This piece of knitting saved my sanity this week. I’m sure of this. Let me explain.
Earlier this year I made an appointment with my GP to get a repeat prescription ( none of that automatic stuff here in France). She is thorough. Took a long time with her stethoscope and asked if I felt palpitations. I hadn’t, at least not before that appointment. But from then on I thought I did.
Appointments with a cardiologist followed. ECGs, Holter monitor and stress test on exercise bike. This was a man with very poor patient skills. “Tres mal.” “Tres mauvais.” He repeated. We sat in stunned silence. You need to go into hospital for further tests. After the initial shock, I went back to my GP, who explained that I should not worry and carry on life as normal. She still seemed very pleased that she found the extra beat in my heart said she was determined to get to the root of the problem.
What has knitting to do with this you ask. This was the week that was. Three days and two nights in a French heart hospital. In a department specialising in the electric function of the heart no less. I should be grateful, but this is tricky for someone who used to report on hospitals on a past life… I took a magazine (read twice), a book in French (challenging) and some knitting. I really don’t know how I would have survived without it to pass the time and focus my thoughts on something other than my room with no view. A private room has it’s advantages, but there were such long spells of nothingness, it seemed a bit like being in prison.
I won’t bore you with all the story, but never has someone been so glad to be detached to the oodles of electrodes stuck to me for 48 hours. Freedom and home – bliss! A shower – sheer luxury!
The outcome of the visit means I now have to take betablockers. And every time I pick up my knitting I still feel soothed by it. Mind you this sweater will always remind me of my inprisonment!