Wednesday. 7.15 a.m. I have worn the heart monitor since yesterday afternoon. One of the contacts came off yesterday, probably because I was so hot, so I managed to use Sellotape to reattach it. It takes some time to get used to having the thing attached, so I couldn't shave this morning because I must not get it wet. I haven't done any washing up, so there's still dirty pots and pans in the sink. It will have to wait until tomorrow, after I've been to return the heart monitor.
I was just thinking about the heart monitor. It's small and relatively easy to deal with. You have to plan ahead when you need to do anything, which was what I did when I went to bed last night. I was conscious of it becoming disconnected from my chest, that it might fall on the floor and that it would get in the way, and I was likely to lay on it. I didn't. Then I compared it with the complex and bulky heart monitoring system I had to put up with when I was last in hospital. I had no end of contacts placed on my body, and it was all connected to a large monitor, which kept on bleeping if I moved only slightly, and it was more or less impossible to sleep at night or lay down with all the cables everywhere. Surely they could have used a similar monitor to the one I have on at the moment.
Thursday. 6.15 a.m. It's foggy this morning. It's not thick and is likely to clear as soon as the sun gets warm.
I have had more problems with the heart monitor, because one of the contacts keeps on coming off, and I have had to use Sellotape to keep it on. Also, it's very itchy around the point where these contacts are stuck on my skin.
10.55 a.m. At around 9.20 I drove to the hospital to return the heart monitor. I must have made a wrong turning somewhere on the route, because I landed up goodness know where, somewhere down Chaffron Way, but I managed to get back on track and got onto Marlborough Street, which runs alongside Eaglestone and went into the hospital campus and then park in the street-level car park without any problems, where Carol and I used to park when she was going for chemotherapy. I went into the cardiology department and handed over the heart monitor and then returned to the car park and found, on putting the card in the machine which you pay, I found the barrier lifted without me having to pay, which is not surprising, as I was there for no more than five minutes. I then drove towards the ESSO filling station in Childs Way, to put some diesel in the car, ready for my journey to Chipping Norton on Saturday morning.
Then I drove to Sainsbury's (you never would have guessed, or would you?) Some stocking up was in order, and then back to Dexter House.
9.00 p.m. I got a letter this morning, from the Cardiology department at Milton Keynes Hospital (no, that isn't exactly correct, The letter had an address in Bristol, as the return to sender address. Which would suggest it wasn't sent from Milton Keynes Hospital.) Never mind. I have an appointment there on 19th June at 9.30 a.m. The appointment is supposed to take three hours, in which time they will be various tests, my weight will be taken and no doubt I will be put on a treadmill, to check my heart function and so on. I am only working on supposition, but I do have some idea what they are likely to do with me.
When I was there the other day, I was intrigued by the door with the title 'Echo Room.' I know, it's for doing tests on heart patients, using some sort of echo test (I think I've had it done at some point or other. I have an idea that the procedure is called an echocardiogram) But I can't help having this picture, in my vivid imagination, even though it's totally crazy, that it's a sort of vast echo chamber, where people go to let of steam, when they are having a terrible day, for example, so they go in there, shut the door and shout at the walls, and it echoes back at them (presumably it's totally sound-proofed?) I know, it is bonkers, but, if you've read some of my earlier posts, you will have realized that I am somewhat bonkers.
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