What a pain in the bladder!

Saturday 4th May 2019:

I managed another short run yesterday morning, interspersed with some walking, with Sophie, Ruth and Ness the dog. But now I feel like I’m peeing razor blades.

I called the GP surgery on Thursday and the nurse practitioner prescribed yet more antibiotics for what is now my 8th UTI. She also advised I book another appointment with my GP to see about the possibility of going on a lower dose of antibiotics over a much longer period of time.

She then reiterated my kidney and urinary tract scan a week ago was “normal”, except my left kidney is slightly larger than my right. I’ve been told this before in recent years as this isn’t the first stretch of recurrent infections and lower back pain I’ve had.

By Friday morning I was in absolute agony…almost as bad as childbirth but without the reward, unless you count the cloudy, pungent, spit spots of wee.

Suffice to say I ended up in A&E…twice.

The doctor looked back at my ultrasound and then had the nous to revisit the CT scan I had the night of my heart attack. “It doesn’t quite go down low enough for me to see them more clearly but it looks like you’ve got stones in your left kidney and your bladder,” he said. I questioned why this hadn’t been picked up at the time. “I think they had much more important things to worry about,” he replied.

It seems my helpful body is now trying to pass the stones so I’ve been given an emergency CT appointment to check them out properly this morning and have also been referred for an urgent urology appointment, which frankly beggars the question why I have never been sent for either before.

I was also told to read up about kidney stones on the NHS website. I got as far as reading about calcium stones and the fact they can be caused by “a rare condition called sarcoidosis” before I had all I needed.

I think I must have been Genghis Khan in a past life! Now where’s that hot water bottle my buddy Birdie lent me?…I left mine in the cinema after the last bout!


“Mummy’s Big Heart”

Thursday 2nd May 2019:

It’s only now that I’m beginning to realise the impact my health scare has had on my children.

Ever since I left hospital Huey-Jay has left me a different cuddly toy beside my bed each night “to look after you and keep you safe”, he says.

Dakota-Skye had to prepare a “show and tell” for school, exhibiting something to her peers that was important to her. My incredible eight-year-old didn’t just go into her room and fish out any old tat she could lay her hands on, no she actually crafted something…a book with four chapters, no less, entitled “Mummy’s Big Heart”, telling the story of my attack and time spent in hospital. “Everyone asked me lots of questions,” she told me afterwards. My personal favourite: “Did she die?” Kids…adorable creatures.

Something that really impressed me…and I’ll try to make this sound as un-middle class as I possibly can…was DS’s purchase in a National Trust shop on Sunday. There were the usual rubber eggs(?), sticky slugs and binoculars…but my girl bought a first aid kit. “I want to be prepared, just in case,” she said. Sure enough when HJ took a tumble while playing basketball on the driveway a few days later, she was first on the scene with antiseptic wipes and plasters.

She wants to be a vet but perhaps I can convince her to look after humans instead. In fact, I’ve decided I’d quite like to do a bit of that too.

All being well I hope I can volunteer at Yeovil Heartbeat once I stop being a patient. I’m northern, so make a decent brew. I can bake….as they’ve discovered over the past few weeks…and I reckon my experience could prove helpful to other young cardiac patients. It will also enable me to remain within the club I’ve grown quite fond of.

Nothing quite beats last week when Piers, who started on the same day as me, wore a vest top with a fella’s six-pack on it. As if that wasn’t enough to raise a few titters he then threatened to wear the “matching shorts” this week.

They haven’t yet materialised and I’m not entirely sure whether I’m relieved or disappointed.


First run, post heart attack

Sunday 28th April 2019:

Excuse the bed head and lack of make-up in the video but…I did it!

My first 10-minute outdoor run following my heart’s wobble seven weeks ago…and on London Marathon day too.

That feeling of freedom is nothing short of immense.


“Big lungs” and goodbyes

Thursday 25th April:

My weeks are getting busier.

