Very occasionally I
think about dying.
Most recently this
happened on a long day trip to visit a client in Birmingham.
You see, I still get
the odd heart palpitation or pressure in my chest following the cardiac
episode I had last year (see previous posts: heart failure, heart failure 2, living and dying and Professor P).
Although I had all the
tests and my arteries and heart were shown to be squeaky clean, when I get
uncomfortable feelings in my ticker that fluctuate for a few hours, it’s hard
to completely ignore them. The chest tightness sometimes comes on when I
haven’t slept well and I’m tired, and I quite often feel tired when I’m travelling.
Unsurprisingly there
were no such symptoms when I was on a relaxing beach holiday a few weeks ago. But,
since returning to a five-day week, work has been full on, and I’m even more tired
than usual as a result.
I recall the
comforting words of the cardiologist who told me I can safely ignore the weird
feelings emanating from my chest, and I try not to worry about them too much.
The Professor seemed very relaxed about it too when I last saw him.
But once in a while a
tiny gremlin pops up on my shoulder: what if there is something wrong with my heart and one day I simply keel over? I
reason that the cumulative fatigue over the last couple of years may manifest
itself by putting pressure on my heart, perhaps exacerbated by the side effects
of my Parkinson’s drugs.
I check my Will to
make sure it reflects my wishes. There are a few tweaks I could make to it and
I think about documenting where some of my chattels should go, but it is
essentially in order and I trust that Clara, probably the most sensible and decent
person I know, will do the right things with my estate.
I also now carry a business
card on me wherever I go, with details of my medication and Clara’s phone
number on the back.
Am I being
melodramatic?
Perhaps. The strange feelings in my heart don't occur very frequently and most
of the time I successfully disregard them and crack
on with whatever I am doing. I think the probability of me actually dying in
the next few years with a heart problem remains very low.
But as I sit writing
this, I feel as if there is a butterfly gently stretching its wings inside my
ribcage. And, as in chaos theory, a butterfly can, very rarely, end up
triggering a hurricane.
Best to be prepared.
Just in case.
