Heart Attack - My Experience
Discussion
Further to this thread.. http://www.pistonheads.com/gassing/topic.asp?h=0&a...
On Saturday 8th November I was in the office preparing to demonstrate a rather nice S Class to an appointed customer, when a familiar and very unpleasant feeling crept over me.
Tightness across the chest as expected but more importantly, weird body temperature changes. Hot and cold at the same time sort of thing.
I made arrangements for the appointment to be covered (one of the lads expressing gratitude for a solid lead whilst commenting I looked "a bit grey"), and arranged for a driver to take me home, as these "turns" can happen but usually pass in a relatively short space of time.
En route I realised that rather than fading the tightness was getting worse, breathing was becoming difficult and strange pains were starting to appear in my hands, back, shoulders and neck. Time to make that call methinks and divert the driver to A&E at the Royal Surrey, Guildford.
They were waiting for me when we got there, onto the stretcher and into the unit and straight onto the ECG machine. Pain starting to fade a little now, but thats typical, a bit like taking your car to the dealer and the fault repairing itself at the end of the road. Registrar(sp?) is unhappy with ECG readings as they suggest that something is not right. I give him my mobile phone and suggest he speaks to my Heart Surgeon (see previous thread, I had a minor heart attack in 2006, so am on good terms with him).
My guy also none to pleased with what the ECG is indicating, suggests filling me with morphine (gotta love BUPA), and transferring me to the High Dependancy Unit at the Royal Brompton in Chelsea, where I had undergone my previous treatment. Blue lighted up the A3 and ensconsed in a bed in the HDU covered in wires quicker than my wife can get there in her TT, and she had a head start.
A mixture of worry, morphine and being in pain for about six hours was making me very "in and out", so assuring my wife that I would be comfortable and that there was nothing further to be gained that evening they sent her home, leaving me to deal with the strange Russian chap in the corner who seems to complain to everyone about everything. But hey, I'm absolutely hammered on morphine, so what the hell do I care?
At one o'clock Sunday morning someone smashed me in the chest with a baseball bat. It is very difficult to describe this feeling. I gather it's because the heart itself does not have any nerve endings so everyone desribes the feeling differently, but that is about as close as I can get. Like someone putting constant heavy pressure on an already really bad bruise.
I can remember two people on my right and two people at the end of the bed. Two big white square wet patches placed onto my chest by one of the guys on the right,paddles in hand. There are wires, machines and people everywhere. I remember finding it odd that one of the guys at the end of the bed is on the phone (to my surgeon, I discover later).
The Russian fella is having kittens, constantly shouting "pweeaze turn out ze light..." in a squeaky Elmer Fudd type voice "..I am very ill so how do you expect me to feel better if I cannot sleep? Pweeaze turn ze light out" I try to raise the strength and energy to tell him to f
k off, as I have some serious problems of my own, but I just cannot manage it. Everything about that night is vague from then on.
The following is in laymans terms, as I am unaware of the technical stuff but this is how it was explained to me. Any innacuracies are down to me either not understanding, or generally being a bit thick.
I am in the theatre at 07.00 on Sunday morning, for two and a half hours. Three of the four arteries leading in and out of the heart are either blocked or partially blocked. One "chamber" has deflated and is refusing to start again.
My miracle worker of a surgeon has managed to unblock the blocked stents, place a couple more in and insert a baloon attached to a pump that is inflating and deflating the lazy section of the heart. All of this is done by entering an artery at the groin, and watching what he is doing on screens via an X-Ray machine. Absolutely astonishing.
I come to around 11.00am on Sunday morning. Flat on my back and unable to move, due to the tube that is still running from my groin into my heart with a baloon on the end of it. An extraordinary feeling, having this thing pump up and relax inside your chest, very odd. This is to be the situation for the following twelve hours!
