I can't recall how I got onto the trolley which the paramedics used to get me out to the ambulance. I think I must have been helped to stand up from the floor and then helped to walk to the trolley. I was then wheeled out to the ambulance which was parked outside in the carpark. I have no recollection of which door I went out of. It's odd how details like that just disappear from your memory, probably because of the trauma of the incident. Perhaps it's just as well you don't recall the smaller things. This is why I'm writing this as soon as I could so that I can record as much as possible for this blog.
Inside the ambulance the paramedics did an E.C.G. (electrocardiogram) of my heart. They did a series of other tests, including asking me questions as to what the intensity of the pain was, on a scale of 1 to 10. They always do this in the N.H.S. when there is a need in any sort of incident where there might be pain. This information was then sent ahead to the hospital. They then had to wait to see which hospital I was being taken to, either Milton Keynes University Hospital, or the John Radcliffe in Oxford. Of course I would have preferred it to have been Milton Keynes because we live just 10 minute's walk away. After some wait they were told I should be taken to John Radcliffe. So, with that decided, and me well and truly strapped in to the trolley inside the ambulance, we pulled away from the carpark outside the Oaktree Centre (the building occupied my S.C.F., Shenley Christian Centre.) and made, at some considerable speed, for the main road heading for Oxford. I had absolutely no idea where we were on the road at any one time because you couldn't see out of the ambulance, except a vague glimpse out of a side-window as we sped along. I expect we went via Buckingham, the main road which we had only recently drive along the day before, Saturday, when we'd gone to Stowe Landscape Gardens.
All the way to Oxford the paramedics sent details of my situation. I heard a vague mention of 'stent' and that was all. At the time it didn't really sink in what they were likely do for me when we arrived at the John Radcliffe hospital. When I had my first heart attack in 2006 I was taken to Bedford Hospital. We have been to the Churchill Hospital when Carol has had scans, which was the first time I'd been to any of the Oxford hospitals, having had no previous need. I didn't even know where it was exactly, and had no idea how we got there. Some of the journey was uncomfortable, because the road surface somewhere was extremely bumpy. I think this was somewhere where roadworks were in progress. It was fortunate that there was minimal road traffic, due to the fact that it was a Sunday. At one point I was given a tablet to chew, I think it was to stop any further clotting of my blood or to help with pain. Not a pleasant taste, but it stopped any further problems arising.
About an hour since leaving Milton Keynes we arrived at the entrance to the Cardiology department of John Radcliffe Hospital. We went through the door into what is known as the Cath Lab. I only know this now having done some research on the internet. I was taken through into a sort of anti-room where I was prepared for an angiogram. I have had this before when they put this in through my groin. This new procedure was to be done through the wrist of my right arm. I didn't entirely take in what was happening, as it all went so fast. They removed my shirt and after they had done further prepping I was then taken through into the lab. More like an operating theatre, with lots of glass windows leading into offices (I presume.) and what appeared to be an X ray machine in the ceiling on a sort of armature system so this device could be easily moved. They transferred me from the trolley onto a narrow bed arrangement. I was still wearing my chinos, socks and shoes, I must add, throughout all this, although a sort of material cover was put over me, no doubt to keeps things clean. Then the surgeon arrived, a short man dressed in blue and with a white paper hat on to presumably keep his hair out of the way and a white gauze mask over his mouth. He spoke to me and said that he was going to put a local anesthetic into my right arm, which was placed on a sort of clear plastic surface at the side of the narrow table. I realised that something was going to happen. He asked me if I'd had an angiogram before, and I said, yes, after I'd had my first heart attack in 2006. He could see my veins within my body by looking at a monitor from the X Ray machine, but I wasn't going to look as I, honestly, had other things on my mind at that precise moment. The area of my wrist where the aesthetic had been delivered became numbish and then the surgeon began the procedure, inserting a stent into the vein in my arm. I had more pain (although fairly mild) from the pressure he was putting on my arm on the side of the table. The stent was gradually being inserted further into my chest. I could feel a certain amount of it's movement within my body, but no more. Then the surgeon said he could see the clot in one of the veins in my heart. I'm not sure how long all this lasted, probably between 30-40 minutes. I felt incredibly relaxed throughout, which, looking back, is amazing, because me and needles and operations don't mix that well. Looking now at the right wrist as I write this post, there is really so little sign of anything except a very small entry-point for the stent. I had a sort of wrist devised put over the entry-point when the procedure was complete which I kept on for a day or two. Then the surgeon said the procedure had been successful and complete. I was left on the table for a while after the procedure was complete, all the staff left and it seemed odd to just be left on that bench/table. It was quite cold, particularly as I had no shirt on, also weird that I still had my trousers and shoes on throughout!
Eventually I was transferred onto a hospital trolley and wheeled into the coronary unit where I remained for several hours until eventually I was moved into the C.C.U. (Coronary Care Unit.)
The unit is modern. I'm not sure how long ago it was opened. I think probably about 5 years or so. It doesn't have the feel of Milton Keynes Hospital. They've taken some thought about how much space each patient requires. We found it really difficult in some ways with the lack of space when Carol was on Ward 22. Very little space around the bed, lack of hanging for clothing (I don't think there was any, thinking about it.) and generally nowhere to put personal belongings. In this first room it was plain and the windows had Venetian-style brands instead of curtains or those Roman blinds that they had in the single room Carol had early on when she was in hospital.
Then, around 10 o'clock that night I was moved upstairs to an on-suite room. A rarity, surely, in any N.H.S. hospital. The only problem was, for me at any rate, the sound of traffic moving past the window which kept me awake at night. There were two manhole covers (I assume they were those) in the road outside and you'd get a double 'clink-clink' as a vehicle moved over them. Somewhat annoying.
