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.

Second Stent

As a result of the myocardial perfusion imaging test, which was done at the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford a couple of months ago (described in great detail in an earlier blog post on here.) I have been booked in to have a second stent fitted next Wednesday, 12th December. I have to be at the hospital for 7.30a.m., and I'm being taken by someone from church who has kindly offered to drive me there. I couldn't have driven myself, for one thing, I don't think the stress of the journey there at that hour would help, and, secondly, I wouldn't be able to drive back home because of having a local anaesthetic as well as other drugs and the possibility of the wound that would be made when the stent was fitted. I had a telephone call from the hospital yesterday morning to tell me I'm on the morning list, which means the procedure should be done at some stage during that morning. I have to remain in bed for at least two hours afterwards and can then be discharged. I did wonder whether I would need to stay in hospital overnight, but not this time, fortunately.

As with this sort of thing, it's the waiting which is the worst part. I don't generally like needles, giving blood and all that sort of thing. I have explained things regarding this in an earlier blog post. When I had my second heart attack in early September this year, I was rushed off to the John Radcliffe and there was talk of 'stents' on the ambulance as we drove at speed towards Oxford, but at that time I didn't really think of what was going to happen. Little did I realise, once I arrived, I would be in the operating theatre (I don't think it's actually referred to as that, but never mind) and having a stent inserted in a vein in my right arm. Not a lot of time to think about it, really and truly.

It's been a really wet and windy day today. I took Alfie out for his walk as usual, but I had to put my waterproof jacket with hood on before venturing forth. It had been kept in the back of the car for such an eventuality, so I had to nip out and get it before taking Alfie out. We didn't do the full circuit of Eaglestone Park, because he was getting soaked (not surprisingly), so I decided to cut across the park and make a short-cut back home. He shook himself, as dogs do, to try and get rid of the rain from his coat.

Carol not in a good state when I visited her this morning. (Friday) She's given so much pain relief that she's really out of things a lot of the time. I helped give her breakfast, which was porridge. I would never have believed that I would be feeding my wife in a care home bed. I have mentioned in some of these posts how I worked as a Support Worker for people with learning disabilities, working mostly in homes around Bedfordshire, mainly those run by the N.H.S. as well as being a Home Carer in and around Milton Keynes, but it would never have occurred to me that I would be caring for my wife in such an environment as that. I don't think that she even knew I was there this morning. She was talking some of the time, but not a lot of it was exactly lucid. She was going on about 'The Boys.' I thought she meant her sons, Daniel and Sam, but then I thought, perhaps she means Eddie and George, our grandchildren. She thought they were visiting, but they're not scheduled to visit. She wasn't sure what time it was, and forgot she had breakfast. This whole situation is really difficult. She prefers to lie on her left side, which had been decided when she was at Willen Hospice, but for some reason at Castlemead, the carers had her in bed, lying flat on her back. I said that I didn't want to mention this, but I had to when they came into the room and so they managed to roll her onto her left side, with pillows to prop her up. They told me that they were only doing what Carol wanted, but it seemed to me that at the moment she was really unable to explain properly. Not that I want to interfere but I do want her to have the best or at least what will make her more comfortable. I know that they've managed to get the pain under control, but do at least make sure she's comfortable in bed. She wanted to get out, which she had done at Willen, and managed to sit on the edge of her bed and, with some help, walk a short distance around the bed. But a nurse came in and said that she ought to stay in bed. 

Willen, Strange Phone Calls and Stents

Not easy writing this blog post. You will have noticed, if you're an avid follower of my posts on here, that I haven't posted anything for more than a week. We now know that Carol's cancer has spread, to her lungs and bones. I'm sorry, but there's no cure, no chemotherapy will destroy the tumour. It's really difficult to put these words on here. All I can do as a good husband is to be by her side, to help her with the pain whenever possible.  She is getting good care at Willan Hospice. We don't know how much time we've got left. It's appalling for me and the family. I have support from my church, Shenley Christian Fellowship. As you will no doubt be aware I have been attending this church since last year and I can't thank everyone there for visiting Carol, either at home, in Milton Keynes Hospital and now at Willen. 

