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!

Sick Note

Culled out male duck. Sorry, Laura.
this was Obelix

Hi. Your blogger has been knocked sideways by the biggest illness he has ever experienced since the move to Ireland, and in long memory. A chest infection. So hard do I cling to  healthy vitality and try to avoid any contact with doctors, nurses and hospitals that one of the problems we had to overcome when we went trying to make appointments of collect prescription drugs from the local pharmacies was that nobody has any record of me or any history in their files.

The elder flower bank.

This disease struck fast and furious. On the Saturday I'd been happily helping a friend in the village muck out some bullocks for 3 hours, healthy and vital. We'd finished that job, stopped for tea and biscuits and I'd made my way home. I had a slight feeling that I might have overdone it, a slight tightness of breath, a need to sit down in my easy chair for more tea. But nothing serious. I'd agreed with the guy to come down and finish it tomorrow (Sunday).

An elder flower head.

As Saturday evening progressed, it got a whole lot less funny. Any walk of more than 30-50 yards had me needing to stop for a breather,lean on a fence or sit on a garden chair, gasping and panting hard while my body came up to a normal level of oxygen and my breathing slowed back to normal. Clearly all was not well. Time to go and sign on with the local Clinic. Time to get the big-boy pants or brave-soldier outfit on.

Home grown lettuce.

Elizabeth was off to Day 1 of her 'Hard Landscaping' module and we had a lamb to capture, load into the trailer and then haul to slaughter/butchery in town, so we had to re-hash the schedule and who'd have the car. We got up early, loaded the lamb, then I ran Elizabeth in to Balla-D, returning to hitch up the trailer, whizzed the lamb in to Gannon's and finally was able to do something about the illness.

Rambling Rector fighting back after the
recent windstorm

Mixed feelings about the rest of the day (round till 7 pm, as it happened). I hate that loss of control but on the up side, I was very pleasantly surprised by standard of care and all those hours of very professional, reassuring, warming and calm TLC as I was processed by the reception, triage and then the real doctoring and then finally spat out the other end with my treatment in my hand.

Sligo Hospital is on top of a mountain.

To cut a long story short, 'my' doctor was not at the clinic but the very competent nurse did my work up including an ECG. Because I was not showing any normal chest infection symptoms (sore throat, liquid in lungs, 'productive' coughing. She then had a chat with the doctor and referred me to Sligo Hospital, 40 minutes away. Luckily this breathlessness does not kick in if you are sitting the driving seat. Had to smile when I arrived, though. The hospital is on a mountain and the car parks are all in the foot hills. If you aren't showing symptoms by the time you arrive, you certainly are by the time you have climbed up to A+E reception.

Amoxicillin for what ails you,

To continue with this short story, the hospital team could also not find any liquid on lungs etc but they did find infection trace chemicals in my blood work, so I was sent off with a hard-core antibiotic (amoxicillin) and just made it back to my car as the 4 hours I'd bought ran out. That evening all the expected hell broke loose and my infection exploded into the normal coughing, phlegm and unpleasantness. I've had 2 nights of that but then some good day-time sleeping. I batted away the 2nd half of the mucking out and Elizabeth has stepped in to live-stock feeding and open up/lock up rounds leaving me unemployed and able to spend time getting better.

Em-J makes 20 Happy Birthday to You.

That is surely enough for one, rather miserable blog post but just now a chance to raise the tone and finish on a high note. Huge happy birthday to our oldest Irish niece, long term friend of the blog and frequent narrow-boat holidayer. Emily Jane, who made 20 years old yesterday. She was celebrated by this rather lovely photo-montage  put up on Facebook by her Mum. Mrs Silverwood.