Diary – Middle Age Fanclub

The Pacemaker Diaries: It’s been two years.

You wouldn’t know it with the amount that I probably bang on about it, but I genuinely didn’t want having a pacemaker to define me. Still, I write about it, think about it constantly, find myself telling people things about it and frequently catch myself looking at my scar in the mirror or prodding away at the bit at the top of my chest where my wires are sticking up, right at the surface.

That said, a quick search of my posts tells me that the last time I wrote a ‘Pacemaker Diary’ was actually in November 2023, a whole year after it was fitted. So, even though it’s been mentioned in some pieces I’ve written since, maybe I’m not banging on about it quite as much as I imagine. Anyone I speak to regularly can feel free to correct me on that though!

I was prompted to write this post because of Facebook memories of all things. In the lead up to Christmas and New Year just gone it felt like every few days there’d be something popping up where I was thanking people for their support or updating friends on my progress. They reminded me of both how poorly I’d been and also how far I’d come and they made me do a lot of thinking about the little machine that sits in my chest.

It’s been over 2 years since I had the pacemaker fitted. I didn’t pay much attention to the anniversary this time around. Sometimes there’s just too much going on in life for you to pause and have a think about stuff. But those Facebook memories changed all that and made me want to write something down about what life’s like these days. Self indulgent? I don’t know really, but I guess if you think that way you have the option of clicking that little x in the corner of your screen and not reading on.

I think writing about it simply helps me get on with life, which might be a bit more understandable when I tell you what it’s all like.

The pacemaker makes me feel a lot more comfortable about life, that’s for sure. I hardly ever worry about my heart. But paradoxically, it is always there to remind of just how poorly I was and the long, long time that it took me to get better. On top of that it’s a constant reminder of how low it all made me feel and the worryingly negative effects it had on my mental health.

There are both positives and negatives when it comes to having this device though and those reminders on social media made me think about a few of them. The first is just a bit of a change, I suppose, although does feel slightly negative. These days, my heart literally thumps when there’s not really been a great deal of effort. I’ve noticed it when climbing stairs and also that when getting into bed and straightening out the duvet, once I settle down my heart will be thumping! As someone who had an unnaturally low heart rate prior to all this – one of the reasons for the pacemaker – that takes a bit of getting used to!

Having the pacemaker has really made me focus on my health and fitness to the point where I’m really quite obsessive and possibly even a little evangelical about running! Silly really, but it genuinely makes me feel strong being able to run, especially in actual races. I couldn’t recommend it enough, even though I’m aware it’s not everybody’s cup of tea!

Another negative is that I live with a heart monitor by the side of my bed. This makes me feel really, really old! The monitor doesn’t do much, but I’m aware it’s feeding data back to the hospital which still feels a little bit weird. As I mentioned earlier as well, I have another scar as well as a strange bit on my chest where my wires just stick upwards. It’s a neat little scar, but those wires spoil things and coupled with the big scar that I have on my chest from a childhood heart operation, it’s not a great look!

My condition means that I still get heart palpitations, albeit nowhere near as regularly as I was having them for large parts of 2022 before my operation. However now, when they come I can rest assured that the pacemaker will kick in after about 5 seconds and stop them. It’s still quite a frightening thing, especially when it feels like the pacemaker isn’t going to react. The thought of having them for untold hours and just trying to get on with my day while wondering if I was about to pass out is a memory that still lingers! Still, that pacemaker is reassuring though.

Another drawback is that my left arm and shoulder don’t seem to work very well anymore. My scarring is really close to my left shoulder and I assume that it’s affected things as I haven’t got full movement and my left arm isn’t as ‘strong’ as it used to be. I mean, it wasn’t strong anyway, but it’s just a bit pathetic nowadays!

The final gripe I have is with my aftercare. I’ve only had one follow up appointment with a cardiologist since it all happened. Even that wasn’t actually scheduled. It was an appointment about a 24 hour monitor I’d worn, but in between times I’d had to have my pacemaker fitted, so the appointment was made later because the cardiologist didn’t realise and had to spend a load of time reading my notes before actually seeing me! Since then – January 2023 – there have been a couple of scans done but no meeting with actual doctors, which feels wrong.

I have had a letter from my hospital saying that a planned appointment had been rescheduled for later in the year, but I hadn’t even been informed about the planned appointment, so it’s all a bit of a mystery really! Luckily, I feel fit and healthy but it is concerning not to be speaking to someone when we’re almost 2 years on from the last appointment.

All in all, it’s been a bit of a whirlwind. Two years of major change that, just when you think you’ve almost forgotten about it and are living pretty normally, comes back to haunt you via bloody Facebook of all things! Clearly, while this pacemaker doesn’t really define me, it’s never going to leave me either!

The Pacemaker Diaries – One year on…

So it turns out that last week had a number of big days. Huge, in fact because last week marked a year since I had my pacemaker fitted.

I remember it well. Of course I do. At the beginning of that week I had realised that I was seriously ill. Even then, I didn’t know what the problem was – but it had been going on for months – and when I was admitted to hospital I still just thought they’d keep me in overnight and send me home with some tablets that would miraculously make everything alright again. My heart wouldn’t keep me awake at night. There would be no more listening for it and wondering if it had stopped.

The morning came and a lovely cardiologist disappointed me with his lack of tablets, then stunned me with his talk of a pacemaker. Despite protesting – “those things are for pensioners, man” – I was very quickly put in my place. “Put it this way, your heart stopped for over 4 seconds last night.” The other option was not to do it, but to lose my driving licence and then start worrying about my job. After all, it’s not normal or safe to be blacking out left, right and centre and I was told that this was likely.

“I think we’ll fit that pacemaker then!”

I laughed about it but I was crying inside. I was far too young for this. And I didn’t have a clue what it actually meant. At least I felt safe in the hospital, but it was a lot to take in. Still is.

