Getting active again after a heart event: John's story

“Mr Bills, you’ve got indigestion.” This was the diagnosis after being rushed to hospital with excruciating chest pains.

Two weeks later, running my regular 5k Parkrun, I had to stop, clutching my chest and telling concerned runners, “It’s just indigestion!” But a few days later, I could barely walk without chest pain, so I challenged myself to walk up the steepest hill in Somerset. I couldn’t even make it halfway, so struggled to my nearby doctor’s surgery. They called 999 and I was rushed back to hospital.

I was diagnosed with unstable angina, and told I needed an angiogram as soon as possible. The gravity of the situation didn’t hit me – I asked if I could go home and come back next week. I was surprised to see what I thought was a tear in the cardiologist’s eye when he said, “No, I doubt you’ll make it back to the hospital.” The solemnity of what he said still didn’t click, and I asked what would happen if I didn’t have the angiogram. His answer: “You probably won’t make it.”

Safe to say, I had the angiogram, and subsequently had an angioplasty and a stent fitted, but the whole experience came as a huge shock to me.

I live a pretty healthy life. I’d been running for 40 years, I exercised every day of the week, including weights at the gym, and have always had a relatively healthy diet. So because of this, and because my mother lived until the age of 93, and her mother until a similar age, I naively assumed I’d have similar longevity, and I was only 68.

But my father died at 70 from heart disease, and his father at 67 from a stroke, so there’s no reason why I shouldn’t take after his side. Still, I felt cheated, like I’d invested but got no return. My body had let me down – and with little warning – and the trust I had in my body had been broken.

Getting back into running

Being active has always been a huge part of my life, so I wanted to get back to running as soon as I could, after checking with my cardiologist and GP.

My exercise regime now isn’t particularly different from before my operation, though I do watch what I eat and moderate my drinking. I find I get more tired than I used to, but that could be my age.

I still do my regular Parkrun 5ks and I usually come first in my age group, so that’s still quite satisfying. It isn’t just the buzz of exercise but also the social side. I look forward to running with my club members and the Saturday Parkrun.

Just before Christmas I moved house – I live alone, but am now much closer to my daughter and grandchildren, in Somerset – and joined a running club called RIOT (Running Is Our Therapy). It’s for ordinary people who just need a bit of breathing space. It’s my own version of therapy.

Overcoming fears and nightmares

Dealing with the emotional side of things was much harder. I remember being in hospital and feeling frightened – and I hadn’t experienced that before. I had finally grasped the fragility of life.

I felt frightened of dying and leaving my daughter and grandchildren – I was worried I’d miss them. But then I realised, of course, when you die, you can’t miss people, and that actually made me feel quite peaceful. But I’m definitely much more aware that, no matter how much you take care of your body, you’re not immortal.

I also suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD – an anxiety disorder that is caused by very stressful or distressing events).

I felt frightened of dying and leaving my daughter and grandchildren - I was worried I'd miss them.

Night after night, several times a night, I’d wake up thinking there was somebody standing over me with a knife and found myself hitting out at this imaginary person. It was horrendous. It’s scary enough to feel like you have a person standing over you, but to find yourself physically reacting to something you’re imagining is very scary.

I also began sleepwalking, something I’d only ever done before as a child, and because I lived alone, I had no idea what I’d done or where I’d gone – I’d wake up walking around the house. And during the day, every now and again I’d remember everything, and just burst into floods of tears.

Looking back, I should have asked my doctor for help, but I’m from a generation where we don’t really talk about our feelings! Thankfully, it’s become less of a problem now.

The cardiac rehabilitation team helped with rebuilding confidence, offering the opportunity to talk to others with similar conditions and answering questions. And I can’t speak highly enough of the BHF and their support during those lonely moments.

Getting support from the people around you

Recently I did a 170-mile coast to coast bicycle ride – the Way of the Roses – in three days, with four friends, which helped me to not dwell on the past and enjoy the friendship. Doing activities like this with other people has undoubtedly helped me psychologically, and hopefully physically.

I definitely value things more now. I believe that happiness comes from the people around you.

I’m beginning to trust my body again, and have learnt to respect it more than ever.

I have two daughters, a son and six grandchildren. I raised my son and one of my daughters (the other lives in New Zealand) on my own, so we have a very close bond. I’ve never lived too far from my daughter, but since I’ve moved closer I get to see a lot of her and her four wonderful children.

One of my grandsons, Max, was born the day after my stent was put in – my daughter joked that she had to wait to make sure I was alright! He’s nearly two now, and he’s adorable. Unfortunately, my seven year-old grandson, Rufus, was born with a heart defect, and will need his heart valves replaced in the future, but I look forward to showing him you can still enjoy life with a heart condition. My grandchildren are a great source of fun. Watching them develop is wonderful.

I’ve become more in tune with my body. I listen to it carefully and carry my GTN spray everywhere, and at the first feeling of discomfort I stop what I’m doing. I’m beginning to trust my body again, and have learnt to respect it more than ever.