| It's been a funny few weeks |
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The other day I was driving home from Birmingham along the Aston Expressway in a very slow-moving queue wondering whether I would cheat, as others were, by going into a free-flowing outer lane and then pushing my way back into the same queue nearer to the entry onto the Motorway. I decided that it wouldn't be fair as I wasn't really in a hurry. Over the last six weeks, though, I've found that fairness is easily abandoned when it becomes more personal. It all started in early October when I went to a cholesterol clinic at the local hospital in order for them to make some recommendations as to what tablets I should take to get my level down to the magical ‘5' - this being the level at which my GP gets an additional payment from the NHS as a reward. During the consultation, the Doctor got out her stethoscope and listened to my heart. She said " Do you know you have a murmur?". Not really knowing what a murmur was at that time, I muttered, but no explanation was forthcoming. Doctors are not always very good communicators or perhaps don't like to worry us unnecessarily with the details. I was told that I would need to have an echocardiogram (they often use it to show the foetus during pregnancy) to give them more information. This was likely to take some time to arrange. The following morning, I went to my GP and said that if further investigation was needed, I would use my health insurance. Equality of opportunity is an admirable principle but quickly jettisoned when it might affect me adversely. He listened to my heart and confirmed there was a murmur, which he said indicated a problem with a heart valve. He gave me the names of two cardiologists. I rang them and found that the top man couldn't see me for ages. A newly appointed consultant cardiologist could see me that week. I opted for speed. The consultant confirmed that she too could hear the murmur through her stethoscope and arranged the echocardiogram ultimately for 8th November. She drew back from giving an estimation of the severity of the condition based on what she could hear, suggesting that we leave discussion until we had the hi-tech results. I, in the meantime, was consoling myself with the fact that I had no obvious symptoms which could be ascribed to an underperforming heart. The test proved inconclusive, but the cardiologist then said that she thought that what she had heard indicated that I might nonethelesss need an operation. And so she arranged to carry out a different type of echocardiogram. It involved sending out ultrasound from a tube pushed down my oesophagus (under sedation, so I can't remember it) and was carried out a week later - it showed that open heart surgery was required in order to repair or replace the valve. I was a bit shocked. Since then, I have been very busy on the internet. Replacing the valve leaves you with the need to take Warfarin for the rest of your life and the probability of a further operation when the new mechanical valve has worn out. A repair, on the other hand gives a reasonable expectation that no further surgery will be required, providing, of course, that it has been carried out skilfully. The more skilfully the better. It seemed, therefore, that the essential thing to look for was a very experienced surgeon (with a good track record) together with a hospital which had low MRSA rates. I have done further research on the web in order to try to find out who is, or at least seems to be, the best valve surgeon in the UK, and I believe that I have found the gentleman concerned. I have obtained authorisation from my insurers and It looks as though I shall be travelling to Papworth Hospital, near Cambridge for my operation. It's a long way from home, but should be well worth the journey. I would guess that I shall be operated on in January or February. I've never been operated on before, but if I've got to start somewhere I suppose that I might as well go for the big one. |