 Back in January 2016, I was carrying a pile of washing upstairs when I felt something horrible. It was like indigestion but a lot stronger, to the point where it was hard to breathe. Clutching the banister, I staggered up the rest of the stairs and into the bedroom where I sat on the bed – trying to catch my breath. My husband, Spike, now 59, was out and our two grown-up children had left home so I was at our house in Worcestershire alone. I'd been diagnosed with high cholesterol and Type 2 diabetes back in 2011 and was on statins for the cholesterol – but I wasn't overweight and ate healthily. Taking the tablets had become the norm and my regular reviews showed that it was being managed, so it just didn't occur to me that the pain in my chest was due to high cholesterol. Once the tightness subsided after a few minutes, I tried to put it to the back of my mind and didn't mention it to anyone. A few weeks later, at my next diabetic review, I mentioned it to my nurse. I was told that it sounded like angina, chest pain that's caused by reduced blood flow to the heart and was sent for an angiogram – a kind of X-ray that can examine the arteries around the heart – at Worcester Royal Hospital. I ignored the results that came through with lots of complicated medical jargon, for a week or so as I was worried about what they might say. Then, that June, I had a procedure which involved a camera being inserted into my heart to investigate further. I still can't believe that if I hadn't mentioned the chest pains to my diabetic nurse I wouldn't be here today (Picture: Lisa Dedman) I wasn't overly worried because I knew that I would be sedated and assumed I would have some stents (small tubes that keep arteries in the body open) fitted. The camera went in through a main artery in my wrist. When I came around on the ward the cardiologist broke the news: he wanted me to see the surgeon f){kind=link}
NEWS… BUT NOT AS YOU KNOW IT
Back in January 2016, I was carrying a pile of washing upstairs when I felt something horrible.
It was like indigestion but a lot stronger, to the point where it was hard to breathe.
Clutching the banister, I staggered up the rest of the stairs and into the bedroom where I sat on the bed – trying to catch my breath.
My husband, Spike, now 59, was out and our two grown-up children had left home so I was at our house in Worcestershire alone.