The Call and the Aftermath

I know there’s a huge event happening in my life next week, something incredibly big and quite dangerous, but also hugely positive and something that will have a fantastic impact on my life.

Yet I still don’t feel the full force of that impact from Wednesday, just a day ago, and I’m not sure I will until afterwards.

Yesterday, I received a phone call, the phone call, the one that means I’m being invited into the hospital for open heart surgery, and I accepted.

The phone rang while my in-laws were returning Hudson, our chocolate Labrador, from a day of frolics and I was at the door answering their question, “any news?”.

Everyone knows that Wednesday afternoons are when the call is expected, even at work, and I’m asked throughout the afternoon during calls and when people are passing my desk, or even by text. It’s become a regular question and something that I’ve become used to, so imagine my surprise that, while the question was being asked, the phone rang, it turned out to be the hospital, and I missed the call.

The message was from the nurse liaison from the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh – I never knew it wasn’t called the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary – she was asking me to call her, and I knew immediately what that meant.

I didn’t wait a moment for nerves or panic to set in and I just called her. Now I’m going into hospital on Monday, bed willing, to get open heart surgery on the Tuesday. Cripes.

I must admit I did consider saying no, but what would that solve? I’ve stopped exercising, which is driving me mad, and my heart is deteriorating, if somewhat slowly, and while I’m relatively healthy now, it won’t last. I just need to get it done and over with so I can get back to life and stop worrying each week.

So I said yes, but after the call I had a few wobbles. They mainly came as I talked to my wife and we accepted what was coming, but they weren’t isolated, there were wobbled all day during every conversation.

Things have moved quickly since, and the surgery is around the corner. Now it feels like the train is picking up speed and I’m just holding on without any real control.

You see there’s nothing left for me to actually do. All I’m doing is waiting for the next call, the letter to arrive, the appointment for me to go into hospital the surgery to happen, getting out of ICU and HDU, heading to the ward, heading home, and rehabilitation. There’s nothing for me to actually do other than hang on for the ride.

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