Monday.
After being in the hospital on Friday I was so glad to be home, so on Monday I went to college like normal. I went into History with a face like a smacked arse. I was tired but what could I do, I needed to get my head down. I hadn't been able to sleep that night with the pain and palpitations, I had been up all night and finished a couple of assessments. May as well have been doing something. Now I was drinking energy drinks and suffering even more for it, but it was either feel like my heart was about to explode or I was going to pass out or fall asleep where I was. So after history Rachael and I went to the library to print out things, I printed out everything I had. Notes, sociology homework, the two politics assessments I had done that night, history, research methods: everything. After that we walked along to Politics. Today wasn't a normal lesson, those lessons had stopped but we still had appointments to check we were doing the right thing. I knew mine was at two thirty but I went anyway, after we were chucked out for being early, Matthew, Rachael and I went to the cafeteria and did some research methods then wandered up when it was time. We sat in class, I expected John would sit us all down individually and discuss our work but he did it in a group which I did not find helpful at all. I did speak to him for a short while after the class about my coursework and my health. Afterwards I went downstairs and made my way up to the bus stop. I had felt shit all day, felt like I was dying in the middle of history and politics, in a different way than usual. To be honest I would not have been surprised if I had dropped down dead at any moment that day. I finally got home just gone five, I had some food and around six I gave up and went to sleep.
I woke up with a jolt. I opened my eyes properly and realised that the jolt was my own body trying to kill me. I assumed it was anyway. I had immense pressure on my chest almost as if a sumo wrestler or some great weight had been placed there. On top of that there was a tightness around my heart and around my rib cage. That sounds bad right? Well I also had palpitations, my heart was racing for no obvious reason. So all at once I was confused because I was still half-asleep, I had palpitations, pressure and tightness all around my chest area, if was as if I could feel my heart struggle to keep my alive. I was dying. That was the only plausible way to explain the way I felt. I was dying.
I went through to my mum and I phoned NHS24, crying down the phone I answered all the questions. Eventually the woman on the end of the phone said she was going to phone for an ambulance, I told her I didn't need one and she then asked me how I knew that. Obviously I knew I didn't need one, I was conscious and able to walk I could have gotten a bus down. In future I'll just go down myself or rather, I won't phone them in light of what happened over the course of the next few days.
Now, you'll have to bare with me from this point because I didn't write anything down at the time so everything in this post is completely from memory and after my mum and sister read this it will probably be edited to suit what they tell me actually happened since my memory is completely unreliable.
So in the space of about 2 minutes (if that) I had myself and my belongings in the livingroom when the buzzer went. Ambulance. Two female paramedics, for the life of me I cannot remember their names and I feel really bad for that but I was dying. After my mum gave one of them my heart folder, which is just a folder my mum got when I was little to explain everything that was wrong, going on, would go on and to record surgeries etc, the other hooked me up to get a ECG reading. Then I was taken into the ambulance and my mum followed in the car. In the ambulance I was given the usual interview; how was the pain now; brief medical history; what am I currently doing with my life; what did I want to do. We arrived quickly but for some reason had to wait a minute so me and one of the paramedics stayed in the ambulance chatting. Looking at me out of context you'd probably have been at a loss as to why I was there - I was smiling, I was talking, I appeared to be fine. I really wasn't.
UPDATE
Now to be honest with you it was so long ago I don't remember every detail. I'm been so wrapped up in coursework and festive preparations I completely forgot about all of this so here is my vague version of what happened next.
I was wheeled into a cubicle in A&E, quite quickly Mum and Nicole walked in and we sat there for a while, I was hooked up to a machine that hated me (wouldn't stop freaking out at every little irregularity) and blood was taken. Those nurses, just because you know that the benny the machine is taking is nothing doesn't mean a- I do and b- it's not bloody irritating. So I developed a sore head to pot. At some point I had an X-ray and an abundance of ECGs. Eventually a doctor came an spoke for a while and she did not take kindly to Nicole asking questions. Screw her, Nicole can ask what she wants, in fact it's a good thing she did because this doctor was unaware that my valve was leaking and rather embarrassed about it since she has just said she had read my notes. She quickly brushed it off at meaning she "glanced" at them and went away for a while and spoke on the phone. I say "spoke" but mostly she rambled for a few minutes and then obviously just answered questions looking at my file on the computer. During all of this Nicole, after being given a chair by her new fan, had managed to be sitting on it and fell asleep looking like a rag doll.
