Post 64: Another setback
“You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated.” – Maya Angelou
———
With a run of bad juju lasting too long, it’s starting to feel like there’s no beating my fate.
Keeping my head above water is hard when I can’t touch the bottom, and there seems to be no shallow end to ease the strain of treading water.
The first AFib palpitations since starting the new drug, Sotalol, were disappointing — but, to be honest, expected.
Why?
Because it’s a low dose, just an introductory amount: enough for the body to tolerate and hopefully help the heart settle.
After the first week, I’m due a review with an ECG, and they’ll consider doubling the dose. That happens Friday morning and can’t be moved forward, thanks to protocol.
I could be negative here and moan about the chemo being delayed yet again, but that’s not the whole truth — and it’s not how I feel this morning.
Let me explain.
———
Going to A&E wasn’t on the menu yesterday. But after 90 minutes of AFib palpitations, I told My Darling it was time to act again and settle my poor heart.
I called CCU for advice — I’m their patient while waiting for the Sotalol review. The Matron took my number and said she’d get a registrar’s opinion.
The registrar, Dr E, rang me back with two options: go to A&E or ride it out and hope the heart calms down. If it does continue come to A&E anyway.
I chose the former, packed up the usual kit for hospital and headed out yet again to the hospital.
After four hours of care from the triage team and another A&E doctor or two — who remembered me from two weeks ago during the cardioversion — I was looked after with the usual kindness and care.
In fact, because of my now-routine appearances, they had a plan ready.
I was tearful and fragile while waiting between interactions, but the team were calm and supportive, and I muddled through.
Then came the good news: while hooked up in Rattin, being monitored as normal, my sinus rhythm returned — just like that. 10 minutes flat.
It was amazing. No shocks, no drugs, just a gentle return to normal sinus rhythm.
We were able to go home immediately, and the relief was palpable.
After just seven hours in AFib, we made it back before sunset — no night in resus, no drama.
I should sleep well (and did sleep well).
———
Now, the emotional bit.
What tipped me over the edge wasn’t the delay or the physical toll of the palpitations — it was the long-awaited call from Dr S, the head cardiac consultant.
I had been expecting the call, it was booked, so keeping my phone glued to me this afternoon is essential. But there’s a mobile dead spot in the A&E triage area.
So guess what happened…
While I was in Triage Room 2, hooked up for ECG and giving bloods, Dr S called.
I missed it.
Only when I got back to the waiting room did the voicemail appear:
“This is Dr S. As I can’t reach you, I’ll put you back into the booking system for another appointment.”
That was it.
I fell apart.
Tears welled up. I was so angry and heartbroken.
This was the call I needed — my first ever contact with the one man who could help lift me out of this mess — and I missed it, through no fault of my own.
I headed outside and called his secretary. Straight to answerphone.
I left a pleading message, explaining the situation. No reply.
Then I rang the other cardiology line. Same again — voicemail.
Back to the secretary’s line for another emotional message.
Still nothing.
No return call.
Just me, fuming and crying in front of the hospital in a right state.
I hate my luck sometimes.
———
Eventually, with my sorry head resting on My Darling’s lap and her warm hand patting my back in support a care, I started to pull myself together.
Then came a small lift: an email from my cancer specialist nurse.
She replied to the questions I’d sent her for Dr A (my cancer consultant) to answer:
“The questions you’ve asked are relevant and easy to answer. I’ve pencilled in a clinic appointment late next week with Dr A. How did your call with Dr S go? Can you update me? Stay Fib-free. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Not the fastest progress, but not nothing.
And truthfully, even if I had the green light for chemo today, I couldn’t start it.
The current protocol is “no chemo for a week after a heart event.”
So either way, I’m grounded for now.
What a day!
———
Looking ahead: I’ve got a chemo-related blood test at the GP tomorrow, and a phone call this afternoon with the faraway hospital’s cancer consultant — the one who gave me a second opinion.
She’s incredibly efficient and professional.
I trust her.
She’s not my treating doctor, but I wish she were.
Right now, she’s the one person I’m clinging to for support.
———
Let’s see how today goes.
Let it be a calm, easy day.
8 days to go until chemo.
———
“You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated.” – Maya Angelou
