Road to Recovery

Day Six of recovery and Andrew is in the Park...

The peaceful tranquillity washes over me as I take in the beauty of Llangunnors evergreen. The morning light breaking through the tree's, mist silently hovering above the playing fields, my dog taking a crap on the grass... Milo! You couldn't wait until we got home could you? He looks at me with his big brown eyes the same as anyone would look at you whilst relieving themselves, 'Dude seriously, some privacy?'

Oh well, I suppose the bending will help with the circulation, yet it doesn't make the big black bruise down my leg any less painful. It feels good to get out, get that fresh air into my lungs. Though every step rocks me with fear, that I'll feel that ectopic beat that has tormented me these past months, that un-synchronised misstep within my hearts rhythm that sends it tunnelling down the path of no return.

With each step I hope that it won't be the case. The signal up here on the mountain carries the same strength as the caffeine in a hospital coffee... and I'm not sure what I'd be more upset about if my heart kicked into one of its episodes? That the past surgery was for nothing and I was back to square one or that I'd have to drag my body through the wet grass of the misty playing fields like some kind of commando who should have been kicked out the helicopter long before it left the cadet school.  And then there's the dog, it's not like I've got myself a Lassie here, who would run immediately to alert the neighbours of my peril... 

'Whats that boy? Andrews stuck down a well?... Oh, Andrews unwell! Quick show me, John! John! Get help!'

No, I tell my dog I need help and he'd happily sit there licking my face. It might have been more beneficial for me if I'd have gotten a Husky or one of those St Bernard's where I could just hang onto his neck and he could just drag me home. Unfortunately my little Cavalier King Charles can barely drag his big floppy ears along without tripping over them...I didn't quite think this through.

But nevertheless each step also fills me with great hope. There is no missed beat, quickened heart rate or any divergence from my pace makers stabled rhythm (as of yet). Yes my thigh where they fed the tubes feels like its had a knife grinding away against the bone, my chest holds all kinds of discomforts which seem to come and go as they please and the painkillers I've been consuming to fend off the pains make me want to do nothing but sleep. But at least the shoulder pain that plagued me so heavily has since faded into a passing ache, that's reason enough to celebrate at the moment. So Milo, fetch me that stick and let us march into the days of glory with our heads held high, and the hopes and dreams that perhaps, maybe even soon, everything shall be right again... No Milo, thats a sock.

Putting Humpty Dumpty Back Together

Arghh the pain, the agony! I need the drugs! GIVE ME THE DRUGS! No, it’s not my heart, where they’ve just spent hours burning away tissue to stop my palpitations, or my chest where they’ve fed wires through my arteries or even my groin which harboured two massive tubes... Oh no, it’s my shoulder.

Yes, MY SHOULDER! And I don’t mean the kind of dull ache in which maybe I lay awkwardly during the procedure, no, it’s the kind of pain where I want to rip my arm out of its socket and throw it out the window, and where a dose of paracetamol, tramadol and two shots of morphine can barely take the edge off it!

Apparently due to the aggressiveness in which the surgical team attacked my dodgy tickers tissue, it caused some ill effects on the nerves that lead up to my shoulder. Now I’ve done the entire YMCA dance and no matter what I do with my arm I cannot alleviate the pain at all... AAAAARGH!

I did a quick google (you’re right, I shouldn’t have) and in some cases it can lead to long term chronic shoulder dysfunction... Awesome, well that be me all over wouldn’t it? Go in for heart surgery and come out with a life long dodgy shoulder. But hey, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve left surgery with long term life affecting nerve damage, an operation many years ago rendered me deaf in my left, but you know, shit happens.

Anyway, enough dwelling on this horrendous pain that makes me want to render myself unconscious just to escape its horrid grasp... The procedure according to the surgeon, went really well! Woohoo, bust out the caviar and get the Doritos ready! Thankfully at this time they did not need to do the AV Node Ablation, which would have rendered the junction box to my hearts own pace maker null and void, thus having to rely solely on my fitted one.

Instead they believe that they were able to Ablate the tissue and electric circuit (yes, we’re still talking about my heart) that were causing the palpations. Now I won’t know how much of success exactly this was for a few weeks as my heart recovers. The objective of the procedure was to stop the ‘SVT’s’ or at least reduce their frequency of them. It may turn out that in the long run it will have proven unsuccessful and my weekly A&E trips shall continue and I’ll have to return again to have the AV Node wiped out... but let’s hope it’s doesn’t come to that aye (awkwardly hopeful smile).

As usual I must commend the BRI hospital staff for both their professionalism and their hospitality. With a room all to myself, electric bed, TV, ensuite bathroom and a skyline view of Bristol, I simply cannot complain about the 5 star accommodation. Though my only complaint of the room was that the clock didn’t work, and I was greatly disoriented waking up in the room still half doped up from the morphine and anaesthetic to find it was quarter to four... on Thursday. So not only had they fixed my heart, but invented time travel as well, marvellous!

After we got there we sat in the waiting room before myself and five others were ushered into cubicles like sheep, though nobody laughed at the little baaa I let out, shame, it was a top joke. We then proceeded to change into those Uber sexy hospital gowns, complete with rear slit to show a bit of rear skin, which I didn’t mind as my wife says I got a nice ass. Hey, if you got if, flaunt it!

