October 2013, it is now 17 years since Rob had this life saving operation. He can and does do everything that he wants to do without any restrictions; he is a very lucky man. We recently went to Vanuatu for 2 weeks where Rob enjoyed snorkelling in the lagoon taking more of his wonderful underwater photos, averaging up to 5 hours a day in the water. At home we walk the local coastal hills every morning for at least an hour and very often he will repeat this walk again later in the day. Rob looks on his heart problem as a plumbing problem. His heart is good as he has only had mild heart attacks but his arteries get blocked with cholesterol. Over the years since this triple bypass operation Rob has had to have 7 stents inserted. He knows when he has a problem, in his words “his plumbing is getting blocked”, so he get it fixed (a stent) then within a few days his system is back to normal and he can get on with life. Some of the Symptoms Rob feels when he has a problem: * Pins & needles in fingers. * Pains in jaw (hinge points). * Left arm (only) gets stiff, aches in shoulder. * A tendency to burp under light stress – heavy breathing. * Chest feels ‘tight’ especially left hand side. * Heart seems to miss a beat under stress.

The Marshall family history of heart disease: Rob’s Dad died from a heart attack at 49. His mother had a cholesterol count of 13, she lived into her 80’s. There were 4 children, Rob, Graham, Ian and Lynette. Ian had a heart attack at 38 and Lynette at 32, but his Dad, Ian & Lynette had all smoked. Rob and Graham had never smoked. In 1992 age 46 Graham discovered he had bad arteries and was admitted into hospital to await a bypass operation. After 2 postponements he decided to go home for the weekend to spend time with his young family. He died that afternoon before the ambulance could get to him; he never made it to Sydney hospitals operating theatre. Rob and Graham shared the same birthday, Graham arriving 4 years after Rob. It was 4 years to the day that Graham passed that Rob was having his lifesaving operatio.

 This is Robs story… The Wakefield Hospital Experience Wakefield Hospital, Wellington, New Zealand August 1996 Ten days after the first incision was made in my chest on 7/8/96 this operation has been an outstanding success. None of the predicted possibilities of down days, nightmares nor bouts of depression have occurred to me. Healing has been fast and problem free. It may be that we, i.e. the hospital staff, my family, my friends and I have done everything right. Maybe I'm just lucky, but I don't believe in blind luck. The following is a day by day diary record of my thoughts and feelings. If we have done something right maybe others can benefit from my experience. *Since the operation I have been reminded Graham my brother, suffered a fatal heart attack on the 7 August 1992. My bypass operation was on the same day of the same month 7 August 1996.

Rob - my first symptom July 1996: It was four weeks after we returned from a ten day holiday in Vanuatu where we had lived on fruit and fish and I had averaged at least four hours each day diving. My son in law wanted to go for a mountain bike ride and we headed off around the Wainui coast and into Palliser Bay. Mark is not a fanatic speedster on a bike but on the rough stuff I found I was having trouble keeping up. I became puffed and found catching my breath was causing me some distress. Also we do quite a lot of ballroom dancing and had weekly lessons, but recently I discovered that after several whirls around the floor in the quickstep I would be breathing heavily and wanting to sit down. With the family history I am a bit paranoid, so I saw John, the local GP. "I can get you in for a stress test at the Wakefield hospital within a few days. It'll cost a few hundred dollars but this test will show you if there is a problem." I've been to these stress tests before. You get told to take along some runners and shorts. They shave patches of hair from your chest, sand paper the bald spots and stick on about eight electrode pads with wires going into a monitor. They hooked me up and the adjacent screen showed mysterious zigzag lines and a digital counter indicated the heart beats. Next to this is a conveyor belt and it began to chug around. The specialist heart Doctor Sue O'Mally, had described the whole exercise to me and holding the wiring clear of the mat ordered me to step onto it. I stepped on and found myself walking at a gentle pace. After about 3 minutes the belt elevation increased and so did the speed of the revolving belt. This speed and elevation increase occurred at about 3 minute intervals until at the final stage the belt incline was quite steep and I had to jog to stay on board. "You're doing really well; you're going to make it to the end of the test." "I don't think so" I gasped. I watched the digital pulse meter as it climbed dramatically. "You're pulse rate is at maximum now" she agreed and the belt drifted to a stop as I dripped perspiration onto the floor and gasped for breath. They peered at the screen. "There is just a little abnormality in this" she said. "Nothing much to worry about, I don't think." I had a shower and headed off home quite pleased with myself, I'd survived another test, all my efforts at keeping cholesterol down and eating up my fruit and veges was still working.

​

At the end of the week Lynne paid for the test and in the afternoon a letter arrived. It was from Doctor Sue "I'd like to consult with you again." PANIC! I couldn't get an appointment for a week, so cancelled it and went to see my own GP, now, immediately. John had the report and read through it. "You should not get your pulse rate up too high and I suggest you go back and see her." I hate waiting and sitting around in airports. And Hospitals, they are the pits, even ten times worse than airports and they're full of sick people. Ugh! "Maybe later" I said "she did say I was OK when I did the test." Ian my brother, found out what I'd done and rang up to give me a rev up. "Get down there and demand an angiogram and that will tell you exactly how you are. Why do you pay your health insurance if you don't take expert advice?" Sue O'Mally called me at home and with bad grace I agreed to have an angiogram. I was most unhappy, she'd said I was OK and after studying the tapes wanted me to do more tests, I did not want to have heart problems! and it would not fit in with my future plans. I had a job arranged to do on Sakhalin Island in Russia and had bookings to fly out on the 20th of September.