The next day, just after 11am, I was wheeled down to theatre, talked through what was going to happen and then they just got on with it. The whole place was calm, jovial even. I was terrified. But do you know what, the more people singing along to the radio while performing your heart surgery, the more comforting it gets!

Later, back on the ward, there was the kind of drama that you never expect to be involved in, as my pacemaker failed and my heart monitor set off every alarm within a five mile radius. At least it felt that way. My heart decided it was time for yet another episode and the palpitations started with a vengeance. Doctors and nurses crowded around my bed, assuring me that help was on the way while I watched a monitor until my heartbeat hit 209bpm. At that point someone took the sensible decision of moving the monitor out of my eyeline.

It turned out fine. Someone from the cardiology department fixed it all online and in as much of a matter of fact way as was humanly possible. While I felt like I was quietly awaiting the grim reaper or a lovely warm light or whatever death looks like (various deceased comedy legends welcoming me ‘home’ and saying they’re my biggest fans?), him and his machine had “a chat with” my pacemaker. It worked.

The next day I was released back into the wild, not really knowing what awaited me. In truth, I didn’t really know if I could make it to the car without stopping for a rest. I imagined though that it might mean a couple of weeks off work. It was four months later that I finally went back.

It’s been a weird year. In some ways I feel worse than ever. It definitely did something to me, mentally and I do find it difficult to motivate myself. On the other hand though, I’m running regularly and actually feel fitter than ever. There have been three 10k races in the last 6 months or so and I feel like I’ve proved a bit of a point to myself. I’m still not quite convinced though.

I can feel my pacemaker every day. When I put on deoderant or have a wash, it’s there. Sometimes, I catch it a bit and it hurts. Occasionally, when I’m carrying a box or something of any decent size, it might rebound on to my chest and boy does it sting! The wires sit there, just above my scar and the pacemaker and they’re right there, just underneath the surface of my chest. Place a finger there and it’s almost like you could pluck them out with a little bit of effort. Not that I’m encouraging anyone to try! I think this is a consequence of me not being very well built; another reason to curse my body! And if you look closely, through my lustrous chest hair, you can actually see the outline shape of the pacemaker itself. How attractive!

There have been no more scares though. No more lying awake at night listening to my heart and wondering what it’s doing. So, the pacemaker is actually a comfort. My heart works which is rather nice.

For a long, long time I was fatigued. I felt like I’d never get better or feel like myself again. My body seemed to take an age to come to terms with what had happened. Coming off beta-blockers helped, but didn’t solve it. From my third day back at home I was going for a daily walk. At first, it was just 10 minutes, but being as bloody-minded as I am I worked that upwards as quickly as I could. But I’d be capable of very little else once I was done and days would simply drift past. Months later, when I felt capable to run a short distance, it would take the rest of the day to recover. In short, for months I just felt terrible. My body ached and I generally felt exhausted. I’d be out of breath easily and immensely frustrated by this.

It’s really not an exaggeration to say that this last year has been a real battle. I’ve felt incredibly low at times – and still have periods like that to this day – and I’ve had to work really hard to keep myself going. I’ve suffered with terrible bouts of sadness, that I didn’t imagine would be possible for me; not just feeling sorry for myself, but genuinely feeling sad, tearful and lonely about life and how things were turning out. The pacemaker made me angry and in truth, I still can’t get my head around the fact that I have to have it.

I regularly remind myself of how lucky I am though. It’d be too easy to just sort of give up and feel sorry for myself. I was almost discharged from hospital before I’d even got to a ward. Only a last minute check showed any kind of problem and only when a senior cardiologist had looked at it all properly was it decided that I had to have a pacemaker. I was actually minutes from going home, so who knows what could have happened? Clearly, I’m lucky though. I’m still here, my quality of life is good and although there are still one or two flutters with my heart now and again, I’m fairly confident that my pacemaker has it all covered!

What I’ve learnt over the course of the last 12 months is that it’s going to take me a while to recover fully and to feel like I’m back to my normal self again. I was ill for months before I got treated – my own fault because I hid what was wrong. But I think that has taken its toll. As I said earlier, I still struggle mentally but I don’t have as many low periods as before. Normal life with work and everything else has helped. But I’ve learnt that I really do have the strength to come back from adversity. Maybe, in another year’s time I’ll have consigned pacemaker diaries to the back of my mind. Maybe.

Hopefully, the future is a bit happier and healthier! Maybe I’ll get to change my tune and write about that instead!

Always Look on the Bright Side: April’s Things That Made Me Smile

It’s been a busy April with an amazing transatlantic trip, time at home to rest afterwards, the start of my first term back at work with an almost full teaching timetable and some glorious grassroots football. There’s been a lot to leave me exhausted, but a lot to make me smile as well.

So here’s the latest edition of this occasional series.