On Tuesday, I underwent respiratory function tests…I was told by Matt, my cardiac gym instructor who carried out the tests, I have “big lungs”. I reckon I could report him for that!

I won’t get the results until July when I finally get to see the respiratory specialist, who will then decide whether or not to treat the pulmonary sarcoidosis.

Interestingly, I assumed when it first showed up on my CT scan, last month, it must have been there for ages, but now I’m not so sure.

Since Christmas, I’ve had a recurrent cough that no-one else seems to catch. I’m also now getting bouts of breathlessness, usually when climbing a hill…but it’s sporadic. Some days I get it, others I don’t. It’s not stopped me from exercising though and I joined in my mate Harriet’s Zumba class the other night. It’s been a couple of years since I did the old grapevine and hip gyrating routines but I wasn’t completely hopeless.

Next week…road running I reckon. My heart is slowly becoming my pal again.

My kidney infection has finally disappeared and blood tests and an ultrasound have confirmed both are functioning normally. So no sarc there. Result!

I’ve also spoken to my boss and set a date for a phased return to work. All being well I’ll be back to the monotonous routine of daily working life in June, and I honestly can’t wait.

Yesterday was a bit emotional though as we said goodbye to James, the true youngster of our Yeovil Heartbeat class. No, he’s not dead thankfully…but reached the end of his 12 sessions and well on the road to recovery. I made a mega full-fat chocolate cake and rocky road bites as my baking frenzy continues. Although we joked it might provoke another cardiac arrest so we could keep him for a bit longer, I really do hope it won’t be the last time we hang out.

It’s dawning on us all that eventually we’ll be fully fledged and set free from our new family…our safe space.


What midlife crisis?

Saturday 20th April 2019:

Happy Easter weekend…I made it! I also got to wish one of my best friends, Jenny, a “welcome to the 40s club”, though sadly not in person as previously hoped. But we’ll make up for it soon I’m sure. This is us together in February…

It’s been a few days since I wrote but I figure it’s better to have something to say than repeatedly tell you what I’ve just eaten for breakfast and the fact I’ve hoovered up…though that’d be a complete lie as I now have a cleaner I can’t afford, so Mum’s paying for him. The joys of being an only child.

I’m now six weeks post heart attack and am starting to feel more like me, and I’m ecstatic to report on Wednesday I actually managed a spot of egg hunting with my babies, Goddaughter Arabella, and her 10-week-old brother Tristan…and their mum Christine, but she’s not as cute and the last time I saw her when she visited me in hospital the woman in the bed opposite thought she was my daughter and I’ve not quite gotten over that yet.

Plus, after pining longingly at the Jurassic Coast via my smug friends’ social media accounts I finally made it to the beach yesterday. I am now one of those irritating bastards you want to poke after posting not only photos of the sun-kissed sand and rolling sea but also my divine eggs benedict breakfast, which definitely contravenes the no fat part of my anti-inflammatory diet but for one day I don’t care. I had champagne last night too which has sugar in it but I figured it really was time to celebrate being alive with the friends whose house I was at that fateful night.

This time when I said my goodbyes to CJ, Steve and their son Charlie before heading home, it really was because at 8pm I was knackered, and this time my family accompanied me up the hill where, I hasten to add, I didn’t have to stop halfway for a breather AND I carried my (albeit much tinier) handbag with ease.

Today has pretty much been a write-off though but I was content just to mooch about at home and sunbathe briefly in the back garden. Mentally I feel like I’m fixed but I’m still trying to convince my body to catch up.

Great news though…the rehab nurses have said I can now add up to an hour’s exercise to my weekly routine in the gym or…and I did do a little shriek when they told me this…about 10 minutes of running. Actual, proper running…out and about! Mmmmm I wonder if Sophie and Ruth will ever canter out with me again? Girls?

And if I wasn’t having a midlife crisis before my heart attack I definitely am now. Not only have a plumped for luminous yellow hair that most certainly rivals any Easter chick I’ve ever seen, but I’m also contemplating a wholly impractical sports car.

Well, why the hell not?


