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As soon as they got the blood results with the high troponin reading they said I needed a chest X-ray, an echocardiogram, and an angiography, so I would be going to the cardiac ward.
I was put on a trolley and wheeled to the acute medical ward, put into a fancy bed and, with the aid of 10 stick on sensors, each with it's own wire, hooked up to a monitor that went Beep Boop every 20 seconds.

Basically, that was that. Night time came around, they found me a decent meal, gave me a load of tablets and an injection in my belly and left me, the wires, and the Beep Boop machine to try to get some sleep.

I managed to nod off at around 5am and they woke me at 6am with a cheery smile, a load of pills and an injection in my belly. Then they took my breakfast, lunch and dinner order and left, fending off my questions with, "The doctors will be on the ward at 10 or 11."

A doctor did come. He looked at my notes, uh hu'd and was about to leave when I asked him what was going on. He told me not to worry and that everything was being taken care of.

And so it went on, FOR ANOTHER THREE DAYS. The pills, the injections, the food orders, the cheery nurses, my increasingly anxious questions, the reassuring doctors, the fucking wires and the bastard Beep Boop machine.

At some point on Thursday afternoon (I was admitted on Monday) I kicked off big style and told everyone in earshot what I though. Then I removed all the stickers and wires, (The stickers had been on so long they had caused a reaction and left huge circular welts) and got out of bed.
The Beep Boop machine almost had a fit but it was no match for me. I was raging.

There was a hurried discussion at the nurses station and someone senior was called. He studied my notes for a while and then said to me, "I must apologise Mr McCready, it seems you should have been referred to the cardiac ward, but someone has dropped the ball and forgotten to do it."

If that was meant to calm me down it didn't work. I was so mad I'm surprised I didn't have another heart attack on the spot.

The upshot was that I was put into an ambulance that same night and taken to Coventry hospital.
The next day they did the angiography and fitted a stent, then, after a day of observation and with their apologies still ringing in my ears I was sent home.

"What about the echocardiogram" I asked.

"Oh, we've referred you back to The George Elliot for that, they will do it when you go to see the rehabilitation nurses in a few days."

A few days later I saw one of the rehabilitation nurses, and extremely nice and efficient she was too.
When she had finished telling me what I could and couldn't do in the coming months I asked her about the echocardiogram.

"Haven't you had that yet?"

"No, they said they would refer me back here to have it, look, it says so on my discharge sheet."

"Hang on, I'll go and check it out."

When she came back she told me that they had made me an in-patient referral, and because I was now an out patient it would be ignored.

Not her fault of course but infuriating nonetheless. She did manage to get me re referred as an out-patient, but it will take a few weeks....

Bottom line, I'm home, I'm fine, and the NHS probably saved my life, so fair play to them.

It was The Spring Meeting today at WPGC - the first major of our club season and the up to 40mph wind made it quite testing.

My partner and I could only muster a semi-respectable 37 stabbos but it was sunny, dry, and nice company but I'm a bit cream-crackered this evening.

Did you make the money in the tournys?

Epic reply by The Boo

Did you make the money in the tournys?

Good to hear from you Tom 

Welcome back Tom.

Morning all.

Huge thanks to everyone who sent their best wishes, it was much appreciated.

My heart attack, like most people's I suppose, came out of the blue. I mean I suppose it could have been expected, I have a terrible family history with 2 grandparents, my mam, dad, and two younger brothers all having had one. But unlike most of them, I had no other risk factors. No high blood pressure, no high cholesterol, no diabetes, non-drinker, no fags this century. I sleep well, and I'm rarely stressed, (Unless I've been golfing with tikay, but that's another story)

So there I was at about 3 in the afternoon, sitting on the settee, sport on the telly and the laptop open. I had just entered a $25 bounty hunter and a $15 freezeout, (I usually play $5 or $11 max so quite high stakes for me)

Suddenly... CRUNCH! Pain like an enormous pair of pinchers squeezing my chest, and even more pain shooting down both arms.

I knew immediately what was happening, and I knocked on the bathroom door where Mrs Red was cleaning..

Me: I'm having a heart attack.

Her: I'm having a heart attack who?

I quickly convinced her that I wasn't joking and she dialled 999. They told her that it would be quicker to take me to the hospital than to wait for an ambulance. We recruited our eldest daughter as driver and off we went, me doubled up in the rear foot well, Mrs Red on the seat brushing my hair soothingly with her foot.

We had a choice between The Royal hospital in Leicester, or the George Elliott in Nuneaton. We chose the GE because it's smaller and usually less busy.
When we got there A&E was absolutely rammed, every seat taken, people sitting on the floor, a long queue at the admissions desk..
I staggered past the queue and grunted, "Heart attack" to the nurse behind the glass.

The NHS is totally wonderful and I love it to bits. It's also teeth-shatteringly infuriating and I could run amok with a sledgehammer, smashing everything to pieces.

At this point, the wonderful part kicked in, a porter appeared with a wheelchair and whizzed me off to a cubicle where I was hooked up to an ECG machine, had a cannula inserted, blood taken, was given tablets, injections, and had stuff squirted under my tongue. In no time the pain started to ease, going from an 8/10 to about a 4 in a few minutes.

Presently, Mrs Red, who had been giving my details to the nurse at the desk arrived and asked what was happening. The doctor told us that I had been treated for a heart attack because of my symptoms and the ECG indications and they were now waiting for the results of my blood test. They were looking specifically at troponin levels. Troponin is a protein that is released into the bloodstream when the heart muscle is damaged. If the count is over 6 that means it's elevated. Mine came back at 38.
"Wow!" I said, 38, what happens now?"
They assured me that 38 wasn't particularly high, but that they needed to measure it again in 2 hours because if there is damage, it would continue to increase for 12 hours.

The next reading was 577. At this point, the teeth shatteringly infuriating NHS took over.


TBC.

Beautiful day for golf. Teeing off at 9.40, anyone else playing today,

1.30 tee time for me.

 

I think we need a few pics of how the other half live 

Beautiful day for golf. Teeing off at 9.40, anyone else playing today,

1.30 tee time for me.

 

My worst round of the year. Last outings 99, 94, 92. Yesterday 105 including 1x 3putt and x2 OB. Back at it on Monday.