What's Changed?

I was apprehensive about the journey back to Thailand and Thamuang village.  Just over a year ago, when I was taken ill and hospitalised, I had already checked in with KLM 'on-line' for my post Christmas flight to Thailand.  What followed then was a series of events amounting to a long story over a short period of time.  For the three weeks I was supposed to be in Thailand with Khamma, I spent my time in three different Manchester hospitals.  Instead of me going to Thailand, Khamma came to England for five months to nurse me back to health.  I will always be indebted to her loving care and attention.  Despite the circumstances, or because of them, we grew closer than ever. 
I worked hard, encouraged by Khamma, and regained weight, some kind of fitness and desire to do all the rights - just as before.  No change there then!
Last week was like a re-enactment of the events from twelve months ago.  Flash backs to events involving ambulances, hospital wards and worst of all; operations.  I was repeating pre-flight preparations; packing, check in, going through the 'to do' list.  A repeat of the same actions hoping for a different result. 
I didn't sleep at all on the ten hour flight from Amsterdam and arrived in Ubon Ratchathani exhausted exactly seventeen hours from leaving Manchester.  No dramas, no suspicious pains or missed heart beats.  What exactly should I be worried about?
The first changes?  Khamma was there to greet me with a smile as wide as the Asian continent.  It's great to be with her again.  For the first time she arrives at the airport in her new car.  She learnt to drive last year and passed he test first time.  We then bought a car, which will make a huge difference to our time together.
The second change?
During October last year, the passenger hall at Ubon airport was gutted by fire.  Passengers are diverted into a temporary facility.  In Thai terms, this counts as a recent fire, and a new passenger hall will eventually be built.
Other changes? Apart from the new car (a Honda City), Khamma project managed a car port, a re-furbished Thai kitchen and the installation of air-con in the bed room.
All these changes upgraded Owerhouse from five star to fire star deluxe!
I had arrived, needed a rest but ready for a break - at last.



 

Twelve months on

It's now a little over  twelve months since my heart by-pass operation.  Slowly I am looking towards the future rather than looking backwards to the past.  It's no use saying 'and what might have been', because what might have been, in this case, was an abrupt end.  An end like an unfinished symphony.  An end of without warning.  An end too soon.
It's a long story, but it only lasted a short time.  One minute there is no problem and I am enjoying the pleasurable things in the little world I have made for myself.  Then literally in the next minute everything is turned upside and shaken up in a maelstrom of uncertainty leaving me with a clichéd notion of a life changing experience, an experience that is not welcome.
Might sound dramatic, but from running a five kilometre road race to ending up in A&E and not allowed to move for 48 hours, then being told I have a 90% blockage in one artery and significant blockages in two others, which cannot be treated through medication, cannot be dealt with by stents and only by-pass surgery will give me any chance of avoiding a serious heart attack.  Gulp.  Well how dramatic does it have to be?
I was totally (totally) unprepared for this.  I had no idea there was a problem until I experienced an unusual heart rhythm.
In the end I had five arteries by-passed.  I have heard of three and four, but five!  Why me?  My doctors say I was lucky.  I don't feel all that re-assured, but I should be.
The plumbing around my heart is presumably healed satisfactorily.  I have not had any internal pain or scary moments when 'things don't feel right'.  The healing of my chest wounds has taken some time and I still get the occasional twinge from unhealed nerve endings. 
The real problem is inside my head.
Doctors can check the plumbing, people can associate with the pain of opening up the chest and sticking it back together with a staple gun, but only the individual can feel the psychological pain.  The nagging doubt, the need for re-assurance, the craving for an injection of confidence to make the monkey climb down from my back.
Physically I am jogging, cycling and enjoying exercise about four times a week, but I am in a constant battle with my mind.  My internal control centre is monitoring every heart beat, checking for unusual pain, observing heart rate, training zones and fitness.  All the time wondering if, when and where I will have another 'silent heart attack'.
My emotions are very close to surface.  For reasons I cannot explain I become overwhelmed when I talk about the operation.  I cannot let go of the trauma, because trauma it is.  I don't think it is like the post traumatic stress disorder of fighting in a war, but it is post traumatic stress and it is silent, hidden and lies in wait to catch me off guard.  It needs to come out so I can move on with a greater confidence and assurance.  It needs to come out so I don't have emotional moments when talking with people who have genuine concern.  It needs to come out so I can forgive the handful of friends who have not found their own strength to offer support when I need it most.
I have touched the cornerstone of my life and realised it could have been over much too soon. 
I need to move on.
I am in Thailand for the first time in sixteen months.  Life in Asia and Thamuang goes on.  My Life Goes On - same same!