Age-appropriated heart stories

A stabbing pain shot up my throat from the chest and took my breath away. Panting I straightened up and stood up, carefully breathing in front of my bed, which I was about to mop under. This was the last part of my flat to clean before finally enjoying the holidays and looking forward to the arrival of my son, Carol, with his wife from Thailand.

Final spurt and anticipation

Günther, Carol’s father, my ex, had the week before renovated and painted the big room, the kitchen and the corridor, in preparation so that the children should find a cuddly nest. I had already been rearranging the flat for months and during these last hot days of July and August had taken care of all sorts of things that still needed to be done: writing final reports to conclude the extremely strenuous, but also successful school year with our pilot project, writing project reports of the last school days, getting clarification from the local administration and renovating the flat. I also had a stabbing pain in the left shoulder blade, tensions I suspected as the cause, and now, after Günther’s departure, I had to clean up and still look for protection from the burning sun on the kitchen windows. The kitchen had for months been the quietest room in the flat because of the noise from the construction site on the other side of the road, that the living room and bedroom windows faced.

Self-diagnosis

And now this! Obviously, it must be this bad heartburn again, which I had very badly two years ago. For weeks I ate only steamed vegetables, little meat and no sweets. I had to sit in bed to sleep and recovered only slowly. The doctor had also prescribed stomach medicine for me. I soon felt better.

Now it was probably that time again. Stress, heat and the same posture, bending over like when pumping the bicycle tyres as well as cleaning under the bed, have probably caused the stomach acid to rise once again.

The enormous pain was slowly diminishing and I no longer dared to bend down. Leaden tiredness set in and my legs hurt when I walked. I dragged myself through the day, trying to get medicine for my stomach. I called my friend Alexandra, who always has tips or maybe even knows what I could do. Susanne, another friend, called. She wanted to meet, but I could not expect help from her, only more uncertainty.

There was a fog in my head and I no longer realised when which pain came and went; whether I was awake or asleep; when I tried to see my doctor, who unfortunately was on holiday; and when I tried to contact his stand-in to make an appointment. I tried again to call Alexandra, who had not called back yet. Nobody seemed to be in Munich anymore more, everyone seemed to be on holiday already. I was all alone.

Highlight

When I went to bed on the evening of 03 August 2016, my shoulder was red hot. I was sitting in bed, searching for a position to ease the pain. I tried sitting on the edge of the bed, with my head hanging low and I was panting. This made the pain more bearable. The sweat ran in streams down my body. I had the feeling I smelled awfully. At 5 am I dragged myself into the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for my visit to the doctor. A spider was hanging from the ceiling in the bathroom. I tried to remove it. Oh, this pain. Nothing helped! I just wanted painkillers against these terrible stomach tensions that stemmed from this gastric acid. This was my self-diagnosis as this had happened before. With painkillers I could get rest, relax, sleep and wake without pain. Only then could I finally enjoy my well-deserved holidays and then everything would be fine.

The doctor

I was late for the doctor. Everything took so long and I dragged myself, heavily panting, to the surgery to see the stand-in doctor.

The doctor’s assistant felt sorry for me and led me into a quiet area away from the busy waiting room. I was not aware of how long I had been waiting but when I finally saw the doctor, I told him my symptoms and also told him what I thought was the diagnosis.

Tensions! Therapy: painkillers! The doctor was sceptical. He thought more along the lines of rheumatic disease and depression. Well, I did feel a bit depressed, but wanted something for the pain first! That would be helpful because I was exhausted after that night.

My wish came true. I was prescribed strong painkillers, but he also took a blood sample. I didn’t mind; the main thing was to get rid of this horrible pain!

Back home I took the prescribed medicine, lay down with my blanket in my comfortable armchair and felt the pain slowly ease. I fell asleep. Good.

Doctors at work

The telephone rang and woke me up from a deep sleep. The pain had almost disappeared, I felt much better. That’s what I told the doctor who had phoned because he was worried about the high inflammation levels in my blood.

