“Oh fuck”, I though, waking up yesterday morning. My heart was racing. It was hard to explain. I was out the night before, but this is bad. Real Bad. I woke up Mike, a nurse at the local hospital, and the only person who I trust with medical problems. It was half 6.
“Here”, I said, “Feel this.” I placed his hand on my chest.
“Fuck, that’s not normal.” Mike said, with his expert diagnosis. “Go and see a doctor.”. He said.
I tried getting some sleep, but it wasn’t happening. About 20 minutes later, Mike knocked on my door. He had a heart monitor, so I put it on, and it was all over the place. Usually between 120 and 180. I was a mess.
“Best go this morning, take the morning off.”, said Mike, and as a throwaway comment said “I think you’ve got Premature atrial contraction”, and left me to get checked up.
A 9am, I got checked up. I explain my heart racing and, even with that wierd phenomona, I was otherwise okay. The doctor sent me straight to the hospital, for a heart scan.
I was admitted to A & E, a very scary place. I sat down with a nurse who explained that they’ll take my blood pressure, my heartbeat and a few blood tests. Another doctor would see me after the heart scan.
I sat down, waiting to be seen. I refused to lie down for the pure and simple reason that I felt okay. This is the most important thing of the story: except for my heart racing, I was actually okay.
Then the heart scan came, the first of the day. Then the docotr 20 minutes later spoke to me. He asked me a few questions, then said what he thought was wrong.
Premature atrial contraction.
He said it was quite common, and nothing to be too concerned with. He put me on a course of intro-venal drugs, and taken to a bed in A & E. Mike came in to check on me, and I demanded a pen and paper, “as I was going to blog this”, which is what you’re reading now.
Then, for 2-3 hours, nothing. Jeez, I became so restless, my heart calmed down a lot (my heart rate dropped to 90, though he said it’s a little high, but that because I was in hospital). At around 3pm, a young nurse came in and said “do you want to go home?”.
“Hell yeah, I’m feeling fine.”
“Yeah, we’re satisfied you’ve made a full recovery. We’re going to call you in for a cardiogram though, in a couple of weeks, just to make 100% sure that there is nothing serious. But that’s just standard procedure.”
“Okay, yeah.”
Was so nice being able to walk out of hospital. I did not like being in there at all. Even for 6 hours. I shared a room with one person who’d smoked all his life, and one person who needed dialysis. As far as a health scare goes, it was quite a mild one, but a scare nonetheless. I’m trying to turn the corner and get more exercise, as I couldn’t bear doing nothing for 6 hours. I felt so useless.
But now, short term. I’ve taken today off to get better, and going home for the weekend for a quiet weekend with my mum and family. Just need looking after for a few days, as this has drained a lot of my confidence.
Though, before any of you get scared, I am feeling fine this morning. I did wake up at half 6 this morning too, but that was because I had 10 hours sleep.
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Rhys Wynne, the author of this blog, is a 20 something web designer from Colwyn Bay. 
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