Spinning out of time

That may seem a weirder and less relevant heading than most of mine. It reflects the state of my mind and my head, rather than any fibre activity.

I have reflected a bit about writing this as a blog entry, I don't tend to do a huge amount of "personal". More than some, less than others. But by the efforts of various people, mostly me, it is all out there anyway. And as I do blog for the way greater part for myself, well, I want to.

Some of you who might drift by know this already anyway. Whatever.

I call Pete, my husband, the DSM. Which comes from Sara Lamb once calling him a "dear, sweet man" which seemed to me to be so apposite that I clung on to it ever since. I don't really do DH, and try to keep a modicum of discretion around these parts.

Yesterday morning, the DSM woke me up unexpectedly early. He didn't feel well. He was afraid he was having a heart attack. Yeah, right. But after only a few minutes, I could see that there was something wrong, and while I still didn't believe it was that, felt my only option was to call the paramedics.

I think it was when they told him that they were putting a line into his arm that I sort of mentally whimpered "oh, shit", and next thing they were telling him that he had indeed had a heart attack.

I seemed to have got dressed at some point, and next thing, I was in the front of an ambulance with siren wailing, and surging through the unbelievably heavy morning traffic like an icebreaker through ice. That was terrifying. I still didn't feel panicstruck about Pete, I was so convinced that when we got to the hospital we would be told that the paramedics had made a mistake.

After half an hour in a cupboard set aside for relatives, a staff nurse came and told me that he had had a heart attack.

He couldn't - can't believe it either.

Well, obviously, we both can now, it is pretty much sinking in. The bleeping monitors with attendant attachments, the strange environment, all the people telling us......

Throughout it all, he has had very little even discomfort, just his left arm feeling weird. No grinding, clamping whatevers. He remained conscious and coherent throughout. (I very nearly choked when the Emergency Services person asked me first, was he conscious, and when I answered in the affirmative next asked me if he was breathing....) It is just so fortunate that he had the sense to take it seriously - half an hour later, he would have been driving to work.

He's doing ok. There remain tests to be done, and depending on the results of those, maybe procedures of a greater or lesser seriousness. We hope not, but what is needed will be done. We are shored up by the messages from friends far and near, many of whom are telling us of their nearest and dearest who have been through exactly the same, and we never suspected.

So, it happens to many, and we have been so lucky. But then, it is never going to happen to you........

So, I sit by his bed and I am knitting a sock. There won't be much more fibre work done for a while.