He said that I had to go to the hospital or further checks. He asked if I could come and pick up the referral form and take it to the hospital. He also said he would inform the hospital of my arrival.

I packed my rucksack for the hospital stay. Günther called and I cried, saying that I was so alone. He comforted me and was wonderful in calming me down.

My neighbour was at the door. I told him I had to go to the hospital and hoped I would be back home tomorrow. He offered to drive me, but I said no as it was only a short walk to the doc’s to pick up the referral form and then to the hospital.

In the hospital I had to wait for my admission, then wait for the interpretation of the ECG test. The young female duty doctor nervously measured around the curves of the ECG with a ruler and disappeared. Other doctors and nurses came and took the printout with them, commenting with different views. I lay in the room on my bed for hours. When I asked if I could go home and come back another day the doctor snapped at me, saying that I should let her do her job,

But now I was really scared. She seemed unsure and I was worried and felt helpless. The idea of asking for a second opinion did not come to my mind. I was too exhausted.

Uncertainty on both sides

The young lady doctor, who rather reminded me of my Q 12 students, might have been relieved if I had insisted that she should call for her boss for advice.

I overheard a conversation when she quietly asked a colleague at what point it was okay to ask the boss for help. He replies diplomatically, any time if she felt overwhelmed. She was unsure of what to do. Other doctors and nurses came and offered opinions. There was an experienced doctor among them and suddenly someone shouted “heart attack”.

All-round redemption

Now everything happened quickly. I was taken to the cardiac catheter laboratory. While I was being pushed in my bed into the laboratory, I overheard the young colleague, who advised his young female colleague to call the boss if she was overwhelmed, whisper to another junior doctor how it could have happened as she had always been so competent.

This proved to me that young doctors assume that heart attack patients most probably automatically suffer from loss of hearing and some young doctors are probably infighting in competition with each other.

Strangely enough, I was rather relieved and not worried about the diagnosis and treatment. People now appeared to know what they were doing and talked to me in a calming manner. I could see my heart beating on the screen and the older doctor seemed relaxed. Excitedly he pointed out that the constriction probably had been building up over time and happily expressed his satisfaction with the stents he had put in. He asked me if I felt pressure in my chest. When I said yes, he stopped for the day, removed the catheter from my groin and ordered my transfer to the intensive care unit.

Someone was laying beside me as I could hear beeps and hums. I was lying on my back connected to measuring devices. It was not completely dark here and it was certainly not quiet.

But I was tired, probably from the sedatives, that I had been given.

I did not quite understand what was going on and I was not sure whether I was asleep or just dozing. Will a heart attack have consequences? Perhaps I won’t have to work so hard anymore? The thought of being in mortal danger never occurred to me. Never mind, I was calm and felt safe and I was not alone.

I can’t remember when I asked for my mobile to call Günther. I left a message on his answering machine, that I’d had a heart attack, but was fine and that under no circumstances should he contact our son in Thailand. I was no longer alone and was cared for and protected. Strangely enough, this seemed to have been the most important thing. I didn’t have to make decisions, answer a thousand questions and worry about others. For the moment, I was no longer responsible for anything. I did not think about dying, death or life’s danger. I was fearless. I knew that everything was good and would be good. Perhaps this calm knowledge that everything was going to be okay was the reason why I was in such a good shape after the operation and why my blood values were getting better, what nursing staff and the doctor were amazed to discover days later.

Consequences and far-reaching changes

The story of my heart attack ends here and the post-infarction period begins. I had six stents placed in three days. My heart is damaged, but I don't really feel it. My regular tablet consumption has increased from 0 to 7 a day. But I have got used to that too. The stay in a rehabilitation clinic was supposed to stabilise me and make me more confident in dealing with my illness. Unfortunately, exactly the opposite was the case. I developed panic attacks and a deep severe depression that lasted for a long time despite therapy. The health insurance company found this development extremely alarming and took action. But that's another story.

In any case, my life changed fundamentally. I finally retired and very slowly began to build a new life. (TA)