Better, not best

I've passed the four week anniversary since  my stent. Actually, it turns out I had three balloons in me during my stent procedure. That's what the cardio nurse told me during a call about a week ago during which she decoded some of the discharge notes. That was really useful as I wasn't entirely sure what had happened to me. She also gave me some guidance on dos and don'ts and answered some questions I had on certain issues (sex - if you manage two flights of stairs you're okay. Booze - stick to the 14 units limit. Exercise - listen to your body).

The last one is the most vague. I feel a lot better than I did pre-stent when I was getting tired walking to the local shop, and did turn back once. Now, there is a literal spring in my step, but I haven't done anything more strenuous and have not been on my bike for months. The nurse insisted that I shouldn't be doing nothing, which I feel I have been for a while.

The cardiologist told me that after four weeks I could return to normal activities, so that's next on the card. There is the possibility that I could do some cardio rehab courses, although I think I'll be on a waiting list for them. In all probability I'll be cycling before then but I would like the reassurance of  somebody giving me the once over to see what I can safely manage.

On one side I'm nervous, but on the other I'm champing at the bit to get on with life again. The past year has been one of missed, or untaken opportunities because I haven't felt up to doing things or convinced myself I shouldn't be doing them. Now I want to catch up.

Our fragility was brought home to me this week when I heard some awful news about a friend - one of those terrible things that brings your own experience into perspective. Relatively speaking, what has happened to me has been small potatoes. It has scared me but it has also made me think I shouldn't waste the chance it has given me. 

I've been very lucky.

A week later

I had my appointment at the Heart Centre last Thursday and was pretty anxious. Cut to the chase - it actually turned out pretty well.

The big question was how my arteries looked. One was pretty definitely furred up but after testing another two with a pressure wire (no, me neither) the cardiologist decided they weren't too bad. The good news was that meant I wouldn't need a bypass and could proceed straight to stenting.

I was also anxious about this. The procedure happens while you're awake and the mere thought of somebody poking away in there was quite triggering.

As it happened, it was relatively untraumatic. I didn't feel much at all, which for a physical coward like me was a great relief. It was completed in just over an hour.

The result was almost instantaneously noticeable. I felt less tight chested and close to euphoric in some ways. It was such a weight off my shoulders that I was getting a bit ahead of myself.

This week has been a bit of a leveller. I have felt some intermittent pressure/pain/discomfort/anxiety. I'm telling myself that's perhaps to be expected - it has only been a week and I have had a fairly major intervention. Baby steps.

I've been told that within four weeks I can get back to normal - whatever that means. 

I already feel a lot better than I did in the months leading up to the procedure, but still not best. However, I'll take this so far. 

I've waited for a while to feel better. I can wait a bit longer.

The long way down

It's disconcerting how quickly things change.

Just under a year ago I thought my health was pretty good for a man my age. A clichéd late forties rediscovery of cycling had blossomed into a love affair with all things two-wheeled in recent years  

I'd bought a decent bike and found some similarly interested guys who have turned into ride buddies. Nothing too serious - compared with some - but great fun and great for health.

Without really trying I've found my fitness levels as high as they've possibly ever been, felt unwanted pounds slip off my frame, and noticed my wellbeing improve. All while doing something I really love - getting out on my bike, pedalling the lovely lanes of Essex and Suffolk, and finding lovely parts of the surrounding area to boot.

Just under a year ago I woke in the night with a racing heart and felt something flash across my chest. My dad died of heart problems at 44 so in some ways I'd been expecting this for years.

I ended up in A&E that night where I was checked out but given the all clear and sent home. I hadn't had a heart attack, which was what I'd feared but something clearly wasn't right.

The months since have been a slow movement through the NHS system - something that is increasingly picking up pace. 

Back in May I was told that I had severe coronary artery disease and I'm now on a journey towards some sort of treatment. What that will be depends on the result of a test that is coming up in a few weeks. In the meantime I'm taking a lot of pills to manage the situation.

I'm not sure whether it's the pills, the condition, or what's in my head but it's astonishing how downhill I've gone in a few months.

The only exercise I feel confident doing is a sedate walk, and some days I don't feel that I can go very far. 

My chest feels tight, I feel anxious a lot, and generally feel crap most of the time. 

I don't sleep well and I'm constantly worried about my heart. 

I don't feel confident doing anything that raises my heart rate - and I mean anything!

I feel like I'm taking a backseat on family life as there is so much I don't feel able to do, or just don't see any point in. Joy has been sucked out of large areas of my life.

If I'd have known the change that would come over me back in December when I left A&E, I would have been completely crushed. As it is, this overall state of affairs has crept up on me somewhat, which may be a blessing in some ways.

The next couple of weeks could reveal a lot and could be the start of things getting better. That's what I should try to think but it's hard.

There's a side of me that doesn't want to get too hopeful. There may be no quick fix and what if what's being proposed doesn't work, or doesn't work as I'd hoped? 

For a glass half empty person like me, this isn't a great position to be in. (Strictly speaking, the glass is usually completely empty at the minute as I've forsworn most drinking. That'll show them!).

It's the cycling that's been one of toughest things though. As I wrote on here in one of my infrequent rambles, when you find something you love late in life you almost start to mourn it because it has an inbuilt shelf life. That shelf life is now closer than I thought.