The Aftermath

Back in the ward, I’m monitored every 15 minutes. Blood pressure, heart rate, pulse in my foot, gaping hole in my groin. My leg is a bit numb and feels cold to touch but I’m sure this will pass. Alarmingly, the nurse is recording my heartrate at a 150 beats per minute. Normally its 75. My heartrate is increasing – 155, 158, 165 – over the next hour. My mom is panicking. And so am I. Is my heart going to explode?! The nurse doesn’t seem worried and this scares me more. My heart is about to burst, what the hell is wrong with this nurse? A student nurse comes to take my pulse manually. I’m not sure if it’s because she can’t work the machine. My phobia of med students applies to nursing students too, I realise. She measures my pulse – 80 beats per minute. Now I’m confused. She looks confused too. Am I dying, or not? Turns out the machine is broken and my heartbeat has been normal all this time. This sure isn’t a good way to treat a faulty heart. I don’t think I can take much more of this.

The girls are laughing because I'm checking my groin every couple of minutes. Why can't they understand my obsession??!! I'm desperately seeking any signs of life from my absurdly shrunken friend.

Five hours later, and I’m allowed to go home. I can’t wait. I get up gingerly off the bed and walk to the hospital entrance. I realise that my groin has other functions - it sure is important for walking. And before I know it, I’m home again. All I have to do now is wait for the cardiologist to call, and then meet with him and the surgeon to discuss major bypass surgery. This blog has a long way to go.