Had a very scary day, yesterday. After two days of slight chest pains and shortness of breath, I nearly passed out whilst driving home from work.
This wasn’t giddiness: I felt as though I were being wrenched from the Earth, with my vision draining away into black. Not pleasant at 60 miles per hour. The pain in my chest stabbed, my left arm felt as though it wasn’t mine, my fingers tingled. Perhaps worst of all, I felt a pressure inside my chest, as though a huge rock had somehow been slipped between my breast bone and lungs/heart.
Arg.
I pulled over into a filling station, called Lyne. Voicemail.
After some deep breathing, I felt my brain was my own again. The pain subsided, the pressure lifted and I drove on.
Arriving home, I called NHS Direct (Labour-fuelled ruinours that the Tories plan to scrap it are, apparently, not true.)
Did I have pain in my chest? Yes, a sharp but constant pain. Where? Just under my breast bone and to the left a bit. Did I find it difficult to breathe? Yes. Did I have, at that moment, a crushing in my chest? No. Did I have tightness in my chest? Yes. Was I cold and clammy? Yes. Did I have pain in my jaw? No. Did I have pain in my arm? No. Did I have any strange sensations in my left arm? Yes, definitely.
“Matthew, I want you to go to hospital immediately. If anything gets worse, ask your wife to pull over and call an ambulance straight away.”
I cried. I was being sent to hospital with a suspected heart attack.
Thankfully, though, there’s not much on telly early Friday evenings, and Eastenders is repeated on BBC3 at 10pm.
As Lyne parked the car, I waited in a line of people badgering the receptionist with questions about when their child would have their slightly sprained finger seen to. I didn’t want to make a fuss, though, and waited my turn.
The receptionist - possibly bitter from years of people badgering her about their child’s slightly sprained finger - herded me along to another window, where she handed me a nice pink card - “Priority patient” - and spoke into an intercom, to have a nurse come see me straight away. Good ruse, this heart attack lark; must remember it for future reference.
“Yes, yes, the chest pains, I know, I know, but I was wondering if you could see to this broken arm first?”
I was hooked up to an ECG machine almost immediately. “Everything looks fine, but I’ll just ask the doctor to take a look”. Nurse left. Nurse returned. “Yes, you’re fine but if you could just wait in reception, I’ll get the doctor to speak to you.”
Relief. My heart was fine. No one of a medical flavour was panicking. Of course, something else was wrong but at least I wasn’t having a Rick Wakeman-style late 20s heart attack.
Turns out it was asthma, brought on by hay fever, or some other allergic reaction. I have to go my GP and get an inhaler, or two.
A very odd experience. After all the panic, everything’s normal again now.