleagues and we were walking back to the car. It's almost like a sort of 'spike' of pain, as I say, similar to an angina attack. I have used my G.T.N. spray which is supposed to relieve an angina attack.The G.T.N. doesn't seem to make much difference to reducing the discomfort.  I was prescribed insoborbide mononitrate last time I was admitted to Milton Keynes Hospital when I had an angina attack which didn't subside after a particular bad attack. It has a similar effect to G.T.N. spray as it makes your blood vessels open up to allow a better flow of blood and so reduce pain. I had got to the point where I was really suffering with this discomfort but was reluctant to go to the doctor because we have been going there quite a lot recently, and in particular, after the last few weeks with Carol's medical problems. I was prompted to get advice for this situation when I went to Sainsbury's pharmacy to collect a repeat prescription and the pharmacist did a review of my medication (as they do every six months or so.) I managed to mention this chest pain and he said that perhaps it was caused by one of my current medications, such as bisoprolol, which helps maintain a slower heart rhythm and possibly the dosage I'm on needs reducing or increasing and that, as a result, I should make a doctor's appointment and discuss this chest pain with my doctor and get him to either increase or reduce the bisoprolol dosage I'm on. So, yesterday morning I decided to ring the surgery to get an appointment with the doctor (or 'a doctor' as there are several doctors at the Ashfield Medical Centre.) As mentioned in an earlier post on here, they have changed the appointments procedure and you now have to ring and go through a sort of 'triage' system so that they can decide which medical problem are more urgent than others and then get  a doctor to telephone back to discuss the problem and then make an appointment for later in the day. I eventually go through at around 10 o'clock. Then a doctor rang me around 45 minutes later and I was able to discuss the chest pain to him and as a result was given an appointment at the surgery at 4.30 yesterday afternoon.

When I got to the surgery the first thing I realised as soon as I got through the door was that the computerised check-in system wasn't working. You're supposed to put the initial of your surname in the program then the month and day of your birthday and it's supposed to bring up yout appointment-time and the doctor your're booked with. But because this wasn't working (it's a common fault that this sytem crashes whenever I need to go to the surgery and sign in with the system.) so I had to queue up and check in with one of the receptionists. It transpired that I was seeing one of the practise nurses and not a doctor. Having waited for a further ten to fifteen minutes I was called in by the nurse (because the computer system wasn 't working, it meant that the digital display which informs patients when their appointment is ready so you go through to the relevant room.) and then had to explain what I have already described above. I had to have an E.C.G. which is something I've had several times before and when she had the print-out from this it was taken to a doctor elsewhere in the surgery. I had to sit and wait a further ten minutes and she returned to tell me that I would need to go to the hospital.  Which was not exactly what I wanted to hear as I had expected this to be an 'in-out' appointment so I could go home immediately afterwards. She then said that they would need to call for an ambulance to take me. Which seemed amazing since the hospital is barely a five-minute drive away from the surgery. So the ambulance came (within around ten minutes.) and I had to then describe the symptoms of the pain in my chest  to the paramedics and they took notes and took me out to the ambulance and did a further E.C.G. scan and my blood pressure.) We eventually moved off and got to Accident and E I mergency, being taken inside sitting in a wheelchair (which is strange for me, having been a carer, where I often pushed other people around in a wheelchair.) Once at A and E I had to go through the process of describing my symptons yet again. By this time I had called Carol on the phone to let her know where I was and to let her know what was going on. Meanwhile she had arrived in A and E. I was taken to a cubicle and settled in. We were then told that I was likely to be there for around 2 hours. When they insisted that I must wear a hospital gown did I realise that all this was going to take a good deal longer than anticipated. I had to go through the rather unpleasant ordeal of them taking a blood sample. Unpleasant, because, as you know, if you've read any of my previous blog posts, taking a sample of blood has caused stress as well as problems. As it turned out it did cause some problems as the nurse couldn't find a vein that would yield  sufficient for them to sample and consequently it took quite a long time, but eventually it was successful. That done, we had to wait, and wait and wait. It wasn't excessively busy in A and E, so I don't know why they couldn't deal with me quicker. I think they soon realised that my case wasn't particular urgent although, anyone who has a history of heart problems or had a heart attack gets priority which would be one reason why I was taken to A and E so quickly. They then put other patients at the front of the queue and my case was much further down the list which was why I had to wait around 4 hours before anything could be done as regarding what had caused my chest pain. Carol decided that she would need to go home as it was getting late and I would be staying at the hospital over-night. I then was taken to have a chest X-Ray and by the time that was done the doctors could have a look a my notes as well as the X-Ray and blood test results to give a clearer picture of what was going on.

