Chapter 2

Rehab and other stuff

I’ve spoken to a few other cardiac arrest people, none who I have met claim to have seen the mythical tunnel with a light at the end, or St Peter. I deduce that some who claim such may have a deep religious conviction, their beliefs, I’ve no cause to doubt their recall. Logically, if the heart stops (that moment before I died), then the flow of blood to the brain ceases, If the brain stops, then there cannot be a memory.

For the next few weeks, I was shit scared to do anything; rehab soon set me straight on that thought, “You’re not sick get the finger out and exercise” So a rigorous regime of torture was implemented. A brisk walk around the rehab centre for 15minutes, then hand weights for 5 minutes then the step up for another 10, then stretches. Shit, I’ve just had two major heart attacks.

The rehab became easier and to tell the truth, I felt better than I had been for years. I started walking around the lake twice a week and found walking tracks I never knew existed.

SOMS, silly old man syndrome. I became over confident as the years went by, “I can do it”, then one day I found ‘I can do it’ did me. My wife has a small electric mobility scooter, she was down the town shopping when I got a call “The darn battery is flat.” So off I went, sure enough it had run out of charge. The scooter breaks down into several easy to handle pieces. I separated the battery and hauled it down a flight of steps to the car, then a repeat with the seat, SOMS kicked in and I picked up the main body with the motor (40kg) and carried it to the car, wife going crook at me for being a bloody fool. Driving home I felt a tightness in the chest so I headed for ER. Another gabby, only an infarction but still serious. Over the next four years this silly old sod had five more. One time I was sent to Melbourne for a test and another stent was put in. After the operation I had trouble with my vision, I was seeing things that weren’t there, lettering like one sees on packages but when I tried to read them, they changed. One day I lay down for a nap and I was looking through a window onto another house but not one I recognised, I was going bats. Thankfully it settled down but if I look at a face, I don’t see a full picture, I ‘d had a stroke.

I was having trouble with my waterworks, stand and not deliver. The urologist sent me for an MRI, prostate cancer, watch and wait, 60% of men die with PC not from it. So, I watch and I wait.

2018 I noticed a lump in the left side of my neck, the doc ordered a biopsy, Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma. A visit to the oncology department and I was booked in for a course of immunotherapy, six sessions a month apart. I’m now in remission, my mother died of lymphoma, there was no treatment then.

If I was a dog, I’m sure they would name me ‘Lucky.’

Nuff about me, I’m sure you migraine sufferers want here my story about that malady.