Coronary Care (3) : The Waffle

No more science or medicine, I promise. I will also try to get you some pictures, though they will be off this dodgy, ten year old Android, so they may not be up to much. Bear with me.

There I was, 3-4 weeks ago still in 'healthy' mode. I didn't need doctors and hospitals. I had been reading the news the same as everybody else, so I "knew" in theory all about HSE waiting lists, people stacked up on trolleys in the corridors awaiting triage or unable to be found a bed. Well, I have to say that my own experience this time was nothing like that. Sligo is rapid, efficient, professional and full of excellent, attentive medical types.

We pitched up here at about 7:30 at night with just a letter from the GP and a washbag. I was pounced on within minutes and run through triage, booked in and what not. A most excellent fella (Dr Miles) took control of me and found me a corner of a 'holding area' (reception ward??) with a bed, curtained off from the rest of the room, which was bursting with people at computers, beeping machines, stacked up equipment etc. Here, between then and 03:30, I was subject to a battery of tests including the expected blood pressure, temperature, blood samples.

The iconic Ben Bulben mountain. This pic blagged off t'Internet.

Half way through this process they told me they were keeping me in (handy because my 'taxi' was long gone), and, as it was 10 pm, I climbed into the bed and made as if to get some sleep. The testing and sampling carried on with them waking every half an hour for a new one "Sorry, Matt, waking you again but we need to weigh you". Then, at 3 am, I was told they had me a bed on the Coronary Care Ward. I was whizzed up by a couple of porters and installed. This was not just "a bed", it was like a private room - a one-bed bay with clusters of equipment all around. From the window I could see the iconic "Ben Bulben" mountain. Above the door was a big-ish screen plasma TV which meant nothing to me but turned out to be THE PLACE a few days later when England were playing in the World Cup.

Next up the best part of a week of 'living' in that bed, being a patient while the team here went through the process of finding out what was wrong with me and trying to sort me out. I had the boss-doc, growly-voiced Dr M and his entourage of fresh, shiny new, enthusiastic students, an army of nurses round the shifts (too many to list here but hi Una, Margy, Catherine, Veronica et al, the ladies that bring food, the porters who push you down to X-Ray or the heart investigation suites (Hi Dom, Paul, Gerry) - every one of them are just THE BEST. Huge respect for the team.

They were very quickly on to the 'liquid/goo in the lungs' thing and starting treatment which was all about clearing this plus the fluid which had accumulated on my now-podgy ankles. We are making good progress on this and I can breath again (which is handy) so I have had 5 chest X-Rays now which show ever clearer airways (fewer Accumulations/Consolidations).

Of course, I shot myself in the foot by getting better nice and quickly, and "The System" decided they needed my nice 'single room ' for a more unhealthy person and I have been moved down to a 6-bed ward. Again, perfectly good  ward, 4 other nice lads in it and the same level of TLC as before. So it goes.

Meanwhile a couple of anecdotes, two of which are similar in being "what goes round comes round" in shape. And a news flash. 10:44 Sunday I have just been taken off all the 'telemetry' (monitors). I am beeping no more.

Thank you very much niece Em-J and nephew M (20 and 12 I think) who came up from Silverwood land to help and support Elizabeth with the household stuff, livestock and fox-watch. Those guys are back on the train home this afternoon but I was amused by the idea that 20 years ago we did plenty of babysitting of Em-J and now she is up here baby-sitting us!

2nd-ly that football. England playing Croatia in the semifinals of the word cup. I'd not normally watch it but hey, it was in my room. We lost eventually but we went ahead first with a lovely free kick which lobbed over the "wall" of Croat players and dipped into the net. With England having got to the semis, of course, all the fans were singing that "Football's coming home" thing that refers back to England's previous effort in 1966. Then it came to me. I was in hospital for that, too. One of my earliest memories of Dad was that he was there too and as soccer-clueless as any 'Care'. I remember wailing at him that the Germans were cheating, standing in the wall so that our guy would not be able to kick at the goal. I have vague memories of the shame of being shushed by all the other boys and girls on the ward. I would have been 9 then. Never did learn any football.

....and finally, the dogs who I miss terribly have been amusing Elizabeth and frightening her half to death. When the three were let go yesterday on a fox-chase, Deefer and Poppea returned, exhausted within the normal half hour or so, but no sign of Towser. 2 hours later when she had almost given up on him, and it was 10 pm+, he staggered back in 'maggotty' from the grass and brambles and headed straight for his 'safe' place under the oven unit. We have no idea what happened to him or where he'd been but Liz said that the look on his face was like a Vietnam veteran returning from an unspeakably harrowing mission...... You DON'T know...... You WEREN'T there!