Time for another counselling session!

I put the rug down (it doesn’t start down because the stinky dog likes to lie on it), and lit a joss stick to create a relaxing and calm atmosphere for myself.

When he arrived, I made is a coffee, and we sat on the rug and I began to recount the last fortnight’s events…

Firstly, I recalled the abortive contact with the sandman. I finally said “yep” and he went silent. Possibly he enjoyed the chase more than the kill. I found that I wasn’t disappointed.

I talked about my experience at the sauna; that I wasn’t in the right mood, and it wasn’t a great venue. But I did finally decide that I was going to try dating apps, but before I really got going with those there was the visit to the nudist beach with my husband. Not one of my most inspired ideas.

I talked about the awkward silence between us, and that once upon a time we had enjoyed what my nan called “companionable silence”.

I almost relived the shutdown I had when my husband scooted from the victim corner of the drama triangle to the persecutor corner. I finally saw what was going on, but I wonder can that knowledge help me?

Richard (the counsellor) seemed shocked when I told him that my husband just walked away and left me catatonic in Costa. And as I shared the experience with Richard, I could feel the vice like grip of a migraine tightening around my head.

He agrees that it is telling that as soon as I spend any time with my husband that my head begins to trouble me – I just have to think of him and a migraine seems to be summoned, like a demon intent only on destroying my ability to function.

I also shared that I realised that there was no space for my feelings or for me to explore what I thought about something because my husband would away start telling me how he felt about it – and then I’m managing his feelings not my own.

I said that I hated keeping secrets from him; the husband had said that I seemed to be able to be open with everybody except him. Richard thought that was telling – maybe the problem isn’t me.

Both my husband and I are struggling to create space, define and respect boundaries, and being single. The person I most want to share things with I simply cannot!

It was lovely to share what’s been going on with my sex and social life with Richard – for a start in might actually be getting both of those things! I really love seeing Richard’s own joy when I talk about what seems to be on the cards for me.

There’s also the possibility of playing with another Dom on the weekend. You wait all your life for a Dom and two come along at once!

The takeaway from this session is to focus on the good and positive 90%.

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After counselling, I made the usual notes, then took the dog for a run. Only about 3km, she pulls like crazy for the first half, then it’s my turn to pull!

I love running with her because she loves running with me!

Then I prepared tea, had a quick shower, then ate my tea while I filled out the detail for this post.

Towards the end of my meal, I started to feel a pain in my chest. Indigestion! I thought. I have the dog her tea and we went for a walk. She was a very happy doggy!

While walking, the pain in my chest got worse, and my hands and forearms started to feel a bit numb, and I started to feel a bit lightheaded: this didn’t feel like indigestion.

“Hey Galateos! Here’s my symptoms! Chest pain, numb hands, and lightheaded. I’ve just had tea, so it could be indigestion, I’ve also had an intense counselling session, so I wonder if it could be some kind of panic or anxiety attack?”

His response? It could be indigestion, it could be a panic or anxiety attack, or it could be VC a heart attack. Call 999 now.

So I did.

I was triaged and scheduled for a doctor callback, which was almost immediate.

“You can either wait 2 hours for an ambulance, or get a taxi.” He said.

So I grabbed my phone and keys and called a cab. Eleven minutes to get to the hospital. I am in quite a bit of pain at this point, and I am certain that it’s feeding itself: I was feeling anxious and stupid – what if it was only a panic attack or indigestion?

There was only a short queue at reception in A&E, and it wasn’t long before I was called through for tests.

While I was waiting, the husband messaged me to say that he was worried about me and that he had a got feeling that something was wrong. I lied and told him that I was fine – I certainly didn’t mention that I was in hospital. Firstly, I thought it was nothing, secondly, I had enough drama of my own to deal with! He got so stressed last time I was in hospital.

I could see that my heart rate and pulse were normal, as were my oxygen sats. Yep. Nothing serious.

They also took some bloods and then told me to wait in reception.

About ninety minutes later, a nurse came and got me and says that the bloods test department has phoned and said that I was having some kind cardiac event.

Ooh! This is interesting!

So I’m on ECG monitors that, according to the nurse/doctor are reporting the usual kind of anomalies that everybody gets, however my blood is showing an elevated level of a hormone called troponin, which is produced when the heart is stressed. Normal levels are about 40ng/L. When I was admitted it was about 200. Later in the night I believe that I heard someone say that the levels were now 3000.

This isn’t trapped wind or a panic attack.

I had to phone my husband and ‘fess up to being in hospital: the poor dog needed to be seen to. He was upset that I hadn’t told him straight away, but didn’t labour it. He’s also going to bring in my glasses, phone charger, and done books!

They nurses, bless them gave me a sandwich and a hot chocolate (I had a chocolate craving). And various meds, including some morphine. Somehow, the pain got low enough for me to sleep – using the bed clothes to create a kind of sound and light barrier. I got about three hours.

It was suggested to me that this was either a cardiac event where the heart was in some way damaged, or it could be stressed based. I’m hoping for stress based because that won’t stop me having fun and keeping fit.

In the morning, I was taken for an angiogram. This is where they put a camera into an artery with some dye to try and find blockages. If there were no blockages, it weighs he a thirty minute operation, if they find anything they said that they might put a stent in while they were there. That would take ninety minutes.

I had to wear one of those wonderful gowns for the surgery, but they also gave me a lovely pair of surgical knickers – the fabric was rather like a hair net and offers zero support. Not the quality I’m used to in my nethers!

I was also asked to shave an area in my groin in case they couldn’t use an artery in my arm. I never expected NHS cuts to be so literal: it was blunt, but not butter knife blunt, more cheese grater blunt.

So far, my enduring memory of all my surgical procedures has been how bloody cold I get. This was no deterrent: bloody freezing!

They injected my wrist with a couple of things, one felt like my hand was on fire, but that was quickly followed by an injection that made it feel like ice.

I wasn’t aware of the incision, only of an occasional pushing sensation. I was awake, but lightly sedated, the whole time. What stopped me from dozing off was getting cold.

This was the longer operation. Later on I found out that they’d used a balloon to clean heart disease from one of my arteries. However, there is a second one that is also blocked … they won’t decide what to do for three days! In the meantime, I am going to be bored out of my brain.

But at least I’m alive.