MHM Magazine

Issue 5 | 2022 | MENTAL HEALTH MATTERS | 47 MHM me to hospital, but by then two paramedics had walked in and started examining me, using a heart monitor. They told me my blood sugar was very high and they thought I’d had a heart attack so they were going to take me to hospital. I vaguely remember the trip in the ambulance but the next few days were a blur. The first few days and weeks were like watching a highlight reel of a movie and only remembering parts. I don’t remember people visiting me or what the doctors had to say.  I just know I felt extremely humiliated, lonely and isolated due to Covid protocols that were in place. I didn’t even have a phone or clothes.  I remember the feeling of helplessness, uncertainty and doom, the constant prodding and poking. The worst was when they couldn’t find a vein – I looked and felt like I had been to war with a porcupine. That triggered a psychiatric evaluation because I was constantly crying and didn’t want anybody near me.  In reality I was receiving medical attention to save my life but my body and mind was being subjected to torture. This may sound harsh but that was my reality. A permanent BP cuff going off every 30 minutes together with the constant bleeping of monitors prevented me from sleeping, so for the seven days in hospital I had no proper sleep. With the constant dim light it became hard to distinguish day from night. And if you saw staff it was with a needle trying to draw blood - not always without pain or successfully.     After being discharged and coming home many things had changed. Suddenly I was getting a multitude of information from all sides, which wasn’t just overwhelming but plain scary. I was told, don’t cut yourself, you’re on so many blood thinners you might bleed to death before help arrives. If you feel any chest pains or discomfort call immediately. Then there was another bombardment of information around my diabetes, diet and heart, while also having a psychologist evaluating me because the previous day I’d chased everybody out the room crying and asking for some peace and quiet. I was told my reaction needed to be assessed now I was home. I just wanted to sleep. This triggered my family to worry because I wasn’t like this before the heart attack. Now they treated me like a helpless baby. After a few days home reality began to set in. I’d had a heart attack which I’d survived whilst others die. I was on medication to prevent blood clots and high blood pressure and insulin for my diabetes, which meant too much or too little could kill me - and now I was the one jabbing and poking. You nick a vein and the blood runs…..  I knew I was lucky to be alive but did I deserve to be? Guilt crept in along with the real, uncontrollable fear of having another heart attack. The answer was to stay home. My mind was constantly full of what ifs! What if I cut myself making dinner while alone at home - will I bleed to death? What if I’m in a car accident and being on blood thinners means I could die before help arrives.  Your panic becomes so strong that you have an anxiety attack, which feels exactly like a heart attack you have no idea how to handle it. Even if you’d had a heart attack, panic and terror take over and it’s still really scary. If your family are there they also begin to panic which makes things even worse. Since my heart attack I’ve only seen the cardiologist for about 10 minutes. He didn’t seem that interested in what I had to say and basically brushed my concerns off. I was totally exhausted and totally alone. What could I have done differently? Honestly - not much or so much more. I knew I had high cholesterol and since my heart attack I’ve changed my diet and my cholesterol levels have come down. I could have exercised more but COVID-19 and lockdown put a stop to that. I tried to rejoin after my heart attack but I’m still waiting for a letter from my cardiologist, despite several requests. I can’t live in the past wondering what if… I can only live for today as there are no guarantees of tomorrow. I can only change my bad habits and learn healthier ways to enjoy life. Why did I develop the 35 plus blood clots that caused the heart attack? It might have been the fact my sugar levels were out of control but for three years I fought to get on the right medication before giving up. Mentally it was destroying me making turning me into that person… I’d been diagnosed years before with seasonal depression, post-natal depression and severe depression. I overcome those battles and haven’t had to take any medication for this in almost 25 years. I felt I’d learnt from my mistakes and behaviours. I strongly believe that medication prescribed correctly with therapeutic sessions followed by joining a support group can be a saving grace. Just knowing that what you’re feeling isn’t random and others feel it too is comforting. To know that not to be okay is okay. Recently a support group member survived his fourth heart attack. He told us his cardiologist told him that a few years back when he had to have bypass surgery he also felt feelings of doom, which is what I felt. Validating that what we’re feeling is normal really helps. We have a safe space to share where individuals with a common emotional experience, and the aftermath of surviving a heart attack makes us family.