‘Erm mr smith’ the nurse said to my as I sat crossed legged on the bed attempting to conceal my manhood in the thin layer of cloth. ‘That’s not a hair net’

‘No?’

‘No, they’re your paper pants’

Oh, I thought to myself pulling the pants off my head. I assumed the extra holes were in case you had pigtails, a ponytail or perhaps a man bun. They’re breezy though, I’ll give them that.

One of the nurses was quite impressed by my laid back attitude as we waited to go down to surgery, she said that normally she had to reassure her patients as they sat nervously on edge, but I was akin to a man sat at home in his favourite armchair with a whisky and cigar waiting for an episode of Emmerdale to start.

I explained that having been in A&E around twenty times, been knocked out sixteen times and undergone heavy surgery earlier this year, you kind of get accustomed to it.

I was then taken to the Cath lab, now I’ve never met her but I’ve heard she’s a lovely person, I did ask if cath had given permission for us to use her lab, which got a chuckle and oh look, Pat left her board here.

Now the lab seems less an operating theatre and more a resemblance of the medical bay from the Starship Enterprise. A Huge TV screen, the kind you’d find in a New Yorkers bachelor pad hung adjacent to the slab of metal they lie you on. Machines of all shapes and sizes surround the room and overlooking the entire operation through giant windows are a multitude of staff monitoring various screens. The doctors and nurses attire are not that of a standard surgical team, instead adorning colourful leaded vests, had they been black I may have mistaken them for a SWAT team.

Then they inject with a sedative which is the absolute bomb. Like downing and entire bottle of whisky but without the hangover or fear of alcohol poisoning. You sit there suddenly in your happy place, telling everyone how much you love them and what a splendid job they’re doing. You get more and more woozy as people are talking to you, trying to explain what they’re doing, but you just don’t care. You’re in your own little world of happiness.

‘We’re just going to put some stickies on your chest’

‘Carry on’

Just attaching you to a drip Andrew’

‘Yeah okay’

‘We’re probably gonna have to cut off your arm as it’s getting in the way’

‘Just do whatever you need to do’

Then you slip off into a dreamless sleep as the doctors and nurses do their stuff, slowly, painstakingly putting Humpty Dumpty here back together...

They Can Rebuild Me...

'Unfortunately Dr Stuart has been off with back problems...' The nurse said and judging by the pile of notes in which she had struggled to lumber into the room I wondered if I had been the sole cause of it. With my Doctor having conversed with various other consultants from my local hospital on  a weekly basis, lugging out Volume 2 of my notes to every phone call may very well have 'done him over.'

The drive up was glorious, the sun was shining and the traffic flowing like a quiet stream on a summers day. While the Wife allowed me to take the wheel on the way up, I was not permitted to also make the drive home. This didn't matter as by then I would have medicated myself to the point of unconsciousness and the journey would seem like a quiet dream.

Parking was a breeze also. Ever the victory is finding somewhere to park near the Hospital full stop, let alone within the first few minutes of arriving. That accomplishment is definitely going on my Top Ten Hospital Arrivals, right next to the Presidential Style Escort I received many years ago.

The wait within the clinic was short too, only a few minutes there and I'd been called in to get my ECG done. I made the usual passing comment 'I'm Dextrocardia' and braced myself to elaborate my condition further. There was no need, I was dealing with a pro here. Unlike the last time in which a Nurse, Sister, Doctor and finally a Cardiologist arrived on the scene to absolutely confirm that yes, the chest leads go on the opposite way with the limb leads staying the same. Had I known then that I was in for such a waxing with all the uber-sticky-stickers being stuck on and ripped off I would have taken the effort to shave it off myself beforehand. There was no such questions or confusion this time though... Bam! on they went and Bam! off they came, next patient please! 'Mooooooooo!' Like a cow being passed through to the next field.

The pre-op nurse was lovely and flicking her way through the pile of my notes so large that it would have brought a tear to even George R R Martins eye, the discussion began.  She asked if I'd been hospital in the last six months... We all had a good chuckle at that one, but believe me the tears were real. She hadn't seen me at the hospital before so was trying to get up to speed with my history, discussions were had whether she should have a quick peek at Volume 1 of my notes, but then dismissed that idea as it would be to time consuming to get the JCB out to bring the round.
She then went on to explain what exactly the surgery would entail...

The catheter AV Node ablation is a procedure in which cryogenic freezing is used to ablate the atrioventricular node in an effort to stop the Super-ventricular Tachycardia... Sound simple, yeah? I've no fucking clue either.

Basically they shove a load of wires up into my heart, give it a little zap from the inside to initiate the fast rhythm then freeze away the bits of tissue that are acting all silly. IF that doesn't work then they'll go straight for the AV Node and get rid of that, effectively wiping out my own hearts pace maker, thus making me 100% reliant on my newly fitted electronic pacemaker, so I implore you, please do not come near me with a magnet or any electrical device that could possibly hinder or stop it as yes, I may fucking die and it will be all your fault.

But the hope is that once this had been done I should encounter no more trips to A&E on a weekly basis, which is a shame really as I'm gonna miss my 4am chats with the Ambulance crew and Resus staff. But I'll be back fighting fit... Bigger... Stronger... Faster... They can rebuild me... They have the technology...

