Second Stent and Third . . . Possibly

If you read my blog posts on a regular basis, you will know that after I had my heart attack at the beginning of September I was taken to the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford when I had a stent inserted. I then had to go for a scan using what is called a 'Gamma Camera,' which showed that I had some damage to my heart and a blockage which needed treating with a further stent. I was booked to have this procedure done on 12th December and had arranged to be taken by someone from church, but this was the day after Carol passed away and when I arrived at the unit at the hospital in Oxford I was in something of a state because of Carol's passing and the procedure was postponed. The new date was offered, for yesterday, 30th January.

The procedure I was about to have is called a Percutaneous Coronary Intevention (PCI).

I had to be at the Cardiac Angiography Suite (which is part of the Cardiology Department at the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford) for 7.30a.m. So Tim O'Brien (who was driving me there).) arrived at 5.45a.m. to make sure we arrived at the hospital in good time. As it turned out we were there by a little after 7.a.m. Fortunately, because of the abortive appointment, we knew exactly where to go and could park the vehicle on the lay-by directly outside. I was let into the waiting area and so had to wait until the unit was officially open.

People began to arrive. Around 7.30 one of the nurses came in and told us we could go through to the ward. I began to change into a hospital gown. I find these garments difficult because you have to tie do up the ties at the next and lower on your back. You really need someone to do it for you, but I eventually managed. I had bought a bag with my things in it. I was told I needed to bring a dressing gown and slippers. Which was just as well, because I didn't fancy wandering around the ward in that hospital gown because they have no back and you need to tie them up tightly otherwise you reveal all and sundry if you're not careful. Then it was just a question of waiting (which you seem to do a great deal of in a hospital, which I can testify to with some authority over the last year-and-a-half or probably more.)

A nurse came to ask me questions about my health, for example, did I have any allergies, was I diabetic, as well as going through my medications. I had bought the entire lot of medications and he went though it all and made a list. Then, the usual 'obs' were done, (observations), temperature, blood pressure etc etc. This is done at regular intervals when you are in any hospital.

Patients were coming and going, some in wheelchairs, others on beds which were trundled about by nurses and porters. People went off to have their procedures. I wasn't long before I was taken into the lab (not an operating theatre.) I had to have a catheter inserted in my right arm. I'm not much good with needles or other sharp items, particularly if they are inserted into my person, at times such as this or when giving blood, but they managed to do this. All part of the preparations necessary before the procedure can be carried out.

Then it was my time to be taken into the lab for the procedure sitting in a wheelchair. I'm not sure whether it was the same 'lab' as the one I was in for the first stent to be inserted after my second heart attack. There was a long, narrow bench or bed which I at first sat on and then laid down on. A series of monitors overhead and a range of what looked like cameras or perhaps they were X-ray machines, because the team who would do the procedure were viewing my arteries and veins on the X-ray monitors so as to find where the blockages in my heart were which were to be opened up by the stent during the procedure.

I was given a local anathesthetic in my right arm (which was laying on the edge of the bed.) Because I had become somewhat stressed by the whole process I was also given a sedative to help me get through the procedure.

It was rather uncomfortable having my right arm put into a somewhat difficult and unusual position. I could barely feel a thing as the procedure continued. Quite a few people in the room, but I kept my eyes tightly closed throughout. I think there was a sort of sensation as the stent was pushed through a vein in my arm and into my heart. The whole process lasted around 45 minutes. At the end I was told I could sit up, but, due to the sedation, I was not able to do this myself and required assistance from one of the nurses. I was then able to lay on the bed in the ward and after about an hour or more was taken up to the ward where I had a single en-suite room. A good deal larger than the room Carol had in Milton Keynes hospital and with a good deal more room to store clothes and personal belongings.

I was expecting to be discharged fairly quickly. I had intended phoning or texting Tim so that he could come back to the hospital to collect me for the journey home, but I was then told that I would need to stay over-night. I rang Tim more or less immediately because I didn't want him waiting around in Oxford unnecessarily. He told me that he probably wouldn't be able to come back to collect me the next day, so I began to enquire as to busses or taxi cabs into the centre of Oxford as I had thought my only alternative transport would be to catch an X5 bus back home to Milton Keynes from the Oxford central bus station, which was how we had often visited Oxford in the past. I was also told that I wouldn't be able to drive for a week. No problem there. It would mean I wouldn't be able to do any shopping. That is, to drive anywhere in order to do shopping. But then it occurred to me that this wasn't actually a problem because I could do an on-line shopping order with Sainsbury's and have the order delivered. No need to lift anything, particularly with my right hand which was where the wound for the stent was. At that time, tightly bandaged and taped.

