I’ve started to blog again. “about bloody time” and “you’ve said this before fatty” I hear you all shout. yeah, I know, but this time I mean it. I have been asked to contribute to a local production studio’s website with my own views on music and the culture around it. the first few are all about me, not in some ego driven “aren’t I amazing” way of writing, more in a “here I am, this is WHY I am like I am” way.
I shall be posting the links to the entries here also, so you can get to read them too (obviously you COULD subscribe to the Ace Things site) I have already had two published, just sent the third.
so that’s that, but before I leave I shall ask you to go to the Ace Things website anyway and have a look at what it is they actually do. you won’t regret it.
PART ONE: REMEMBER HOW WE STARTED
PART TWO: I DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT YOU
plenty of people are asking, so let me get one thing straight. I AM NOT DYING. i’m not 100% but i am NOT DYING. YET.
well, in so much as we all are from the moment we are born. but i have NOT had a heart attack, i am fine. ish.
we’ll go back a bit. i’ll explain.
Barnsley played Huddersfield in a pre season friendly. i walked down with the boy, and after the match we walked home. i stopped once to catch my breath and give my back a rest. not unusual in itself, other than i only stopped the once whereas i normally have two breathers.. then we played Ipswich. walked down with the boy, no problems, then we walked home. five tines i stopped. this time not just the usual back related issue (consequences of a fused ankle and being fat). no, this time my chest felt as though it was being ripped open. i finally got back in the house, and after a minute in the kitchen i went to the bathroom. after doing what needed to be done, i then went and lay on the bed for a short while. The Enemy went to pick the dog up from her mums/drop the boy off at work/get some shopping and by the time she got home the pains had subsided sufficiently enough for me to say “yes, i am ok” when she came home. watched some telly, went to bed.
during the night the pains came back, kept me awake most of it and made me feel bloody nauseous to boot. at the time my alarm should have been going off ready for me to go to work i was in no state to get up and go, so i rang to tell them. a few hours later it was decided i would/should call the doctor. my own surgery being shut (sunday) i rang the out of hours NHS line (BLESS THE NHS!) and answered so many questions i thought i was being interrogated! they then told me a doctor would call me back within the hour, which he did. and asked me all the questions i had just been asked. he determined that it was “unlikely” that i had suffered a “cardiac event” (a phrase that was to become familiar in the upcoming few days). he advised a course of ibuprofen and gaviscon. yup, that’s right. i took some, and it DID ease the pain. how odd. he also said to rest, so it was decided i would have the monday off too and return to work tuesday.
monday came around and something in me made me want to actually see a real doctor face to face. you know, to get the old stethoscope treatment, just to be safe. so i rang and made an appointment, which meant speaking to the receptionoist, who got the doctor to call me back to “discuss if he NEEDED to see me”. apparently this is how it is done now. he called, i was asked all the questions yet again and he agreed i needed to visit, so a date was made for friday (day off).
tuesday morning came, off i set to work, got there, started to set my stuff up for the day and the familiar pain started to appear again. went into the office with my manager and told her what was up, and to her credit she suggested i went to the hospital and got checked out. so i went home, rang The Enemy, then rang the parental unit to take me.
got to the hospital, they took me in and eventually i saw a succession of experts who wired me up, took blood, asked countess questions, pressed on my chest and used a stethoscope. the ECG came back normal, the bloods came back normal. but they wanted a second lot. in three hours. so, to wait i was admitted onto a ward. and waited. eventually the second lot of bloods were taken. then we waited for the results. all clear yet again, probably a muscular skeletal strain. BUT…. there is always a but, they wanted me to go to a RAPID ACCESS CARDIAC ASSESSMENT CLINIC for tests. according to what they told me, the numerous tablets i take each day for my diabetes can sometimes mask the symptoms of angina, so they needed to rule that out. here you go Sime, take this letter to your doctor and get him to refer you. no, we can’t. no we have no idea why either, sorry. oh and take a few days to rest yourself.
so i went friday, to the appointment i had already made monday. he got his stethoscope out. he asked me all the questions. he agreed i need the RACAC. gave me something to give the receptionist so she could book me in. and so i could get some more bloods done there and then. appointment booked for thursday afternoon.
so yesterday i went. got hooked up for an ECG, had a very nice chat with a doctor who asked me all the questions again and many more. he’s prescribed me more tablets, an under the tongue spray and is referring me for a cardiac CT scan to check my “pipes” to make sure i don’t have angina (see above reasons). at present purely precautionary measures, but you know, let’s make sure. so i await that date. well, two dates as i have to a have a pre assessment.
so that is where we are. as it stands right now, i am NOT DYING.
thanks to all who have asked after me and shown concern, means a lot. i shall of course keep you up to date, but you know as much as i do now.
the boy is at Leeds Festival this weekend.
he will see Muse tonight (his favourite band). or The Hunna, a new fave. or both. i dunno.
he and his friends went and saw the Pigeon Detectives last night on my recommendation.
he loved em. says he was in the mosh pit.
i WAS tempted to tell him who to see today, but HE needs to decide, not me.
i am missing him like mad, worried that he is ok, jealous that he is there with his mates and not me, and not looking forward to being at Oakwell without him tomorrow. sounds daft, but feels like i am losing him. spent so long on nights and missed so much that the time we HAVE spent doing stuff, especially these last 16 months, seems to have been so shor and gone by so fast.
that is my fault, not his, and i know that i could have also probably made a bit more effort, but thats too late now.
it’s little things like coming home this monday and NOT watching Game Of Thronesat half four, before his mum gets in and disturbs us, because his girlfriend was here. don’t get me wrong, she is wonderful and i am glad he has her and that happiness in his life, but we’ve ALWAYS done it!
anyhoo, i can’t wait to see him monday and hear all his tales from the weekend. maybe over a drink.
saturday walking home from Oakwell it felt like my chest was being ripped open. bad night.
sunday rang 111. answered SO MANY questions. out of hours doctor rang. answered SO MANY questions. advised that probably a strain/muscular. better night.
monday rang my doctor. booked in for friday.
today. woke up in pain. went to work. came straight home. then i have spent most of the day at the hospital. had two blood tests, an ECG and lots of waiting.
bloods normal. ECG says my heart is fine and i have NOT had a “cardiac event” but rather it looks like it is muscular.
friday i have to still go see my doctor and he will book me into a clinic where they’ll put me on a treadmill and see what is what. (imagine the episode where Homer is on one, being watched by Mulder and Scully)
until then been told to relax, take it easy for a few days.
there you go.
hello it’s me, how can i help?
whine & groan & moan & chelp.
“there’s summat up, it’s all your fault, sort it out or face a revolt.
i’ve been with you for years and years”
sad sob story, sniffles and tears.
“gimmee summat new, best that you’ve got, all bells and whistles, i want the lot!”
“but not reyt pricey, good deal, you know? paying just the same as five years ago.”
“and i want loads of freebies, chuck em all on, and if tha can’t, that’s it i’m gone!”
“tha wants HOW MUCH? tha’s gorra be mad!”
“i’m off to your rival, telling thee lad”
“they’re one pound cheaper, hundred up front” (he’s not done the maths, the tight fisted….. pillock)
“so cancel me now, or i’ll start to yelp”
hello it’s me,
how can i help?