Afraid to sleep

Monday 15th April 2019:

I’ve just realised last night was the first one since my funny do that I didn’t worry about going to sleep. I just drifted off like your average Joe, not a care in the world…kind of.

Previously, I’d been afraid to close my eyes for fear I might not wake up again. I’d lie still, trying to relax, but would become increasingly aware of my heart beat until it was thumping louder and harder in my head, almost like it was trying to escape…pretty hard to ignore. And let’s face it when the pump for your whole body fails you it’s not difficult to understand why you obsess over it. But last night, after settling under the duvet, I didn’t even think about it once, or check my heart rate on my watch. Ignorance really is bliss.

Victoria, one of the Heartbeat nurses, told me to try and disregard my heart rate during rehab too and instead listen instinctively to my body. If I feel ok I probably am…cue more treadmill running and today for an extra 30 seconds than on Friday. I dream of running a mile again…but for now it will have to remain a thing of fantasy.

Walking and going up and down stairs continues to become easier though and my kidney infection seems to be responding to the antibiotics. No more trips out with a hot water bottle in tow…just as well given I left it in the bloody cinema the other day. Come to think of it I did wonder what that thud was as I got up from my chair to leave, but I had been watching Dumbo so I passed it off as an elephant sound effect.

Today was pay day which I had almost forgotten about as I feel so far removed from work at the moment. Getting back to the grind will be the ultimate tonic for me. Once I can return I’ll know I’m fixed. In the meantime, I’m keeping my fingers crossed as a few of the news stories I wrote last year have been put forward for online awards (watch this space) but my current goal is merely to watch my children enjoy an Easter egg hunt or two over the holidays, without feeling too breathless or exhausted.


Taking a breather

Friday 12th March 2019:

It’s been an eventful week…in my new slower-paced life at least.

I’m now legally allowed to drive again so that’s given me back a bit of independence. Driving…on my own…just me! It’s been like passing my test for the first time all over again and looking over my shoulder to see there’s no instructor in the passenger seat. Let loose! I love driving. I might venture across Europe over the summer…if I can get a travel insurer to cover me…ever again.

Even more fulfilling than driving was persuading Matt, my Heartbeat gym instructor, to let me run on the treadmill yesterday, instead of walk. Oh my God, it felt amazing! However, I was given a strict instruction not to let my heart rate tip over 155 beats per minute during the three-minute rep. I didn’t take my eyes off the monitor on my watch. I made it to two minutes and 30 seconds before it shot up to 160. You’ve seriously never seen a person move more swiftly than me pressing the buttons to slow the machine down until I was at a steady walking pace again. I felt absolutely fine but I didn’t want to chance it. Get me…control freak, following orders. Now that’s progress.

I suspect further changes are afoot as I also had my first NHS Health Coaching session today with Chris. The first question he asked me: “Do you ever breathe?” I guess I didn’t need to tell him my school reports always said: “Susan (my Sunday name) talks too much!” or that just about everyone in my life is always telling me to slow down. Chris very much had the measure of me after just one hour…runs on adrenaline, fills every spare minute…not to mention gap in conversation. Now I know where my children get it. I’ve got three goals this week…reduce caffeine (gulp), take more breaks and…you’ve guessed it…breathe. He’s as bad as my watch!

I’m learning to listen to my body though…slowly. Most days I’m taking an afternoon nap wrapped in the pink and green (odd colour combo I know) blanket my great grandma crocheted…it’s always a go-to comforter. I also stopped my yoga session halfway through on Wednesday because my kidney infection was making me feel grim. But as well as holding me back in some aspects of my life, my body is also recovering incredibly well in others. When I was first out of hospital I had to stop several times while ascending a flight of stairs. Now I can almost bound up them…just don’t tell Matt. After all, as Chris reminded me, it’s only been five weeks since my heart attack and I’m already frustrated and questioning why I’m not back to normal already…in fact now isn’t soon enough, I always want things done yesterday…last week.

This is quite some learning curve.