I had a ham sandwich to eat some time after I had the procedure. It was just as well I had that to eat because I wasn't supposed to eat anything after 4a.m. I had a meal as I usually do at home at 6p.m., so it was a long time to wait for food and my the time I was done with the procedure I was hungry. Then I was told that I would be moving to a ward upstairs and this move was done fairly promptly. So I was taken to the Cardiology ward and had an ensuite room. A good deal larger than the one Carol had when she was in Milton Keynes hospital. I noticed how quiet it was, too.

I was seen by a doctor and told that I ha actually had more than one stent fitted during the procedure. The wound on my right wrist seemed to be healing quickly, there was no bleeding or redness. As it was tightly bandaged and taped (with that adhesive tape which is very tacky and when they come to take it off it's so sticky it almost takes your skin with it!) I had the obligatory ECG done which showed no problems with my heart and I knew I would then have to spend the night at the John Radcliffe until I was discharged in the morning or whenever the doctors did their ward rounds.

I had an evening meal. I will say one thing: the food at the John Radcliffe is  good deal better than you get as a patient at Milton Keynes hospital.

So, I spent a relatively good night. None of the noise you usually get on a hospital ward. I felt sorry for Carol having to endure screaming and dreadful noise when she was on the various wards at Milton Keynes hospital. Even the staff were quiet, not talking and keeping me awake. I suppose having a room to myself did help, but in all honesty I think I prefer to be on a ward with other people and enjoy having conversations with other patients, but I shouldn't complain. At least I had my own toilet which meant I didn't have to go gar, although things were impeded because I had a heart monitor affixed to my person and a little later I had to have a saline drip, which was on a wheeled stand which I had to push around if I needed the toilet. The drip was because I had a dye put in my veins so that they could see clearly what they were doing during the stent procedure. The drip was for four hours.

In the morning I had breakfast at 8 o'clock and the usual obs were done and eventually a doctor came at around 10-11 and I was told I could be discharged. It all depended on the relevant paperwork being ready as well as any new medication I was to be put on. I was originally told it could be 'lunchtime,' but then I was told 'late afternoon.' I wasn't sure how I was going to get home. I had decided I would need to get a bus from Oxford bus station, the X5, which goes through Oxford to Cambridge, stopping at Bicester, Buckingham and Milton Keynes on the way. As I have a bus pass I wouldn't have to pay. Carol and I had used it on several occasions when we'd visited Oxford and when we didn't want the bother of driving and then having to find a carpark, although we usually used the Park and Ride system which made life easier.

I then got a text from Tim to say he had managed to reorganise himself and he would be able to come back and collect me, which was a relief as I wasn't keen on using the bus because I wasn't certain what would happen if I had a problem with the wrist wound, whether it would bleed and what I would do if that happened. I just needed to be able to text him or phone him once I was certain that everything was done, including the medication and the paperwork before I let him know so he could drive over from Milton Keynes (which takes at least and hour and a quarter.)

I got a visit from the pharmacist who went through my medication (I had taken all my proscribed medication with me.) and I was even given some which was at the point of running out, which meant I didn't have to put in a repeat prescription when I returned to Milton Keynes.) Even the paperwork was complete which meant I could ring Tim. I was at last able to go home. So, at around 4.30 Tim texted to say he had arrived on the hospital campus. I was taken down stairs to street-level by one of the nurses and Tim arrived and I was able to leave. The journey back to Milton Keynes was relatively stress-free, apart from a built up of traffic on the A34, basically because it was, by now, home-going time for most people and we arrived back in Eaglestone at around 6.30-7.00. The house was cold because the central heating hadn't been on for well over 24 hours and it took me a while to get it set up to warm the house.

