The Return of

Same Feeling/No After Effects

Part I

I recently returned from a holiday trip that has caused me to re-evaluate certain aspects of my life. Here is a long-winded explanation of this event with lots of side commentary thrown in for good (or bad) measure and several web page links to places and things mentioned.

Holiday in Northern Scotland

As an expat American living in Scotland I continue to relish the physical diversity of this land as well as its potent spiritual connections. My holiday trip for the summer of 2005 was filled with a couple of unforeseen events.

Thursday, 4th August, 2005

After driving for several hours from our home in southern Scotland my wife, Fiona, and I spent a night in the picturesque Scottish fishing village of Pennan. We had her small Ford packed with enough camping gear to spend most of our trip under canvas.. er.. well.. nylon.

William, her teenage son, and Greg, her son’s friend from the northern town of Elgin had accompanied us until we dropped them at Greg’s parents before making the hour trip to Pennan. I had longed to visit this spot after viewing the charming Burt Lancaster film Local Hero a couple of decades ago. I had even mentioned the movie in one of the few Hugh’s Views I’ve written since moving to Scotland in July of 2001. It was also the last DVD I purchased in the states before leaving.

A unique feature of this wee village is the steep drive to the harbour surrounded by huge dramatic cliffs. I suggested we eat a meal in the hotel when we arrived and was warned by Fiona that it might be fairly late before we could eat. I’ve had health problems with eating or drinking later in the evening. I reassured her I’d be fine.

True to form we arrived for a semi-late supper around 8 pm and found there was even a vacancy at the only hotel/pug in the village. Although much of the action in Local Hero takes place in the hotel, the one used for filming was actually a house made to look like a hotel. Nevertheless we were both delighted to spend the night in such a lovely setting.

We strolled the beach after supper and had nightcaps watching the North Sea from tables outside the inn. She had a G & T (gin and tonic) and it was a pint of ale for me. A couple sitting near us mentioned they had spotted a whale in the horizon. Sure enough, there it was in the distance surfacing frequently as dusk was settling in the Eastern sky.

Visit From "The Hag"

We retired in our hotel room and after a short while we both fell soundly asleep. After a brief slumber I woke up abruptly gasping for air. I was having the worst sleep apnea attack I’d experienced; trying to take air into my lungs with no result.

I’d had attacks before but had been able to catch my breath after a few seconds. This time it wasn’t the case. With sweet Fiona by my side trying to soothe me I made gasping sounds and went into full panic mode. I kept telling myself to calm down and the air would come. I tried in vain to open a window hoping that would stop me from suffocating. I felt like a fish taken from his tank and floundering on the ground. I’ve since heard this type of an episode called “the old hag” for the spirit of an old woman who chokes the breath from you as you sleep.

Finally... slowly...and deliberately... I tried once more to inhale. I felt I was going to pass out. Breath gradually returned to my shaking, perspiring body and I knew this episode was at last over. Although the event lasted no more than a couple of minutes it felt interminable. Little did I know that early morn there was yet another health surprise in store for me just around the preverbal corner.

The Second Shoe Drops

Saturday, 6th August, 2005

We woke and had a leisurly morning talking and reading. We had brunch at a converted farm complex called Logie Steading.

In the late afternoon we visited one of Fiona’s dear friends at the spiritual community Findhorn Foundation.

That evening we attended a grand party at a converted farm. It’s held every five years to a close knit group of wonderful folks. Rather than pitch a tent in the dark we were generously offered the guest room in the farmhouse. Better to be in a warm house since we had planned to do a good deal of camping during our visit, or so we thought.

Sunday, 7th August, 2005

I woke up early in the morning with aches all over my body and initially attributed it to the usual aging pains, figuring it would lessen as the morning wore on. I mentioned my discomfort to Fiona and went outside for some fresh air. I next got stabbing chest pains and a very sore throat. I noticed the start of a path leading along a barn and was tempted to follow it but was physically too weak to even explore a few paces. I sat at a chair and table under a tree and tried to make sense of what was happening to me. It was less dramatic than my choking incident of the night before but in its way more troubling. I felt I should seek some professional advise (advice) about my condition.

