Remember when lockdown started how you vowed to do all those outstanding odd jobs around the house, write a blockbuster novel or learn to yodel?
Well if I’m anything to judge by, none of that got done.
There just were long days of nothing in particular, followed by supper and bed.
Now here I am counting the ceiling tiles in the intensive care unit of Gateway Hospital, bored out of my mind waiting for a stent to be placed in my chest.
The ICU is a truly wondrous place.
It’s like a cross between the flight deck of the Starship Enterprise, all flashing lights and screens and pinging alarms, and New York Grand Central station, people scurrying about and talking ten to the dozen.
It’s fascinating to see the contrast: patients in the beds look as though they aren’t going to make it through the night, but the staff are cheerful and positive all the time.
How did I end up here?
This all started with a mild heart attack on Monday night after an hour of exercise.
Not that I blame the exercise, it’s obviously been waiting in the wings for a while.
An intense burning in my chest started up as I got into bed and, long story short, I woke Rose up and she drove me to Alberlito Hospital.
My grateful thanks to Dr van der Merwe and casualty staff, and to my wonderful GP, Dr Johan Botha, for all the care I received.
When I presented myself to cardiologist Dr Andrew Asherson in Umhlanga on Tuesday, he took one look and parked me in ICU before you could say Covid-19.
(One outcome of entering Alberlito Casualty was that I got a coronavirus test. It was negative).
Of course, no visitors are allowed in Umhlanga ICU and despite the nurses being absolutely wonderful, I’ve had to entertain myself.
So I confess I’ve been playing with the very fancy computer monitors I’m hooked up to.
If I do square breathing – that’s 7 seconds in, hold for 7, out for 7 etc – I can slow my heart to 47 beats per minute or less and the monitor says APNEA! APNEA!, which sets all the alarms off.
Childish I know, but what else is a feller to do?
The operating theatre was a novel experience, being awake (but suitably numbed) throughout.
I watched on the X-ray monitor as the surgeon inserted a fancy probe into my groin, which he pushed all the way up to my heart and found the spot where the artery was blocked, close to the heart.
He inserted a stent there and that was that, done and dusted. It was really interesting to see the theatre staff at work: they’re like a Formula One pit crew, each with a job to do and pretty slick at it.
My heart’s purring like a V8 now and I’m ready for a few more laps!
Salaams to everyone involved and big thank you for the well wishes from family and friends.
My niece in London chirps that I’ve now got an extended warranty.
But little did I realise that of course, because visitors are not allowed into hospitals, Rose was having kittens because nobody would tell her what was going on.
Anyway it wouldn’t matter if the doctor said I was fine, she has to see for herself that everything was being done to her standards!
It’s great to feel loved.
And finally, every day you learn something new.
Afterwards my blood pressure was through the roof and the nurse was trying to put a drip in my arm for a sedative to calm it down.
She was jabbing here, jabbing there, and muttering that she couldn’t find a vein.
So, I said, it’s never been a problem before, why should it happen now?
“Fear,” she says, matter of fact. Oh yes? And I thought I was being big and brave!
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The global death toll from Covid-19 was around 850,000 at the time of writing. How does that compare with the top causes of death, of the 56.8 million deaths in 2016?
Here are the stats from the World Health Organisation:
Cardiovascular disease 17.8m
Cancer 9m
COPD (lung disease) 3m
Lower respiratory diseases 3m
Digestive disorders 2.5m
Neonatal conditions 2.2m Alzheimer’s 2m
Diabetes 1.6m
Murder/suicide 1.5m
Road accidents 1.4m
Diarrhoea 1.4m
Tuberculosis 1.3m
Kidney disease 1.2m
HIV/Aids 1m
Nutritional deficiencies 453,000
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