When I left Milton Keynes I had no time to collect anything from home. No basic necessities such as toiletries, shaving requisites such as razor, shaving foam, flannel, toothbrush, toothpaste etc, or night-attire, or a simple change of clothing. I had on the same clothes which I had put on earlier that morning and which I had on when my collapse at S.C.F. earlier that morning. All I had to wear in the time I was in the hospital was a hospital-issue gown, which is the type you have to put on sort of back-to-front and ties up at the back. Not easy when there's nobody to help, so I put this on. Although I did get given some pyjamas but didn't change into them. Also, no slippers, so I had to walk about bare-footed, which isn't something I like doing at home.
All the way to Oxford the paramedics sent details of my situation. I heard a vague mention of 'stent' and that was all. At the time it didn't really sink in what they were likely do for me when we arrived at the John Radcliffe hospital. When I had my first heart attack in 2006 I was taken to Bedford Hospital. We have been to the Churchill Hospital when Carol has had scans, which was the first time I'd been to any of the Oxford hospitals, having had no previous need. I didn't even know where it was exactly, and had no idea how we got there. Some of the journey was uncomfortable, because the road surface somewhere was extremely bumpy. I think this was somewhere where roadworks were in progress. It was fortunate that there was minimal road traffic, due to the fact that it was a Sunday. At one point I was given a tablet to chew, I think it was to stop any further clotting of my blood or to help with pain. Not a pleasant taste, but it stopped any further problems arising.
About an hour since leaving Milton Keynes we arrived at the entrance to the Cardiology department of John Radcliffe Hospital. We went through the door into what is known as the Cath Lab. I only know this now having done some research on the internet. I was taken through into a sort of anti-room where I was prepared for an angiogram. I have had this before when they put this in through my groin. This new procedure was to be done through the wrist of my right arm. I didn't entirely take in what was happening, as it all went so fast. They removed my shirt and after they had done further prepping I was then taken through into the lab. More like an operating theatre, with lots of glass windows leading into offices (I presume.) and what appeared to be an X ray machine in the ceiling on a sort of armature system so this device could be easily moved. They transferred me from the trolley onto a narrow bed arrangement. I was still wearing my chinos, socks and shoes, I must add, throughout all this, although a sort of material cover was put over me, no doubt to keeps things clean. Then the surgeon arrived, a short man dressed in blue and with a white paper hat on to presumably keep his hair out of the way and a white gauze mask over his mouth. He spoke to me and said that he was going to put a local anesthetic into my right arm, which was placed on a sort of clear plastic surface at the side of the narrow table. I realised that something was going to happen. He asked me if I'd had an angiogram before, and I said, yes, after I'd had my first heart attack in 2006. He could see my veins within my body by looking at a monitor from the X Ray machine, but I wasn't going to look as I, honestly, had other things on my mind at that precise moment. The area of my wrist where the aesthetic had been delivered became numbish and then the surgeon began the procedure, inserting a stent into the vein in my arm. I had more pain (although fairly mild) from the pressure he was putting on my arm on the side of the table. The stent was gradually being inserted further into my chest. I could feel a certain amount of it's movement within my body, but no more. Then the surgeon said he could see the clot in one of the veins in my heart. I'm not sure how long all this lasted, probably between 30-40 minutes. I felt incredibly relaxed throughout, which, looking back, is amazing, because me and needles and operations don't mix that well. Looking now at the right wrist as I write this post, there is really so little sign of anything except a very small entry-point for the stent. I had a sort of wrist devised put over the entry-point when the procedure was complete which I kept on for a day or two. Then the surgeon said the procedure had been successful and complete. I was left on the table for a while after the procedure was complete, all the staff left and it seemed odd to just be left on that bench/table. It was quite cold, particularly as I had no shirt on, also weird that I still had my trousers and shoes on throughout!
Eventually I was transferred onto a hospital trolley and wheeled into the coronary unit where I remained for several hours until eventually I was moved into the C.C.U. (Coronary Care Unit.)
The unit is modern. I'm not sure how long ago it was opened. I think probably about 5 years or so. It doesn't have the feel of Milton Keynes Hospital. They've taken some thought about how much space each patient requires. We found it really difficult in some ways with the lack of space when Carol was on Ward 22. Very little space around the bed, lack of hanging for clothing (I don't think there was any, thinking about it.) and generally nowhere to put personal belongings. In this first room it was plain and the windows had Venetian-style brands instead of curtains or those Roman blinds that they had in the single room Carol had early on when she was in hospital.
Then, around 10 o'clock that night I was moved upstairs to an on-suite room. A rarity, surely, in any N.H.S. hospital. The only problem was, for me at any rate, the sound of traffic moving past the window which kept me awake at night. There were two manhole covers (I assume they were those) in the road outside and you'd get a double 'clink-clink' as a vehicle moved over them. Somewhat annoying.
When I left Milton Keynes I had no time to collect anything from home. No basic necessities such as toiletries, shaving requisites such as razor, shaving foam, flannel, toothbrush, toothpaste etc, or night-attire, or a simple change of clothing. I had on the same clothes which I had put on earlier that morning and which I had on when my collapse at S.C.F. earlier that morning. All I had to wear in the time I was in the hospital was a hospital-issue gown, which is the type you have to put on sort of back-to-front and ties up at the back. Not easy when there's nobody to help, so I put this on. Although I did get given some pyjamas but didn't change into them. Also, no slippers, so I had to walk about bare-footed, which isn't something I like doing at home.
