Reboot.

I'd like to give a heartfelt thank you to all of those people who've contacted me with good wishes and hopes for my future health. I am now out of hospital after quite an interesting time, and I thought it only fair to give you a summary of what has been going on. Back in the middle of January, I caught what I thought was a nasty case of Covid-19. Although I have been previously fully vaccinated, I came down with the infection quite nastily and as a result, I isolated myself indoors and took all the necessary precautions. I also checked both the NHS website and other reputable health based websites in respect of the best ways to treat the symptoms of the infection. A couple of weeks later I felt shatteringly exhausted and very unwell, even after the majority of the main Covid-19 symptoms had passed. I again checked online and discovered that my new symptoms closely matched that of the newly discovered Long Covid. This after all seems to make logical sense to me, so I followed the NHS instructions to continue isolating myself and purchasing groceries online to be delivered to my front door. This continued for a considerable amount of time, far longer in fact than I was expecting, and by the 3rd of July things came to a head in an unexpected manner. Early that morning I was in bed having just woken up. I did feel somewhat light-headed and dizzy, and when I sat up the entire room started spinning in what some people call "The Helicopters". I tried to get out of bed but was unable to stand as the floor was lurching all over the place as far as I was concerned. I got back into bed and rang my best friend Ian, who I knew was working from home that day. Within a few minutes. Ian, who has his own key came round and let himself in. He came upstairs and took one look at me and said "I am dialling 999!" As he said that I looked awful. Apparently I was grey in colour, sweating profusely, vomiting and shaking. The ambulance with the paramedics arrived within less than 15 minutes and they came up to the bedroom to check me out. 

They plugged me into a portable ECG machine to measure my heart rate. Unfortunately the small machine was unable to record my heart beat due to its very high rate, which at that time was in excess of 170 beats per minute, which is approximately three times the normal speed - see the image above - click on it to see a larger version. After several other checks, the ambulance crew packed me up into a folding chair, took me downstairs and put me in the back of the ambulance. It was then blue lights and sirens all of the way to Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Woolwich, where they took me into the Resuscitation Room. I spent a number of hours in there having further ECG readings, a number of cannulas and drips inserted, and I was pumped full of a number of prescription drugs. In the meantime, I managed to be sick several times and was generally feeling pretty abysmal. It turns out that I had a quite nasty case of Atrial Fibrillation, which was apparently caused by Hyperthyroidism. Some hours later I was taken through to accident and emergency, where I spent the night being woken every couple of hours to have my blood pressure, heart rate and temperature taken - something which was to continue throughout my relatively long stay in hospital; I was also on another drip for most of the night. The next day I was taken through to Ward One of the hospital, where I spent several days. For those interested Ward One is directly to the left of the main hospital entrance as one approaches it. Ward One seemed to be an overflow from other wards and consisted of patients who did not fit into easily defined categories. For several days I had a neighbour who suffered from acute paranoid schizophrenia and spent most of his waking hours arguing and fighting with staff to the extent that he would spit and swear, punch and scratch those dedicated staff trying very hard to help him. He would refuse to take his medication and scream and shout at the top of his voice which was very off-putting, and at times quite upsetting. Comments and feedback to me at hugh.neal@gmail.com. 

Much later I was moved to a dedicated cardiac ward which was Ward 4. There I received more specialised care and also came under the attention of a couple of cardiac consultants who specialise in Atrial Fibrillation, especially that caused by Hyperthyroidism, as in my case. One of the features of being a dedicated cardiac patient was having ones blood pressure, heart rate and temperature taken every few hours through both the day and the night which although completely necessary, was extremely disruptive to one's sleep pattern. Once I was in Ward 4, it was determined by the cardiac consultants that my heart needed a hard reboot. This involved anaesthetising me and zapping my heart with electricity to stop it, then hopefully restarting it with the correct much slower rhythm. Understandably I was not happy about this, and I don't think the cardiac consultant I spoke to at some length was very happy about me asking - "so your plan is to kill me then bring me back?" Nevertheless, a couple of days later I was dressed up in operating theatre robes, and wheeled down to the theatre, where there were nine doctors of various types waiting for me, including an anaesthetist I had spoken to earlier that day and a surgeon. The plan was they were going to stick a camera down my throat to look at my heart from the outside to check that it did not have any blood clots or other problems prior to them electrically rebooting it; once the camera survey was successfully done they were going to attach electrodes to my chest, zap my heart with electricity to stop it, then all things being equal to zap it again and hopefully restart it with a normal rhythm. I was stuck on the operating table, wondering what the hell was going on, when one of the surgeons asked me to turn on my side to enable them to attach ECG electrodes to my back. Then I woke up in the recovery room. I have to admit I was expecting to feel disorientated and nauseous after the procedure, but it was like waking from a normal deep sleep and there were no side effects whatsoever, which was pleasantly surprising. I then spent another week recovering in Ward 4 and taking a cocktail of prescription medication. Last Friday afternoon the ward manager declared that I was suitable for release. She contacted a physiotherapist to determine if I was fit enough for the outside world. I did some physical tests and it was soon clear that I had failed. I was not up to the task according to the expert. 

Then in a series of very quick filling in of forms, the physiotherapist referred me to a convalescent unit based at Queen Mary's Hospital in Sidcup (see the image above - click on it to see a larger view). I was taken there by ambulance on Friday evening. The following excerpt is heavily edited due to potential legal issues, so please read between the lines. The - very secure - Convalescent Unit is designed for people who due to illness or infirmity have problems with mobility and carrying out normal household activities. It is designed for them to spend a couple of weeks as a resident whilst they re-learn basic household skills prior to going home. One thing I was unaware of prior to my arrival was that the unit is primarily aimed at elderly people, rather than those with an ongoing illness or infirmity in younger life. One of the primary aims of the unit is to ensure the safety and security of people with primarily geriatric conditions such as dementia. As such, one of the primary aims of the unit is security. I arrived at the unit at approximately 7:00 p.m on Friday evening and left at around 8:30 a.m the next morning, after having explained to the unit manager that I was unhappy with the place and it was not for me. I had to sign a couple of waiver forms releasing me, and then I was able to get a cab back home to Erith. Ironically whilst I was there I did work out how to break out of the unit - in theory at least. It was something to keep my mind occupied until morning. The main door out of the place had an internal release button, but the real problem was the lifts, as you needed an ID card to activate them on that level. I did work out that if you got the stairs down one floor the lifts were not restricted, and you could get in them normally. It would have been a bit of exercise for me to go down a full flight of stairs in my current condition, but I reckon with adrenaline I could have done it. The bottom line is I never needed to, but it gave me some intellectual stimulus whilst I was waiting for release! I now have a literal bag full of prescription medication to take which is going to be a bit of a necessary chore. If you have any questions or points you would like to raise with me, then please do so at the usual address. Thanks to everyone once again who's been in contact with me over the past few weeks, and who has wished me so much goodwill. I am really flattered by your attention, and your concern and it is greatly appreciated. Comments and feedback to me at hugh.neal@gmail.com. 

A somewhat shorter Blog update than normal, principally as I only got home yesterday afternoon, and have had very little time to put an update together as normal. I hope that you will understand. The end video this week covers the proposed extension to the Docklands Light Railway to Thamesmead - which personally I doubt will ever happen, due to both a lack of will on the part of the stakeholders, and a general lack of money. What do you think? Email me at hugh.neal@gmail.com.