A brilliant holiday. I have a blog ready to go about part 1 of this trip, so I won’t go into too much detail. It couldn’t be ignored though. The first leg of our trip took us back to Toronto, a city we’d last visited about 17 years ago, pre-children (otherwise known as our fun years!). The city brought lots of smiles simply by being Toronto, as it’s one of our favourites. However, what made me smile most – while at the same time having a transformative effect on my recovery from health issues – was seeing dear friends again. We have friends in Toronto who I first met over 20 years ago, while I was in my first teaching post. My mate Andy is an Aussie who was travelling at the time and spending some time in the UK. Somehow, he found his way to a small village somewhere in the hinterland between Leeds and Castleford in West Yorkshire. We connected instantly and have been laughing ever since. His girlfriend. now wife Kim, is a Torontonian and thus they settled there. She is also a fantastic person and again, someone who loves a laugh. Suffice to say, the two couples have always got on well. It was just an absolute blessing to spend time with them again (and with their fantastic children) and it felt like we’d never been apart. My health issues felt like they lifted in Toronto and kept moving away in Washington DC (our second port of call) and I genuinely feel much more optimistic about things now. Washington DC was everything you’d expect. Again, we’d been before, but it was great to be back. At times DC is like walking through a film set because you’ve seen so much of it before on screen. Suffice to say, the sheer amount of iconic buildings and monuments brought a great big grin to my face!
I Am The Champion! We flew Aer Lingus to and from our destinations. I’d never flown with them before, but I’d thoroughly recommend them having now done so. However, what I achieved on the flights was the thing that made me smile. In amongst the selection of films and TV shows to watch or even music to listen to, I stumbled upon the games. At first, I stuck to playing video pool which I wasn’t very good at. But then I found the Trivia game which was to all intents and purposes a general knowledge quiz. Now, I class myself as someone who knows a lot of ‘stuff’. Pub quiz knowledge, you might say. And to cut a long story short, by the end of my flight home I was not only first, but also second on the leaderboard, thus enabling me to crown myself as Aer Lingus Trivia World Champion! If anyone at the airline reads this and wants to send me my trophy, I’d be most grateful!
Spring! To be honest, it’s not got a great deal warmer here in the UK, but Spring has definitely sprung. The usual things about this made me smile: the blossom on the trees, the definite sense that there’s less rain about and the blooming of flowers like daffodils and crocuses in our garden. But the thing that made me smile the most was the sight of my back lawn, freshly cut after 3 legs of cutting it over three days, due to the fact that it had suddenly grown to about a foot long in lots of places! When our particular jungle is tamed, it makes a real difference!
I’m running again! I’ll keep this short as I could do without cursing myself and this ending up as another false start, but I’m running again. I feel much stronger and fitter and for the past two weeks have been out running twice a week. I’m building up to one of my big recovery goals, which I think will be very difficult, so wish me luck! Getting out running – especially an early morning one last Saturday – has got me smiling again.

5. Giraffes! My daily visit to the BBC website is always a good source for something heartwarming and a few days ago I read a story about Giraffes on Tour, a charity associated with the Great Ormond Street Children’s Hospital. They were filling every seat with a toy giraffe on a routine refueling flight in order to raise money for the hospital. So, children had temporarily donated their toy giraffe to go on the flight, presumably in return for a cash donation, and then on their return they got not just their toy back, but a certificate too. It’s a lovely story and another brilliant example of the kind of charity work that most of have no idea goes on. And if that doesn’t make you smile, have a look at the photos!

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-oxfordshire-65323153

So there we have it. You might have to travel far and wide or just look in some unusual places, but there’s always something to make you smile!

The Pacemaker Diaries: We’ve definitely hit a bump in the road.

Every once in a while I’ve written an update of what I called my ‘Pacemaker Diary’ over the last few months. It’s mainly because it’s a good way for me to have a bit of a moan, but it also fills people in on how things are going and means that there might just be a few less people that I have to lie to and fob off by telling them I’m ‘getting there’. I mean, if I had a pound for every time I’d said that since November, I’d be a millionaire. I’d also be very annoyed at myself for not discovering this get rich quick scheme a lot earlier.

I thought I’d update simply because a lot of them so far have been about progress, however small that’s been. But lately, my progress has slowed to a crawl again. Maybe writing about it might help me find the motivation that’s needed to keep moving on. Or maybe it’ll help me to ‘frame myself’ as some would say in our part of Yorkshire.

It’s been a shock that such a small thing could derail me so much. But initially it was a slight cold that slowed me right down. It was a couple of weeks ago that I was aware that I was slowing down again. I couldn’t go upstairs without feeling out of breath and had a hint of a cough. So it wasn’t a heavy cold, but it was having an effect on me.

At the same time I’d stepped up the hours of teaching on my phased return to work, taking on an additional class and four extra hours of teaching a week. That weekend the football team that I coach had its game cancelled, leaving me with a free Sunday. Rather than rest, I decided to go for a run in the early morning sunshine. Boy, would I regret that.

I hadn’t even ran a mile and I was struggling. But, I kept on going. Not long after though, a little voice in my head was telling me that I couldn’t do this. It was a voice that dominated me when I was younger, but one that I really hadn’t heard in years. Still, I kept on until faced with a long hill to run up, I decided on a compromise. With my body aching and struggling to breath steadily I re-routed, doubled back and avoided the hill, settling for running a 5k (3.1 miles) rather than the 4 miles I’d been aiming for. It was slow and ragged, but worst of all, I didn’t enjoy even one step of it.

I only just made it. My legs felt like they were falling forward independently of the rest of my body and I was wheezing heavily. I was alarmed by just how I terrible I felt. I took a photo of myself when I’d finished and it horrified me when I looked at it later. I looked haggered and old. Everything hurt and it left me feeling very down. My body continued to ache well into the next week.

On the Monday at work, my Year 7 form were added to the mix on my timetable and even on the first day of that happening I was struggling. I’d had a poor weekend, not really sleeping and struggling to shift the tiny bit of cold that I’d picked up. On the very first day of the week I put in a request to have my last lesson of the day covered in order to head home early. Work, as ever during this whole nightmare, were kind and obliging. A great start to the week though and enough to show me that getting back to a full teaching timetable might have to be a way off yet.

I’m also struggling with a back problem that had first hit me in February. I’d bent down to pick up my son’s football boots and been hit by nausea inducing levels of pain as my back froze. I’ve struggled with my back for many years, so I though it would pass within a week or so, but it hasn’t. Instead, even as I write, I can feel pain in my hips and hamstrings. The pain has moved down my body and in way, I feel more fragile than ever. Nothing to do with my heart – for once – but enough to begin to get me down.

The next weekend brought even more problems and no run, making me feel like any recovery had very much ground to a halt. I seemed to have picked up some sort of bug and felt dizzy and sick the whole time.

My heart continues to just plod along nicely, kept in check by the little machine that sits just underneath my left collarbone. The scarring hurts still, but that feels like the least of my worries.