Myocardial Perfusion Imaging Test At John Radcliffe

I've mentioned that I had a Myocardial Perfusion Imaging Test procedure booked at the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford today. (Monday) I was taken by James, a good friend at Shenley Christian Fellowship. He wasn't due to pick me up until 12 midday as the procedure was at 2p.m. and it wasn't going to take 2 hours to get to Oxford. Generally, with light traffic it wouldn't normally take more than an hour. I wasn't over-keen on driving myself, due to the stress it was likely to cause and I certainly didn't need any more, what with Carol already being in hospital and also the state of other drivers attitude of other motorists, being tail-gated and generally not being in a fit state to drive that far at the moment. Also, I don't think Carol would have been happy if I had gone on my own. I was ready to leave well before 12 noon. He phoned me to say he'd be ten minutes late. When he got here he had to set his satnav and we left for Oxford.

The journey was relatively straightforward, but still I'm glad I didn't have to drive. We had to stop on the A34 because the satnav wasn't working or something, so James used his mobile phone as a satnav.

We got to the John Radcliffe but then we weren't entirely sure where the department was that I was going to, the Nuclear Cardiology department. The John Radcliffe is an enormous hospital, spread across a really large campus and it can be extremely difficult to find the particular department you need when you don't know the exact layout of the place. Then we had a problem with parking the car, a vast carpark but absolutely no vacant spaces. So I had to get out of the car, having got James's mobile number so we could keep in contact. I went into the main reception entrance and asked at a desk, and was given instructions as to the exact place I should go to, along a very long corridor (why do hospitals always have at least on long corridor? Is it something that the architects work into their masterplans or something, just to keep patients and visitors fit with all the walking?) Even then I didn't know the department was on Level 1, so I had to go down in a lift, which, when I got in one, insisted on going up first before delivering to the correct floor. But then I had to walk a considerable distance before finding the right department although I had to ask at two further desks before eventually ending up where I should have been. I can't say it was particularly well signed, just endless corridors and stairs to reach it.

All the while James texted me. He said he would attempt to park outside the hospital and then, later, said he was going to go to a library. One was going to be closing at 1 o'clock, so obviously no use, and then he said he was going to Bicester, which we had come through on the way over from Milton Keynes, and he said he'd head back to the hospital to pick me up at 5.30.

I reported to the reception in the department and then had to wait in the waiting area, but I didn't have to sit there long because a nurse soon came to get me and went through to one of the preparation rooms where I had to have a canala inserted in my right arm. As usual with me I had to lay down on the bed because I have a problem with needles, usually with giving blood, as you will have discovered if you read my blog posts regularly. The nurse had a real problem finding a vein, and at one point wanted to put the thing in my hand, which I refused. It's not the pain of the needle, it's mostly when whoever is attempting to put a needle in is fiddling around, looking for a vein, try one area, then another, then they tap your skin to raise a vein, it won't work here, then there, they might start to put a needle in, it takes too long, at which point I'm feeling queasy and sick. But eventually the canala was inserted and eventually the radio-active substance put into my bloodstream. My blood pressure was taken, which was low. I don't have a problem with that. I had to remain laying down for a minute or two. I began to feel better and eventually stood up and had to go and wait out in the waiting area for an hour before they could do the fist scan. I was shown what the machine was like,  through a window into the main room and how I would lie on the bed with my head out though the end of the machine as the camera revolved around me. I have to admit I don't like being enclosed in a small space and get mildly claustrophobic as a result.

So, I sat and waited for the hour. I had to drink water, for whatever reason. I could have eaten something, but I wasn't hungry but I currently don't have an appetite. I had eaten earlier, before I had left home, at around 10.45. Some people waiting with me had bought food with them but I just couldn't face a thing. They had a television on to watch, an ancient edition of 'Bargain Hunt' on the Really channel, not a channel I would normally watch, and then what seemed like endless episodes of 'Homes Under The Hammer.' I attempted to read, as I had a book with me, but I couldn't concentrate on it, so I gave up.

When the hour was up (and goodness, how it did drag. Really boring, unfortunately.) I was called in to the next room for the scan. I had my blood pressure taken. I had to lay on the bed within the scanning machine. They put something under my legs to raise them slightly. I think I had pads put on my chest, that connect you to an E.C.G. I had to slide right back and put my head out the other side of the machine and raise my arms and put my hands behind my head. To be honest, I didn't like it. I don't like enclosed spaces. The actual camera part of the machine encircled the whole bed with me on it and my chest had to be under the camera. Fortunately they had music playing, from Classic FM, so as the machine started I could concentrate on that and not on the humming, whirring machine as it kept circling me. Also, the whole procedure took around 10 minutes, not a moment more or a moment less. I had to lay completely still. My arms began to get cramp and I wanted to stretch my legs, but I had to keep perfectly still. Then one of the nurses said that the procedure was over. Thank goodness. The thing began to stop revolving and I was able to be moved down the bed so that I could sit up. I then sat on the edge of the bed and the pads were removed from my chest and I could leave the room, and had to drink water as I sat outside. I was told I should eat something, but I didn't feel hungry and really had no appetite, although someone sitting near me in the waiting room had food with him in a bag and kept eating fruit and other things.

