Happy Christmas

My wife and I had just travelled about two hundred miles to spend Christmas (1995) with our daughter. About an hour later, my wife was in the cardiac unit of the local hospital, having suffered a heart attack.

Like the vast majority of people, I was under the impression that a heart attack was usually fatal and, in the unlikely event of recovery, meant that the person concerned would be unable to take part in normal activities, spending the remainder of their days sitting about waiting to die. I was full of gloom and doom. My mother had died some three weeks earlier and now it seemed that my wife would be following her.

My amazement upon being told that my wife would only be in hospital for about seven days and would be well on the road to full recovery in around six months was only equalled by the manner of the nursing staff. Nothing was too much trouble and they invited questions regarding their patients.

I had to return home after the Christmas period, leaving my wife in hospital. When she was discharged, she spent a couple of weeks with our daughter before returning home.