It was hilarious. We have a photo but she'd kill me.
I don't know if it was the situation of stress of the sleep deprivation but between laughing at that and laughing at Mum and Nicole slagging passers by I couldn't have looked that ill. Although the sight of a male nurse sitting at the computer your doctor was just sitting at picking his nose and eating it would make anyone ill. I type this trying not to be sick haha.
Even so I told Mum and Nicole to go home and I drifted in and out of sleep waiting for a bed on a ward. In the morning I was wheeled away to Combined Assessments and I had my breakfast. A guy came over and started asking me questions to write the answers on a bit of paper when a woman came and peaked her head in at the cubicle. She didn't even look at the man standing there, she looked at me "Taylor Corrigan?" "Yes?" "I've come to take you up to the ward." I just looked at the guy she so rudely ignored. And he (thank god) said "She hasn't been clerked yet?" "She hasn't been clerked yet?" And off she went. I looked at him, he looked at me, then we continued.
Two minutes later a man came in, the guy that usually sits at the nurses station, he said "The woman's here to take her up to the ward" like she'd told on him, "I said to her she hadn't been clerked yet, I've only just started." He Aww'd like it was nothing to worry about and off he went, obviously not everyone around here was a drama queen. After I'd been "clerked" - whatever that means - the guy came back over to me and explained that someone had phoned up to them and enquired about a bed. But due to the busy night they had and the equally busy morning they thought it'd take longer than it did to get a bed so they took their time with the paperwork. Slightly annoyed however, he added that her anger was misplaced because she hadn't phoned down to check I was ready or phoned a porter who would have phoned themselves. That's interdepartmental relations for you though. I did get the impression she was a snob and they all thought so. And a bitch.
Anyway, eventually she came back down and spent the time it took to wheel me to the ward complaining about the world.
There's one bad thing about being twenty one with a heart condition, and it's one that has been a problem since I was twelve but more so since I turned eighteen. The ages of the people you share your ward with. When I was at the Sick Kids in Edinburgh I never really noticed it, or I did and now I can't remember. But at some point there was a big budget meeting with the finance heads of health care in Scotland and it was concluded that they could not afford to have major departments (do not know if this applies to all surgery or just cardiology) in Edinburgh and Glasgow so it was decided it would just be Glasgow, that applied to both children's and adult's hospitals. Bollocks. It also meant that everyone from Edinburgh had to start going through to Glasgow for even the simple procedures such as Cardiac Catheters (angioplasty).
So, at twelve and fifteen I was in Glasgow for my simple procedures and still registered in children's hospitals until I was eighteen I was surrounded by kids. The theory was that I was growing so fast and would have been due for a new valve (estimation) around the age of fourteen, when i turned sixteen and it still wasn't necessary yet they decided to keep me registered until they had done the surgery so they weren't turfing me to a new place with an upcoming surgery. Well, when I turned eighteen and I still didn't need the surgery they abandoned that option and turfed me. Here's your hat, what's your hurry. Or should I say; keep that heart, now fuck off.
Like I said I was fifteen and surrounded by kids, I was in the Glasgow Children's hospital with one other patient in my room, on the ward actually, we started off in different rooms and were moved because we were the only two. But it was a little baby, I assume it was a little girl and I just remember the machine going off all the time, much as mine did in A&E, but by the colour of her and the tubes everywhere I don't think anyone minded. I certainly didn't, even though they did wake me up a few times.
I will always remember that dark room, the alarm and the crying. It was heartbreaking. It was crying of pain or frustration or even confusion. If anything it was the cry of someone completely fed up. It was weak mostly but not because the baby was weak although I suspect she was, it was weak because she was sick and tired. It was such a surreal thing, I looked at her and I remembered a picture I have of me in a cot with tubes and such. It's a blurry, unfocused, close up picture that doesn't actually capture much just a wee body, lying there, covered in white from nappy, tags and tubes. I just remember looking at her and thinking "That was me." It was like one of those adverts on the tele for rape, not in that way but when a person is standing watching themselves. Or like when Scrooge on A Christmas Carol gets to look at a young version of himself. I felt like I was looking at young me and Mum by the cot worried sick at every cry and every beep. In a weird way I also felt she knew me, was looking at me like Scrooge looking at future him. Maybe that's why she was weeping; she knew it was a lifelong occurrence and battle.
