They touched my heart ... and this is all I have to show for it!

The doctor looked at me and said, "This looks like the condition of a 75 year old. I want to do another test".
I had experienced my first heart-related condition two days before. It had been 5:30am, I was up enjoying some quite time, when suddenly my chest seized up and my pulse started doing things I didn't know it could... my world started spinning, making it difficult to sit upright, let alone stand.
Not long later I was in Arusha's Lutheran hospital, being attended to by one of the few western doctors in the city. He clocked me at between 60 and 160 rpm (sic), suggested that it was probably atrial fibrillation but that I needed to get myself to Nairobi for a proper check.

"75 year-old?" I'd just completed three tests that afternoon in Karen Hospital's cardio clinic (as well as 24 hr monitoring - see pic) and wanted to go home.


(One sensor fell off during the day, so I just stuck it 'wherever'... result? ... a bowel reading perhaps? No wonder I passed with flying colours!)

My episode had been conveniently timed the day before we were to return our son to boarding school in Nairobi. The hospital is a beautiful new establishment situated in Karen, the suburb named after Karen Blixon from "Out of Africa".
"The ECG and echo look alright," explained Dr Gykonyo "but your stress test suggests some problems. We'll need to do an angiogram."
He paused, "Actually, we have some visiting specialists coming... we can fit you in next week".

We headed back home on the rough 5 hour drive to Arusha, nervous about my condition, wondering how it would affect our work etc... I was surprised, I'd always been told I had a strong heart - no indication of cholesterol or the like, though I do have a family history which suggested weakness in that area.
The tests had been pretty straight forward - I turned to Judi, "What's an angiogram?"
"They stick a tube up through your groin into your heart, pump in some dye to spot blockages by Xray".
If I didn't have heart condition before, I almost carked it there and then!

To cut a long story just a little shorter, we returned the following Tuesday after a nervous few days, and checked in early Wednesday morning, accompanied by a good friend who came up to keep Judi company.

I was put under the care of two Indian cardiologists. I'd been briefed earlier that they were going to attempt the procedure through the wrist, instead of the groin. That sounded good to me after many tales of long recoveries and complications with the latter. The wrist promised a much quicker recovery.

There I lay, needles in both arms, my right wrist the subject of their primary attention (I thought my heart was on the left ... should I tell them?) They applied local anaesthetic(?) and promised I wouldn't feel anything.
The cardiologist asked for a splint to keep my arm in position. The attendant replied, "We don't have one, we always improvise!"
After a couple of improvisory attempts, they gave up and I was asked to keep my wrist steady at a specific angle. (Maybe that's why they don't put you under a general?!)

Though I couldn't see (not that I was trying), I could tell the African surgeon was having trouble trying to thread the catheter into my arm. The Indian doctor took over and after a bit I felt pain half way up my arm. It felt like a wire that was trying to come out ... mmmm.
They consulted for a while then they told me they would have to go via the groin. I groaned ... now I'd have two recovery sites!

"Could you please give it one more more try? I'm staying on the second floor of a guest house and have a long and rough trip back to Tanzania."
He looked at me and asked, "Are you a lefty?" (cricketing term for left-handed).
"Yes I am, actually".
"That's why I'm having trouble - your veins are smaller". (I knew I should have told them to use my left wrist!!!)
He deliberated silently for a few moments. "Let's give it one more try".
One more incision further up the arm ... "You're very lucky, it's working!"
"I wouldn't call it luck doctor .. I have just been praying and there's lots of people doing the same thing..."
"Ah, prayer is it?" he grinned.

I have no idea when my heart was penetrated or when the dye was pumped in - no feeling. A small Xray 'head', with what looked like a shower cap on it, was shifting around in quick, deliberate movements just above my chest, filming my veins and fast-beating heart from different angles.
He pulled the catheter out and reinserted it. My innards were displayed on a couple of screens - I simply could not get my head around the fact that that was me up there!
After what seemed like a very short time - I'd say less than five minutes, he looked down at me and said, "You're ok ... you are one of the few very lucky people!"
I said, "I wouldn't call it..."
"Ah yes ... prayer!"

David, after his procedure. A celebrity in the heart clinic.... posing for pictures with the surgeons.