So, another hour elapsed. Again, watching television and being generally bored. Once the hour was over I hd to go into another room. I had to take off my shirt while they connected me to more pads, which went to a computer which showed E.C.G. readings. I had to stand on a treadmill and walk, at first at a slow pace and then they gradually increased the speed. I had to hold on to a handrail, and walk steadily. The speed of the treadmill was increased and I managed to keep walking steadily, but I began to feel a tightness in my chest, but they made me keep on walking. One of the nurses put something into my arm through the canula in my right arm. No doubt more radioactive substance but I think it was more likely something to make my heart beat faster, probably adrenaline, but I'm not sure. I had a stress test done at Milton Keynes hospital in the cardiology department several years ago and they did something similar whilst doing a sonic scan of my heart and the adrenaline or whatever it was made my heart beat faster. I think this new test was similar to that. As I got more and more tightness in my chest they slowed down the treadmill until it stopped, but frankly it was stressing me somewhat and I was relieved when it was over. I know when I'm out walking when to slow down or stop to rest, whenever I feel some tightness in my chest, so it was with this test.

I got off the treadmill and they took the pads off my chest and I went back to the waiting area.

Another hour to wait. Or perhaps a bit more. I attempted to text James, but by now my mobile showed that I had little battery-life in it. I decided to turn the thing off, otherwise if the battery failed I wouldn't have enough power to text James to let him know I had finished and where to pick me up from.

It was well over an hour by the time I went into the room with the gamma camera in it (I've been looking at the literature I was sent prior to going for this procedure and that is what the machine is called.) I had my blood pressure done again. By now (it was around 5.15p.m.) I was heavily sick of the whole thing, feeling really tired (which is an effect of having had a heart attack, so nothing new there.) I had to lay on the bed thing in the machine and my legs were lifted it up with a sort of bolster thing. Not sure why, although perhaps it helps my blood circulate better for the camera. Then I had to put my head back as far as I could out the back of the machine and put my hands behind my head. Again the machine started. But this time the operator left the room. I didn't get far into the procedure, unfortunately. I had my eyes closed as I had the first time round, but then I opened them and saw how close the camera thing was to me and I'm afraid to say on here that I got a horrible panic attack. I just can't stand being enclosed, I've mentioned it on here earlier. I just freaked out and in the process I move my position. I continued with the procedure, but when it had finished the nurse said that because I'm moved it had ruined the results of the scan. I would need to do it again. I explained that I'd had an awful panic attack and the staff did understand. I didn't want to have gone all the way to Oxford for this procedure and then not have it completed successfully. They said to me that next time someone would be with me during the next run with the gamma camera, and it wouldn't be so long, perhaps seven minutes. So, I agreed to have a second attempt and this time it went well, with the nurse talking to me throughout. The earlier attempt wasn't pleasant and I just hope that I don't have to have another scan like it. Just don't like being in enclosed spaces like that.

So, that was the final scan, thank goodness. I packed up my things and had to open up my mobile, which even than had very little battery power. I managed to text James (by now it was about 5.35 p.m.) and attempted to walk to the hospital reception area, where I'd come in earlier. I walked along a really long corridor, expecting it to lead out of the building, but I came to a set of double doors which I couldn't open, it requiring a card to swipe to get it to open, which I didn't have. No doubt a member of the hospital staff would have such a card, but I obviously didn't. I walked back the way I'd come, a long walk, and I wasn't feeling 100%, so it was hard work. I used a lift and hoped I would get back to the level which lead out to the reception area. I eventually got there, James having said earlier in a text that he was now back on the hospital site. I decided to walk out of the building and thankfully I saw his car drawing up down at the road-level. So I got into his car and we began the journey home, arriving back at our house at around 7.15. I was so grateful to James for his kindness to drive me to Oxford and for the successful conclusion of what was a very long and tiring day.