Over new year I apparently I had a heart attack, only a small one (so small I never noticed), but after feeling unwell for a few days and many blood tests later it's clear that my heart had thrown a bit of a wobbly at some point. So hospital time was needed to fix it, two stents later I was packed off home to recover.
I have mentioned before I drive those big red London buses. As a result of the heart attack our licencing authority (the DVLA) tells me I have to prove my fitness to drive by completing an exercise ECG (basically a treadmill test while wired up to an ECG machine and blood pressure monitor). You need to complete 9 minutes as the treadmill gets faster and steeper. to be honest it's really hard work when you are as unfit as me! it's also not very comforting when your appointment letter warns you of the possibility of death if your heart is not up to it!.
This is my 4th test as I have to do one every time I renew my bus licence (previous heart conditions), normally I just pop down to my local hospital but for some unknown reason I have to travel into the centre of London to a private clinic in Harley Street (if you are not familiar with Harley Street it's the poshest end of the market for medical care in the UK). The appointment letter says I need to wear loose clothing for the test, so a skirt it is then
I choose a lightweight grey denim pleated one, not too short but a few inches above the knee. The waist is perfect so I don't need a belt and it's not too loose, matched with a black sleeveless men's fitness top. A short walk to the underground station and off into town, I find it really amusing that the cardio department is on the 3rd floor (just to warm up your heart ready) It's one of those old Victorian terrace buildings that are like a maze inside. I'm not a big fan of those retrofit tiny lifts that these places have so up the stairs. I get there over an hour early as I gave myself plenty of time in case of any public transport issues but all goes well, I get offered coffee in a big comfy armchair while I'm waiting. I'm used to a hard plastic seat in a packed waiting area as I sit well past my appointment time at my local NHS hospital. 45 minutes early the doctor invites me in with a warm handshake. He talks to me like I have known him all my life and proceeds to tell me off for drinking Pepsi Max while he reads the label without actually telling me why I shouldn't be drinking it
so there I am shirtless as he places all the ECG wires to my chest (I forgot that you need to do the test shirtless because of all the wires). So onto the treadmill in my short skirt (it feels like a micro skirt with no shirt on) and not much else. The doctor puts the blood pressure sleeve on my arm but to my surprise it's not a digital one but the old type that you have to pump up manually, after pumping up the sleeve and taking a reading he pulls the zip down on the side of my skirt and pushes the rubber pump bit into the pocket, except it's not a pocket, it's a skirt and this one has no pockets! So now I have my hip on display and my skirt only staying up by a press stud above the zip as the test starts. The doctor sits to my left and chats for a bit before becoming engrossed in his mobile phone, he asks if I'm Scottish and I just reply by saying it's a skirt and not a kilt and I'm not Scottish. He goes back to his phone until the machine beeps to announce it going to get faster and steeper, I step up a notch as it speeds up while Dr goes back to his phone. This happens throughout the test.
I manage the full 9 minutes quite easily this time (my last test was a killer), and while I'm being unplugged and I get dressed he askes if it's ok to be philosophical as he nods to my skirt, "of course" I reply genuinely interested in other peoples views. The Dr then proceeds to tell me that I should be proud to wear a kilt being from somewhere near Scotland (I'm English through and through) but that I shouldn't wear skirts because of my children and that they will not get invites to friends because I wear skirts and that I should think of my children first. I found this amusing as my kids are most supportive and don't give a hoot about my skirt wearing. He bid me farewell with another warm handshake.
After the test I had another appointment with a different Dr at another posh clinic at the opposite end of Harley Street. Apparently the Dr doing the test couldn't sign the paperwork I needed and this needed to be done by a specialist cardio consultant. This has to be the poshest waiting room I've been in, another Victorian terrace building with big comfy sofas, complementary fruit and bottled water. No fluorescent strip lights here but a HUGE chandelier if the centre of ceiling with large table lamps on bespoke tables dotted around. After a wait I'm called to see the doctor and taken down to the basement to a small room with no windows to see Dr number 2. He gives me a clean bill of health, signs the paperwork and sends me on my way.
Back on the underground home musing on what a strange experience that was. I passed the test which was what's important, but still....
