When Tom Kenny had a heart attack he felt oddly calm, knowing he was in good hands, writes LORNA SIGGINS.
TOM KENNY has been in hospital twice in his life, and the first time was when he was just three and a bit. He had scarlet fever and still remembers standing in the cot and waving to his parents. He remembers the hospital’s mashed spuds and carrots swimming in milk.
And years later, his father recalled that he came home with “bronchitis and a foul and filthy tongue”.
His second hospital experience was somewhat different, similarly serious, but this time the food was infinitely better. In August 2003, he was busy running the Kenny Gallery, a family-owned business in Galway city.
One night he woke with a pain similar to heartburn or indigestion which persisted and did not respond to medicine and which began creeping into his left arm. He had a strong feeling at that stage that it was no longer a stomach upset.
His wife, Maureen, drove him to University College Hospital Galway (UCHG) and he was taken to the cardiac unit. He was having a heart attack. Within hours he was stabilised. An angiogram revealed restricted arteries and he required triple by-pass surgery.
“Strangely, it was almost a relief to know what was wrong with me,” he recalls. “I was in safe hands and had complete trust in the medical team – there was no point in worrying.”
And though it may have been “routine” for same medical team, they were aware that he had to be prepared mentally for the surgery, along with his wife and family. Kenny was very impressed with their professionalism, communication skills and the respect shown for Maureen.
“The surgeon met Maureen in Galway before I was transferred to the Mater in Dublin for the operation – operations that can now be done in Galway – and he put her at such ease that it was like letting air out of a balloon.
“Looking back, I think it is very good to have your partner there or a close friend who can absorb a lot of what is being said – and a lot is being said,” Kenny says. After he woke up from the operation, performed by Freddie Woods, he felt so comfortable that he wondered if he had been in theatre at all.
He felt as if he had a “new engine”, but the medical team was also on hand to make sure it was turning over. “Within a couple of days they get you out of bed to take those first tentative steps,” he recalls. “Their constant encouragement helps you exercise a little more each day.”
The surgeon visited him daily during his time in hospital, and there were consultations with physiotherapists, dietitians and occupational therapists. After his discharge, the rehabilitation sessions back at UCHG over eight weeks were “incredibly helpful”, he says.
“From my first hour in the gym I could feel myself getting physically stronger – to the extent that I was out raking leaves at home in what seemed like no time.”
The rehabilitation included group sessions on nutrition, managing stress, and there was a tour of a supermarket with a dietitian which he found to be “unbelievable” in terms of getting practical information.
The session also prepared them for the low days during recovery. “And it was good to be prepared, to the extent that I remember going back to the hospital and was asked to visit a man who had been given a similar diagnosis to mine and was taking it very badly,” Kenny says.
“I spoke to him in hospital and rang him again at Christmas when he would have been over the surgery. His wife said that he was in bad form. Then I remembered how I had been, how I had almost blamed my wife for the fact that I couldn’t eat butter any more. It is very tough on the people closest to you as you adjust,” he says.
People gave him good advice too – like the man who told him to “sit up” in the ambulance on the way to the Mater in Dublin. “That tip came from someone who knew – who had experienced that journey and felt every pothole en route!”
He also recalled how his own parents had recovered from operations, and how they had “set themselves short targets”, rather than being too ambitious. “I decided I would help in every way to cure myself, because it wasn’t going to be done for me.”
He lost weight, joined the “Union of the Bypassed” which he found to be much larger than originally thought, and cannot give enough praise to the professionals who treated him, and those who provided the “after sales service” which receives funding from Croí, the western cardiology foundation.
“The idea with those rehabilitation sessions is to make you fit enough and educated enough about your health to keep away from hospital for as long as possible. They do not want to see you in there again,” he says. He believes every one over 50 could benefit from the course, whether they have experienced cardiac problems or not.
“Maureen was remarkably disciplined and kept people away from the door in the weeks after the operation. The physio had emphasised the benefits of walking, and it has had a wonderful impact on our lives.
“Every morning now we are either out and walking down to the beach or over the bog, listening to bird song, to the waves.”
He cut back on alcohol but was told he could have a pint. “The first drink I had was with my late mother, Maureen, in Lonergan’s in Salthill,” he says.
“The door opened and in walked the cardiologist. We both just burst out laughing.” And he finished his pint.
If you have had a health experience – good or bad – that you wish to share, please e-mail healthsupplement@irishtimes.com