I Don’t Have Time For a Heart Attack

 

We’re all geared up for the launch of The I-Spy Murders tomorrow. The publicity campaign which has been gathering some momentum over the last few weeks, was ready to roll by teatime yesterday and then…

At half past seven last night, I got chest pains. Nothing strange about that when you smoke like I do, but at when, ten minutes later, the pain spread to my left arm, it was a full alert. Heart attack! Again!

Paramedics arrived a little after eight, and after running an ECG and others tests, they carted me of to A & E. They ran the usual bloods and weren’t happy with the results so they kept me I overnight and ran a second set of bloods this morning, 12 hours after the first alert.

It was a false alarm. But that’s the fourth such incident in two years and the danger is that one of these days, it will be for real.

I’m home again now, and under orders to take things a little easier. Sure: once I’ve got through writing a novel in a week, I will. I’m also under orders not to stop smoking (I’ve tried every medical and psychological trick in the book without success) but to cut down, and when I’m happy with a reduced nicotine intake, then stop. Stage one has already been implemented by my other half who has now banned me from smoking in the house.

In the meantime, the launch of The I-Spy Murders goes ahead tonight/tomorrow, as planned.

I’d like to thank Maureen Vincent-Northam, the only person who knew of the incident, who was ready to stand in my place tomorrow if the hospital didn’t discharge me. I’d also like to thank Laurence and Steph Patterson of Crooked Cat Books for their good wishes and their offer to stand in tomorrow. It’s almost impossible for me to take a back seat on my own book launch, but others have promised to do their bit to help raise awareness of the novel. I’d also like to thank the hospital staff for their immense patience. It can’t be easy dealing with a cantankerous old sod like me who doesn’t have the brains to learn his lessons.

And the phantom heart attack? Either a touch of serious indigestion or a pulled muscle. No one is sure which, but as long as it’s not the muscle.

I’m gonna take it steady for the rest of today but I’ll see you all tomorrow at the launch of The I-Spy Murders.