Around 12.00 my surgeon pays me a visit, looks at me and simply states "That is another one of the nine lives gone, I thought I'd lost you for a minute there. Now get some rest and I will see you tomorrow" and then walks away. A typically understated sentence from an phenomenally talented individual, but a statement that will stay with me for some time to come.
Baloon removed, four days rest and back into the theatre "to see what happening" - another stent put in "while I'm there" (I think I have about eight of the buggers now) and home that evening, where I am to stay for a month watching Deadliest Catch, Scrubs and the entire series of The Sopranos.
The upshot is that I am now back at work, although only 2/3 days a week and I am to "avoid undue physical exertion and stress where possible" - yeah, right.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, the actual damage to the heart is very minor, and he is convinced that it can be returned to full strength with drugs rather than further surgery. Something he says that is "Quite remarkable, considering that you probably shouldn't be here"
There are of course future considerations, the smoking has stopped (5 weeks Saturday
) and I could do with losing a little weight. Exercise a little less (I was making improvements at the gym, but need to go a little slower for a while) and a really nice thing called a Thalium test, where they fill you full of radiation, make you ride a bicycle and then stick you in a machine to check that you are glowing in all the right places.
I cannot express how much the people at the Royal Brompton mean to me. There are some extremely talented and caring people out there.
Anyway, my apologies for the long post and thanks to those that took the time to read it. No real reason for posting it I suppose, I just find that writing things down can put it all in place.
Please feel free to ask any questions, I will happily answer within my limited knowledge.
Best wishes all.
On Saturday 8th November I was in the office preparing to demonstrate a rather nice S Class to an appointed customer, when a familiar and very unpleasant feeling crept over me.
Tightness across the chest as expected but more importantly, weird body temperature changes. Hot and cold at the same time sort of thing.
I made arrangements for the appointment to be covered (one of the lads expressing gratitude for a solid lead whilst commenting I looked "a bit grey"), and arranged for a driver to take me home, as these "turns" can happen but usually pass in a relatively short space of time.
En route I realised that rather than fading the tightness was getting worse, breathing was becoming difficult and strange pains were starting to appear in my hands, back, shoulders and neck. Time to make that call methinks and divert the driver to A&E at the Royal Surrey, Guildford.
They were waiting for me when we got there, onto the stretcher and into the unit and straight onto the ECG machine. Pain starting to fade a little now, but thats typical, a bit like taking your car to the dealer and the fault repairing itself at the end of the road. Registrar(sp?) is unhappy with ECG readings as they suggest that something is not right. I give him my mobile phone and suggest he speaks to my Heart Surgeon (see previous thread, I had a minor heart attack in 2006, so am on good terms with him).
My guy also none to pleased with what the ECG is indicating, suggests filling me with morphine (gotta love BUPA), and transferring me to the High Dependancy Unit at the Royal Brompton in Chelsea, where I had undergone my previous treatment. Blue lighted up the A3 and ensconsed in a bed in the HDU covered in wires quicker than my wife can get there in her TT, and she had a head start.
A mixture of worry, morphine and being in pain for about six hours was making me very "in and out", so assuring my wife that I would be comfortable and that there was nothing further to be gained that evening they sent her home, leaving me to deal with the strange Russian chap in the corner who seems to complain to everyone about everything. But hey, I'm absolutely hammered on morphine, so what the hell do I care?
At one o'clock Sunday morning someone smashed me in the chest with a baseball bat. It is very difficult to describe this feeling. I gather it's because the heart itself does not have any nerve endings so everyone desribes the feeling differently, but that is about as close as I can get. Like someone putting constant heavy pressure on an already really bad bruise.
I can remember two people on my right and two people at the end of the bed. Two big white square wet patches placed onto my chest by one of the guys on the right,paddles in hand. There are wires, machines and people everywhere. I remember finding it odd that one of the guys at the end of the bed is on the phone (to my surgeon, I discover later).