​

At 2:00 p.m. on Thursday 1/8/96 just three days since talking to Sue, I arrived for the angiogram. Thank goodness we have the Southern Cross insurance, there is enough stress and worry about your health without wondering where all the money for the tests will come from and they're not cheap those tests. They took me to my room; it was very nice like a hotel with a little balcony over looked the gardens and an ensuite. I decided to use it, it was dark in there and I groped about for the light switch. I pressed the red light. (In Russia the hotels have little red lights on the light switches). Once I'd pressed it I realised it was not the light but the emergency call button. I poked and pulled at it and by the time I'd figured out how to switch it off the buzzer had gone off about three times and into the room ran three nurses. (I later learned three rings is the super emergency call!) "Just testing " I said. As they went out the door I over heard one say "We're going to have trouble with this one." A male nurse introduced as Johno came in and presented me with a gown, cap and a blue pair of sex less looking bikini pants. "Put the gown on back to front, it ties at the back." He held up the bikinis "These are optional." I've stayed in hospital before and if I've learned one thing it is don't worry about being too modest. "They will be putting a needle into your groin and feeding in dye and will X-ray it as it goes around your heart arteries." He advised. "So they will take these sexy bikinis off as soon as I get in there anyhow? He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "Yep!" I put on the gown, took the bikini and left it neatly folded on end of the bed. A nurse came in with a pill, Ian had told me about these 'funny pills' and soon I felt as if I'd drunk half a bottle of wine. Who said four walls do not a prison make? The accommodation was very nice but I would have much rather been some where, in fact, anywhere else. I sort of stalked and staggered, about the room like a half cut caged lion. Then Johno came back again, "I've got to shave you around where the needle will be inserted." He held up a monstrous shaver and proceeded to carve a swath through my pubic hairs and in a flash a great hand full of the black and curly ones dropped onto the floor. I looked at the job. The area was now half bald and smooth as a babies, but where was the artistry, a real hair dresser would have evened it out, trimmed the other side to match or something. I thought about the earlier stress test when they had shaved my chest to stick on the pads, it ended up like a threadbare patchwork quilt with clumps of hair sticking up here, there and all over the place. When I got home I had trimmed back the tufts which made it look tidy and any how I believe it is now fashionable to have the bare naked smooth chested look, that made me feel better. Feeling a bit drunk I was wheeled into the theatre and rolled onto the central table, the centre of attention and surrounded by TV screens. A crowd of operators decked themselves in bullet proof vests to avoid the X-rays and the thought passed through my mind that I was quite vulnerable lying near as damn naked under this dangerous machine. But the thought passed as quickly as it arrived. "A small prick" said Dr Sue. 'Cheeky damn woman' I thought, but when I felt the sting of a needle in my groin I realised maybe she was not making personal remarks. "You will feel a warmth going through your body" she said, and a pleasant warm flush ran around my whole body. The TV screens showed little stick like veins jiggling about on the screen, meaningless to me but quite interesting nonetheless. They wheeled me back to my room at about 4:30 p.m. and within an hour Dr Sue and a surgeon introduced as John Reardon arrived to show me some photos taken off TV and gave me the news I really did not want to hear. "You need a triple bypass." "Shit! Damn! I don't want that news. Look if I have this done I'm booked to go to Russia on the 20th of September. Can I do it?" The surgeon looked me in the eye and said "That shouldn't be a problem you look pretty fit and should be OK by then." I couldn't believe it "When can you do it?" I asked. "Come in next Tuesday and we'll do it on Wednesday." I thought about my brother Graham and asked "Tuesday? You won't postpone it?" "We won't postpone it, see you on Tuesday. Now you must lie here for another three hours" My nurse, Debbie, came in and advised "You must lie still on the bed and must not move until 8:00pm." But I wanted to move. I was bursting and wanted to use the toilet. "Can't I just pop into the loo?" I pleaded. "Yes. At 8:00 PM! Use a bottle." She bought me a plastic bottle to pee into. It's bloody degrading, I could walk for the couple of feet for goodness sake. My digital watch slowly ticked onto 8:00pm and I rang the call button. Debbie arrived immediately and I was permitted to use the toilet. "Can I go home now?" "You are booked to stay the night with us. Don't you like our accommodation?" "Your accommodation is very nice, but I don't want to stay the night, I want to go home to my own bed and think about this thing." She agreed and made sure that I knew that if the hole bled at all I should immediately PANIC. As I left she wagged her finger and said "I knew that we were going to have trouble with you." The impact of learning you will need to have your chest chopped opened to allow someone to play about with your heart is not nice. A heart is really a very personal part of your body, in fact I'd say it is the most personal part of all and it seems to me to be slightly obscene to have some one fiddling about with it. But this is now a very common operation and very successful. At heart I'm a real wimp, I don't even like the thought of someone sticking a needle into me. At the dentist I refuse the anaesthetic injection because it hurts. So over the next couple of days the negative thoughts tumbled through my mind and several times I awoke at night in a cold sweat. Time passed and after a couple of days I came to my senses. For goodness sake I've been aware of the family history, I've done all the right things and tried to eat all the right foods and now we have discovered this problem before a heart attack could occur. We are covered by health insurance, so have no worries there. Think about it, thirty percent of people only have one heart attack, their first and last. I'm fit and healthy, I heal quickly, I don't have to wait for weeks or months as the stress builds up and the body deteriorates because you become afraid to do any thing in case it causes an attack. The power of positive thinking. I was now on track. Let’s get this show on the road! I'm prepared for the sweat and pain to get better. Then a little doubt came to me, someone told me I would not be able to SCUBA dive after a bypass operation. My God I'd just pine away and die if I couldn't go diving. They may as well just shoot me now! My mind returned to our recent trip to Vanuatu where the dive master Brett, told me about an old guy from the USA. "You two must be brothers" he'd said "he's just like you, keen and enthusiastic, he's 66 years old and he dives like a twenty year old and the old bugger has had a triple by pass." Why had Brett given me this guys FAX and phone number? I thought about it and decided this was fate. I wrote out a FAX asking him if I had my facts right. I dialled the FAX number in the USA and waited for the squeak, it didn't come, some one answered the phone, it was the man himself, Mr Maurice D Coutts. I introduced myself and told him about my meeting with Brett and my fear of not being able to dive. "Who told you that?" he asked "That is just one great load of bullshit. I've had a triple and regularly dive to 200 feet." For the uninitiated 200 feet is a very deep dive! "That's a big dive" I said. "Don't smoke, not too much drink, eat good food and exercise. I do and I can out swim most thirty year olds!" Fate? Am I just cheeky? I have no idea what the time was in the States when I called but boy that phone call made me feel good. "Thanks Maurice! You're a little beauty mate." I awoke in the night and planned a goal program ending in my trip to Russia at the end of September. I also decided to write down the experience of this thing, who knows it may assist some one else in the future. I'm feeling very positive but must admit, am not looking forward to experience. Family and friends: how would you manage without them? The support, the calls and the encouragement from every one over the few days between finding the problem and getting to hospital has been overwhelming and I could not even start to list the people who have given me encouragement. I'm not a religious person but many people have told me they have offered their prayers for me and it is a surprise to me how much of a soothing effect this simple act has been to me. My son in law Mark (a catholic) told me he'd had a word with the Big Fellow up there for me. "I hope you didn't make me out to be too great, he may decide he wants me up there." "No chance of that mate" he said "you can't bullshit him!"