Thank You For Your Call, But I May Be Dying

I'm wondering if all this time at home has made me a vindictive, horrible, mean little man...

Earlier today I was having a typical moment with my heart, it was going around 180 bpm and I was sat there doing my shit, debating how long I should leave it before I make the call to the girls and boys in green when the phone rang.

Now when the house phone rings I've got to answer it for two reasons... Firstly, it might be Bristol, calling to say they've finally got me a slot for my eagerly awaited surgery and could I pack up my shit and get on the first train there.

Secondly, it might be my Wife and if I don't immediately answer the phone she may make the assumption that I am dead... or dying and send the riot van round complete with Sally the door-smasher-in'er with the rest of Carmarthens emergency services, including the coastguard for fear I've flooded the kitchen with the washing machine again and am stuck floating in the middle on a pizza tray with nothing but a pot noodle and she knows how much I hate pot noodles.

Anyway, I gasp a hello into the phone and realise its neither of them as a cheery voice echoes down receiver following a short click... 'Hello there, how are you today sir?' Now I could have just hung up or said I wasn't interested but nah, I felt she really cared about my well being and thought I should be nothing but open and honest with her.  

'I'm not feeling to good' I replied. Not waiting for a response I continued 'I've got this really bad chest pain and my hearts beating around 200 beats a minute, I think I might need to call an ambulance and I'm probably going to need to be defibrillated, shock my heart back into rhythm....'

By this time I had returned to the sofa and was hanging upside down in an attempt to bring my bpm back down to normal. 

'Oh, so is now not a good time to discuss your broadband options?'  came her stuttered reply.

'No... actually I fucking tell you what Susan, yes lets discuss my broadband options. I'll just go outside and hail a fucking taxi to get me to A&E. When I'm there I may go a little quiet for a few minutes, but don't worry that's just them knocking me out with anaesthetic so they can power 120 joules of electricity through my body in the hope to shock my heart back into a normal persons rhythm. But I'll be straight back on the blower when I've regained consciousness though. Tell you what, while I doze off into dreamland I'll pass you onto the team of Doctors, nurses, anaesthetists and porters so you can discuss their broadband options too, yeah? Well it looks like you've hit fucking gold today Susan, we might break a deal before I even get to hospital now where theres a chance I may die and I'll already be locked into a 2 year rolling contract which being dead, I'll be unable to cancel! Oh you could be in the money here my love, you'll be able to retire on the commission alone!'

Bloody cold callers, I tell you...

Lets Roll...

Sat in the car I begin 2 hour trip to Bristol alone.  I feel any car games I wish to play are going to be slightly one sided, either way I choose red and I'm off to a whopping start, until I see a bus and debate with myself as to whether that counts.


  The journeys off to a good start, I fly through a mobile speed camera doing around 80 in the outside lane, I tried to convince myself I slowed down in time but its unlikely. The remaining 1 hour and 50 minutes of the journey goes without any trouble though, I only pass three crashes, hit one tailback and get undertaken by three BMW'S two motorbikes and a Nissan Micra.  I even manage to park just round the corner from the Heart building too, although I feel the £5 parking fee for a limit of 4 hours is a bit expensive... lets hope there aren't any long waits.

 Arriving at the  reception there's just one person queueing at the desk, awesome.  My turn comes along and I hand over my appointment card to the receptionist.  I turn around and herd of people have joined behind me, damn sneaky grave dodgers! One guy is clutching his chest, yes pal, well done, we know why your here. Having sat down a mere 5 minutes has passed and I'm already bored, Lorraine is on the TV but its just not my thing.  I pick up a leaflet to read... 'Heart Transplant' great!  Its filled with information I hope I'll never need to know.
 
 A nurse calls me in to take my ops.  While one trainee nurse takes my SATS (yes that's, right, in year 9 I had a nurse take all my exams for me...) anyway, another older, qualified nurse who obviously hasn't shifted out of her chair all day gets my weight and height, she gets this by using a very technologically advanced and superior sophisticated method... she asks me.  What a pro! 
 
Nurse:  'How tall are you?'
Me:  '5ft 3'
Nurse:  'Woo, your small then' (well done, did you not notice that as I walked through the door?)
Me:  ...
Nurse:   'Weight?'
Me:   'I'm not sure'
Nurse:  'About...?'
Me:  'How much I weigh'
Nurse  'No, about how much do you weigh?'
Me:  'Yes, I'm not sure'
Nurse:  Long piercing stare whilst reaching for a very large needle...
Me:  'Between 7st 10 and 8st'
Nurse:  'Let's just say 7st 11' 
 
 Yes, let's.  When the Doctor wishes to inject me with something, medicine, anaesthetic... let's just say about 5 mls shall we?
I could have stayed at home guessed my height, weight and that I'd live another year...
 
 Back to sitting down I go.  The place is empty and there are about 15 chairs to choose from so I sit in the corner out of the way, to get some peace.  A minute later some old guy sits right next to me! THERE ARE 14 SPARE CHAIRS SCATTERED ACROSS THE GOD DAMN ROOM! He turns to me and smiles. 


