The last chapter so far. Thanks Floydy and Bratti for your comments, much appreciated…It was the best forty years of my life.
[CENTER]My Life in Bits – Part 2 – The Recovery
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The smouldering ember of life suddenly ignited, I could hear a telephone conversation taking place, and as it came into focus I realised that I was still here, and that Sue was speaking to the emergency services. The ambulance was here in no time and the paramedics got to work with injections, and a handful of stick on suckers, each complete with it’s own cable, I was connected up like broadband. We were soon on our way to hospital, with Sue beside me holding my hand. Apparently, all the information is transmitted to a team of cardiologists, who were monitoring my progress back at the hospital. Half way there we were ordered to stop as I took a turn for the worst, but I was soon stabilised and the journey continued. I was found a bed and made comfortable. Throughout the whole experience I was never in any serious pain, discomfort, maybe. I was still in my running kit when I arrived on the ward, and I needed to shower, that though, was out of the question. It was three days before I could eventually wash unaided, it felt so good to be clean and not have greasy hair. After various tests, it was found that I had indeed had a heart attack, but with low blood pressure and a cholesterol reading of 5.6, plus the fact that I only weighed 10 stone, it was put down to Fags and an unfortunate inheritance. My Dad had a couple of heart attacks and a stroke over the last few years. I always imagined that if smoking was going to get me, it would be in my lungs, but this was a silent killer, without symptoms, I had no idea what damage was being done until it almost killed me. I stayed in hospital for five days, and not knowing what had caused it, or how serious it was, I felt so vulnerable. Because blood pressure and heart rate were on the low side, it was decided that I should not be put on Beta Blockers, but I had returned home with half the contents of our local pharmacy. Ramipril, Statins, Aspirin and a GTN spray were the main ones. After a few days at home I was visited by the cardiac nurse, to make sure I was eating properly, and not doing anything strenuous. She tore a strip off my next door neighbour, when she found him cutting my lawn and wrongly identified him as me.
I was a self employed courier, but I wasn’t allowed to drive for six weeks, so no income, and although I could claim sickness benefit, I got it in a lump sum after returning to work. So, all my customers received invoices, and most paid up promptly.
I had booked a couple of days away in London for Sue’s birthday in June, it was just a week after being discharged from hospital, we went away anyway, I just took it more steady than usual and we had a great time. Over the next few weeks I filled my time with walking round the neighbourhood, and even some longer ones now and then.
After six weeks I would have to take the treadmill test to monitor the condition of my heart, to see if I had recovered. In beautiful weather I walked the four miles to the hospital. It caused quite a stir when I arrived in shorts and running shoes, after all I had just had a Heart Attack six weeks before. I was looking forward to running again, but in a controlled environment, where if anything went wrong, they would know and stop the test. The machine whirred into life, and I got into the rhythm of a steady walk, it gradually speeded up until I was jogging, “Any pain?” the doctor asked, “No, I feel good” I replied, “We will take your heart rate up to 155 BPM and hold it there for one Minute and then slow it down to a stop”. As the words left his lips the machine slowed and came to a halt. Blimey, I thought, that was a short minute. “Is everything okay?”I asked. “You will have to see the Doctor” he said, so I made my way to the waiting room. “Did you get any pain?” said the pretty young female Doctor as I made my way to the chair in front of her desk. “No” I replied, “In fact it’s the best I’ve felt for ages, and it was nice to be running again, albeit a short session” “Well this is going to be a problem for you, because your heart went into distress and they had to terminate the test. But the worrying thing is, you had no warning, so you don’t know when it’s happening” I had no idea, I felt nothing. “I’m going to send you for an angiogram, they will insert a catheter into your groin, which will follow an artery up into your heart, and we will be able to see what is going on.” She added. I left the hospital and walked home, at least we would find out what the problem was.
I carried my GTN spray religiously wherever I went, so, like Popeye with his spinach, I could blast some under my tongue and do superhuman feats. That’s the theory anyway. So one day I put it to the test, I reasoned that if my Dad had Angina, and had passed it onto me, then I would not be able to return to running. I had to know. I was walking along the canal bank, and then sprinted for the next mile, if I couldn’t do it without needing the spray, that was me finished. I arrived at the mile point on my knees, head swimming and legs like rubber, but I didn’t need the spray. Theory proved! I WILL return to running, one day…
And on Thursday 26th August 2004 just 12 weeks after Black Sunday, I completed my first proper 3 mile run. I continued to do 3 miles every other day until Sunday 12th September, when I upped the mileage to seven. I had come back from the dead.
My angiogram took place at Doncaster Royal Infirmary on Tuesday 12th October 2004 and it was confirmed that I had a blockage in a small branch of three arteries, one of which was all but closed, this had been the cause of my heart failure. All my other arteries were healthy and clear of obstruction, it was agreed that running had indeed been a major contributor to the good condition of the rest of my circulatory vessels.
It had been arranged that sometime in February 2005 I would visit The Northern General Hospital in Sheffield to have some stents placed into the affected arteries.
(Stents are small metal tubes placed into the arteries using a catheter, inserted into the groin, and a type of balloon, which, when inflated, allows the stents to be accurately placed.) It didn’t go that long though, because after returning home from a job one Friday night, I answered the phone to a nurse from the Northern General hospital, who suggested that I might attend the hospital at short notice for the procedure. I said “How short?” “Tomorrow?” she replied. So on Saturday 11th December 2004, Mr Oakley placed 3 stents into my plumbing, and I was discharged that evening.
In 2005 after careful research I managed to gradually wean myself off all the drugs I had been prescribed, and continued with my running, building up to long Sunday runs of 10 and 11 miles, by the end of the year I had managed to accumulate 745 miles.
2006 turned out to be a year of niggling injuries, nothing serious, but due to missed runs, I could only manage 600 miles this year.
2007 was better with a final total of 995. But my confidence had taken a bashing, and I was reluctant to return to road racing. But there would be a dramatic change for the better. After a successful interview with Royal Mail, on the 27th November 2007 I jogged down the road with my first bag of post. I became known as the running postman, always in shorts, and always running. My weight reduced from 11 stone down to 10, I was eating like a horse, while turning into a lean mean delivery machine.
The last road race I did before Black Sunday was the Ackworth Half Marathon, and was surprised to learn that Ackworth was the place I would deliver the post.
I wasted no time in signing up for the 2008 Ackworth Half Marathon, and on 16th March, while being observed by most of my customers, completed the course in 1 hour 46 minutes, which was six minutes faster than my run in 2004. Mr Oakley and the team at Sheffield Northern General Hospital had done a superb job, and returned me to the life I love. I went on to complete Newark and Bridlington Half Marathons later that year, although, being a postman, it was difficult while on races, to resist the temptation to run down peoples paths.
It was my sixtieth birthday on July 14th 2010, and as a result of some prudent financial organising earlier on in my career, among other things, I had the opportunity to retire, so I made 13th July my last ever day as a working man. I loved the outdoor life of a postie, and wished I had taken the job when I was younger, but you only remember the good days, although there were many, there were also wet, cold and stressed ones which are better forgot.
Since my retirement I have carried on religiously with running and racing, making my tally of Half Marathons sixty one, with a couple in the pipeline for this year (2013) although speed is drifting away, the enjoyment isn’t, and I hope to be running for a few years yet. God and Mr Oakley willing………
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