Sometime later, getting on for around 10 o'clock, one of the doctors came to tell me that, having looked at past E.C.G. records and other material they had from earlier hospital visits that there was no evidence to show that what had caused the pain I had been experiencing had anything to do with my heart and that I could go home. But by that time I was really tired and felt that I wouldn't be able to drive let alone walk, even though 'home' was so close. So I rang Carol to say I would be home in the morning. Earlier the doctor had said that whatever it was that had caused the problem had been because things 'had been stable for a long time, but now they had become unstable' but at that time they could not see what it could have been that had caused the pain.' But by now they had decided that the problem wasn't heart-related, which was a relief to me. So, I was moved into a sort of holding ward, away from A and E, as they have to free up beds for incoming patients. Then, having got to sleep and was well settled in for the night, I was woken at around 3 a.m. to be told I was being moved once again, to yet another ward. I was pushed there by a porter and nurse, through the corridors of the hospital, into a ward that reminded me strongly of the C.C.U. at Bedford Hospital (Coronary Care Unit) because it was almost exactly the same sort of configuration of beds with curtains around them and facing one another (I think the Bedford C.C.U. has eight or perhaps six beds, in two blocks, one for men and one for women.) I was once again checked in, with 'obs' (observations) blood pressure, temperature and another E.C.G. I suppose they have to adhere to certain procedures, but by this time it was becoming somewhat annoying. How many times did I repeat the symptoms? It seemed somewhat obsessive. Could they not have kept the various sets of notes and referred to them? Build up a set of notes from each successive examination? It does seem that the N.H.S. is somewhat over-staffed with people pushing bits of paper and in some cases, over-sensitive to such things as targets and statistics, which would be what most of this is about.  I spent a somewhat restless night attempting to sleep, as it was so noisy. Staff walking about, doing such things as 'obs' of other patients and someone talking in the next ward very loud and squeaking trolleys and electronic gadgetry making strange beeps and burps at irregular intervals. But I think I did manage to sleep for two or three hours. At 5.45 my mobile alarm went off, as it's set to that time because we always get up at that time every day, starting off the day with me making us both tea. Incidentally, I didn't get a cup of tea early as I would have expected when I had had to stay in hospital, although we did have tea and a sandwich given us as we waited in A and E, nor did they ask me what medication I was on which was rather a surprise. At 6.30 Carol phoned and said she would come and pick me up later and the doctor re-appeared to reiterate what he had said the previous evening about the pain being unrelated to my heart but at that time they could put a finger on exactly what had caused it. So, I was free to go home. A further lot of 'obs' were done and I got dressed and walked out of the ward. I went to the nurses station to tell them that I was leaving expecting there to be some paperwork to sign or allow me to be discharged. But the staff didn't seem that interested so I walked out. I didn't get so much as a cup of tea when I was on that final ward. I hadn't eaten anything since having the sandwich when we were in A and E. Not so much as a packet of crisps. I'm somewhat surprised. It seems I was totally ignored. They kept an eye on my blood pressure, temperature and so on, but not one offer of something more substantial to eat. When I was a carer I could have been done for neglect if I didn't allow one of my clients a drink or something to eat if they were unable to provide something for themselves. So I'm shocked to think I got nothing except a rather lack-lustre sandwich and a mug of tea. But I got outside and couldn't work out exactly where I was, and certainly not near the front entrance of the hospital as I had expected of even near when I had entered A and E when the parmedics had brought me in in the ambulance. I had a call on my mobile and Carol came and collected me from near where we had gone the other evening when we'd visited the former Walk-In Centre. So, we drove home, to be met by our two dogs, Poppy and Alfie, who were pleased to see me as they were totally confused by having their routine upset when I had gone out and left them alone in the house the previous afternoon.