​

5 August 1996 Tomorrow is the big day, this evening I went with Lynne to the dance lessons classes, there were about 30 of the friendly crowd on the floor doing their thing. I walked in the door and everyone seemed to notice me enter. Someone gave a little clap and one by one, young and old they came by to give me a word of encouragement and when I left I felt a great wave of emotion. This whole business would have to be an out standing success, how could I let these good friends down? I awoke in the night and took stock of my advantages and strengths:- I had discovered this problem before it had blocked off completely and killed a part of my heart, so my heart is still very strong. I'm very healthy, fit and I heal well. Remembering my brother Graham, who had had the same problem diagnosed in Sydney 4 years ago and because the hospital postponed his operation for a week he had died while waiting I would indeed be stupid not to get this job done as urgently as possible. I have very good breath control. I was New Zealand Spearfishing champion - twice and can still out free dive most of the youngsters of any age who are around these days so post op breathing exercises should be easier for me than many. I have goals set to achieve results, including attending Cushla’s dance in three Saturdays time. The ultimate success - to go to Russia at the end of September. I also have a secret weapon that has worked for me every time in any illness in the past, a five foot diameter four foot deep wooden hot tub. I've often wondered why the medical profession has not recognised the value and effectiveness of immersing a damaged or injured body into the warm weightlessness of water.

​

6 August 1996 Wakefield Hospital. 2:00 pm: We arrived at the hospital and the action started immediately. I was first escorted into my designated room then marched down to get a chest X-ray. This was followed by a constant procession of doctors, nurses, physio and anaesthetic personnel advising me of what would happen in the operation, taking blood samples, checking for allergies and explaining the anaesthetic. There was so much information that I can't remember it all and they tell me I'll forget most of it anyway as the drugs and anaesthetic will take out short term memory and jumble the rest like shuffling up the pages in a book. Everyone knows what their job description is and they have made it very clear to me that they are very competent at it. The registrar pointed out that there is always a risk involved in any operation and I flushed into an instant cold sweat. I knew this already but although I suppose I should be warned, it did not fit any where into my goals, it was something I definitely did not want to hear about and I took an immediate dislike to the poor fellow who should be so impertinent to even think such a negative thought. Dying is not on my job description! I am interested in the positive aspects only! A nice meal arrived and the anaesthetist advised I eat up a hearty meal tonight, I'll be on the table tomorrow afternoon and can only have a piece of toast early in the morning. The barber arrived after tea, I lay out naked on the bed and he ‘protected?’ my modesty with a towel as he wielded his electric shaver and shaved my chest, legs and pubic hairs. This was quite relaxing and the removal of all body hair has left my skin with a smooth and tingly, but not unpleasant feeling. This is not the time, nor the place to be thinking of things feeling sensuous, but it does take the mind off other things! It is a long time indeed since I have been this naked. I was issued with a phial of antiseptic 'pre operative body wash' and instructed to go into the shower and wash off the loose hairs and then rub it in carefully every where, but watch out for the eyes. Yellow, like iodine, the stuff splattered all over the place. I rubbed it in very carefully, rinsed it off and then did it all over again and again. The stuff kept coming and coming from the little phial that seemed to be bottomless. I've been told regular coughing, deep breathing and attempting to eat well are all important to aid recovery. Also on the first few days after this operation the patient is always very tired and visitors should be discouraged. Wives and families are OK as they are prepared to keep a lonely vigil while the patient sleeps and can offer quiet security and support if he awakes. Several visitors arrived tonight and the phone has been busy with well wishers. There are conflicting opinions about whether or not the early recovery I would like is possible. Some tell me it is possible while other say I may be too ambitious, time will tell, goals should be achievable, but can be changed if the circumstances dictate.