 Suddenly my palpitation's start, I feel myself short of breath, I fall to the floor wheezing and gasping on my hands and knees, the old man quickly gets up, bending over to see if I'm alright and I hit him with a monster uppercut... the force lifts him 3 foot off the floor... everything is now in slow motion as he glides slowly backwards through the air, my fist still clinched from the follow through, blood fountaining up from his broken face.... and he falls back into his chair.

Maybe sometimes I zone out little, fall into a daydream....




....and maybe not.

Do you have ID?... Because you look about 12

  Now, I'm not usually one to moan about being asked for ID, in fact I carry my drivers licence everywhere so I never have to risk it.  But that is for alcohol, where it is now widely followed that if you look under 25 you'll be requested to produce a form of respectful identification.
  However, I have never, I don't think EVER! been asked for ID for...... wait for it........ Lottery!

 
 So the story goes...
 
  It was a warm afternoon, as all the CHILDREN were in school, the sun was high in the sky letting off an unusual heat for an Octobers afternoon.  A slight breeze brushed past my face as I exited my vehicle, which you have to be at least 17 to drive....  

  I made my way through the foyer of the supermarket, giving the security guard a generous smile, I approached the lottery stand and filled in the forms for the evenings draw allowing myself to pass a thought on what I would spend my winnings on, perhaps an 25-30's cruise holiday?  Sniggering to myself thinking my wife would go nuts if I decided to pack my bags and head for the sea.
    Making my way over to the counter which was manned by a lady, a rather old lady, sorry, very old lady.  She had a warming a smile, a smile I would soon wish to slap off her wrinkly old face. To feel her coarse, harshly rough skin against the softness on the back of my young delicate hand.

'Hi' she said, barely breaking her coat hanger smile as I went to hand her the tickets. 

She followed with 'Do you have any ID?'


 I was immediately taken aback, overwhelmed with confusion and agreed with myself that due to my partial deafness I MUST have misheard

'Sorry?' I said

'Do you have any ID' She replied, her jaw and lips still glued in position, her false teeth sparkling under the brightness of the counter lights.

My smile turned to anguish, what is happening? I thought to myself, confused of the event that was beginning to unfold.  I am 27 years old... am I not? Now starting to question my age, my life flashed through my mind... 



My 18th birthday party, dancing, laughter, I broke my mothers leg...

My friends 21st birthday, drink, drink, stomach pumped...

My son being born March 22nd 2005, cradling him in my arms, tears of joy...

My wedding earlier this year, our first dance, eating chicken and cake in the room....




I managed to catch a glance in a mirror, yes I was still 27, my rugged good looks and defining facial features still held strong.
Fear gripped me, my eyes danced around to see if anyone had witnessed this horror.  No, thankfully.


 I held back temptation to question why I would be holding a set of car keys in my hand and that if she felt I was a mere 15 years old then her witnessing me driving off  it would be her duty to alert the police of Grand Theft Auto, then the police could arrest and caution her for wasting police time and I could laugh at her stupidness.
  My ID was 60 miles in another county, I had nothing to back up claim.  'Never mind' my voice stuttered before I turned and fled.  


 Sitting in the car I was overcome by mixed emotions, gripped with rage yet filled with despair.  I gathered my thoughts trying to put the event behind me and I hit the road, I didn't know where I was going or how long it would take me to get there, but one thing I did know...


I would not let some old, power mad woman destroy my life and deny me my ticket. 

Diary of a Dextrocardia(n)

As my blog is titled Diary of a Dextrocardia(n) it might be a good idea for me to include some actual stories lifted right out of my journal.
So I have scoured my notepads (picked up the first one I could find) and gruelingly read page after page (opened book and picked random entry).


The Date: unknown, I'd say two years ago
Destination of Entrant: Local Hospital bed
Reason for Hospitalization: Probably the usual chest pain....


It's 7.30 am, there's a patient alarm going off, nurses are hollering back and forth and Santa in the bed opposite me is having his nappy changed, good morning world. I'm just finishing off my breakfast and the cleaners are in, they make they're way over and are now shooing me off the bed. I attempt to wave my unfinished peace of toast in they're face but are having none of it, I concede defeat and move onto the adjacent chair.
Looking out the window I notice some old hag staring at me from the outpatients department, our eyes meet, I'm gonna stare this nosey bitch to the ground 1..2..3...4... I win! It's a hollow victory though, she's going home... I'm not. Her husband has now turned his attention to me, they're damn tag teaming me! I refuse to succumb to such childishness... I smile, I wave, give the finger and close the curtains.

My bed is done, at least I think it is? It looks exactly the same and the covers don't seem to be the Thomas the Tank ones I requested.

I move back onto the bed, my DS still hasn't charged, the TV is stuck on S4C and I've read all my magazines... Great.
Oh wait, Morristons Wife Beater has just appeared in his doorway, probably to see why no ones answering the alarm, either that or he thinks 'rounds out'
Finally a nurse has answered the bell, I hope it wasn't fatal.
Morristons Wife Beater wipes something on his vest and disappears back into his room... That was close.

I'm bored, really bored. I decide to re-re-re-read one of my magazines, I lie back and try ignore all the sounds and goings on and escape into my mag.