Giving Blood

I had a letter in the post  this morning from my doctor's surgery, Ashfield  Medical Centre , telling me that they had made an appointment for me to have a blood test and my blood pressure done at the surgery. I'm not used to having an appointment pre-booked like this. You usually have to make such appointments yourself, which can generally be quite difficult as you have to ring the surgery the same day and it can take some time to get through on the phone during busy periods. I presume you get an automatic blood test and blood pressure check after so many months if you have a long-term health issue such as a heart condition as as I have. We changed our doctor's surgery because at the previous one we had a couple of issues, one being  the receptionist not dealing with personal details particularly confidentially when you went in to make an appointment.  I really object to having everyone waiting hearing my conversation when speaking at the reception-desk. I do recall when I worked for the N.H.S. (for the Learning Disability Service in Bedfordshire.) client confidentiality being a priority. So we transferred to Ashfield Medical Centre and have been with them around a year or so now and have had no problems.

I'll be honest and admit that I'm not good at giving blood. I can't think of many people who actually do, or admit that they do. I don't particularly like needles, and certainly when they're stuck into my arm, or, indeed, any part of my anatomy if it comes to that. Generally, if I have to have a jab, say, for 'flu, then I don't have a problem. It might be like a slight bee sting, a sort of tingle in the arm, but when it comes to having to give blood, then that is an altogether different ball-game, kettle of fish, call it what you will. I think this started when I lived in Bedford and had to go to Bedford Hospital to give blood for a test and it was a fasting blood test, meaning I wasn't supposed to eat for a good 12 hours beforehand. And it was early morning, which didn't help, so I was feeling hungry when I arrived at the hospital. I gave the sample and that bit was easy. I felt slightly queasy and left the clinic too quickly. I should have waited before leaving, but was really in too much of a hurry to go home. When I got outside I think the fresh air hit me suddenly. I found I had to sit down on a low wall in the carpark, but I didn't remain seated for long because I found myself keeling over and collapsing on the ground, with a mouthful of gravel in my mouth. At that precise moment an ambulance arrived in the hospital grounds and I could hear footsteps approaching as a group of paramedics came over to me to find out what was the matter. I think I had blacked out. I was taken into a room in the hospital and tended to and eventually was taken to the Accident and Emergency department at South Wing Hospital at Bedford and checked over and after a while went home. It was somewhat embarrasing, to say the least as I'm, not used to being fussed over like I was and being the centre of things.

On one occasion at the doctor's surgery in Bedford I was made to feel as if I had a major problem and was almost a trouble-maker when the nurse had problems finding a vein in my arm and the fact that I was liable to pass out because she was taking so long to take the blood from my arm, and that she had to get a second nurse in to help. I do find it easier if I'm laying down when they do this, so that if I do start to pass out I am at least laying down.

At our old doctor's surgery they realised that there was a problem with me giving blood because I apparently have narrow veins, making it difficult to extract blood, even after tapping a vein, getting me to drink plenty (as dehydration will make veins difficult to find.) and eventually using a needle designed for taking blood from babies! They had one of the doctors in their practice who was particularly good at taking blood, which is unusual as this job is usually done by the nurses in the surgery.

When I first had my heart attack and was in the C.C.U. (Coronary Care Unit) at Bedford Hospital I had to give blood several times a day. They had real difficulties getting a vein up, trying to take it from my arm, in the crook of my elbow and even said they could try in my hand or my foot, which I refused. I think it would be really unpleasant if it was from my hand. By the end of the week I spent in hospital my arm was black and blue due to the blood being taken, and looked more as if I had been bruised! The strange thing is I never seem to have any problems when they put a canula in the back of my hand or wrist when I've been in hospital, as you would imagine that that would be more uncomfortable than merely taking blood. I think the problem with giving blood is when the nurse takes ages and fiddles around, sticks the needle in, leaves the thing in a vein for what seems like ages then takes it out, then says she can't get any blood, then tries in another part of my arm, which is when I start to feel really queasy and start to feel faint.

