Heart Surgery, PTSD, and a Beautiful Nurse: How I Lost My Mind (and My Gown)
A true tale of panic, perspective, and flirting with the angel of the NHS while trying not to die (or flash too many people).
Dear Younger Tom,
The day came faster than you wanted it to and the panic in your throat was getting worse with each passing second.
No amount of deep breathing or mindfulness seemed to quell the fear that kept bubbling up in your stomach.
You were getting thirsty and light headed but you were forbidden to eat or drink anything until afterwards.
The cruelty of not knowing when afterwards would be was adding to your anxiety.
Your requests for information were being met with blank, sometimes hostile expressions.
It felt like you were being held hostage in another country, only you weren’t.
You were in hospital awaiting your much needed heart surgery and the clock was ticking closer to the operating table.
Would today be your judgement day?
Months before, the doctors had told you that your defibrillator was running out of battery power and would need to be changed for a new one.
The surgery itself would be considered routine for the medical team and you were advised that you would be awake during the procedure.
Whilst this would be uncomfortable, it did not bother you, like it seemed to bother others when you explained the procedure.
No it wasn’t that which was giving you severe anxiety, it was what the doctor said afterwards that sent you reeling.
“We are likely to have to test the device once it’s fitted to make sure it works and we will do that before we sew you up” the surgeon said nonchalantly.
You struggled to comprehend what he had just said. Your mind was flooded with the scenes from your last collapse, when your device had shocked you over 25 times in a 45 minute period because it was calibrated incorrectly.
No, this couldn’t be happening.
You had only just felt like you had got a handle on your PTSD and now with one sentence from an unknown doctor, it had all come flooding back.
That was the day that you felt the fear again. Fear that would continue to grow. Fear that you had to conquer in order to live your live without PTSD.
As you sat in the waiting room waiting to be called to the day ward, you reflected back on some recent self-development work you had been studying.
The concept was about reframing situations and memories, so that you could always see the silver linings and turn negative situations into positive ones.
This would allow you to gain a sense of control in an uncertain situation by enabling you to realize that the situations themselves are not inherently positive or negative but rather it is your reaction to them that makes them so.
So you started to study the expressions of the passing doctors and nurses who were rushing to and from their posts.
Then the penny dropped.
They weren’t being intentionally hostile towards you, they were trying to manage their overwhelm at dealing with an overburdened health system.
It was about them not you.
Too many patients, not enough medical staff and certainly not enough hours in the day, despite the fact that their shifts always seemed to never end.
They weren’t being hostile, they were tired and harassed.
You wondered if anybody ever thanked them for their work. Probably not. You make a mental note to thank everyone who looks after you today.
Then something very subtle began to happen. As each member of staff passed you, they seemed to smile more as they raced around the building.
Had they changed or was it my perception of them that had changed their expressions to me.
Curious, isn’t it?
The door opened and the most beautiful nurse walked out and I swear she winked at you as she passed by.
Your heart seemed to miss a beat but in a good way.
Perhaps today would shape up better than you thought.
Minutes turned into hours as you lay on the bed waiting for surgery. Your stomach grumbled as you dreamt of a slice of cake and a cup of tea after the operation.
In your delirium you started to think back to that pretty nurse who winked at you.
The memory made you smile. It had been a while since a gorgeous women had even remotely appeared to acknowledge your existence. You lay back grinning like a the cat that got the cream.
“Well that’s a grin that looks like trouble” said a voice drifting across the bed.
You opened your eyes and saw her standing at your feet.
Your heart skipped a beat again.
There she was, in all her beauty, gazing down at you, with her own beautiful smile beaming softly back at you.
The nurse and my goodness was she beautiful. As she smiled at you, time seemed to stand still. Your obsession about that slice of cake, gone in an instant.
A distant memory.
She glided across to the side of your bed and sat down next to you, your heart doing cartwheels.
“Is it okay if I ask you a few questions before the operation?”