The most frustrating thing of all is that my heart feels fine. However, having hidden the problem for around 6 months last year and then had to take so long off work after my operation, my body might just be a little bit broken. Clearly working for so long with the problem has really cost me. Clearer still, spending four months at home, only managing a daily walk while being otherwise inactive doesn’t keep your fitness at the levels you might need, however much you might kid yourself.

I’m quickly learning that my body is going to take much, much longer than I thought to heal. It feels like the slightest little problem, like a cold or a stomach bug, is going to have a huge effect, setting me back if not to square one, then square 3 or 4 at best. Impatient as I am, I wanted to be just stepping off square 25 by this point. As a result, I’m angry and sad and I really don’t like feeling that way.

I’m hopeful that the coming weeks will go better for me. I’ve rested and not gone out for a run for over a week, but I hope that I’ll feel ready enough soon to get going once again. I’ve entered a 10k race in May and am desperate to take part. It’ll really hurt if I’m not able to do it.

Fighting fit: The mind boggles!

As I write, it’s been 62 days since having my pacemaker fitted. A rough estimate puts that at 1492 hours or 89,543 minutes. That’s a lot of time to think. A lot of time to worry, to feel low or even just to find yourself giving up. However, there have been positives in that time too and I hope that from today, I’m going to start feeling the positives outweigh the negatives.

My last ‘fighting fit’ update was a few weeks ago. In the time since then there have been good and bad days. Christmas and New Year came and went and if anything, they slowed my progress down. Not only was my diet a bit worse, but the festivities take up so much of our time that I didn’t manage to fit in anywhere near enough exercise. Turns out no one wants to wander slowly around the streets keeping an eye on a wobbly, wheezing middle aged man dressed in a long coat and a bobble hat when there’s Christmas films to be watched or left over turkey knocking around.

However, I enjoyed both Christmas and New Year. We managed to see some family and despite the fact that my kids are a bit older now – 13 and 16 – it was still nice to see them open their presents. And I always enjoy seeing what my wife makes of the gifts that I’ve bought her. It’s nice to give gifts and it was nice this year that I bought my wife something she really wouldn’t have expected, but really liked. It was a print based around The Fairytale of New York, her favourite Christmas song. If you’re a music fan and enjoy artwork you might want to check out where it’s from – www.stuffbymark.co.uk – his art really is ace!

Once all of the celebrations were out of the way and the kids were back at school, there was a lot to think about. Given the return of a quiet house, the bonus of having the ability to think returned too! My main conclusion has been that I need to do more exercise and to do it regularly if I’m going to get my normal life back.

So, that’s what I’ve been doing. I’ve had a few more visits to my favourite park and gone back to look at the two animal sculptures. This time I made sure to read the inscriptions and one of them gave me a lovely glowing feeling. It was on the Harry the Hare sculpture and it was about the fact that a local business had commissioned it. One line in particular got me. It just read, “For the people of Morley.” What a great gift! I hope others appreciate it and take time out to go and have a look. It’s literally a work of art! Whether it’ll succumb to vandalism, who knows? But I sincerely hope not. Anyway, here he is below.

And here’s the owl that I visited again the next time I was in the park.

The mental side of my recovery is something I’ve found really tough going. I’m not used to being poorly and not used to being unable to do the things I want to, physically. I’ve found it all very frustrating. I enjoy my work, but haven’t been in since all of this started. Furthermore, I’m faced with another month off sick now too. It’s led me to see pretty low days and I joined an online support group to see if it would help me.

Talking about my problems isn’t really me, but I’ve managed to ask a few questions and listen to what other people have been through and it’s really helped. Apart from anything else, it’s comforting to know that there are lots of people going through the same as me and lots of them who know a lot more than me and are happy to pass on advice.

The support group has also encouraged me to read a bit about pacemakers and what’s happened to me and that’s been a real positive. It was explained in hospital and on the visit to the cardiologist, but I suppose understandably, I didn’t really take it all in. Anyway, reading about my pacemaker and its genius has really made my mind boggle. It’s about the size of a matchbox but it has the technology to store a ton of data about what’s going on in there, while also pretty much making my heart work properly. I guess we shouldn’t be that surprised by the capability of modern medical technology…but I still am.

Another form of support came as a Christmas gift. My daughter bought me the book below – with her own money for the first time ever – and told me it was so that I could read it and not feel like I was going through it alone. Even typing that feels emotional, so you can imagine how I felt on Christmas day!

It’s quite a remarkable book by a poet called David Toms, who was born with a rare heart condition and faced up to his problems in many ways. In the book he talks a lot about the power of walking and, as this is something I do a lot, I could really relate to his story. He also eventually had to get a pacemaker, so what he had to say about that felt really useful too. Reading the book also helped me to see that I could get through what’s going on with me. David Toms has faced up to a great deal more than I have and despite whatever setbacks or challenges, he’s found the strength to just keep going. So, keep going is exactly what I’ll do.

I’m beginning to realise how long it’s going to take me to feel better both physically and mentally. Two months on and I’m still tired out very easily, especially compared to the way I was before and the level of fitness I had. The area around my pacemaker and my scar is still sore and my movement still restricted and I’m left breathless much more often than I’d like. And mentally, testing myself out terrifies me, but I’m just so incredibly frustrated by how weak I feel. Even when I get back to the normality of work, I know that I’ll still be nowhere near fitness and nowhere near feeling confident. It seems it’s going to be a long road.

And with that, I promise to update you whenever something interesting happens. Fingers crossed that it’s not any kind of setback though!

Fighting fit; an occasional diary.

Last time I wrote one of these diary entry style posts I was getting fitter and stronger as I was able to get out walking every day. Not far, but enough to keep myself ticking over and gaining in fitness. I’d also grown a beard, simply because my circumstances meant that I couldn’t shave and finally, I was having trouble sleeping. So, in short, I was writing a diary entry about how mind-numbingly boring life was in recovering from an operation!

Well, I’m not sure it’s got anymore exciting.