That was the day I realised I was selfish. I was sitting "Me, Me, Me"ing like I was something special, I was not the first to have a heart condition, I was not the last and I was not the worst. That baby is sitting somewhere now, getting on with life. Well, as getting on with life that a 6/7 year old can.
Anyway, my point was that being "young"ish and having a condition that most people develop over years meant that now, in an adult hospital, I tended to share rooms and wards with older people. Much older people usually. On this particular day I was wheeled into the only empty bed in a four-bedded room of the woman's part of the ward. To my left was Gillian, an older woman who was more frail and in need of more aid than the other two. Across from her was Debbie, around 45/46 years old and looking quite healthy in comparison. Next to her was a lovely woman Betty who, while older and somewhat slower on her feet was just brilliant.
Over the next few nights i was plagued with snoring woman and I have to say I mouthed some horrible stuff to myself, only out of tiredness and my complete lack of a fuse. I did feel bad that the woman next to me Gillian was in a lot of pain and begged God to help her most of the night. I still mouthed things. I felt so bloody guilty the next day, I really did but I was so tired I was crying. Yes, that kind of tired and in pain and you know, dying.
Betty was the first to leave, she had been transferred from up north for a pacemaker fitting and now she'd had that and her tests seemed fine she was allowed to go home on the Wednesday for follow up at her local. But Betty had had a lot of blankets, when the nurse had made the bed she had taken them away and not replaced them. So on the Tuesday night, instead of asking for them Betty just sat with her one sheey and put her housecoat of the bed, I nearly cried when I found this out. Instead of bothering them she sat freezing all night... :(
A woman came in I think her name was Margaret, but to be honest she spoke almost without moving her lips to the point where she sounded drunk. She wasn't it was either just the way she spoke or her accent but half the time I just laughed and nodded, having no idea what she said. She took Betty's bed not a couple of hours after she had left. Debbie, who was the baby of the group until I arrived had two children and a partner. She had quite a complicated history but I know she'd had a heart attack ten years before that she had a speedy and non-complicated recovery from but it turned out that it was causing her problems now because she hadn't had the proper care ten years ago. So she was given medication for some clots that were found in her heart, follow up appointments etc and she left when I was away for my CT scan to check for the same thing in me.
When I came back a lovely wee woman was wheeled in called (I will remember) and she took Debbie's bed. It looked like i was on the verge of leaving but Gillian was in it for the long haul I'm afraid. (Name), it seemed, was booked for angioplasty that the doctor's reckoned would solve her problems and she could go. She was brilliant though. She was one of those women who look about 60 or 70 but was in her 90s, she walked and talked like she was in her 60s and there was nothing missing up stairs. In fact, you would have been forgiven for thinking she was at it. She walked about, went to the loo by herself, chatting away, speaking on phones (at normal volumes). She was posh which is what made her so brilliant. During the visiting when Mum, Nicole, Stewart and I were sitting talking and playing games on the little TV thing I had she came over and excused herself asking if anyone knew how to work her mobile. She had tried to phone someone but "the woman came on a told me I had insufficient funds" and she was wondering if she would still be able to make and receive phone calls. Nicole spoke to her about topping up and keeping an eye on the reception and we all laughed etc and off she went again in her nice pink housecoat and sat with a paper.
Well I had a shower because I was feeling so horrible because I hadn't used a hair-dryer or straightener for days, I thought I'd be in for a while longer, as I was coming out I said to the nurse that the floor was wet in case anyone slipped. (Name) walked over to the bathroom with her toiletry bag and I warned about the water, she laughed it off and so did I, assuring me she'd be okay. While she was in there her phone went but we all just looked at each other and, not knowing her well enough, made no attempt at answering it. When she came out and didn't look at her phone I said "Your phone went off." and she replied "Aw, you are joking? Oh, shit." But in her posh little voice I burst out laughing. I don't mean that in ANY way condescending "her posh little voice" I mean she was posh and little because she was petite and proper, it just sounded so unnatural and yet, natural enough that you could tell she swore on occasion.
She quickly apologised after we'd all giggled at this outburst and Margaret said... something. I've no idea what. Anyway, after that Margaret was allowed to go and off she went. Then about quarter to eight a woman came in with her son (assuming) and grandaughter, I helped set up their TV package but I was never properly introduced so I never caught her name. I was told just after Mum left and just before the woman arrived that there was no clots, they had no idea what was wrong and I could go home as soon as the discharge letters were done, so I text Nicole and Mum who had just left five minutes before with Stewart but said Mum could come back later as planned because discharge letters take ages. So Mum turned up about ten minutes before eight with Janice who had brought me a toy rabbit and a blanket and we left. And again, we went to McDonalds then home.