Medications Side Effects

It's one thing having had a heart attack, but it's quite another that you have to contend with the side effects of the medications that you are prescribed. When I originally went into hospital, having had my heart attack, I was put on a range of medication, mostly to relieve pain. I had Warfarin to thin my blood and thus to prevent further blood clots. I recall that when a nurse was taking out the canula which was in my wrist, at around the time I was discharged, there was a quite a spectacular flow of blood as she had not noted that I was on Warfarin (which prevents not only blood clots, put prevents wounds from healing quickly.) I was put on statins, and the first type had the effect of giving me flu-like symptoms, which were rather unpleasant, to say the least. It wasn't until I discussed my state of health with one of the nurses on the C.C.U. ward that I learnt that this flu-like symptom was a side effect of taking this particular statin drug (which is used to control cholestrol levels in the blood.) I don't exactly remember what the name of this drug was, but I was soon put on another statin which didn't at first appear to have such violent side effects. I was also put on Bisoprolol (which I am still on, but at a much lower dosage, 5 mg.) I was also on Clopodogrel and soluble asprin (another drug to keep the blood thin and thus prevent clots.) 

Some of the side effects of the drugs, particularly statins, are that they give you muscle cramps. Without beating around the bush, another is rather unpleasant, bloating, flatulance and diarrhoea. Sometimes this can be very violent and you can spend quite a lot of time running to the toilet, and it can be quite uncomfortable. On the other hand, it can also have the opposite effect, constipation. Sorry if this is rather  too graphic for some people, but I'm writing this on this blog to try and help anyone else who is going through a similar experience. If my experiences can be shared with others then I hope it comes as some sort of comfort to know that there are others who have had a similar experience.

According to the leaflet which comes with a packet of Pravastatin it gives a list of possible side-effects. It reads as follows:
Dizziness
Headache
Sleeping problems
Sleeping disturbances
Vision disturbance such as blurred or double vision
Stomach upsets (such as feeling or being sick, constipation, diarrhoea, flatulance, indigestion and stomach pains.)
Hair loss
Rash
Itchiness
Tiredness
Feeling of weakness
Changes in the way your liver works
Heartburn
Bladder problems (painful or frequent urination

Very rare side effects:
Numbness or loss of sensation in the arms and legs
Tingling or pins and needles (paresthesia)
Inflammation of the liver or pancreas
Severe allergic reactions including localised swelling of the face/lips and/or throat
Yellowing of the skin and whites of the eyes (jaundice)
Muscle and joint pain

When I was first put on statins (although it might have been caused by other drugs I was on.) I used to get tingling in my feet and sometimes my fingers, and a sort of numb sensation in the soles of my feet, but that gradually went off after a couple of weeks. 

Immediately after I had the heart attack (which was back in May 2006.) I felt really depressed. I was told that this was a normal reaction to what had happened to me. I discussed this with a nurse on the C.C.U. Most men don't like to talk about their health, and particularly not depression. I have had a few periods of clinical depression, a couple of years before my heart attack, but I haven't experienced anything that severe since my heart attack. 

I was put on isosorbide mononitrate fairly recently, as an alternative to using glycerol trinitrate spray, which I used whenever I got an attack of angina. It was prescribed the last time I was in hospital back in October. It does seem to work, and I haven't had any severe angina attacks since then. But I get quite severe headaches and I'm sure it's that medication which causes insomnia. I go to bed as normal, but after a few hours I wake up, generally to go to the toilet, but then I cannot get back to sleep. I was told by my consultant at Milton Keynes Hospital that this drug would cause headaches for the first month or two, but that it would gradually ease off, which it did, but the headaches seem to have come back, but not quite as severely as when I first took this drug. The drug makes the blood vessels widen so as to increase blood flow, and this is very prominent in the brain, hence headaches (if you use the red spray,glyceryl trinitrate, you do find that you get headaches, as well as feeling light-headed, which is another effect of the iosborbide mononitrate, although I admit that it's not unpleasant, rather similar to the feeling you get when you've had one too many alcoholic drinks, but without the other unpleasant side-effects you get with alcohol.)

I can feel extremely tired. This particularly was a side effect of not only taking some of the drugs, but the effect of actually having a heart attack. A heart attack is a very traumatic experience in itself, and tiredness is the body's way of repairing itself. If I over-exert myself, like going on long walks, I find that my leg muscles can get quite painful, but if I rest for a short while, stop and sit down, this soon eases off.