The Russian fella is having kittens, constantly shouting "pweeaze turn out ze light..." in a squeaky Elmer Fudd type voice "..I am very ill so how do you expect me to feel better if I cannot sleep? Pweeaze turn ze light out" I try to raise the strength and energy to tell him to f
k off, as I have some serious problems of my own, but I just cannot manage it. Everything about that night is vague from then on.The following is in laymans terms, as I am unaware of the technical stuff but this is how it was explained to me. Any innacuracies are down to me either not understanding, or generally being a bit thick.
I am in the theatre at 07.00 on Sunday morning, for two and a half hours. Three of the four arteries leading in and out of the heart are either blocked or partially blocked. One "chamber" has deflated and is refusing to start again.
My miracle worker of a surgeon has managed to unblock the blocked stents, place a couple more in and insert a baloon attached to a pump that is inflating and deflating the lazy section of the heart. All of this is done by entering an artery at the groin, and watching what he is doing on screens via an X-Ray machine. Absolutely astonishing.
I come to around 11.00am on Sunday morning. Flat on my back and unable to move, due to the tube that is still running from my groin into my heart with a baloon on the end of it. An extraordinary feeling, having this thing pump up and relax inside your chest, very odd. This is to be the situation for the following twelve hours!
Around 12.00 my surgeon pays me a visit, looks at me and simply states "That is another one of the nine lives gone, I thought I'd lost you for a minute there. Now get some rest and I will see you tomorrow" and then walks away. A typically understated sentence from an phenomenally talented individual, but a statement that will stay with me for some time to come.
Baloon removed, four days rest and back into the theatre "to see what happening" - another stent put in "while I'm there" (I think I have about eight of the buggers now) and home that evening, where I am to stay for a month watching Deadliest Catch, Scrubs and the entire series of The Sopranos.
The upshot is that I am now back at work, although only 2/3 days a week and I am to "avoid undue physical exertion and stress where possible" - yeah, right.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, the actual damage to the heart is very minor, and he is convinced that it can be returned to full strength with drugs rather than further surgery. Something he says that is "Quite remarkable, considering that you probably shouldn't be here"
There are of course future considerations, the smoking has stopped (5 weeks Saturday
) and I could do with losing a little weight. Exercise a little less (I was making improvements at the gym, but need to go a little slower for a while) and a really nice thing called a Thalium test, where they fill you full of radiation, make you ride a bicycle and then stick you in a machine to check that you are glowing in all the right places.I cannot express how much the people at the Royal Brompton mean to me. There are some extremely talented and caring people out there.
Anyway, my apologies for the long post and thanks to those that took the time to read it. No real reason for posting it I suppose, I just find that writing things down can put it all in place.
Please feel free to ask any questions, I will happily answer within my limited knowledge.
Best wishes all.
All the best chap.
Stop whinging man - I'm going for TWO fillings this afternoon. Which will involve nasty needles and everything.
I've had that radiation test, sadly its not that exciting, i've also had loads of ecg's and an echo, i think the actual procedures and the serious of what could or is happening is far worse than the physical problem (not that ive had an actual heart attack)
You're lucky you have private healthcare thats all i can say, i went into A&E after having a pannic attack, the ecg they did in the abulance was inconclusive and the paramedics where concerend as my hands where clamy, i had pains and the same sensations you describe, i got to A&E where they put the ecg leads on wrong which was followed by the indian doctor injecting me with adrenaline!!! luckily he got half way through befre a nurse spotted the problem and shouted at him to stop!!
I sort of understand what you've been through, all i can say is i wish you the very best and a very speedy recovery
You're lucky you have private healthcare thats all i can say, i went into A&E after having a pannic attack, the ecg they did in the abulance was inconclusive and the paramedics where concerend as my hands where clamy, i had pains and the same sensations you describe, i got to A&E where they put the ecg leads on wrong which was followed by the indian doctor injecting me with adrenaline!!! luckily he got half way through befre a nurse spotted the problem and shouted at him to stop!!
I sort of understand what you've been through, all i can say is i wish you the very best and a very speedy recovery
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