That's the story who Monday night - Friday night in the New Royal Infirmary, Little France. I still have no idea what's wrong with me, and no rush has been put on any angioplasty or operations for the future so I have no idea what's happening now. Sorry, it's taken so long to update (over a month) but I've been so busy with the end of term coursework at college and the effects of whatever is wrong with me that I've basically done nothing else. I will probably update this later to include the lovely woman's name and other things I cant exactly ask anyone at 4am... :)
Thanks x
I woke up with a jolt. I opened my eyes properly and realised that the jolt was my own body trying to kill me. I assumed it was anyway. I had immense pressure on my chest almost as if a sumo wrestler or some great weight had been placed there. On top of that there was a tightness around my heart and around my rib cage. That sounds bad right? Well I also had palpitations, my heart was racing for no obvious reason. So all at once I was confused because I was still half-asleep, I had palpitations, pressure and tightness all around my chest area, if was as if I could feel my heart struggle to keep my alive. I was dying. That was the only plausible way to explain the way I felt. I was dying.
I went through to my mum and I phoned NHS24, crying down the phone I answered all the questions. Eventually the woman on the end of the phone said she was going to phone for an ambulance, I told her I didn't need one and she then asked me how I knew that. Obviously I knew I didn't need one, I was conscious and able to walk I could have gotten a bus down. In future I'll just go down myself or rather, I won't phone them in light of what happened over the course of the next few days.
Now, you'll have to bare with me from this point because I didn't write anything down at the time so everything in this post is completely from memory and after my mum and sister read this it will probably be edited to suit what they tell me actually happened since my memory is completely unreliable.
So in the space of about 2 minutes (if that) I had myself and my belongings in the livingroom when the buzzer went. Ambulance. Two female paramedics, for the life of me I cannot remember their names and I feel really bad for that but I was dying. After my mum gave one of them my heart folder, which is just a folder my mum got when I was little to explain everything that was wrong, going on, would go on and to record surgeries etc, the other hooked me up to get a ECG reading. Then I was taken into the ambulance and my mum followed in the car. In the ambulance I was given the usual interview; how was the pain now; brief medical history; what am I currently doing with my life; what did I want to do. We arrived quickly but for some reason had to wait a minute so me and one of the paramedics stayed in the ambulance chatting. Looking at me out of context you'd probably have been at a loss as to why I was there - I was smiling, I was talking, I appeared to be fine. I really wasn't.
UPDATE
Now to be honest with you it was so long ago I don't remember every detail. I'm been so wrapped up in coursework and festive preparations I completely forgot about all of this so here is my vague version of what happened next.
I was wheeled into a cubicle in A&E, quite quickly Mum and Nicole walked in and we sat there for a while, I was hooked up to a machine that hated me (wouldn't stop freaking out at every little irregularity) and blood was taken. Those nurses, just because you know that the benny the machine is taking is nothing doesn't mean a- I do and b- it's not bloody irritating. So I developed a sore head to pot. At some point I had an X-ray and an abundance of ECGs. Eventually a doctor came an spoke for a while and she did not take kindly to Nicole asking questions. Screw her, Nicole can ask what she wants, in fact it's a good thing she did because this doctor was unaware that my valve was leaking and rather embarrassed about it since she has just said she had read my notes. She quickly brushed it off at meaning she "glanced" at them and went away for a while and spoke on the phone. I say "spoke" but mostly she rambled for a few minutes and then obviously just answered questions looking at my file on the computer. During all of this Nicole, after being given a chair by her new fan, had managed to be sitting on it and fell asleep looking like a rag doll.
It was hilarious. We have a photo but she'd kill me.
I don't know if it was the situation of stress of the sleep deprivation but between laughing at that and laughing at Mum and Nicole slagging passers by I couldn't have looked that ill. Although the sight of a male nurse sitting at the computer your doctor was just sitting at picking his nose and eating it would make anyone ill. I type this trying not to be sick haha.
