Coming Home

Excellent progress to report here, I am pleased to say, and I am 99.9% certain to be going home this afternoon. I have the "taxi" (Hi Elizabeth) booked for 3pm - hoping she turns up with a pair of jeans or some other outdoor trousers - and I am just waiting for some paperwork. They send you out of here with a very thorough wad of instructions telling you how to cope in the "Cardiac Re-hab" environment, listing all the drugs you are on and how to manage them, what follow up clinics you need to attend to and what you need to get your GP practice to do (blood tests etc). You can't leave until you've had your de-brief and been handed your paperwork. A big sign in the corridor says "We will try to get you away for 11 am, so that you can  get to the pharmacy". They tell me it's usually more like 3 pm.

This 'going' home thing was first mentioned by the main doc on doc's round yesterday morning. I was paying close attention to their chat and suddenly heard him say "...and we need to get him on to an out-patient drug regime". He then turned to me and said "Would you LIKE to go home, Matthew?" (as if there might be a doubt!). They changed my diuretics about and declared that the "steroids have worked their magic". I had lost 14 kgs in fluids by then and my ankles were well down - I can see tendons, veins and bones "rippling" under the skin. My lungs feel amazingly clear, so that I actually struggle to recall how BAD we were when we first came in. The team just needed to get the Respiratory Doc back in for a final consult, to make sure she had no pressing reason to keep me in, and I could be cleared for take off.

Resp-Doc was excellent. She swung by mid afternoon. She is a lovely lady and more than willing to show me X-rays and the "salami slice" pictures of the CT scan while explaining the illness to me and the process. I love all that technology anyway and am quite knowledgeable (in an 'A' level / 'Leaving Cert' kind of way) on human biology. She was able to click on the 'salami slices' at the top of my chest and then slide down through the images, that dark circle is the single windpipe.... now see how it has divided in two, now see the dark area, that is clear, air filled lung and this, surrounding it is the fluid. "How much fluid would that actually represent, Doctor?" About 2 litres, she said. Scary stuff. That scan was a week ago, so back in the bad old days. Good to know all that fluid has pretty much been 'widdled' out now in my 14 kg.

So where am I, as I hop in the car this afternoon and get to see the farm again, be with Elizabeth, let the dogs go mad sniffing me and finally get to meet the 2 Help-X students, Flora and Emma. Well, not quite fixed is the answer. My lungs, though clear of fluid do have a few weeks of healing and recovery to do, in which I must take it easy and just do gentle stuff about the place, certainly until I have had a follow up clinic with Resp-Doc in 4 weeks time. I have a small collection of meds to keep taking at home, including managing the 'taper' off of the steroids over the next few weeks. I have to carefully manage my fluid intake, sticking to 1.5 litres a day and weigh myself every morning, keeping a careful eye on any 'big' (e.g. 1 kg) increases which might mean that my heart is back to its former inefficient "fluid build up in the lungs" behaviour.

Then there is the elephant in the room, my "regurgitating" mitral valve which will eventually have to be replaced. This is serious, major surgery (obviously) and has to be done in Dublin or Galway (in and out in a week, if you are lucky). The plan is to get me completely stablilized on all this fluid thing and 100% clear of any problem infections, where upon I may go on a waiting list or, I am told, may just get a letter one day asking me to present myself at Dublin at 09:00 on what ever date. More on that in a future post, I presume.

So, sorry no pictures in this one. I will make sure I get round the farm thoroughly before the next post and promise you loads of lovely pictures. That'll be Friday. For now this patient has a need to pack up his stuff and clear the locker and a Re-Hab debrief to attend. Bring it on you drugs experts. Talk to you soon.

Finally, a paragraph choc full of praise and immense gratitude. This to the whole team here, who have been 100% brilliant from the first Receptionist and the Triage Nurse I met at 7 pm on that first night, though all the stages - nurses, doctors, porters, caterers, phlebotomists - to the guy who is about to do my de-brief and the nurses who will presumably wish me well on the way out. Also my ward-chums. It was pure pleasure to meet you and talk to you. And to all the expressions of support, visits and good wishes face to face, by letter, verbally and via social media. Thank you so so much. It really helped. I will never forget you.