Post 415: I'm Fine, But Had to Discharge Myself
Should I, or shouldn't I, have gone to the hospital in Carlisle, or gone home first?
A&E.
The simple fact was that, after the celebratory curry following my eldest's Mighty Hike completion, I had a bout of palpitations unlike any I'd had before, and I needed to know what was going on.
After my garlic masala, I went to swallow my evening pills when I started to notice really heavy AFib symptoms. This time, though, it felt as if my breathing had been affected too.
Quite rightly, I decided to get checked out, so off my tired eldest and his tired fiancée went with me.
The waiting room was heaving but organised. Triage was quick, then we settled in for a long wait.
After the Mighty Hike debrief, the kids looked as though they should have been tucked up in bed, but they stayed with me from 9.30 pm until 4 am, when we were finally given a room in the back of the massive A&E cavern.
The corridors seemed to go on forever and the walk didn't help me. I was blown out by the time I was lying on a bed, bleeping away on a heart monitor.
A cannula was put into my elbow and blood was taken to check for signs of heart failure.
I wanted to swap places with my poor knackered son as the lights were turned down and we waited to see whether my heart rate would drop below 100 so we could all go home.
Or so I thought.
This little adventure meant my son's early night had vanished after such an incredible effort walking those 26 miles in just under nine hours and finishing 260th out of 1,500 hikers.
Not that it was about the placing. It was a personal accomplishment.
My heart continued to race and, by 5.30 am, I had been wheeled upstairs to AMU. What had begun as a late-night check-up had turned into a stay on a ward, waiting to be seen by doctors.
My son and daughter-in-law could finally go home, feed the confused cat his breakfast and get some sleep because, at 7 am, our hostess had arrived and taken over the nursing duties.
Oh my God, what a nightmare I've put them through.
Why now?
Why here?
This also meant I was going to miss the road trip home.
What would I tell my Darling, who was at work in her own A&E department, 400 miles away?
What would I tell her?
I needed good news to tell her.
We were all worried about someone or something, but worst of all I was 400 miles away from my Darling's hand.
All I wanted was my Darling's hand and, like usual, everything would be okay.
Let me out of this hell and give me my Darling's hand.
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Can I pay tribute to my friends who stayed another day in the hope that I would be fit enough to travel?
And to my son and daughter-in-law, who were so caring despite desperately needing rest themselves. They looked after me admirably in a situation none of us had ever envisaged.
And to our hosts, who worried for us all and helped tremendously in making sure everyone was safe.
Our sister.
Our auntie.
Our greatest friend.
More later, but it's good news.
The days are blurred and all I need to see now is the front door and my Darling waiting for me.
Good night.
Take care.
It's ok.
