“The shock on their faces was evident and I knew it would take time to digest.”
So far only my girlfriend and sister knew what had been going on. I had six weeks to decide on the operation, tell everyone and to prepare for an unknown outcome. What would life be like after the operation? Did I know what life I wanted after the operation? Would I even make it to the operation? Where did I begin with all this?
I knew the choice I would make would ultimately determine the life I would then go on to live and I wondered greatly what that would be.
Each procedure had a different set of answers and many other questions which is why it was such a hard decision to contemplate. It was also impossible for me to know the answers as, quite simply, I hadn’t had the operation yet. Everything was based on (assuming I survived) how life would be after the operation.
The first conundrum I faced was how to tell my parents.
I was on the train heading home to Devon from London and feeling lonesome, almost spacial. I kept thinking that people get older and you accept that things happen. They go into hospital and your parents come to you with life events ‘such and such isn’t well and will need an operation’ or ‘ such and such is struggling to walk so now needs constant care’. This was the other way round. How was I going to say to them that my heart was in really bad shape, that I had to make a decision on what operation I had, I may not survive and ultimately may not even make it to the operation date?
I didn’t go home much so my parents were inquisitive about the surprise visit when I got there. We started talking about the normal how things are and then my mother wanting to get to the real reason I was home said “so what’s going on?”
I broke down in tears as the emotion hit me. I curled up, leaning forward in the armchair and tried to speak but through the tears I spluttered a few words with short sharp breaths. The realisation of telling them had now taken over. They rushed to my side hugging me and offering comfort as loving parents. With a few steady breaths and a moment’s silence I composed myself and started to explain.
The shock on their faces was evident and I knew it would take time to digest.
It was an emotional day full of silence, contemplation and utter despondency. My parents were doing their best to remain strong and keep that brave parent face on when it was clear they were more fragile than I was. I could sense there were questions they wanted to ask but didn’t know how. I managed to get a bit out of Dad when Mum wasn’t there, although as soon as she was back in the room his Yorkshire front and closed Britishness came back over him.
We spent the weekend going over it all as I explained both procedures and the decision I had to make over the valve. I felt relieved to have told them and could now move onto the next thing. I was one stage further along in the preparation I thought.