After the shock of my September heart diagnosis we could do nothing but wait for tests. Appointments arrived for initial treatment at Burnley General Hospital, then an appointment for a visit to the Specialist at the end of October.
Whilst I had my minor problem with a dicky ticker, Kathie's brother David was fighting a much worse battle with skin cancer. He had only been diagnosed a few weeks earlier but the prognosis was bleak. Our delayed departure was a blessing in disguise in that it gave Kathie more time to visit David and see him during what would be his final time with us.
The NHS were wonderful with my treatment. My appointments at the Anti-Coagulation clinic were weekly, on-time, and conducted with good humour and I was given as much information as possible. They continued weekly until my appointment with the Heart Specialist right at the end of October.
Here I was told that my treatment would have to continue indefinitely as the cure would likely not work for me. The cure consisted of shocking the heart back into a regular rhythm but if it worked initially, the likelihood would be that it would fall back to arrhythmia and if I had discontinued my use of Warfarin I would be in a worse mess. The conversation continued with regard to our chances of our return to Spain and we were told that there was now no problem as long as I continued with the Warfarin, and kept up communications with the heart clinic via email so that they could monitor my condition and advise on any change in levels of drug use.
The nurses at the clinic had been advising that this would be the likely outcome and that they had patients all over the world who monitored their treatment this way. My friend Martin had already discovered that blood tests were simple to obtain and that Warfarin could actually be bought "over the counter" in our part of Spain.
I felt as though I had been sprung from prison.
If it wasn't for poor old David and the rest of the family we would have left straight away.
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