'Heart attack. Heart failure. Open heart surgery. Rare heart condition;’ all words I never thought I would hear uttered to me at 32 years old and 32 weeks pregnant. To say I was petrified was an understatement.

I woke up one morning with a discomfort in my left ribs, upon talking to my midwife I was sent to A&E. A few hours, and plenty of blood tests, later I was taken through to the Rhesus area and told that my cardiac markers were elevated and hours later I was admitted, hooked up to numerous machines and told that the tests were showing that they thought I had had a heart attack and I seem to have heart failure. My world stopped.

Three hospitals and countless tests later I ended up in the MRI hospital under a specialist Obstetric Cardiologist where, little did I know, I would stay for six long weeks on a Coronary Care Unit. I was diagnosed with a rare heart condition; ‘Anomalous Right Coronary Artery’ and had been told that the condition can be seen on a spectrum of severity but that I had a ‘malignant’ type and that people tend to present after having a cardiac episodes including cardiac
arrest.

They were quite clear that I could not go home and had to remain hooked up to an ECG monitor for a further five weeks until they could safety delivery my baby via C-Section at 37 weeks. I thought they were the hardest few weeks of my life and being away from my first daughter was heart-breaking, but little did I know the challenges I would face would only get harder.

The day of the Section came and I had to be very carefully managed, they had to monitor my heart rate and blood pressure closely and I was told that after the operation the only place for me would be the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit. After my little girl was born I was allowed a quick cuddle with her before we were separated and she went off to the Post-Natal ward with her dad and I was taken off to intensive care – the mix of emotions was unreal. I was so happy that we were both still alive but the upset of her going off without me was heart-breaking.

My time on Cardiac Intensive Care was the hardest few days of my life, I had a scary episode the first time I got out of bed. I started seeing flashes of light and then it all started going black, my heart rate and blood pressure plummeted – I honestly thought that was it and my time was up. I got through it but it left me petrified that it would happen again. I didn’t sleep for days and saw and heard things that haunted me. After a few days I got the good news that my baby girl could go home I was relieved but I couldn’t help but feel a huge amount of upset at the thought of her going home without me – I feared I would never get home. The plan was for me to have an MRI scan a few days later to see what damage there was to my heart and that would determine if I needed open heart surgery before I was allowed home.

A few days later I was allowed back to the Coronary Care Unit which was a relief but I still couldn’t walk further than the end of the bed. I decided that I had to challenge myself and I was aware that fear was having an impact on what my body was allowing me to do so I started setting myself challenges. I started planning what small achievements I could do, I never thought I would be so pleased that I took myself to the toilet.

The MRI day came, I was so nervous as to what the test would show but the consultant was incredible, I’ll never forget the relief of him wheeling me back and saying that my heart was in working order and he could not see any damage. However, I still did not know what that meant and would have to wait to see my consultant the next day.

Little did I know I wouldn’t have to wait because later that day my consultant came to find me, he came over to me and said; ‘Would you like to go home?’ I burst out crying, I thought the day would never come – I was going home! He explained that there was no damage to my heart that they were expecting to see, there was little explanation and no one was really sure what had happened to me. 

I thought that going home was the end however, it only kick-started another battle and one just as difficult to overcome – a battle with my mind.

After being in intensive care only a few days earlier, surrounded by cardiologists and hooked up to machines for weeks, being at home was pretty scary to say the least. To make matters worse within a few days we entered lockdown and I was told to shield. 

I didn’t anticipate what a difficult journey it would be. I had to learn to battle my mind and to learn to live with this new reality that I have a rare heart condition. At first I was afraid to walk to the lamp post
fearing that my heart wouldn’t cope, however, after lots of reading, journaling and psychotherapy I realised that a life lived in fear is not a life lived.

I never thought I would run again so the thought of being able to run a half-marathon to raise money for such an amazing hospital, I feel very honoured. I felt passionate about giving back to LHCH as during COVID they were my lifeline for advice and reassurance but second to that the emotional support through their Psychology team was a huge help.

Given everything I went through I believe that things happen for a reason and I no longer live life in fear. The experience taught me so much and I have grown a lot as a person. I hope that by raising some money that others can also get the help that they truly deserve. My consultant at discharge told me ‘go and live your life’ and that is what I intend to do with a huge amount of gratitude and happiness. 

Life is too short, live it to the fullest, challenge yourself and never be afraid to ask for help.

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