Life kept interrupting my cardiac rehab with a stomach upset, then a dodgy back, so I’d had to cancel two of the classes.

That meant that today was my last session.

I arrived early because I cannot stand being late. Attendees gradually arrived: this time I was definitely the youngest! And it makes me feel uncomfortable – why is that? Its a sense of not belonging, of not being ill enough.

The nurse struggled to find my pulse; it’s always a little difficult to find. It was 52 beats per minute. She found my blood pressure on though; it was 102/62 – which at the moment is normal for me.

While I waited for the class to start, my eyes drift upwards and see the number 5 balloon on the ceiling that I saw in my first session, seven weeks ago. I wonder how long it’s been up there?

Two ladies next to me are chatting away in a stream of consciousness kind of conversation, which skipped from topic to topic without missing a heartbeat. Covering their health, their Kindle libraries, and the best kind of pillow to use for the best nights sleep, then on to bread baking, and the best dates to eat.

While waiting for the class to start, I completed the final questionnaire. I could see that I have slowed down considerably since the first class – which I guess, for me, was what was needed! I also noticed that my anxiety has been much higher than it had been – I reckon actually accepting that I have had a heart attack has meant that I am now hyper vigilant and constantly scanning my body for anything that might be wrong.

This session I seemed more energised than I was expecting.

Maybe there’s something to not doing everything at maximum warp all the time!

Learning that I am not invincible has been a brutal and painful lesson.

I felt good throughout the entire class – maybe I have finally learnt how to rehabilitate my heart.

At the end of the class was the usual talk. This was about medication. The talks are usually interesting and there’s always something I didn’t know, or worse something that I thought I knew but was wrong!

This time was just filling in gaps in my knowledge, especially regarding side effects, as there were a few I didn’t know about – such as the tiredness from a number of the medications (which I get a lot), the possibility of erectile dysfunction from others (which I have experienced), and dizziness and rashes from others (which I have also had from time to time).

At the end of the class, certificates were given out to myself and two others because it was our last session.

There’s a little cafe in the same building as the rehab (it’s all part of a church complex). I decided to treat myself to lunch because there’d always been the smell of cooking during the classes and it drove me crackers!

While I was supping my soup I suddenly thought of an important question that I had wanted answered! During the classes they had given me a target range for my heart rate that I wasn’t supposed to exceed… would I ever be allowed to exceed it? If so, when? And by how much? I don’t know!

I enjoyed the rehab and I learnt a few very important things about the difference between training and recovery.

Training is pushing, improving, and optimising. Rehabilitation is restoration, limiting, and stabilising.

But the really surprising emotion that I feel?

Relief!

What’s that about?!

And I wonder how much longer that balloon will be floating about the ceiling?