A couple of weeks ago I had a little bit of a set back, albeit in terms of the rough plan I had in my head. With only a week to go of my sick note from work I rang them and tentatively agreed that I’d be back teaching at the start of January. It was more my call than theirs, to be fair. Sadly though, only a few days later, having spoken to my doctor, I was forced to call them back and let them know that I’d had to arrange another month long sick note. I had a really rough weekend, feeling tired all of the time, sick and still in quite a bit of pain from my scarring. It simply dawned on me that I was rushing things far too much. I spoke to some friends, family and people who’d had similar procedures and they reminded me of just how much I’d been through and that it wasn’t just a case of getting fit enough to go out for a walk that would get me back to normal life. My doctor agreed and was more than happy to renew my sick note and so, I bowed to the greater knowledge before me and made probably the best decision I’d made in years. I’m not very good at just resting, but I’ve realised that I need to stop rushing things too. I’m discovering that patience is key in this recovery business!

Since then, there’s been a real disruption to my safe little routine by way of Christmas and all that comes with preparing for big day. I’ve not been able to do a great deal in terms of decorating the house or going out on shopping trips to get what Santa’s elves can’t make, but I’ve been able to join in with some of the wrapping, despite my very limited wrapping skills. Truth is, I wrap presents like a moody child in a hurry to do anything but wrap presents, but needs must I suppose.

I also managed to fit in two hospital visits, both of which threw my routine out , but more of that later.

All of this has meant that my daily walks have stopped. In fact, before today, my last walk was on 15th December, meaning that some of the fitness that I’d built up has probably been lost.

However, before that I’d been managing to get out for a walk every day and for the last week of doing so we’d had some lovely weather too. For a couple of those days I ventured up to one of our local parks simply because it would mean walking a little bit further than I’d been managing and also as I knew it would look lovely in the sun, as you can see below. Being in the park felt lovely though; a great deal better than just sticking to the streets close to where I live. So, even though I was really tired out just getting there, it was well worth it…even if when I walked there for the second day in succession my legs felt like jelly and I had to have a sit down on a park bench for a short while just to make sure that I’d get home in one piece!

The plan now that Christmas is out of the way though, is to start getting back out there and making the most of the fresh air. I found some new sculptures of animals (pictured below) on one of my park visits and am assured that there are more, so I’m definitely going to head up and explore again, all in the name of fitness!

The final major thing that’s happened over the last few weeks is the hospital visits. My first was a pacemaker clinic just over a week before Christmas. It only took around 30 minutes, but in that time the specialist was able to let me know that there had been no drama since I’d left hospital. She adjusted my pacemaker a little bit in order to help with my breathlessness and told me a little bit about its battery life and function and I left feeling pretty good about it all. It’s fascinating stuff when you see that they just drape a wand-like piece of machinery over your shoulder which then reads the data off your pacemaker. The kind of technology that makes me feel even older!

Then, almost a week later and a few days before Christmas, I went in for an appointment with a cardiologist. It turned out that this was actually to do with a previous problem, but when he saw my notes and learned of my procedure, he was able to talk me through quite a bit about what was going on, which was great.

It was quite the good news day. Firstly, he told me that there was no damage to my heart. Apparently my problem is merely ‘electrical’ in that my pacemaker cells haven’t been controlling the rhythm of my heart very well at all. Hence, the need for my pacemaker. Although I’d been told this in hospital it was still comforting to know as I’d had some of the symptoms of a heart attack on more than one occasion leading up to my time in hospital. But, it seems I’m made of stronger stuff than I’d thought!

The other bit of good news was that I was told to work my way off my beta blockers, which have been fairly responsible for me feeling so rough and tired all of the time. So for now, I have a half a tablet per day, but soon I’ll leave them behind altogether. In turn, this means that I’ll be able to go out running fairly soon, although I’m happy to force myself to wait until I feel as right as possible until I actually do it. If I’ve learnt one thing in all of this it’s that I need to start listening to my body more and to stop being so eager to be on the move all of the time. That said though, I cannot wait to get out and run again. My last run was on October 14th. After that, everything started to go downhill and within a month I was in hospital.

It’s been 50 days since I was admitted to hospital. I went in thinking I’d be back to full fitness within a few days, only to be brought crashing down to Earth by the news of a pacemaker. Fingers crossed that I’m closing in on getting back to normal.

Fighting Fit: an occasional diary (volume 2)

With time on my hands following heart surgery, last week I started writing an occasional diary. It seemed only right, especially after more than one person (including myself) joked at the time of my latest cardiology drama, that I’d do anything to get something to write a blog out of! Well, the joke’s on them; it’s very much more than one now!

Not a lot has changed in my routine this last week. It can’t really, as I’m just not capable of doing a great deal at the minute! I am now managing to walk every day though, without fail. I don’t go far. I’m not commuting out to beauty spots and hiking for untold miles across rugged terrain. Rather, I’m shambling my way around the streets where I live and making sure, that if I take an occasional selfie if it has a field or a tree in the background, so that my life looks slightly more interesting.

The positive with my walks is that they are edging ever further in distance. Or rather, I’m taking more steps each time. I haven’t yet recorded one on my Strava app as I feel pathetic enough as it its, without recording it on a form of social media that shows a map of my route and the invariably embarrassing statistics that yell, ‘Hey everyone, Graham used to be really fit, but now he can walk just short of a mile in 40 minutes!’

It feels quite lovely to be out though. I’d hesitate to say anything about how it feels to still be alive, but there is a small element of that. While I haven’t found myself standing marvelling at the magnificence of trees, I do feel quite lucky. And actually, last week’s diary did blather on about how dramatic the fog was!

In other news, I’ve grown a beard. This is largely down to circumstance, as I can’t really lift my left arm up for very long without it really hurting because of the scarring from my op. It’s also just an action that I’ve been told to avoid for something like 6 weeks, while my pacemaker settles into my chest, so the action of stretching my skin with my left hand while shaving with my right is a bit of a no-go area. Hence, the beard.