Even so I told Mum and Nicole to go home and I drifted in and out of sleep waiting for a bed on a ward. In the morning I was wheeled away to Combined Assessments and I had my breakfast. A guy came over and started asking me questions to write the answers on a bit of paper when a woman came and peaked her head in at the cubicle. She didn't even look at the man standing there, she looked at me "Taylor Corrigan?" "Yes?" "I've come to take you up to the ward." I just looked at the guy she so rudely ignored. And he (thank god) said "She hasn't been clerked yet?" "She hasn't been clerked yet?" And off she went. I looked at him, he looked at me, then we continued.
Two minutes later a man came in, the guy that usually sits at the nurses station, he said "The woman's here to take her up to the ward" like she'd told on him, "I said to her she hadn't been clerked yet, I've only just started." He Aww'd like it was nothing to worry about and off he went, obviously not everyone around here was a drama queen. After I'd been "clerked" - whatever that means - the guy came back over to me and explained that someone had phoned up to them and enquired about a bed. But due to the busy night they had and the equally busy morning they thought it'd take longer than it did to get a bed so they took their time with the paperwork. Slightly annoyed however, he added that her anger was misplaced because she hadn't phoned down to check I was ready or phoned a porter who would have phoned themselves. That's interdepartmental relations for you though. I did get the impression she was a snob and they all thought so. And a bitch.
Anyway, eventually she came back down and spent the time it took to wheel me to the ward complaining about the world.
There's one bad thing about being twenty one with a heart condition, and it's one that has been a problem since I was twelve but more so since I turned eighteen. The ages of the people you share your ward with. When I was at the Sick Kids in Edinburgh I never really noticed it, or I did and now I can't remember. But at some point there was a big budget meeting with the finance heads of health care in Scotland and it was concluded that they could not afford to have major departments (do not know if this applies to all surgery or just cardiology) in Edinburgh and Glasgow so it was decided it would just be Glasgow, that applied to both children's and adult's hospitals. Bollocks. It also meant that everyone from Edinburgh had to start going through to Glasgow for even the simple procedures such as Cardiac Catheters (angioplasty).
So, at twelve and fifteen I was in Glasgow for my simple procedures and still registered in children's hospitals until I was eighteen I was surrounded by kids. The theory was that I was growing so fast and would have been due for a new valve (estimation) around the age of fourteen, when i turned sixteen and it still wasn't necessary yet they decided to keep me registered until they had done the surgery so they weren't turfing me to a new place with an upcoming surgery. Well, when I turned eighteen and I still didn't need the surgery they abandoned that option and turfed me. Here's your hat, what's your hurry. Or should I say; keep that heart, now fuck off.
Like I said I was fifteen and surrounded by kids, I was in the Glasgow Children's hospital with one other patient in my room, on the ward actually, we started off in different rooms and were moved because we were the only two. But it was a little baby, I assume it was a little girl and I just remember the machine going off all the time, much as mine did in A&E, but by the colour of her and the tubes everywhere I don't think anyone minded. I certainly didn't, even though they did wake me up a few times.
I will always remember that dark room, the alarm and the crying. It was heartbreaking. It was crying of pain or frustration or even confusion. If anything it was the cry of someone completely fed up. It was weak mostly but not because the baby was weak although I suspect she was, it was weak because she was sick and tired. It was such a surreal thing, I looked at her and I remembered a picture I have of me in a cot with tubes and such. It's a blurry, unfocused, close up picture that doesn't actually capture much just a wee body, lying there, covered in white from nappy, tags and tubes. I just remember looking at her and thinking "That was me." It was like one of those adverts on the tele for rape, not in that way but when a person is standing watching themselves. Or like when Scrooge on A Christmas Carol gets to look at a young version of himself. I felt like I was looking at young me and Mum by the cot worried sick at every cry and every beep. In a weird way I also felt she knew me, was looking at me like Scrooge looking at future him. Maybe that's why she was weeping; she knew it was a lifelong occurrence and battle.
That was the day I realised I was selfish. I was sitting "Me, Me, Me"ing like I was something special, I was not the first to have a heart condition, I was not the last and I was not the worst. That baby is sitting somewhere now, getting on with life. Well, as getting on with life that a 6/7 year old can.
Anyway, my point was that being "young"ish and having a condition that most people develop over years meant that now, in an adult hospital, I tended to share rooms and wards with older people. Much older people usually. On this particular day I was wheeled into the only empty bed in a four-bedded room of the woman's part of the ward. To my left was Gillian, an older woman who was more frail and in need of more aid than the other two. Across from her was Debbie, around 45/46 years old and looking quite healthy in comparison. Next to her was a lovely woman Betty who, while older and somewhat slower on her feet was just brilliant.