​

7 August 1996 The Knife. The day has arrived. A sleeping pill I took at 10:00 pm last night sent me into a nice restful sleep. I always sleep naked and as this is a private room it is nice to be comfortable and continue with the practice. Lying on the bed the sheets feel smooth and sensuous against the shaved skin and I quickly dropped into a very restful sleep. Several times in the night as I moved the plastic wrist I.D bracelets grazed against my chest and nipples, sharp as little blunt razor blades they hooked on and I awoke with a start. The feel of the smooth skin and prickliness of my legs immediately reminded me of where I was and of the ordeal ahead, but each time my thoughts and fears were positive and my mind did not dwell on them and I quickly fell back into a deep and soothing sleep. I awoke at about 5:30am and soon after Lynne arrived to hold my hand. It is very encouraging to have someone you love just be there. My night nurse, Reagan arrived at the door. "Are you ready for some breakfast?" she asked. Without asking to see the menu I ordered bacon and eggs. "Yes Sir" she answered and within a few minutes was back with two beautifully cooked pieces of toast and a cup of tea, yum yummy. But her smile was worth two plates of bacon and eggs. Sandy and Mark arrived soon after and we had a great family party before Mark decided he would have to go off to work. Polly the physiotherapist arrived with her box of tricks advising me of the adventures ahead we would be sharing; I will need to learn to breathe from lungs and a chest that will just not be all that interested in doing the job they do so well now. They will prefer to take easy shallow little breaths that cause no pain. That sounds sensible to me! She handed me a little gadget to suck to give an indication of the before and after effect to show me where I would need to get back to. I easily sucked the three little plastic balls to the top of their case and without too much effort held them up there for some time. I want to go diving as soon as possible and I feel I will have a greater incentive than most to get the breathing going properly again! 11:00am Mary One, my very helpful nurse from yesterday arrived at the door "Shower time" "Yes Mam!" I clambered back into the shower and soaped up very carefully with the second phial of yellow iodine based soap. I sure don't want an infection and rubbed it in everywhere and took care not to wash it off too thoroughly, I figured the anti bacterial or whatever it is should have a very thin coating over the skin. As I scrubbed in the soap those bloody plastic wrist bracelets jabbed into my exposed delicate skin and erect nipples and after a few jabs I figured it was because I'm left handed and mostly scrubbed with my left hand, which is the hand fitted with those viscous bracelets. Any normal, sensible right handed person would use their unencumbered right hand. So now I await the premedication, relaxing pills, a jab in the bum and will awake this evening in the intensive care hooked up to my own private TV show, ‘This is your life Robbo bleep bleep whistle honk’. Mary One just popped in to advise they haven't finished the other op yet, I hope the guy is OK he was in some distress last night and they took him down to the intensive care area to keep an eye on him. To my family:- It's time to go, I'll be seeing you all soon and love you all so much and I am very proud of you all.

​

Post Operation Comments: I wrote the above while waiting in my room. I never watched the TV and Nurses peeping in often chastised me for working, but when I explained this was just my way of preventing stress they were more interested and some even asked if they could have a read of it when I'd finished, because it could help give them some insight into what goes on in a patients mind. I agreed that would be OK and Lynne took the disc home and printed it out and it was with me in the Intensive Care when I came around the next morning.

​

8 August 1996 DAYS 1 & 2 Intensive care, I was alive, awake and I felt very alert. The pain really wasn't as bad as I'd expected. Wires were draped every where, but that had all been explained to me and I soon learned that if I breathed too shallow a bleeping occurred and I was instructed to breathe more deeply onto the oxygen mask. I'm filling these pages from my diary entries made in the intensive care unit (ICU). What they told me is true, the memory of the stay in this area fades very quickly from your memory and as I'm typing this up on day three, I am recalling the important reactions that are already fading from my mind. I had been warned about the activities in this area, bleeps, whistles and so forth. "Don't worry about them they are just keeping us constantly aware of your condition." I had also set up my own agenda for this operation and one part of it included taking in a tape deck radio and listening on ear phones to a favourite speaking tape I have. The story is 'Wilt' written by Tom Sharpe and read by Dennis Waterman. A very rude and crude story about a little man beating the establishment, I know this story by heart, Wilt continues to win every time and the whole thing just appeals to my warped sense of humour. The plan was great, until we turned up at ICU, where Lynne, obediently clutching my twin tape radio discovered there were no power points available for such equipment. She raced off and arranged for a small battery powered machine to use instead. This was OK and I used it a few times before the tape jammed. In desperation I borrowed the ICU telephone and called home to Lynne to report this dire emergency. She arrived soon after with my youngest daughter Janice and my old faithful machine with batteries installed. I calmed down as life returned to my complete control and I settled in happily to continue my recovery. (Janice told me later that I ‘went ballistic’ because of this un programmed deviation to my program and it was the ICU staff who had originally suggested to Lynne that my ghetto blaster was a bit large and couldn't she find something a little smaller?) So if you unsung and unremembered heroines who work in the hospital ICU area ever get to read this I'm sorry about that and love you all and am sad to admit that my memory can only see you all as faceless, but fantastic angels. In my diary I've noted 'the bleeps and whistles occurring from my control console actually gave me a great feeling of security and the staff responded immediately and confidently to the equipment.' I remember having to sleep while wearing a plastic oxygen mask, it was purged with a fine mist of water and dribbled uncomfortably from my mouth and onto the pillow and I worried about what my attendants would think of my untidy bed habits. I felt a familiar squeezing on my arm, blood pressure testing and there was no-one near me, all done automatically. The regular squeeze only giving confidence of these familiar checks. Any cough or movement on my part would bring immediate attention to my side. Along side but partitioned off out of my sight was my neighbour from the ward cubicle 211 next door who had been operated on first in the morning. I heard him talking and was pleased to hear he sounded to be OK. I called over to him to see how he was managing and we both agreed we were OK but could think of more fun things to be doing and figured even mowing the lawn or doing the dishes would have been acceptable. My brother Ian had warned me about 'Punishing Poll', she had got him walking again recently, the morning after he'd had both hips replaced. Polly arrived looking disgustingly cheerful and ready to issue some torment onto my poor broken body. She passed me her little toy with the three little balls and said "Remember these?" I remembered them all right and with my pride as a diver at stake sucked on the nozzle until it hurt, but the pain was well worth the great satisfaction I felt as I watched the three balls shoot up and made a satisfying click at the top of their cages as they positively stuck up there! Did I sense a disappointment with Polly? No, I think it was a kind of pride as she called over the duty nurse team and had me do my party trick again. "We don't often get as good a result as that in the intensive care" she said "Well done." What silly little things or comments can encourage and make you feel so good. I used the phone again and nonchalantly called Lynne, no problem. It is so reassuring not only for me but for Lynne, to be able to communicate and for her to enter into that sacred area of ICU. The spouses and families also require great support at these times, operations cause them a great deal of stress and I could not help but notice Lynne looked very weary. She told me that she and the kids had been allowed in to see me immediately after the operation last night and the Doctor had spoken to them and reassured them. She said I'd looked dreadful but was breathing, albeit with aid of a machine and this with the Doctors support was enough to show I'd made it through the rough stuff and they all went home relieved and confident I was in good hands and would be OK. On this visit and on the request of some of the nursing staff, she brought with her the first copy of this record and gave it to the intensive care nurses to read. I could not see their faces but can clearly remember the reactions as they read of the indignities that I had suffered and chuckled together as they discussed my thoughts and feelings. At the end, one was kind enough to come over and console me as she assured me that Sue O’Malley’s comment on small pricks, was purely a professional term and was sure I would indeed be very well endowed. (Or something like that.) But if this is the correct professional term one must also wonder what a female patient will think when advised to "Hold still, you are just about to feel a little prick between your legs." That 48 hours passed in a drunken blur with the awake periods being clearly in focus and quite lucid, at the time I was sure I would never forget my time in this busy place. But on day three, back in my room 212 I awoke to see a familiar smiling face at my bed side, I spoke to her and we knew each other very well. I knew this woman but from where? I racked my brains and as I spoke to her I searched for clues of where and when we'd met. The clue I needed arrived when she said "My husband bought me that book you told me about the other day and I wanted to thank you for introducing me to this author, I haven't been able to put it down nor stop laughing since I started reading it. The penny dropped - Tom Sharps book 'Wilt on High'- ICU! - Martha. Suddenly the memory of intensive care and its wonderful staff snapped back into place. "So I'm not alone with this twisted sense of humour" I said. And what were the experiences I remembered? Get them down quick before they fly away or the adventure will be forgotten. Did it hurt? Not as much as I had expected, one needle stuck in the back of one hand hurt like hell, I complained and they removed it. "We can use another catheter" some one advised. Every thing else was relatively comfortable and when the ICU stay was completed I remember the surprise and interest rather than the pain when like magic, lengths of plastic hose were removed from my belly, needles removed from various places and bunches of goodies pulled out of my throat. And then the dressing from my chest wound was removed and someone gave me a bed bath! Oh the luxury and pleasure of being washed and touched all over with soothing warm water. They helped me into my shorty satin shorts and took me on a quick wheelchair ride (which is now completely gone from my mind) and the next thing I remember was waking up in my room.