“Of course” you replied, your voice seeming to catch in your throat. As I said it had been a while since you had chatted to such a beautiful women and your brain and tongue had apparently forgotten how to operate.
She giggled.
You fell in love.
As she explained the procedure and described who would be in the room, you started to feel apprehensive about the pending operation. It was all getting a bit too real and a shadow fell across your face.
The angel of light placed a reassuring hand on your arm as she saw the shadow and your heart skipped a beat again, then resettled into it’s normal rhythm.
This is what you needed in your life, a sweet angel who could calm your troubled waters with a simple touch.
You wondered.
She smiled and you fell in love for the fifteenth time in five minutes.
When she left to go about her pre-op duties, the hole in your heart felt like a gaping chasm.
Oh how the arrow of love stings when two lovers leave each others embrace.
You weren’t sure if your broken heart would recover.
Like I said it had been a while for you but I’m sure you’ll get over it.
It is an unsettling feeling being wheeled into surgery.
You lie on the bed, catching the eyes of strangers, who seem to nod at you as if to say, good luck we will see you on the other side.
It leaves you wondering how many of those strangers never see the person on the return journey.
The lump in your throat grows and the tension in your stomach tightens up a notch.
Then before you know it the bustling wards have been replaced with eerily long corridors with nobody in sight.
It is spookily quiet but also offers temporary respite from the upcoming surgery.
You approach the doors to the theatre and with a quick swipe of the key card, the doors to hell open and your wheeled in to meet the devil.
But the devil wasn’t waiting for you.
The angel was and she was sucking on a straw, drinking in the glorious contents of a frozen latte from Costa.
Your eyes met and you fell in love… again.
You thought to yourself how lucky that straw was.
She winked at you, knowing how much you wanted a frozen Costa coffee and you told her she was a tease.
“I am aren’t I?” she purred.
As you transitioned from the trolley to the surgical table, your surgical robe came loose.
I swear the devil designed these bloody useless garments because when you try and tie them up at the back it is almost impossible to keep your dignity from anyone lucky enough to be standing behind you.
As a result, the whole theatre caught a glimpse of your lily-white bottom as you stood up.
You blushed.
The nurse giggled and you really hoped it was her turn to fall in love.
Then the drugs came and your magical journey through the universe came and went in a blur.
High on god knows what, you asked for the nurse’s name, claiming with a confidence that must have come from the medicine, that because she had seen your bottom she should tell me her name and would she like to go for a drink someday.
She giggled and said you were funny.
You smiled, agreed and then passed out.
When you came to the nurse was nowhere to be seen and the ache from Cupid’s arrow was intense. Turns out it was actually the scar from the heart operation rather than blind love that was causing the pain but either way it was intense.
You cast your mind back to the wracking nerves that were jangling your body ahead of the procedure. Your body had frozen in terror at the thought of the pending shocks and the resulting PTSD that would surely follow.
Only none of it came to pass.
You see, a lot of our anxiety about the future, never occurs, but in our mind it never stops being present and it keeps us trapped in an unnecessary prison. A prison we don’t have to stay trapped in if we choose not to be.
When you look back at the days you spent nervously anticipating the pain, you come to realize those were days wasted, that you can never get back.
Once spent, always gone.
So no more, go live your life with reckless abandon.
Go for that adventure.
Ask the pretty nurse for her number… just maybe not when your high on drugs and your flashing your bum to one and all… because you get more numbers than you wish for.
Have fun and enjoy living.
Lots of love
Older Tom
x
I thought that was going to be a “Reader, I married her…” moment! Amazing how our minds can reframe situations so powerfully when we work on them. Thank you for sharing - I’m so glad it went well in the end even if you didn’t end up with the girl 😊🙏
This was so emotional. sigh. and also fun to read and hopeful. thanks for sharing your story and to the angel that set your mind at ease, even though short-lived, thanks to her.
Hope you’re doing well.