'Rhodri' Someone calls

'Rhodri'

'Rhodri'

I lower my magazine to see what is going on to see the guy in the opposite bed calling over in my direction 'Rhodri'

He's pretty much shouting now... 'RHODRI!'

I raise my mag, Rhodri's not my name, even it was I still wouldn't answer ('Rhodri!') He probably only wants to go to the toilet...

'RHODRI!!!'

I put down my magazine to find him at the end of my bed leaning towards me, I'd better see what he wants...
'Left out the door' I tell him.

He thanks me, heads for the door and turns right... this should be fun, wheres my popcorn. I should buzz a nurse really but unfortunately I'm all for the thrill of the chase. He's barely passed the window before a nurse is apprehending him. It's over in seconds, damn.

'Where are you going love?' she enquires as she begins to lead him back to his bed

'I need the toilet'

'There's a bottle by your bed' she tells him

'This won't fit in the bottle' he replies

Nice.

Taking a walk... For Charity

Time to get fit fatty

So I recently had my yearly checkup and the main outcome of it (other than perhaps find a cheaper place to park... say, for free) My Cardiologist determined that I should be undertaking a bit more exercise.
 Now, I'm hardly the beached whale washed up on the sofa, covered in crisps and chocolate shouting at my wife to hurry the midday hog roast snack along...

No.  I'd say I've a fairly ripped physique, with the washboard stomach and my big guns resting upon my arms.  But maybe I do need to work on my cardio and perhaps put a bit more effort in each week to break a sweat.

So in light of this I thought I'd set myself a little challenge, while raising money for a good cause at the same time.


The Goal

My intention is to do a walk.  The walk will be around 20 miles long and the route will be leaving my mothers house where I grew up in, walking to my local Hospital where I spent many weeks during my childhood and returning to the start.

The route is in representation of a journey I undertook many times when I was younger.


The Donation

At the moment I'm not entirely sure as to which charity I intend to do the walk for.  I also have considered giving donations to the children's ward of my local hospital to be used to purchase entertainment for the youngsters. Again, at the moment this is all just being considered and is under 'construction'

The Team

I would like to thank all my friends and family who will be joining me on my quest, my wife especially who will be whipping me into shape for the event.



Keep watch, I will be updating any progressions of the idea and eventual goal.  I will also be advising of my training progress... Last night I banged out a 10 minute run on the Wii Fit, I'd say that's enough for this month... Now wheres my sofa?

My love for Demolition Man

One of the thing's my wife hates about me is my obsession of the film Demolition Man

Starring

Sylvester Stallone, Sandra Bullock and Wesley Snipes

It's not the film itself she hates, in fact she's never even seen it. Her hatred comes from the fact that its been sitting on our Sky+ box taking up space for the last 5 years... even when I have a copy on DVD.

My love for the film though doesn't come from Stallone's cheesy lines, Bullocks bad acting or even Snipe's love for guns and verbal assaults. No, the obsession is built around a memory, it represents a moment of happiness, a release during an difficult time.

When I was about 13 I had to have my tonsils out, not a big or complicated procedure... for the normal person, but due to my heart complications and the medication I take one of the problems which always arise is bleeding.  I bleed, a lot. Taking a medication called Warfarin (a lot of people will probably be aware of this drug as its widely used to treat numerous cases and is frequently used with older patients.)
 #FUN FACT its also used in rat poison
Warfarin is used to stable the blood at a sufficient level to avoid clotting and hemorrhaging, with blood tests taken regularly to control it and haematologists advise the correct dose as levels tend to rise and fall.

Bristol Childrens hopsital - Where I had my tonsils removed

This meant that I bled, heavily and when the inside of your throat has had parts cut out and didn't clot over very well, every time I was sick it was not nice.

*warning next content can be unsettling
It was nothing but blood and lots of it, even through my nose. The first time it happened it scared the crap out of me as I was not expecting it.*

So this went on for a couple of days, and near the end of it I had had enough, I was sick of it literally as well as physically. I turned on the TV and up next was Demolition Man and for that hour and a half I was happy, being 13 I loved the film... guns, violence, naughty words, cheesy lines... this film was awesome. It took my mind off everything, I was no longer thinking when was I going to be sick or if I'd get to sleep that night, I didn't care.

So when my wife asks me...

'Can I delete this off the Sky+ planner?'

Yeah why not, delete away part of my life.

There are some moments in life we will leave behind forever, then there are others we will carry with us through to our parting days.

  There are two things I remember from this time, the first was being constantly sick, scared and wondering if it would ever end. The second was this film and the peace it brought.  Everything else is a blur, something that will fade even more in time.



So in the words of John Spartan:

'Enough! This isn't the Wild West. The Wild West wasn't even the Wild West. Hurting people's not a good thing! Well, sometimes it is, but not when it's a bunch of people looking for something to eat!'



That's right, it made absolute no sense to this post... but I felt it was relevant... Thank you for reading.

Imagination... Lego comes alive

This entry may seem completely irrelevant to what my blog is about, but it's not. My blog is a diary, past and present, of a Dextrocardia(n). And sometimes even a Dextrocardia(n) likes to open up the gates to the world of fantasy and let the imagination go on it's own little journey...




Having two weeks and the weather not being the best I decided to make my own adventure... in my garden.

