Matters of the heart

Today was my annual heart check up. Having been born with a congenital heart defect, these appointments have become part of my life. Pretty routine you might say but as the years have progressed I always feel a sense of anticipation as it approaches.

You see, my first operation was as a newborn. First obstacle for my mum, being told I might not make my first year, best get me christened. Smashed that. Then, as I got older, the message was that I might need another op when I’m probably about 15, when I’ve done the majority of my growing. Smashed right past that until I had a 2nd op at 26. Then, maybe about 15 years after that I may need another one. So, here we are almost 20 years later. You can guess what I’m thinking.

I wonder every year if this year will be “the year”. My brain works overtime, will I be paid for any sickness, will my husband need to take any time off, do I need to write a will? I really do think all of these things. Of course, when I was 26, I was single with no children and no real commitments. Next time round will be totally different.

This morning then, the train’s cancelled. Good start. Why didn’t you drive I hear you ask? Yeh, driving may have changed my life in many ways but driving into Southampton for the first time for the purposes of having my dodgy ticker checked feels like asking for trouble. So no.

A frantic call is made to the hospital to let them know we may be a tad late. As long as we’re not more than half an hour late, we’re ok. My husband has come with me this time, we grab a cuppa while we wait.

We make it! Just ten minutes late. Self check in, Dr Generic again, same as last year. I joke with the husband about what a funny name that is for a Dr, I wonder how it’s pronounced, maybe it sounds a bit more fancy than I imagine. I meet the liaison nurse that I have known for years, always asking me how I’m doing and reminding me I can call her anytime. She explains that I’m seeing Dr Smith today. Not Dr Generic today? She tells me that’s what they say when they don’t know who it’s going to be. It’s generic. Yep, knew that. Of course, there is a certain irony in Dr Generic turning out to be Dr Smith.

My echo goes well. I’m reminded every year what a “beautiful arch” I have. In the words of Midge Ure, this means nothing to me. Believe me, it’s big news. She actually gasped today. She explained that usually the images are usually pretty grainy but mine are clear and that this is the kind of exciting thing that happens in her job once in a while. She even had to show me someone else’s images just so that I could see the difference. Smashed that arch thing as well then.

Onto my meeting with Dr Generic/Smith. She seems pleased to see me. Word’s clearly got round, I’m the one with the arch.

She tells me that everything is looking really positive with no cause for alarm and that I’m doing really well! No action is needed right now. She tells me off for having another tattoo but I’m used to that. I tell her I’ve listened to everything else. Yeh, Generic.

I’m so pleased, I really needed that assurance. It’s hard to explain to others sometimes that it’s one of those things that’s just there. If you ever feel stressed, worried, puffed out, you feel it in your chest, that’s normal. For me and others with heart conditions, there is always that added worry of is that something else?

On the train back then, with a little G&T and the first thing I wanted to do was write and tell you all about it. I haven’t written for a while, a lot’s been going on, almost too much to know what to write about. This has given me a massive boost and I’m hoping will spur me on to write more.

Smashed it!