​

10 August 1996 DAY 3 Awake from a short sleep I tested the body. Had a steam roller hit me? I certainly knew the body had had a bit of a rough time. But it still worked and to prove it I walked down the stairs to the front reception desk and back, I was sore but felt well! How is that possible? Several visitors arrived with enough food to last for a week. My business partner Eddie, a veteran of many hospital stays, bought a bottle of wine to celebrate, so after checking with a nurse ("just one glass") we drank a toast (mine from a big glass!) to a successful survival. Mary One settled me down into a recovery position and gave me a jab in the bum and I slept the night like a baby, except, as there was no longer a catheter fitted, I awoke several times to pee. I had not realised just how trouble free that thing had made my life. The shaven hairs are beginning to grow and around the crutch area at the top of the wound from where the spare pipe work was cut, they jab and rub like a wire brush into the wound. The pain from this was excruciating and I removed the satin shorts and packed them over the wound, the soft smoothness immediately calmed the pain and I dropped blissfully back to sleep. In the morning I pulled out the very soft Indian cotton lava-lava I wear in the tropics, if modesty dictates and sleep wear is needed I think a lava lava is ideal. PJs must be wicked to wear and in my humble opinion must significantly slow the healing of open wounds.

​

11 August 1996 DAY 4 My progress seems to be significantly faster than my peers and I am constantly advised there will be bad days and feelings of depression. My mood has remained positive and buoyant and the nurse team keep advising me to take it slowly, let the body heal, so I'm playing about on this computer to pass the time. I popped in to see my neighbour with whom I had shared the time in the intensive care unit and spoke with his wife and relatives. I had seen them tip toe into the ICU not daring to look at me for fear of contaminating me or something. Their eyes almost popped out when they saw me toddle on in and said with genuine surprise "We watched them wheel you in and really we thought you were dead! We were so worried for you and look at you now; you're running about like a two year old." Today, Julie, my day nurse pulled off the long dressings from the leg wound, it looked good, nice neat internal stitches and it felt so great to have it exposed to the air. She told me that I could wash the wound once the dressing had gone so I leapt happily into the shower, only to find Julie was supposed be there to supervise me. "You're too impatient." she said "Slow down." But she was in time to scrub my back and the flowing warm water and that back massage was heavenly. This evening for the first time I felt a little unwell. Low blood pressure, I dozed and awoke puffing and perspiring, the old heart seems to be a bit confused, it doesn't need to pump as hard as it used to and the controls are a bit out of whack. The nurse told me "That's normal, did you read the little book?" "Yes, but I forgot most of what I read. I'd rather you told me!" I try to go to bed early each night and get to sleep. It is not always easy, I'm not really tired and for some reason if I do get to nod off I can only manage to stay asleep for a maximum of about three hours at a time. Today the stitches in the leg are biting. It is strange, they can be OK one minute and then for some unknown reason will bite like a row of bee stings and hurt like crazy. I have experienced this before and get relief from knowing it occurs on about the fourth and fifth days and is part of the healing process, I just wish it wasn't so bloody sore! Tonight when I went to bed early there was a magic feeling, the leg pain had finished, not completely gone but just a dull pain. I flopped onto the bed and luxuriated in the freedom of being able to spread out and move about on the bed. I could toss and turn and move about. I punched at the pillows and rolled them into every conceivable position but just couldn't get comfortable. I couldn't believe it! Here I was feeling almost 100% and I couldn't settle. Up to now I'd not really noticed the uncomfortable plastic covered pillows. I tossed and turned all the night but my mind was working, thinking of the positive things, the sum of the night’s thoughts being "hey guys we are almost better, all we need now is to get home and into a decent bed and life will quickly return to normal." One of the most uncomfortable things with this operation is the damage done to the throat installing and removing equipment down into that area. Any rubbing or scratching can result in a tickle in the throat each time you breathe. Like Chinese torture you await a chest wrenching cough. I took a sleeping pill, they are great and I dropped off to sleep, but within about 30 minutes a tickle in the throat caused me to give a chest wrenching cough and I was awake again and couldn't get back to sleep and tossed and turned until about 5:30am. At 6:00 am someone (a male - not one of my regular nurses) awoke me from a deep dead sleep to take a blood pressure reading. I was not incredibly impressed and from my semi awakened state I testily asked if they were waking me to give me a sleeping pill. (Someone did that to me once in the Wellington Hospital "because it was on the card to have a sleeping pill at 9:00 pm"). In my opinion the patients sleep should be sacred. Unnecessary tests should be aborted.

​

12 August 1996 DAY 5 The weather outside continues to be cold and miserable but a busy day is scheduled, chest Xrays, cardiograph and blood tests. Paul, the chief nurse popped in to advise I will be wheeled down to Xray in a chair, "because it's a long walk and sometimes patients can arrive down there a bit grumpy" adding "You can walk back". "So if I'm grumpy when I get back to Julie that's OK?" I asked. "She can handle you." he answered. I dressed for this occasion in a very soft track suit and nice new runners. The walk back was of course a doddle, but the soft lining of the track suit trousers hurt the leg wound even though it was by now quite well healed and not normally sore. I again wonder at what sort of advice people should receive before coming in for an operation like this, I think I have got it right, soft silky and easily removable. Healing and comfort out weighs modesty any time. Mary Two saw me all dressed up and suggested "when you come in for checks in the future you must come in and say hello, now that we have seen you in clothes we'll be able to recognise you." It's OK Mary, I'll just remove my trousers as I come into the ward, but I'm damned if I'll shave! I don't think I was grumpy when I arrived back and Julie took great delight in removing the electrical heart restart wiring that hung from my lower chest. What a strange feeling, it felt as if she were pulling worms from my chest. And at the instant they came out, a sharp pain occurred and lodged in my shoulder. I closed my eyes, idiot, I didn't look at the wires, so can't imagine what they look like. (Mary One tells me "They look like a loosely wound spring like the ones in a ball point pen.") Meanwhile the visitors kept coming and they were inevitably positive and happy ones. The ward staff smile at our hilarity and sometimes the laughter has made my chest wound slightly sore, but I'm sure it's a very therapeutic exercise (and it doesn't hurt as much as the coughing that Polly wants me to do). I hope we don't disturb the other patients. I actually feel a sense of joy at having successfully come through the operation and every little achievement has its own moment of glory and I am revelling in being able to do every little thing I can. For an untrained computer operator I'm even getting great satisfaction at making this damnable machine work. By nature I'm very impatient and only when there is nothing better to do, do I spend much time playing about with it. Paul issued an instruction tonight, "Slow down, not to many visitors, you're going home the day after tomorrow, it will be a big day. If you wear yourself out it will take you several days to pick your self up again." Trust me Paul I want to get back to 100% as soon as possible, I'll be doing everything I can, thanks for your advice, I am listening! Meals: A word must be said about the meals. Each day a menu was presented to be filled in for the following day and the selection always gave me some problems. One day I ticked a number of selections that appealed and ended up with enough food to feed half the ward. Each course looks like a photo from a cook book. It always arrives nicely presented delivered by friendly helpful staff, but after the operation the taste buds were not easily excited, food tends to taste a bit bland and eating has not given me the great pleasure it may have. Even Eddies bottle of wine lay open but untouched in my locker until I returned home.

​

13 August 1996 DAY 6: The day dawned in a splendid golden sunrise. I pulled open the curtains and looked, it felt great to be alive. Paul came by and spotting the mood, waved his finger and advised "Take it easy!" Polly came by, told me to breath deeply and advised me to "Take a walk in the gardens and smell the flowers." Lynne came in and we walked around the garden, smelled the spring flowers and trees. The fragrance of a Macrocapa tree? I couldn't see one but it smelled like one. Dr John Reardon arrived and discussed medication and any methods we could adopt to lead a better life style or diet. We have been living to these rules for quite a few years now and only useful thing I should have done 55 years ago was select different parents(genetically), but it's a bit late for that now and anyhow I love my old Mum and wouldn't trade her in for anyone! "Any other questions?" he asked. There was, the big one. "When can I go diving?" "I'll see you in about six weeks." He said. I made a mental note, that was not a "not today," but if the weather was good and I felt OK in the future! I may even be able to bring him in a crayfish, just to prove I can do it. Mary two arrived and set up a video for us to watch a film made to give advice on what to do when back home, life style and the after effects from heart surgery. If anyone at Wakefield reads this and is interested in my comments on this video, I hated it. I found it slow, I found it boring and negative and it certainly would never motivate me. I want to know the success stories of what people have achieved, the possibilities. E.g. Interviews with super positive people. Call up someone like 66 year old Mr Maurice D Coutts in the USA, I gained 100 times more motivation from talking to him on a 2 minute accidental international phone call. 

