Living at altitude

The tree lurched from another strike. Nearly there. The aggression of the last couple of minutes had left him short of breath, so he took a long breath in and out and stepped back.

He figured 2 more hits, and it would be down. The tree would supply enough logs for at least a couple of weeks. Up here on the edge of the tree line you could only find alpine pines, but it was enough for his modest needs of warmth. It hadn’t been his choice to live here. But if he was going to be forced to live here, he was going to be warm.

Another swing, the tree whimpered. One more will do it. Bring it down. Taking a step back, he took in as deep a breath as he could. It wasn’t high enough here to need equipment to get air, but it still felt like breathing through a straw. The pipelines that made up his respiratory system felt like they had been rebuilt with tubes half the size they should have been. Everything was harder than it should be. The snow that covered the ground didn’t help either.

One more swing. Somebody more able would have been able to have the tree down sooner, but it was only him here.

The fire crackled in the background as he worked on something. It didn’t matter what, only that something was being worked, and it filled the silence. He looked up out the window. The wind was howling past, but luckily no extra snow. He wasn’t sure how high up the small lodge he was in was, just that it was high enough for it to take its toll.

A few more hours of daylight, and there was still real work to be done. A sigh of resignation. Tiredness was already setting in for the day. The wind had quietened down now since he had started his work inside, but it still didn’t feel good. He looked at his phone. -2 degrees, “feels like -9”.

The fruit and berries didn’t grow quite as high up as the lodge, so the gathering involved a trip down the mountain. This was always the easy bit, and enjoyable. It was rare that he took the time to look away from the mountain further up. When you’re going down, you had no choice. Moments like this were relished.

A bag full of as much nutrition as he could carry, he checked how long he had and started the climb. Since the incident this was the bit he least looked forward to. Before then, he had only experienced altitude a couple of times willingly on the side of a mountain. Now it was his permanent home, the novelty was non-existent. He rubbed his hand up and down the centre of his chest gently remembering where they had entered him, and begun the climb.

Progress on today’s climb started off well. The weather had cleared nicely, the snow was not as deep as it had been on previous climbs. Ultimately his body still felt like an average humans. But no extra thought was needed to remind him of the additional thumping in his chest. Quicker and louder than before. When he got put on the mountain he was told to keep the tick in check. “You are now a useless 29 year old”, the surgeon said. He wished now that he had used his body for more while he could. Following instructions was unfortunately not his strong suit.

Half way there. Some thoughts came in of life before the mountain. How easy things felt. The thought that hiking would be a hobby, a fun afternoon, was alien now. He remembered times when he would go for hikes for fun. Even thinking of these thoughts was exhausting, almost forcing the air from his lungs. That didn’t matter though. Barely any air would make it back in. It was tiring to exist. To think. But. The mountain needed to be climbed.

The sun was quickly setting. But there was still plenty of time. An animal darted into cover ahead, leaving a trail of prints in the snow. He had learnt quickly that he would not be able to keep up with animals. No straining, and catching an alpine animal was beyond his capabilities. No matter, berries and fruit would do.

He reached the door to his lodge. There was still some 30 minutes of usable light. No idea why he had decided to rush. There was no reason for it in the end. But he had. His body felt fine, legs and feet never ached. But everything in his heart and lungs had told him he should have slowed down. Another journey out of breath. An overdose of will unfortunately would not overcome his malfunction.

The fire was still burning weakly, but a few logs extra and it was good for the night. Some time sat down, his heart had relaxed and the concerns had too. Things are generally always scariest when they are at their loudest. And the heart was loud.

A mouthful of the mountains offerings, some evening medication, and the quietness of the evening settled as it did each day. During the daylight, work and the world felt loud. Creatures would call. People would talk on the devices. When the silence of the mountain settled in each evening, and the ticking echoed, that was when it was at its hardest. He reached over and started some work. White noise was white noise, and at least there was wifi on the mountain. Plus, checking out what others were doing was a bit of a highlight in the isolation. The air was thin, but there was still a life. And most of the things he was good at before he could be good at now.

After the couple of years, he didn’t think he would be let off the mountain now. The mountain was becoming home. The hope that things could return to normal, and he could leave the lodge was gone. But after all this time, that would be okay. The hope now is that one day he could thrive amongst the pines.

The wind started to pick up outside. His senses had felt that it would be bad snow for the next few days. Not every day could work out, there would be bad days too. It felt scary, but nothing short of death would end that fear. He waited for the next day to begin.

Today it is 2 years since my aortic dissection actually happened. If you've seen me in the last couple of years, you'll know that sometimes I have "bad heart" days. These are days when breathing feels difficult. That climbing the stairs feels a dozen times harder than it did the day before. I don't know why that is, apparently it's normal, but it kind of reminds me of being up a mountain in the thin air. Hence the post.

I don't think I've ever written down initial event was like. I guess because the main big thing happened 4 months later after I was actually diagnosed.

I stretched in bed, that kind of cat like stretch (you know the stretch I mean, they feel great in the morning). In doing this, I felt an intense tearing pain in my chest, right in my heart, and extending up my neck to behind my nose. The most painful pain I have ever felt in my life. Like being shot in the chest. It started to subside pretty quickly, but I was shocked, and my body just wasn't right. I texted my wife that I needed help, she came up, we called 111. They advised us to go to the walk-in centre, so I did.

As we're talking on the phone, I'm noticing that I have a patch of blindness slowly expanding in my vision. It looked the same as an ocular migraine, but all encompassing. A void in my sight. When we got the Uber to the walk in centre, it had expanded from a 50p at arms length to a plate size at arms length. I get registered, they think it's probably drugs so I get placed low on the triage list. I see someone, and by this point I feel like I can't see anymore. I am repeatedly apologising to this doctor who is seeing me, because he is asking me questions that I simply can't find answers to in my brain. I am not functioning. They send me back to my seat.

From there I have fragments of memories for 24 hours. The feeling of rain on my body (which I now know was them putting me into am ambulance). Being wheeled around the hospital, and me pretending I was an F1 driver. Breathing in for the chest x-ray. Begging them to fix my sight because I was still blind. Trying to eat sandwiches blind, but ultimately messing it up and just eating the cheese.

Then suddenly, my body works. I can see again. It's 7 or 8am the next day. I don't know what has happened to me. My wife has been with me all night, and looks concerned because apparently I've been claiming to be able to see for hours despite failing every test.

Two doctors come in to my bay in the acute ward of the hospital I am in. They make my wife stand outside. They ask me what drugs I have taken, a presumption of guilt. Me being my naive self said "ibuprofen", because I had about 30 minutes before this began. They scoff, make me do another urine test, which they lose, and discharge me.

Later that day, I start to have trouble breathing. My upper chest is in immense pain, like I have been hit with a sledgehammer and it's starting to bruise. This pain continues for a few weeks, I go back to A&E with a racing heart rate of ~160bpm and a peak of 220bpm. They do nothing, and claim it's anxiety.

That takes the story up to the surgery as described in my initial blog post about it. I kind of just wanted to write this down because it wasn't anywhere on here, and amongst the memory issues of the last couple of years, it was the border point between being normal, and not.

When this initially happened, I had been married for 3 weeks and was 2 weeks from my honeymoon. I am on that honeymoon now, 2 years later. I am writing this while currently at a hotel in Milan, with the last couple of days ahead of us before we go home. What's funny is tomorrow we're going over the Swiss alps. I am trying to thrive, even on the mountain.