Carol's mum and dad as well as her sister Jackie visited last week (I think it was last week. Time has gone into a sort of over-drive since all this began.) They came up from Bournemouth on the Monday and then stayed with family in Leicester, coming down alternate days and then returned home on the Friday of that week.

On the Tuesday I took Alfie, our Yorkshire Terrier, in to Willan Hospice to see Carol. I had to take him in the cage in the back of the car. No sooner had he got out of the car, than be began to bark noisily. In fact he barked almost all the time he was at Willen. I took him into Carol's room and he licked Carol's hands and face. I think she was really pleased to see him, but was somewhat concerned with him barking. Understandable, really, because we didn't want to upset any of the other patients. The staff loved him and made a great fuss of him, which Alfie, as expected, loved every minute of being stroked and being the centre of attention.

I had a telephone call yesterday. I rushed to pick up the thing, which is in the hallway. I'm talking here about our landline telephone. It's one of those cordless models. which means the unit sits in a docking cradle to keep the thing charged, so you can pick it up to answer and speak and talk anywhere within the house. On putting the thing to my ear there was no immediate response, no voice at the other end. I said 'hello!,' several times, then a further few seconds of silence. A sort of hollow sound, then a really awful, obviously mechanical or at least, recorded female voice said 'Good bye!!' and that was the end to the call. So, can someone tell me, what was it all about? Who on earth would bother to make a telephone call and then . . . .  just silence, followed by the awful female voice saying 'Good bye!' Someone's idea of a joke. If so, a rather pathetic one. What a waste of time and effort.

I've since been on Google to look for 'silent telephone calls,' and according to Ofcom these calls are not illegal, but if you can find out who sends them you can complain to them to get the company involved fined if they make too many of them.

I took Alfie out for his routine morning walk at about 7.15 this morning. Alfie doesn't understand that we can't go out when it's dark. It gets lighter later and later. I'm a bit annoyed that I make a real effort to pick up Alfie's poo and put it in a bin. I always carry at least one black doggy bag in my pocket for this eventuality, but it's unfair that some people don't pick up after their dogs as I see quite a lot of excrement on my walk around Eaglestone Park with Alfie. On the way back along the patch back to the house I am shocked to see a postman delivering mail. I don't think I've seen a postman much before midday around here ever. Certainly not in the time I've lived in Milton Keynes. There was a time once, long ago, when you could virtually set your watch by the postman delivering. In Bedford you used to get a delivery at 7 a.m, more or less on the dot, and then a second one around 11 a.m. Certainly not now. They seem to deliver when they feel like it. The other day we got our post delivered at around 4.30 p.m. which was a real shock.

When I got back home there was a pile of mail on the doormat. One was a package from Amazon, with a book in it which I ordered about a week ago. I am supposed to get stuff from Amazon delivered within 24 hours as I have Amazon Prime. Not really sure what they've been doing with that package. Usually Amazon uses their own delivery drivers for their parcels, but this was the Royal Mail. Never mind. At least I got my order . . .  eventually. But it seems the Royal Mail is slipping.

In that pile of mail I had a letter from the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford telling me that I would need a second stent fitted. No doubt they know what they're doing because it came from Professor Keith Channon, Honorary Consultant Cardiologist and Professor of Cardiovascular Medicine. I would imagine he has seen the scans done when I had the perfusion test done at Oxford all those weeks ago. I did wonder when I was going to hear. I'm not sure whether I will have to stay in hospital after having the procedure done and how I'm going to get there as well as back as I  don't think I could drive in either direction. Far too stressful.

Checking On Ashfield, (and other matters)

(Monday)Because I have had some changes to my medication, since I had my recent heart attack and was cared for in the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford, I needed to check that our doctor's surgery at Ashfield Medical Centre had received the letter from the hospital which has a list of the amendments. I just don't trust them to have this organised so that, when I need to put in a repeat prescription I get the new drugs on the list. We drove to Beanhill and went into the surgery and I asked as the reception desk whether the amendments had been made to my medication and the receptionist looked on the computer system and it had been up-dated, which means our GP had received the information plus a letter from the John Radcliffe which I'd received recently regarding my heart attack last week.