Take some Lego men, a dinosaur, some wood and delve deep in the undergrowth of the back of beyond...

A Hunters Pride 

[Part 1]

The world awaits for these two hunters

Unaware of the dangers that lurk amongst the tall grass, they slowly make they're way through  the forest

 

 

Escape through the bushes is his only chance, unfortunately his companion was not so lucky

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Escaping one torment draws him into another, clasped up against a wall in the hope that he can evade the preying eyes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And...

That's as far as I got before a shower came.  I could have done some more with the rain providing some excellent waterfall effects, however I don't think my camera would have appreciated it as much as I would have.

Stay tuned for Part 2

'I can clearly hear a mumur...'

'Can you tell what it is yet?'

My Doctor would ask in his best Rolf Harris voice to the young Junior Doctors all huddled around me prodding, poking requesting deep breathes in... and out, in... and out

Due to my obvious rare condition I find myself quite often thrown at the mercy of young aspiring Doctors. Like a sheep to the wolves, I'm used to test someones ability, even in the world of medicine my condition is not always widely recognised and I must offer a little help along the way.


When having any procedure done unless its with my own Doctor who is fully aware of internal structure I almost always open with the line 'I'm Dextrocardic'. Not every time though, sometimes I like to have little fun, mix it up, break the cycle to test one's ability....

I was once lying in casualty having been brought in with chest pain and difficulty breathing having only returned home a few days earlier from a catheter procedure to insert a plug into one of my leaking valves.

The Cardiac Nurse was doing some tests and as I didn't really want to be hanging about the cold DAZ inspired white room I had been left in (and would be destined to stay for a further 5 hours) I thought I'd help hurry things along. As she was hooking me up for an E.C.G. I opened with the line that usually gets a few raised eyebrows from the nurses...

'I'm Dextrocardic'

'I know dear, I wouldn't be much of a Cardiac Nurse if I didn't know that'
she said with a laugh.... as she continued to hook me up the wrong way.

After seeing the readout she realized her mistake, but we all saw it, there was no denying of what just happened.


As I started saying, I'm used to Junior Doctors all huddling around me, wooing and ahhhing. Like NASA Scientists would if a Spaceship crash landed and they managed to pull an alien from the wreck and have it do little tests for them as they realise of this amazing discovery.

Most Doctors click quite quickly, others not so quick and some are willing to throw in the towel and decide I'm somehow dead.

I recall one up and comer attempting to give me a go...

'I can clearly hear some kind of murmur, possibly.... (makes assumption of words I can't possibly remember)'


I'd like to think that this is how my Doctor wanted to reply...

'No, you complete idiot, what the hell are you listening to? There is nothing there, you are on the wrong side of his chest... Surely you can tell that the beats of the heart would be too weak for this guy to be even breathing, if he went into cardiac arrest now with just you here he would be dead, you would be zapping emptiness with the paddles, in fact you would probably shock his heart out the side of his chest... You want to be a Doctor? Then take a look at an image of the bodies internal organs, see where the heart is positioned? Yes, you should be able to hear a nice clear heartbeat not a murmur, not a stomach rumbling, not wind... Now get back down to your mothers basement before I shove your stethoscope...'

I would have enjoyed that, but unfortunately the reply was usually a 10 minute speech using words I cannot pronounce apart from 'heart' and 'wrong side'.

 

 

 

Although by my post it may not seem like it but I like working with Junior Doctors. When they study me I enjoy the excitement a lot of them get from attempting to diagnose me. It also gives them first hand experience of a rare condition which benefits the patients they work with in the future who have such condition.

Myself: At an age when I was a little less sympathetic to the doctors prodding and poking me so they could attempt to give they're diagnostic

Sorry, I cant hear you... I'm deaf

'Can you put the bins out?' My wife will ask

'What's run out?' Will come my reply

You see, along with the major heart defects, and internal organ reversal I do carry other less serious complications.

One being I'm deaf in one ear. This was a result from a shunt operation which I had when I was about two years old. Although it was always denied by the Hospital that it was during the operation that it occurred. After having the operation it was apparent that a nerve had been severed which caused my left hand side of my face to seize up... it was after this operation that my parents became aware of my deafness although it had been claimed I could have been deaf since birth.

The left half of my face is seized from where a nerve had possibly been accidentally been severed.

'Why don't you sue? You'd probably get a good couple of grand' This is a regular question I am asked and and it annoys me every time. The answer is quite simple...

Why would I take the Hospital, Doctors and Nurses who saved my life to court? I could never stand in front of these people and start throwing blame, trying to claim money off they're backs, when the fact is if they hadn't been doing the procedure in the first place I wouldn't been here today. The only thing I'd say to them is Thank You.

'If your deaf in one year why do you wear both earplugs for your iPod?'

A lot of people don't actually seem to believe that I am deaf, they think I'm winding them up and the above question I get asked quite often. And again, the answer is simple...

If I'm walking down the road or through a shopping centre and someone I happen to know sees me there's a good chance they will say hi or call after me, then if I walk straight past them ignoring them with only having one earplug in they will probably think 'What an ignorant git'. So I always wear both plugs as not offend anyone or seem rude. I learnt this from experience, it's probably why a lot of people don't talk to me anymore.