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

I received this fax from Maurice, isn't this guy the greatest? He must be an outstanding example of what can be achieved. I will certainly be in touch with him again! I personally know many positive people who have had this operation and are enjoying exciting and extremely high quality lives. The second video they wanted us to watch with Peter Snell was better, but in fairness to him I must admit after watching the 'going home' tape I was so bored I soon fell asleep. The Last Night I programmed another early night and crawled into a comfortable recovery position where I lay for a couple of hours and dozed in and out of sleep. The newly developed pain knifed into the core of my shoulder and when Mary One poked her head in the door for the 10:00 pm check and pill run I commented on the phenomena of removing a wire from down there causing a hurting up here. She gave me the prescribed pills including a sleeping pill, reset me into the recovery position and took to the painful shoulder with some magic ointment. Within 10 minutes I was fast asleep. 5:00am. For the second time of this hospital stay I turned on the TV. It is not fair that a sick man like myself should have to provide assistance to 15 big strong kiwi men dressed in their sexy black costumes to carry a ball from one end of a cow paddock to the other, while some dumb South African idiots seemed to mindlessly get in the way. It took significant assistance from me to get that ball safely to the far end of the paddock where it belonged. Regan arrived during the half time rest period with a steaming cup of tea. I jumped out of bed to have a nervous one and leaped back into bed only to skittle the tea all over the blankets. Regan did the decent thing, remade the bed, remade a fresh cup of tea, but after that they decided it was time I went home. I called Lynne and she arrived to collect me at 9:00 am.

​

14 August 1996 Home: DAY 7 Via the Kilbirnie shops to collect prescriptions etc. and home! Our chemist Ken is a personal friend. He looked at the prescription for 30 20ml sleeping pills and said "I'll give you 60 10ml sleeping tablets, so you're supposed to take 2 of them to go to sleep, but you don't take many drugs and may find just one is enough." Can you believe your home of about 25 years can be an alien place? After recuperating in a hospital specifically designed to assist handicapped people your home can present a new challenge. Suddenly there are no emergency buttons to press should immediate assistance be required. Unfamiliar toilets, without the grab handles. Smaller shower cubicles without chairs. It can all be a little daunting. Lynne tied a 'donkey' to the end of the bed and I flopped onto it, at least the bed was familiar and comfortable and within a few minutes I fell asleep. On awaking, a walk around the block built up my confidence to handle life at home and I returned buoyant. Mary One had escorted us to the door and as I left advised "Don't over do it and I worry about this Hot Tub of yours." The Hot Tub registered 39 degrees C on the thermometer as I streaked into the backyard and clambered into the steaming cauldron. The wounds stung a little as I slowly immersed myself, but soon the weightlessness and venturi jets blasting bubbles onto taught sore back muscles, massaged cares and pains away. I paid great attention to not getting over heated as I had been warned that over warm showers or baths could cause fainting. The trouble was nobody could put a temperature figure on what was too hot and what was acceptable. If anyone wants a figure I would suggest 40 degrees C (104 degrees F) would be a maximum - and care should be taken at that temperature, don't stop in too long. The sleep after that was two hours of pure ache free bliss. Today is Lynne’s birthday and the kids brought over food and a bottle of Spanish sparkling wine. Nectar, but after two glasses I was anyone’s. Another soak in the Hot Tub. Under the stars with steam drifting through the trees and the bubbles working their magic massaging, maybe I couldn't go diving yet but it is good to be alive. I took one (half measure) sleeping pill and had the best nights sleep since before I'd learned of the need to have the op.

​

15 August 1996 DAY 8: We awoke to a cold Southerly wind preventing any sensible thought of walking outside. I wandered through the house and turned on the CD player. Ballroom music drifted through the house, Waltz and English Foxtrot. Like a big Wally I pounced through the house in dance stance, dancing alone the routines I know so well. Spin turns, Whisks, Feathers and Chasses. After a few moments my pulse rate has risen. I can not believe how energetic these routines are and can feel all the muscles in my body working and moving to their familiar positions. If you know a dance routine I'm sure it will be better than the sterile exercises set in the "Coming home after heart surgery" manual. I spent the day entertaining visitors, plunging into the hot tub, playing about with dance steps and messing around on the computer. This evening is dance lesson night and I wrapped up warm and went into town with Lynne to see the friendly crowd and prove I'd survived. Few people were there yet and a Waltz played. I find such music stimulating and called Lynne over "Just let us try to do a couple of steps". We took up the hold; Spin turn, chasse, lock, double reverse, it all worked. Our well practised Gold routine flowed and before we knew it we had been twice around the floor and completed the fairly complicated routine. Fantastic; rapt and lightly puffing, I rested on my laurels.

​

16 August 1996 DAY 9: Not a nice day! The sort of day I guess that if you were going to feel let down this would be it. A Southerly & bitterly cold. I love the Wellington coast and in a Southerly, Kau Bay is always calm. It's a real pain not being permitted to drive and I bullied Lynne to take me to the Point Halswell light house. Wrapped up warm, but wearing soft shorts to let the wind and sea air at the healing leg wounds we walked to the centre of the bay before Lynne walked back to collect the car. I carried on to the next point before turning back and we met at about the middle of the Bay. A nice little walk we measured on the trip meter as 1.8 km. A disaster of almost national proportions met us at home; neither of us had remembered to switch on the hot tub! It was quickly switched on and we had to wait for several hours before it was ready, fortunately just before bed time we slipped into the warmth and again it worked its magic. I rolled into bed and without a sleeping pill fell into another good nights sleep; until midnight. I awoke feeling a bit sore in wounds and body. Immediately out of hospital we had picked up a prescription of pain kill pills, but I hadn't suffered much pain so had not bothered to take any of them. Now I took two of them with a sleeping pill and good night nurse, another great nights sleep.

