Spanner in the Head

I should be old enough and ugly enough not to fall to the opinions of others. Maybe that is what life is a constancy of errors, re learning over and over again. Conversation and discussion are the basics of social framework and let's face it, you can learn from others. So when an anaesthetist friend was complaining about his weight and lack of physical fitness and how he was revolted by himself, I casually mentioned my confrontation with the aging process and the frailties of existence.

"Yeah I understand. I've got to have a stent next week."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I had a CT angiogram and it indicated I had some narrowing and now I have to have a stent."

"I would get  a second opinion if I were you! Who said you have narrowings?"

"It was in the report from the radiologist."

" Who was that?"

"Not sure. Debbie someone"

" You know you can die from that! Putting the stent in."

" Yeah 1% chance something like that"

"Yeah well that is one in a hundred. That's not very good odds if you ask me. I would be getting a second opinion. They've got a vested interest in putting a stent in you know, I mean that is their job"

Great I thought. A bloody great way to start my shift. The personal opinion of everyone is based around the factors that affect that person.  They are specific to that person. The person whose opinion I had indirectly sought had touched on a lingering fear. However he had no knowledge of me and my set of circumstances.

Should I get a second opinion?  Firstly I have been trained since an infant not to make a fuss. When a waiter at a restaurant asks if the bile and crud masquerading as the dish of the day we have just managed to consume but not yet digest was to our liking my answer is generally "Yes". This is despite the fact Trip Advisor will later get the full story. Another word for this approach is gutless. On that basis alone I could not cancel the procedure and go through the rigmarole of getting a second opinion. I could not look at my current Professional and accuse him of not knowing what he is talking about. I have done my homework enough to know he is well regarded.

Secondly, I have an appalling family history and have been treated for high cholesterol and high blood pressure for nearly two decades. Come on, it stands to bloody reason that if they say I have an issue, I do.

Thirdly, well there is no thirdly as one and two were so convincing. (Joke stolen from Rik Mayall). There was the lingering worry though about early demise, falling off the perch, becoming deceased, being an ex human. ( Joke stolen from Monty Python). If the odds were one in a hundred, if forty or so procedures are performed per week at the institution where my procedure was to take place, surely there must be a death every so often.

Not every procedure would be insertion of a stent but every few months at least one would expect a death, surely. I bailed someone up whom  I knew who had good "inside" knowledge and came straight to the point.

" How often does someone die having a stent inserted over at the lab?"

" Mate can't remember one dying. Oh wait, we had one a while back but he was in a bad way and his artery bifurcated. Not much you can do about that and he was always going to be a risk."

I felt considerably better. It was as I thought, the odds are assessed on all comers in all establishments and all proceduralists. Like all things in life, some people, some places, some doctors are better than others. I had covered all bases and was as happy as I could be. No one wants a complication like death  on their hands, the paperwork is terrible!

Two days to go. I will get any heavy jobs done today and will spend tomorrow with my wife pottering about in town and having a nice lunch.  I am cheered by the words of writer Elizabeth Scott who wrote, “The thing about hearts is that they always want to keep beating.”