I also wear have them in when I go into phone shops, that way when the hyenas pounce at me trying to flog the latest Apple phone, Orange broadband or Banana fax machine, I can completely ignore them. I don't want your new phone, I like my phone, it's an iPhone... That my friend is a brick, a useless prick and yes, it offends me.

#Benefit of being deaf in one ear:

Trying to catch some shut eye with 2 kids shouting, screaming and bouncing around the house like its a giant trampoline... I just turn over, rest my good ear on the pillow and... silence... yawn.

Not all Doom and Gloom

While the majority content of this blog will come across as 'Jeez, this guys life is pretty crappie... he spends half the time in hospital' I do try to put a humorous spin on things, if mostly for my own benefit than anything else.
I would like to take this time to talk about two good... sorry, amazing things in my life... and that would be my two children...



Many years ago sometime in my late teens a conversation came up with my doctor, at the time it just sort of went over my head but I was unaware of how strongly it would of impacted my life
A question arose on my *cough* sexual health and whether I had any problems erm, performing so to speak... my response was an immediate no as to shuffle along the conversation. But while we were on the subject he began to elaborate and explained that due to my condition (Congenital Heart Disease) There is a very high risk that I would be unable to have children.



As I said at the time I was in my teens and this just went over my head as having children was the last thing on my mind...



8 Years ago I met a girl, someone who I adored and fell in love with. I had discussed my health problems with and the conversation arose that I may not be able to have children. At the time it was very early in our relationship and wasn't the top priority in our lives at the time.

But then, Miracles can happen...

Less than a year into our relationship my girlfriend fell pregnant, by accident... It was a shock... a big shock...



I remember telling my father and his reaction was that of that I had just robbed a bank



'Whhhaaaatttt!!????'

My Mother pretty much 'dropped her chips'

My Grandmother almost strangled my girlfriend to death in a congratulation hug.



A few months later I visited my Cardiologist, he could see my girlfriend was a few months pregnant and explained that I was very lucky and very few people with my circumstances were gifted with such joy.



My son is now 6 years old, has no heart problem and leads a healthy life... I couldn't wish for more


The Genetic Jackhammer strikes again...



Again, accidents happen, am I complaining? No. January 2009 My beautiful daughter Aimee is born. No heart problems, healthy and happy..


All my life people, statistics, doctors have told me of thing's that will never happen

'He won't last the night'

'He won't live to his teens'

'It's unlikely he will live a normal life'



'You are unlikely to be able to have children'



The above obstacles haven't been overcome by myself alone, I have doctors, nurses, medical development to help me reach this day today, all of which I am exceptionally thankful for each day.



The biggest of which are the birth's of my children
Myself and my wife are exceptionally gifted people to have two beautiful children (As is every parent) But the fact that again, the odds were told to be against me and I can sit here with my two ruffians, who just cannot sit still, cannot stop moaning and whinge and nag nag nagggggg....



As I reflect on my life, the hospital visits, the never ending blood tests and tablet taking, the pain I went through, the operations I survived... For these two? It was worth it

Catheter Ablation... The Joys

Past tense...
So to pick this blog up a bit more quickly and give it a bit of steam, luckily I have kept previous journals of my time in various hospitals and the joys they hold....


2009 - Catheter Ablation
Catheter ablation is an invasive procedure used to remove a faulty electrical pathway from the hearts of those who are prone to developing cardiac arrhythmia's such as atrial fibrillation, atrial flutter, supraventricular tachycardia's (SVT) and Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome.
It involves advancing several flexible catheters into the patients blood vessels, usually either in the femoral vein, internal jugular vein, or subclavian vein. The catheters are then advanced towards the heart and high-frequency electrical impulses are used to induce the arrhythmia, and then ablate (destroy) the abnormal tissue that is causing it.

Tachycardia comes from the Greek words tachys (rapid or accelerated) and kardia (of the heart). Tachycardia typically refers to a heart rate that exceeds the normal range for a resting heart rate (heart rate in an inactive or sleeping individual). It can be dangerous depending on the speed and type of rhythm.

I'm lying in bed with my table up against me 3 hours returned from my procedure when a cleaning lady decides to smash her broom into the legs of my table almost knocking my coffee over. She looks up smiles and decides to have another go... this time knocking the cup over, luckily for here though its empty, 10 minutes earlier and she could have had a lawsuit on her hands. I think back to 3 hours ago in the theatre where perhaps there was less danger to my life...
As I get to the Hospital slightly beat from the traffic congested 3 hour ride up (its usually only 2 hours but unfortunately there are a lot of people out there who don't actually know how to drive, and decide to take detours into say, the central reservation) I look on my information sheet to see where in the Hospital I should be headed. As usual I spend half hour looking for the ward, after jumping from level to level (I don't like lifts so I have to take the stairs, regardless how many floors I must climb) I decide that I'm fucked enough and can't risk a coronary and head for the information desk.

SORRY - WE ARE CLOSED

Great, I check my info sheet and on closer inspection I find it actually gives directions, better yet I'm in the wrong building... TAXI!