​

17 August 1996 DAY 10: Since getting back to my own bed I've slept very well, but unfortunately Lynne has not fared as well. My pattern of awaking after about 3 hours is also waking Lynne and she is having trouble getting back to sleep, especially since she is afraid to move in case she hurts me. I'm now into a pattern of two walks of about 2km per day and use of the hot tub for short bursts about three times, in the morning after my walk, at evening before bed and in the middle of the night, 4:00 or 5:00 am if I awake. This is magic at removing muscle tensions and wound pain and back in bed I drop quickly back to sleep. Since this is the final day report I intend to record in this form, it may also be of interest to others to hear how the aches and pains are. The leg wound is looking very neat and healed. In many places the scab has gone but it can still be quite painful especially if it has been left immobile for any time. The chest wound is well healed, also with most of the scab gone. Breathing is still not 100% and on taking a good lung full of air there is a sort of pain and restriction to full breath. Coughing continues to be painful and is often necessary. Something I saw on TV the other day caused me to laugh and cough until I thought I'd break in half. Polly would have been delighted. Noel Edmonds House party should be banned from TV!

​

MY RECOMMENDATIONS TO POTENTIAL BYPASS PATIENTS: *Hospital wear: Don't buy a new pair of Pyjamas to take to hospital! Get something soft, smooth to the skin and easily removed. Silky, satin or very soft cotton, a lava-lava cloth is great. The wards (at least at Wakefield) are always nice and warm. *Dressing gown. Not a big heavy woolly one. Light and short, and don't let it touch your legs. *Laughter: Laughter does not hurt as much as coughing and Punishing Poll will want you to cough. If you get serious, negative visitors tell them not to come back! You don't need anything negative. Everyone suffers indignities in the hospital system, don't let them upset you, talk and laugh about them! It's your getting well that counts. *Attitude: Remember this is not only going to save your life, but will also improve your quality of living. Plan your recovery, don't be too ambitious and savour every accomplishment you make. I'd prefer to spend my money and go to a Pacific Island, somewhere where it's cheaper - but this is also an adventure in life. Twice I watched the All Blacks play, they get jumped on and kicked; their bodies must feel as beat up as I feel now - after every game! Turn any negative thought around or they will make you miserable. *Write it down: Why you are doing it, what you expect to happen, what you are prepared to put up with, where you hope to be in several weeks time. Don't be over ambitious it's very encouraging to find you are ahead of your goal schedule. * Sleep: Everyone tells me your body mends itself best while it is asleep. Work at getting as much sleep as possible. Ask your nurse to help you to get comfortable in bed and settled at night. Learn how to get your self into a comfortable recovery position. * Use your strengths and assets: Everyone has their own strengths and assets. Take stock of the things you do well and see if you can make a list of them and use them to assist your recovery. Mine include:- * Desire to travel: I'm going to Sakhalin Island (off Siberia Russia) at the end of September. The goal, the pinnacle of the mountain, trust me, I'll be there! * Diving: A desire to get back in the sea and the use of deep breathing skills I have. * Dance: Dance disciplines are a very effective whole body exercise. * Playing on a computer: Writing this on a note book computer has kept my mind occupied & thinking positively. * Hot Tub: I'm used to it, I've gained huge pain relief and sleep assistance with careful use of it. * Mountain biking: Not yet, but very soon I'll have the bike out again. * Cassette story tapes: Well loved stories have helped me, some may prefer recorded poetry or music. I believe they are more relaxing than TV and easy to fall asleep to. Who is that asking about sex? I can advise that my first meal at home included about 10 raw Bluff oysters. To date they haven't all worked, but I cannot be too critical of my system for sneaking off with some of them to help repair the body!

​

MY SUGGESTIONS / COMMENTS TO THE MEDICAL PROFESSION: First, Thanks from myself and my family must be expressed to all the staff at Wakefield Hospital. It would be difficult to fault efforts, information, co-operation and professionalism. I felt confident in all the staff and most of the equipment (ref Thermometer comments below.) * Body Shaving: To many people, this can be an indignity and is in itself, stressful. Every one knows hospitals shave off body hair, but although every other aspect of the operation has been explained, this practice has not. Re-growth of hair is at least uncomfortable and often painful. The new type clipper hair remover used at Wakefield, are a great improvement on traditional shavers as they do not shave as close. After this visit I have not suffered from ingrown hairs etc as I have in other operations. I believe shaving should be kept to a minimum unless requested by the patient for aesthetic reasons, (in which case it could be beneficial.) Another person operated on in Wakefield Hospital in the same week as myself, had both legs shaved although the veins had already been removed from one leg at a previous by pass operation and that leg would not be touched. *Plastic Wrist Bracelets: Trim those sharp edges off the plastic wrist bracelets. They jab into the tender shaved skin. *Thermometers: Is this the most basic tool of nursing? The nurse’s digital thermometers look pretty, but worked erratically, often didn't bleep or took forever. They are end heavy and always tend to slip from the mouth. Encased in a throw away plastic bag have the appeal of sucking on a glad wrap encased earth worm. I think everyone who ever took my temperature was obliged to apologise for them. From a patients point of view it does raise a very small doubt that if the most basic nursing tool doesn't work properly what about the clever hi tech stuff? Perhaps a move back to the basic mercury in glass or alcohol in glass may present a more professional image. There is another type used at Wellington Hospital, it sticks in your ear and has a result in seconds. Very impressive! Perhaps it is time to consider a change?

​