| Life goes on - 22nd June 2006 |
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It's now just over 4 months since I had a non-speaking but central role in the drama which unfolded in the operating theatre at Papworth Hospital. I was not aware of applause at the time or indeed of anything-else, but applause was certainly due - not to me, but to those taking the starring roles. Even the resulting scar apparently looks better than the average. As my cardiologist said when she first examined me after the operation - ‘Nice scar!'. When I was first told I had a heart murmur, I felt well and so assumed that the further tests planned for me would reveal nothing sinister. It was something of a shock then when, only two months later, I was told that a major operation would be necessary in order to fix my mitral valve. It was flapping in the beeze, rather than stopping my blood from going the wrong way around my body. My cardiologist told me that for a person of my age and general health, the average mortality rate from the operation itself was 0.2% i.e.1 person in 500. In addition, there was a some risk of having a stroke. It was not going to be quite like sitting at home and watching the television. And so I had to accept that if I had the operation I might not live to celebrate my next birthday. It all seemed so very melodramatic. Having done my research and discussed things with my cardiologist and the surgeon himself, I felt completely confident that I had picked the right man for the job and the right hospital and that the risk was therefore as low as it possibly could be, but I cannot say that I had no worries. Death though was not the main one. The main concern was that of coming to and finding that I had indeed had a stroke. It is after all relatively easy to contemplate death itself if you have no belief in an afterlife - it is difficult to be afraid of the prospect of simply ceasing to exist. You don't have to worry whether you have been following the right religion. Did I feel after the operation that somehow my life had been given back to me - that I now valued every new day as if it were a precious gift, as appears from some articles you read? No, I enjoy life now just as I did before. Did I feel that I should start running marathons to raise money for the British Heart Foundation, as some admirable people do? No, not really. I sent chocolates and flowers to the staff on the ward and wrote a heartfelt letter of thanks to the surgeon and his team, but I just wanted to get back to living a normal life as quickly as possible and put this episode behind me. And so I did lots of walking, at first up and down the hospital corridors and then, afterwards, around Coleshill and in the gym when it was too cold outside. Two weeks after the operation I had an hour's Italian lesson, even though it was rather difficult to find the breath to speak in any language. The next Wednesday, a friend of mine came and drove me to have lunch with some other friends in Lichfield. Heather and I flew over to France for a few days. And gradually life began to regain its normal rhythm. Why then am I writing this rather self-indulgent essay? After all, I now feel well and have got back to virtual normality. Well, I suddenly realised that the birthday that I had accepted that I might not live to celebrate was about to arrive. It is in fact today, Thursday 22 June. The melodrama has had a happy ending. Life goes on. |