I finally find the right place, check in with the receptionist and take a seat. I'm surrounded by old people, very old people, at least there is hope for me that I will live a long life. After a few minutes 3 of us are called by a nurse, we are each given locker numbers and disposable white gowns and undergarments. On a level it feels quite derogatory, like we're sheep being taken for slaughter and leaving as little mess as possible to clean up. The herd is then rustled into allocated cubicles, everything is so clean and white it gives an uneasy feel.
My patient number is read out and I'm led to a bed and left there, with me, and my thoughts. I think of the procedure, the current setting, my nervousness and unease...

'MR SMITH?'

A friendly sounding voice calls as it breaks my thoughts, I snap out of it and look up to see a nurse at the end of my bed smiling, it's like a deep release from the room (MORE). She runs through some standard questions, takes some tests and then my Doctor arrives. He's and extremely friendly man, he runs through the procedure with me while discussing with a Junior Doctor on how to enter me... yes, I gave a little laugh too and it seemed for a moment, to take the edge off.
Anyway, due to my height they decide to go through the groin, the other option is the neck but afterwards it can look a little well, unsightly.

After all the pleasantries I'm taken by a nurse and led into the theatre....

The room is like something out of a sci-fi film, huge contraptions fill the room. It's so white I'm surprised sun shades weren't provided as procedure, equipment is covered in see through plastic coverings, a single steel bed occupies the centre of the room and 6 large screens over look the it. There is a long glass window with around 4 technicians sitting amongst multiple screens.

I am invited to lie on the bed, multiple nurses begin to hook me up to numerous machines, my arms, legs and chest are all connected to various devices. I am then injected with the relative sedation.
My groin is then injected to numb the area and man, this hurts like fucking hell. The pain can only be described as an incredible sharp stab (like a knife) being thrust into my groin, the pain lasts for about 15 seconds... I grip the table, my body arches and I clench my teeth and hold back tears... FUUUUUUUUUUUU... Gone. Within a second it disappears, like it was never there.

The screen next to me are all showing different live pictures and information of my heart, heart rate, oxygen levels, continuous xrays, echocardiogram's...

They do the standard catheter procedure which lasts about 40 minutes (which is just to check all the arteries of the heart etc...)
They then move on to do the ablation. Before they can start zapping the inside muscle's of my heart they need to find out what is causing the tachycardia attacks (Where the heart rate goes up to about 200 beats a minute) To do this they need to bring up my heart rate, so they give it a little shock... Boom it shoots up, 200 beats a minute.. Wham Wham WhamWham... my chest is pounding. I like to the monitor's which one of displays the tiny catheter making its way around my heart (at least that's what I think it was)

After an hour I'm in agony, the pain in my chest is unbearable, I didn't know if this was normal or not, but anyway a nurse could see my discomfort and asked if I was alright... 'Yes, yes I'm fine, I have a tube being rammed up my leg, electric shocks are intermittently taking place in my heart and it is going about 200 beats a minute like it's going to explode out of my chest! But yes, I'm dandy....

I'm told to think 'happy thoughts'... Let me be honest, I'm not a 'happy thought' kind of guy, I have no special place, no field that I can see myself in. Bottom line is I'm in pain, it hurts and no thought process can overcome this, I want the drugs... Now.
I explain that I am in an exceptional amount of pain and drugs are administered.

Oh the drugs... My head goes light and my eyes get heavy, this is my happy place. Even with the morphine I still feel relatively aware although my sight is slightly unfocused and my speech is slurred. My mind wanders, I'm overcome with happiness and begin to mentally list the things I am thankful for, I feel a sense of excitement... It is obvious how people can become so addicted to this stuff.

I regain consciousness, the procedure took 6 hours.. thank god I was outers.

After drifting in and out of sleep I wake up in a room on the ward, its a good one too.. en suite! A nurse comes in and goes over a few things, she advises that I can get up and use the bathroom if I wish as it will help the blood flow etc...
So after she leaves I think why not, I pop out of bed and head for the men's. My groinal wound is all bandaged up and is pretty painful. As I'm stood there having a quick relief a voice calls out 'Andrew?' then a knock on the door... 'Andrew!' I quickly finish and reel it in as she comes bursting through the door.. 'What are you doing out of bed?' she practically screams. I try to explain that I was told to told but she doesn't listen as she shoos me back into bed....

Oh the joys

An introduction...

Me? I’m just an ordinary guy in his mid twenties. On the outside I’m the just like you, on the inside however…





‘Dextrocardia is a congenital defect in which the heart is situated on the right side of the body. There are two main types of dextrocardia, dextrocardia of embryonic arrest (also known as isolated dextrocardia) and dextrocardia situs inversus’





Dextrocardia situs inversus is the condition which I was born with, it refers to the heart being a mirror image situated on the right side. My other major internal organs are also opposite.
1 in 12,000 people are affected by Dextrocardia, while 1 in 3 of these will have situs inversus.

Now with the technical details out the (albeit kept to a minimum) I can now explain what my blog will hold. Obviously with such a complicated medical condition life rarely runs smoothly and it is here I intend to detail my life’s past, present and future adventures…
Sometimes I may be serious, while mostly I’ll probably be making a joke of certain situations, for many years this has been my way of coping with things.

I hope maybe I get a few followers, some like me wanting to see another member of Cardiac heart clubs perspective, while others who are just here to join me for the journey….