Anyway, my angioplasty (stent) went well, sort of. The plumber who undertook the procedure could have been a tad more gentle but he explained the block in my front artery took some bashing to get through. That's his excuse anyway. 

The trouble started once I returned home. I had received no information, guidance or instruction from the cardiac unit where I was restrained, the only words I kept hearing was 'exercise' so I assumed that was what I should do. Oops!  I began to exercise the day after my stent but will admit it felt wrong and I soon felt strange each time I tried. But I thought I would persist and attempted some form of exercise the weekend. Yesterday (Monday) I had to visit my delicious GP to update her on the events and seek prescriptions. I also intended to ask for information on what I was expected to do and what was due to happen following this form of procedure, she is always helpful.

The doctors surgery is about 2 miles away and nearly all of the journey is down hill, like I mentioned before I live quite high above sea level, so I decided to walk . . . .  

What a wally!  Within 50 yards I was breathless and my heart was hammering at my ribs. I rested for a few moments before continuing and I found the going easier after a while. I guess I had walked half mile before my mobile (cell) phone rang, the surprise of that almost gave me a heart attack! I answered the phone and lo and behold, it was the local cardiac nurse checking up on me. I didn't even know there was such a beastie!  Well obviously she immediately wanted to know why I was sounding so breathless on the phone and why wasn't I at home when she rang there first?

I'm walking to the doctor's I said. How far is that she asked. I told her which surgery I was heading for and where I was at that moment. Then I had to remove the phone from my ear as she proceeded to berate me for my stupidity in no uncertain terms! When I could get a word in, I explained I thought I had to exercise and that a gentle walk would be ideal. Again I was forced to remove the phone from my ear as she described in her own terms what a plonker I was and that any exercise should be GENTLE! Not a bleddy 2 mile walk!

The nurse demanded I stop where I was and describe how I felt at that moment, not good because I felt terrible. My breathing was a struggle and my heart appeared to be attempting to escape the chest of a lunatic.

I was stuck, no buses in site, no taxi's available and I was now about half way into my journey. I couldn't walk home and I couldn't carry on to the doc. I decided to try and get a lift from a passing car . . . or four. No one stopped and all looked at me as though I was insane or a terrorist, humans are not in general, inclined to assist a fellow in distress and no one wanted to help me. Finally a car slowed enough for me to step in front of it and force it to stop. The driver angrily open his window and prepared to shout, then he heard my breathing and relented. I explained I only needed a lift to the surgery because I could not make it and he readily agreed. Once in the car he turned to me and simply said, "COPD?"  I was too breathless to answer so I just nodded. He then informed me his wife had copd so understood when he heard my rattling lungs. I arrived at the surgery alive, almost.

Finally, guess what my delicious doc said . . . ?  Yep, pretty much the same as the cardiac nurse! Least she is a pleasure to look at, even when she's giving me a stern telling off. She also informed me that I was a very, very lucky man, in fact she agreed with my consultant that I was a 'heart attack waiting to happen!'  Anyway I finally got the info I sought, gentle exercise in the form of pottering about the house was allowed, long walks, the exercise bike and the Wii were definitely out of the question. No carrying, lifting, mountaineering or wine, women and song until I had visited the cardiac nurse one next week.

I took a taxi home . . . .  to face even further, and much louder, telling off when my wife got home form work. Ahh well, we live and learn, some of us just take a little longer . . . . .