Life may be a bowl of cherries, as the saying goes, but it seems I always stand in the line of fire when someone spits out the pips. I was wandering about today looking to buy a pair of shoes because this dammed CHF thing has caused edema, especially on my left foot, and until the diuretic tablet does it's job and reduces the effect I now have a size 9 and a size 10 and a bit. To start with my feet were different inasmuch as I have a higher instep on my left, so on the bread falling butter side down principle it has made it much worse rather than equalising things up. Anyway back to the point, elephant man Bren was hobbling around in sunny Stockport looking for a pair of cheap cheap shoes because they will be no good in a month, unless I want to go canoeing. I found the men's shoe department of this particular shop in the basement as usual, they are always up or down the stairs, probably because we spend less money than the female customer. After various struggles I found something reasonable and comfortable. Stifling the urge to switch two pairs around and and go to the till with a nine and a ten I invested in an Indonesian sweat shop and bought them.
That paragraph was written quite a while ago, I have now finished work, or work finished me as I see it. They keep upping the dose of Furosemide to cope with the fluid retention and it seems to have stopped with me being about 15 Kg above the weight I started at. That's 6 bags of spuds I'm carrying around with me, it's not much of a surprise I am knackered most of the time. Anyway I saw my consultant yesterday and yes he is referring me to the specialist heart unit at Broadgreen Hospital. I had an early indication it was going to be that way when I saw he didn't have a shotgun propped up in the corner of the room.
Going by stories of waiting list massaging I won't get put on the waiting list until the surgeon has seen me and agreed to do the operation, it keeps the figures lower that way and get me inside the 18 weeks I am told by someone who works in the NHS.