(Wednesday) I'm still managing to find the remains of the adhesive that they use to stick those contacts on your body when you have to have an E.C.G. when your in hospital, on my body, usually where you can't get at it easily. It's a sort of sticky residue which will wear off given time, but it's quite difficult to get off except when you use soap and water. I found I still had several of these contacts on me when I got home from hospital.

I'm still suffering somewhat from a dry cough, caused, I'm almost certain, as a side effect of some of my medication. I do occasionally get a twinge in my chest, no doubt caused by the stent, but it soon settles down. Certainly not as bad as any angina attack. I still have bruises on both my knees which were caused when I collapsed in church. A bit black and blue, the right knee is more swollen than the left and a good deal more painful. It has been difficult to bend but I can walk a good deal easier than when I first left hospital. I seems odd, but when I was supposed to have had a heart attack, in all honesty I can't remember any real pain as it was going on, no shooting pains up my arms as you're supposed to experience.  When I had my first heart attack in 2006 there was definite excruciating pain then and afterwards, when I left hospital after a week I could barely walk. This time I was able to walk without any problems. After the stent was fitted I was very drugged, no doubt as a result of local
anaesthetic, and felt really horribly woosy for some time and couldn't walk unaided, but it soon wore off, thank goodness. At one point it seemed as if the whole room was spinning round and round. Quite unpleasant. I had to sit down and rest before it went off.  I also have a bruise on the left of my forehead which is somewhat painful to the touch but not too bad at the moment. When I was in hospital they did check these injuries out but they decided that there was nothing serious in them.

On the weather-front, it's a somewhat overcast sort of day (as I write this at 8.00 a.m. on Wednesday 12th September.) I'm not sure whether we'll get sunshine today as it's sort of cloudy and I think it rained slightly overnight as the ground outside is damp.

I've had a telephone call this morning from the Cardiology department at Milton Keynes Hospital checking me out to see how I am after my heart attack. It would appear that the John Radcliffe in Oxford have been in contact. I had a short interview to discover how I am at the moment and I bought up the matter of the dry cough and the lady I was speaking to said it would be a side-effect of the Ramipril, one of the additional medications I am currently on since being in hospital. So, at least I know where this cough is coming from, considering I'm not feeling inwell due to a cold or 'flu. She said that I could ask my doctor to change this medication, but I mustn't stop taking the Ramipril. She asked me about diet and then gave me an appointment for next Monday at 9.20 a.m. As it's only a 10-15-minute walk to the Cardiology department from our home at least there should be no problem either finding the department or finding it. We have usually entered the hospital through Cardiology when we've been to the oncology unit when Carol was having her chemotherapy sessions. All this showing how rapidly the various N.H.S. departments have got on my case to get me up-and-running with rehab.

Emergency Trip To The John Radcliffe In Oxford- Part 2

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.

A Royal Connection?

We have been hearing (or reading, or listening, depending on how you read the news.) about the Duke Of Edinburgh  (ie: husband, and Consort of The Queen, Elizabeth II,  monarch of  Great Britain.) being taken to Papworth Hospital due to the fact that he had complained of a pain in his chest over the Christmas holiday while staying at Sandringham, the royal Norfolk estate. I only mention this because I went to Papworth for tests after I had my heart attack. He had an operation to insert a stent into a blood vessel to unblock a blood clot. For anyone who doesn't know what a stent is, it's a quite amazing invention, inserted into the vein in the patient's groin and then gradually worked up through the vein, and the surgeon can see this using X-ray. The end of the stent is a tiny umbrella-like construction, which, when in the correct position, is  opened up, thus enlarging the vein and helping the blood to flow properly and preventing a further clot developing. The stent is then removed and the patient allowed to recover.  I have not had this procedure, as I had an angiogram which was done weeks after my heart attack. A dye is injected into the blood-supply, and as a result can be seen by X ray and can then show up exactly were the blood clot that caused a heart attack is. I had a test at Papworth Hospital to show up any further clot and it was decided that I didn't need invasive surgery, but, apparently now, a good 5 and a half years after my original heart attack (or to give it the correct medical name: myocardial infarction.) if you have a heart attack you are automatically given the stent procedure. My  heart condition is controlled by medication.

The Duke of Edinburgh has since been discharged from Papworth Hospital and has returned to Sandringham.