I’ve never had any inclination to grow a beard before. However, despite its whiteness, I’m quite pleased with it and for the near future at least, it’s staying. My wife and children don’t like it so much. It tickles when I’m near them. I’m certain that my parents will hate it too. Others have said it looks good though. I worry I might be turning into Roy Keane, while hoping that I’m actually morphing into George Clooney. Who knows what the truth is? Actually, me and it’s not the Clooney truth! I actually quite like it though and I’m surprised with how much I’ve taken to it.

As time has moved on and I’ve felt less pain, I’m writing more too and as well as some blog posts, I’ve written first drafts of four or five new poems. It’s very tiring though and so there’s only so much that I can do. I suppose I need to find some kind of balance between resting and trying to do more, while also kerbing my urge to just get stuck back in again at full pace. Some days I long to be back at work, but for once I’ve been sensible enough to listen to what the professionals have told me and stick to getting the rest that I need. Hopefully it’ll pay off and everything will get back to normal given time.

I worry that all I seem to write about is being poorly though. I suppose it’s obviously still fresh in my head, but while I had a tentative brush with something serious, I really don’t want to bore people to death about it now! With that in mind I’ve made a list of things I can write about so in the coming days I need to find the energy to research a couple of things and possibly write some Christmas themed posts.

The final thing that has been on my mind this week is my lack of sleep. Since leaving hospital I’ve managed one unbroken night of sleep. And by unbroken, I don’t just mean not waking up. I always wake up on the night. What I mean is not having to get out of bed.

Almost every night for over a month now has been punctuated by an extended amount of time out of bed. The pattern seems to be that I sleep for anything up to an hour before waking up, unable to get back to sleep. This then usually means a couple of hours or so spent downstairs, reading or doing a bit of writing. I even did the dishes at 1.30am the other day! I’m hoping that I can find a way to sort this out!

Overall, this week I feel noticeably better. I still get tired out easier than I’d like, I’m still bored a lot of the time and I still miss seeing people…but I feel more human.

Until next time…

Fighting Fit; an occasional diary.

If you’re a regular reader you’ll no doubt know that it’s been a pretty rough year for me, healthwise, culminating with the fact that I’ve been forced to spend some time off work. I’m pretty sure that the two sick notes that I’ve submitted to work in the last few weeks have been the first I’ve ever had in almost 30 years of working for a living, so it’s all come as a bit of a shock!

If you don’t know – and let’s keep it brief – earlier on in the month, following quite a while of being poorly and stupidly attempting to hide it, I had to have a pacemaker fitted in order to regulate my heartbeat. It’s meant that I’m not really very well, which I’m finding very frustrating. I’m not one to enjoy just sitting about and am pretty desperate to be fit and well again. However, I’ve had to realise that I can’t just be flat out exercising and that there has to be a lot of compromise. In short, at the moment there is actually more sitting about than exercise and a lot of time to fill each day!

I thought it might be nice to diarise what’s happening to me. I imagine it’ll help me think it all through because although it’s actually a fairly routine procedure, it has definitely taken a toll on me. I don’t think keeping it a secret for such a long time has really helped either, as it just enabled me to get progressively more poorly and ultimately more tired! So maybe occasionally writing about it will help me make a bit more sense of what’s happening.

Therefore, today marks the start of exactly what the title says it is; an occasional diary.

So far, there’s not a great deal to tell. I can’t do a lot of exercise because it means that I’m absolutely knackered afterwards! However, I have made a point of trying to get out for some kind of walk almost every day since I got home from hospital. I think I got home on the Thursday and managed to get out for a short walk on the Sunday and I’ve just kept going since then.

It’s definitely making me feel better and stronger. It’s good for mental health too as it means I’m getting fresh air and not just sat watching telly and feeling sorry for myself. And, possibly because I can’t go far and I can’t race around the place, I’m looking at my local surroundings a lot closer. Which brings me to today’s post.

I’m lucky that I live within about 100 yards of quite a lot of green space and that is bordered by a farm, which means more green space. So while I’m literally walking around my block a lot of the time, it doesn’t always have to be in residential areas.

We’ve been hit by fog for the last couple of days here in my bit of West Yorkshire. So, where normally I’d take a picture of myself out on my walk and post it on social media, for the last couple of days I’ve been taking pictures of the area and what it looks like shrouded in fog and I thought it might help put a different slant on my diary, rather than just telling you that I went for a walk and it tired me out! These pictures are just a few minutes away from my front door.

As well as making it a bit more difficult for this asthmatic to breath, I think the fog always gives the place a kind of other-worldly feel. It’s been so thick that you can’t really see a great deal of what surrounds you and walking round the quiet streets, any voices that might be heard become quite detached and hard to track down. It’s been bloody cold too! But, I won’t let it put me off as I’m determined to get myself fit, healthy and back into the swing of normal life as soon as I can.

I genuinely thought I’d be back at work within a few days and the realisation has hit me hard. I’ve lost track of time but can safely say that it’s been a number of weeks now that life has been completely altered for me. No work, quite a lot of pain and discomfort, little sleep, I can’t move well on my left side still and the reality that I really have to sit down a lot!

However, I’ve started to feel a great deal more human in the last couple of days and it’s meant that rather than just go out and concentrate on the number of steps I’m managing and whether or not I might pass out, I’ve been able to have a bit of a look around, especially as I think the place can look so dramatic when surrounded by the fog. I thought it might be a nice angle for this diary, rather than just telling you that I’d been for a walk and it had tired me out, so I had to have a nice sit down!

This next picture is of the top of the road that runs past our house and I just thought it looked pretty amazing (especially when you know that if you turn a little bit to the right there’s a big Aldi supermarket at the top of the hill!) The sun is doing its best to fight through the fog, but you sort of know that it’s not going to win!