Over the next few nights i was plagued with snoring woman and I have to say I mouthed some horrible stuff to myself, only out of tiredness and my complete lack of a fuse. I did feel bad that the woman next to me Gillian was in a lot of pain and begged God to help her most of the night. I still mouthed things. I felt so bloody guilty the next day, I really did but I was so tired I was crying. Yes, that kind of tired and in pain and you know, dying.
Betty was the first to leave, she had been transferred from up north for a pacemaker fitting and now she'd had that and her tests seemed fine she was allowed to go home on the Wednesday for follow up at her local. But Betty had had a lot of blankets, when the nurse had made the bed she had taken them away and not replaced them. So on the Tuesday night, instead of asking for them Betty just sat with her one sheey and put her housecoat of the bed, I nearly cried when I found this out. Instead of bothering them she sat freezing all night... :(
A woman came in I think her name was Margaret, but to be honest she spoke almost without moving her lips to the point where she sounded drunk. She wasn't it was either just the way she spoke or her accent but half the time I just laughed and nodded, having no idea what she said. She took Betty's bed not a couple of hours after she had left. Debbie, who was the baby of the group until I arrived had two children and a partner. She had quite a complicated history but I know she'd had a heart attack ten years before that she had a speedy and non-complicated recovery from but it turned out that it was causing her problems now because she hadn't had the proper care ten years ago. So she was given medication for some clots that were found in her heart, follow up appointments etc and she left when I was away for my CT scan to check for the same thing in me.
When I came back a lovely wee woman was wheeled in called (I will remember) and she took Debbie's bed. It looked like i was on the verge of leaving but Gillian was in it for the long haul I'm afraid. (Name), it seemed, was booked for angioplasty that the doctor's reckoned would solve her problems and she could go. She was brilliant though. She was one of those women who look about 60 or 70 but was in her 90s, she walked and talked like she was in her 60s and there was nothing missing up stairs. In fact, you would have been forgiven for thinking she was at it. She walked about, went to the loo by herself, chatting away, speaking on phones (at normal volumes). She was posh which is what made her so brilliant. During the visiting when Mum, Nicole, Stewart and I were sitting talking and playing games on the little TV thing I had she came over and excused herself asking if anyone knew how to work her mobile. She had tried to phone someone but "the woman came on a told me I had insufficient funds" and she was wondering if she would still be able to make and receive phone calls. Nicole spoke to her about topping up and keeping an eye on the reception and we all laughed etc and off she went again in her nice pink housecoat and sat with a paper.
Well I had a shower because I was feeling so horrible because I hadn't used a hair-dryer or straightener for days, I thought I'd be in for a while longer, as I was coming out I said to the nurse that the floor was wet in case anyone slipped. (Name) walked over to the bathroom with her toiletry bag and I warned about the water, she laughed it off and so did I, assuring me she'd be okay. While she was in there her phone went but we all just looked at each other and, not knowing her well enough, made no attempt at answering it. When she came out and didn't look at her phone I said "Your phone went off." and she replied "Aw, you are joking? Oh, shit." But in her posh little voice I burst out laughing. I don't mean that in ANY way condescending "her posh little voice" I mean she was posh and little because she was petite and proper, it just sounded so unnatural and yet, natural enough that you could tell she swore on occasion.
She quickly apologised after we'd all giggled at this outburst and Margaret said... something. I've no idea what. Anyway, after that Margaret was allowed to go and off she went. Then about quarter to eight a woman came in with her son (assuming) and grandaughter, I helped set up their TV package but I was never properly introduced so I never caught her name. I was told just after Mum left and just before the woman arrived that there was no clots, they had no idea what was wrong and I could go home as soon as the discharge letters were done, so I text Nicole and Mum who had just left five minutes before with Stewart but said Mum could come back later as planned because discharge letters take ages. So Mum turned up about ten minutes before eight with Janice who had brought me a toy rabbit and a blanket and we left. And again, we went to McDonalds then home.
That's the story who Monday night - Friday night in the New Royal Infirmary, Little France. I still have no idea what's wrong with me, and no rush has been put on any angioplasty or operations for the future so I have no idea what's happening now. Sorry, it's taken so long to update (over a month) but I've been so busy with the end of term coursework at college and the effects of whatever is wrong with me that I've basically done nothing else. I will probably update this later to include the lovely woman's name and other things I cant exactly ask anyone at 4am... :)
Thanks x
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