After speaking with Fiona and and one of our hosts it was agreed we travel the five miles to the local emergency room, Dr. Gray’s Hospital in Elgin. We were fortunate it was so close. Fiona suggested I ask my angel for guidance in my ordeal.

We arrived at the A & E or Accident and Emergency, like the Emergency Room in the states. I was quickly interviewed (questioned) by a nurse and asked to return to the waiting room. We arrived around 11.30 on that Sunday morning and were just one of several cases needing assistance. Still aching and feeling weak I was content to wait until a doctor could see me. While we were there I had the most compassion for the small children waiting for treatment. We adults can justify long waits but children have no concept of why they’re in pain and are thus more in need of prompt attention. The hospital, to their credit, did deal with them as quickly as possible.

I had brought a book with me and proceeded to read it while waiting my turn. Appropriately enough the book was a memoir of Clement Gunn, a doctor who practised (practiced) in Peebles from the late 19th to the early 20th Century. Called Leaves From the Life of a Country Doctor it tells of his studies, the setting up of his practise and of the people he treated along with his involvement in recording and researching of the history of Peebles. He included in his efforts the restoration of the most spiritual place in the town, the ancient Cross Kirk, where Fiona and I exchanged vows during our Scottish blessing ceremony.

Sad Headline and Ironic Revelation

While reading my book and waiting to be called Fiona let out a gasp. When asked the reason for her reaction she told me that Robin Cook had died. She had caught the headlines from a paper another patient was reading. While many people outside of Britain aren’t aware of Mr. Cook, he’s been an inspiration to many with his bold decision to leave Tony Blair’s Cabinet because of the decision to join America in the invasion and war in Iraq. He felt there wasn’t enough evidence of the so-called Weapons of Mass Destruction and felt it should be decided by not just the US and the UK but by international agreement. The previous week I had read with keen interest his column in The Guardian arguing against the continuation of the UK’s Trident submarine fleet housing Britain's nuclear weapons. He was a special politician who stood up for his beliefs.

Fiona fetched a newspaper so we could read how this inspiring man lost his life. Minister Cook was mountain climbing with his wife not far from our location. He had suffered a fatal heart attack the previous day and was pronounced dead at the hospital in Inverness, the next closest hospital to the one where we were.

Fiona let out another gasp.. Robin Cook was born on the 28th of February, 1946, exactly one day before my birthday on the first of March. The fact that his attack happened one day before my present condition was also alarming.

My "Attack"

The seconds turned into minutes, the minutes into hours and still we continued to wait. After several hours I still ached in my chest, my throat was sore and I was now getting a shortness of breath. When a patient who came after us decided to leave before seeing a doctor Fiona asked if I thought we should leave also. I told her about my breathing problem and she went up to the counter to asked how soon it might be. When she mentioned my additional symptom we were ushered into the treatment center.

The doctor there checked my pulse while the nurse shaved and attached electrocardiogram ( EKG) wires to my chest. It was decided that I be admitted and the doctor next stuck a needle in my arm for an intravenous (IV) connection.

As the IV needle went in I could no longer control my unease and emptied the contents of my stomach. Thankfully it was caught by the speedy actions of a nurse. There was little but water in my stomach as I had not eaten all day and had no appetite. At that instance the EKG went into high gear recording my heart’s reaction. The severe chest pains heightened at this point, my throat was even more sore and my breathing heavier. I could feel my skin go clammy and I knew instinctively I was white as a sheet. The doctor said he needed my permission to give me a needle to stimulate my heart. He said there were risks involved but highly recommended the procedure. I agreed. He also said he’d be giving me a shot of morphine to ease the pain.

I had asked that Fiona accompany me to assist in translating my American accent to the Scottish medical staff. I also wanted her by my side. She heard the doctor tell the nurse that “We’ve done all we can.” The look on her face made the doctor rephrase his statement. He told her it wasn’t as bad as it sounded, but that there was no other medical procedure needed at this point.

I was moved in my bed-on-wheels to another room where the doctor informed me I’d just had a heart attack. I knew there was a problem and accepted the good doctor’s evaluation. The nurse leaned over me and said “You’ve an angel on your shoulder.” I knew exactly what she meant.

Part II