Tomorrow, I’ll be back out again for another walk as I try to just build up a bit of strength, resilience and a great deal more fitness. It’d be nice to get to the second half of what will be a reasonably short walk and not be out of breath, but I know that’s unlikely for a while yet. Hopefully tomorrow though, the fog will lift and there’ll be a bit less of a chill in the air.

Until next time, stay safe, listen to your body and be nice!

Euro 2020 Diary: The Final Instalment

Ah, the morning after the night before. For completely different reasons, had England won the final of Euro 2020, this would have been a difficult entry to write. As it goes, on the back of such a cruel loss, it’s tough to know where to start.

In fact, I started by staring at this keyboard. For quite a while. Then I flicked tabs on the internet to have another look at the BBC Sport football page. Then I looked at social media on my phone for a bit. It didn’t change very much.

I’ve tried to avoid writing too much about England as I’ve written these diaries. And although I’ll abandon that stance quite soon, I’ll think I’ll revert back there to start with.

It’s been a helluva tournament. A month’s worth of football and I’ve enjoyed every bit of it, until around 11pm last night that is. What’s occurred in and around stadiums has been an absolute spectacle though and it’s been wonderful to indulge my love of the game.

I’ve done a bit of freelance scouting for my team. Every football fan does this at major tournaments though, don’t they? We all watch the games with half an eye on our club side, searching for the diamond in the rough that, in our heads, we can recommend to our club side. We all know that we have no influence whatsoever and that said rough diamonds are probably playing beyond their ability just because of the lift that a tournament gives, but we still do it.

This time round my keen eye has picked out a few Italians, Elmas the attacking midfielder who plays for North Macedonia, the Welsh lad Ethan Ampadu and a few others. As ever, I’ve found that most play for big clubs and would cost way more than Newcastle United’s budget, but it hasn’t stopped me looking and playing the ‘expert’.

Sadly, I imagine our manager will be scanning the list of free transfers and players available for loan as we speak. Alas, my role as Head of European Scouting was fun while it lasted.

2. Why would you go to a game in fancy dress? Come to think of it, why would you go anywhere in fancy dress? Even a fancy dress party is about a dozen steps too far. During this tournament I’ve witnessed German fans dressed head to toe in lycra as the German flag. French fans dressed as Asterix and Obelix, Dutch fans dressed as oranges…oh wait, that’s just the colour of their football shirts, England fans dressed as St.George and actual lions and during last night’s final there were Italian fans dressed as Mario, a pizza and even the Pope. Some Scotland fans even attended games in skirts.

I don’t get it. Given the heat which has been a fairly regular feature in the tournament, I get it even less. But imagine simple logistics like sitting down in an Obelix costume. Imagine the conversation stopper that is, ‘Lads, I’m thinking of going to the final dressed as a pizza’. And the feeling of looking like an even bigger tool when some bloke a row down from you steals your thunder by dressing up as his actual holiness the Pope. I understand the excitement and the fact that people get carried away, but fancy dress? Never.

3. Why have England fans been booing national anthems? I mean, I know what reason most will give for booing the German anthem, but I think it’s time to leave this behind lads and lasses. In fact, go to Germany. Spend some time there. Immerse yourself in wonderful things like trains that arrive on time. Visit the museums, sample the night life, enjoy the people who are truly lovely, sit in an enormous beer garden and feel stunned at how friendly it all is. Don’t boo and hate because of ancient history. Don’t boo any nations anthem. Just rid yourself of your small mindedness and show a tiny bit of respect. And listen carefully; some of them – as I’ve pointed out in an earlier diary – are absolute bangers!

And why are people booing Denmark’s anthem by the way. We’ve all stood barefoot on a piece of upturned Lego in our time, but it’s hardly worth all that energy on an anthem that is a little bit rubbish and means literally nothing to you.

4. We couldn’t quite bring football home, could we? But that’s OK. We’ve been not bringing football home for years.

It was heartbreaking to watch the final as an England fan. We started so well, scored early and offered hope for a while. It looked like we might finally see a tournament through. But, to cut a long story short, we were beaten by a better side on the night.

While I’m beyond disappointed this morning, I’m going to try to be positive. We have a young, vibrant, gifted squad of players with more waiting to come through and represent their country too. The future looks bright. The experience gained last night could and should stand the team in good stead in future tournaments. We’ll have our day, I’m sure of it.

Mistakes were probably made last night, if we’re being honest. Most notably with the penalties. As a result of missing some penalties, the now usual barrage of racist abuse has appeared from a spiteful, hate filled, thick as mince underclass and this kind of thing clearly needs to be dealt with. But just for now, let’s applaud the courage of those that stepped up. Bukayo Saka, who took and missed our final penalty, is 19 years old. At his age I was frightened to talk to new people, shy beyond belief. I wouldn’t put my hand up to answer questions in university seminars, hated going into the pub on my own to meet friends, blushed noticeably if a girl spoke to me and was just too immature to appreciate the opportunity afforded me in being able to go to university and study for three years. Bukayo Saka stepped up to take a crucial penalty in front of a packed Wembley Stadium while 30 million people watched on telly. I bet he’d have no bother walking into a pub to meet his mates and he’d be at ease in a seminar. Give the lad some respect and some love. And give the rest of the squad and the coaches and officials exactly the same while you’re on.

The England team have left us with even more amazing memories. They’ve beaten pretty much whoever has stood in front of them and it’s been absolutely brilliant to play a tiny part in it all as a fan. That overrides a missed penalty kick. So while I’m disappointed this morning, I see no point in apportioning blame and forgetting how much enjoyment this tournament and our teams has given me and countless others over the last month or so.

5. Finally, spare a thought for Jordan Pickford. Jordan is a Sunderland fan and I’m a Newcastle fan. We don’t know each other, but I get the impression he wouldn’t like me just because of my allegiance. I’m not a big fan of him because of his allegiance either. He is however, the England goalkeeper.

