And don’t speak too soon for the wheels still in spin. ( Bob Dylan, Times they are a changing).

Out for a week with my new stent and feeling great then I suffer my second heart attack, obviously overdoing it down in the shrubbery and this one’s a humdinger. I get a lift from a guy coming from the vets, paramedics arrive and I don’t remember much else for about 3 - 4 weeks. I am operated on in Nottingham City and spend 3 weeks in Glenfield hospital in Leicester on a life support machine known as an ‘ECMO’ for 2 of those weeks. I am taken to the land of the dead and spend much of the time traveling there oblivious to my life threatening status in what amounted to a Shamanic journeying. I spend the next 7 weeks in intensive care back in Nottingham before being transferred to a non critical ward. My recovery is slow. I lost the use of my legs, artificially fed, catheter, tracheotomy, wondering who I was for a good while. Still slowly I began to reach some sense of normality and got with the program in the end. I was in hospital for 16 weeks and I’ve been home now for three. Very grateful to be home and though I’m still pretty weak I’ve started to relearn guitar and even had a go on my drum kit today. I’ve been writing a fair bit and noticing small improvements when they arise. My sister Jo continues to be a rock and I have had visits from as far afield as Holland since I’ve been home. Next door have lent me a wheelchair and I’m always up for anyone taking me out even if it’s only down to the park as I get a bit cabin feverish being stuck at home all the time. Got plans to get my own cross country version and maybe even a Dalek mobility scooter so I can be more independent , we’ll see. Not sure what the future holds but I guess I’ve survived for a reason. It was really touch and go back there for awhile.