You may think the most unpleasant thing I experienced during my hospital recovery was the pain of a cracked open chest, or perhaps the discomfort of the phantom menace.
Maybe it wasn’t something physical, the trauma of waking to find yourself short a limb can be fairly unpleasant.
However…
A couple of months ago I was asked by the British Heart Foundation to have a chat about some of my story in an episode of their podcast series “The Ticker Tapes”.
A couple of weeks into my daily routine of waking up, antibiotics, watching Frasier, more antibiotics, going to the hospital café for a dream ring (best part of the day), antibiotics, playing Minecraft, antibiotics for supper and then sleeping, my mum got a phone call from my head teacher…
I wasn’t aware until several weeks after waking up that during my long nap in the intensive care unit, an epic battle of wills had taken place over my unconscious body…
I was a sixteen year old, only half a year out of his latest major open heart surgery and looking forward to getting rid of this infection in order take full advantage of the repairs and tweaks done to my heart. So six weeks in hospital was not just a slap in the face, it was a gut punch which totally winded me…