Jordan Pickford was magnificent in the penalty shoot out last night. He didn’t deserve to lose after saving two Italian penalties and I felt heartily sorry for the lad. And while I’m hopeful that he has his usual meltdown if he plays against Newcastle next year, I hope he has a brilliant season.

So that’s me signing off on the Euro 2020 diaries. It didn’t quite go our way, but I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy it. Here’s to writing about it all again when the World Cup in Qatar starts at the back end of next year!

Euro 2020: Fan’s Diary Part Three

I write this as we’re a day away from England versus Germany. Superstition tells me to make no predictions, while England’s form suggests that we may never win a tournament in my lifetime so whether it’s Germany or Guernsey we’re playing doesn’t really matter. History reminds me that we’re never comfortable against the Germans.

Asides from the inevitable discomfort produced by the Germans, it’s been a thoroughly enjoyable tournament so far. It’s been brilliant to see fans in stadiums once again, despite the limitations on crowd size. And as ever with tournament football there’s been no shortage of drama, tension and upsets.

So here’s what made the cut into diary entry number three.

Fans make all the difference. The sights, the sounds and notably the colour have been an absolute delight. Whether my senses have been heightened by the fact that I’ve got used to watching football played out in empty and therefore soulless stadiums, I’m not sure, but fans have brought an HD element to our viewing.

There aren’t many better sights in football than the delirium of fans celebrating a goal. ‘Limbs’ I believe is what the football hipsters refer to it as. I watched the Czech Republic beat the Netherlands last night and the sheer ecstasy behind the goal for both Czech goals was fantastic to watch. Keep your perfect volleys, your overhead kicks and your rabonas, what I want to be watching is shirtless, out-of-shape blokes hugging each other screaming and tumbling over in celebration. That loss of self control doesn’t seem to happen in other sports. And neither does the need to shed ones’ shirt in order to watch the match.

Another almost minor and obvious detail about the fans that has been brilliant is just the colour. Be it a wall of red for Spain, Switzerland or Denmark, a chunk of orange for the Netherlands, masses of yellow Sweden shirts or a block of white for England v Germany, it doesn’t matter. It’s always a startling sight and it’s often very much a tournament thing.

2. Why do TV editors cut away when fans spot themselves on camera? OK, I think I already know the answer to this one. But let’s treat this as very much a rhetorical question. They cut away to avoid people mouthing obscenities or perhaps making offensive hand gestures. But aside from the fact that there’s no harm in any of that really – and they could cut away as they do it – why bother? Every time someone spots themselves on camera via the big screen in the stadium they’re absolutely thrilled. So don’t cut away! Let them have their few seconds of fun! I personally love it when people see themselves. The waving, the laughter, the jumping up and down or grabbing the badge – surely this is showing fans at their best? Why not enjoy that? Why not savour it? After all, we heard enough foul language from players when crowds weren’t in, but I’m not sure it damaged anyone. I absolutely loved hearing Matt Ritchie ask the linesman, “How have you given that, you wee prick?” when he gave our opposition a thrown in. It made me and many others laugh out loud.

So why can’t we see a father or mother with their kids enjoying the sight of themselves on camera? There’s no harm here. One minute I’m watching people enjoying basking in the limelight, smiles everywhere and then the camera cuts away only to repeat the whole process another four or five times. It’s just weird.

3. Sometimes watching the national anthems is as good as watching the match. And sometimes, it’s actually better.

As a football fan, I want the players representing my team or my nation to be passionate about it and we see that regularly with the anthems. One of my favourite bits of the whole tournament so far has been watching the Italians singing their anthem. Firstly, it’s just a cracking tune. Secondly, they love singing it and they mean every word (I looked it up and some of the words are ‘Brothers of Italy…Italy has awoken’ so that sounds passionate!)

Alongside the Italian anthem I’d put those of France (chooon) and Wales (just seems to be shouting, hey what shouting it is!) as some of my favourites.

I must admit that our own anthem – ‘God Save The Queen’ – struggles to keep up in terms of its immediate appeal. But I still love singing it or more likely just standing up for it. I think our players are awful at it, but I still love it. It makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. I know a lot of people struggle with it because of their opposition to the royal family, but I don’t have a problem with them. If someone gave me several castles to live in, I wouldn’t think twice about it! I just think that, in terms of sport and identity, our anthem isn’t a great fit. But certainly, it provides yet another wonderful experience alongside everything else in tournament football.

4. There are some dreadful hairdos at the tournament. OK, so footballer’s hair has long been known for erring on the side of bad taste. If you know your football, think Chris Waddle’s mullet or Carlos Valderama’s afro as featured below.

However, I’ve noticed one or two that rival even classics such as these. Step forward, Croatian defender Vida, our own Jack Grealish and Phil Foden, Slovakia’s Marek Hamsik and of course, the German manager Joachim Low.

I’m no hairstyle guru – in fact way back when I copied the Chris Waddle mullet when he added the twist of perming only the back of it – but for grown men to be wandering around football stadiums looking like this, well, at the very least it needs to be gently mocked.

5. England beat Germany and I had to fight back the tears. It’s been 55 years since England beat Germany at a tournament. Longer than I’ve been alive. There have been some heartbreaking moments in that time, as well as some embarrassments. We’ve beaten them in friendlies and qualifying games, but not in a game that actually mattered for a long, long time. So it was bound to be emotional.

It wasn’t during the match. When we scored my son jumped into my arms both times, but we just kind of jumped around screaming. There were no tears; not even hints of tears. Bizarrely though, after the match had finished and as the BBC pundits were reacting I found myself immersed in the moment and realising that I might cry.

I didn’t. I fought them back, but boy was it close! Proof once again that football, derided by many as boring, is actually powerful, thrilling, emotional and vital to some people.

So with another week to go I’m hoping for more excitement from the tournament. I feel sure we’ll get lots.

Oh and…COME ON, ENGLAND!

As always, I hope you enjoyed the blog. Feel free to leave a comment.

Tag: Diary