If you’re wondering, I’m not dead yet. I’m just completing what felt a bit like a mad dash across central Europe, catching a train to Berlin (6 hours) then a train to Düsseldorf (4 hours) then a bus to Ghent (4 hours) then a train to Brussels (1 hour) and the Eurostar to London (2 hours).

I did crash with friends in Berlin and Ghent, so it wasn’t quite so exhausting. And I probably could have spread it out a little more, but I really should get a cardiologist to look me over sooner rather than later and that means the UK, where I can stay for a bit and recuperate. So a short, perhaps ill-advised sprint across Europe before I can really settle in to assessing the damage.

I’m on the Eurostar¹ so I’ll be in London soon, and only for the night. I had the good fortune of arriving during a rail strike so I’ve got to chill in London before I can finish my trip and crash for as long as I need to.² That’ll be a weird feeling. The last time I stopped traveling without any real idea when I would start again was during the pandemic. It seems the only thing which can stop me is a disaster. That’s a consolation of a sort.

Most of this trip has served to figure out how my body works now. That’s still an open question; I’m on a lot of medications which are going to be adjusted over the next few months³ and there’s undoubtedly some recovery yet to happen. But I’ve got some broad takeaways, at least. To start with, I’m not fragile. I don’t feel frail or slight. I don’t notably feel my heart straining or struggling at all. I’m not confused or mentally out-of-it at times.⁴ I was able to navigate taxis and train stations and haul my luggage around without any problems. I had harbored a small fear I’d find myself wheezing in some corner of the Düsseldorf train station unable to move, but that proved completely unfounded.⁵

At the same time, I’m clearly far short of 100%. About 70% of the time when I stand up I feel normal, 25% of the time I’m lightheaded, and 5% of the time I’m woozy and need to take a minute. I walk slowly and deliberately, and after about ten minutes of that I still need to stop for a moment. I am now capable of talking quickly enough in a normal conversation to get out of breath. All of that’s going to improve, but we’re a long way from knowing how much or how fast.

There’s only two things which really worry me, at the moment. One’s almost certainly frivolous. My back has continued to hurt, on and off, after getting out the hospital. It’s not the same pain as I was feeling before, more the slightly dull ache I get if I’m sitting in a bad position. This is almost certainly normal, the result of sleeping on a lousy mattress for two weeks.⁶ But I can’t be absolutely sure, and I’ll be second-guessing it for a long while.⁷

The other is a little more disturbing. I have a cough. Not a bad one, but it’s persistent. It’s not linked to a sore throat or a stuffy nose or anything like that which means … I’m not sure. It might mean there’s fluid in my lungs. That would be bad.

It also wouldn’t be all that surprising. I’m not short of breath or otherwise struggling to breathe, so if there is fluid there’s not a lot of it. It could clear on its own as I recover, or maybe it means my medications need to be adjusted. I’m seeing a cardiologist in a few days so they’ll be able to offer their opinion.

I’m trying to keep everything in perspective. It’s early days, still. I’ll likely feel completely different in a week. All I need to worry about now is getting through the next day, and the next, and the one after that.

Next: Birmingham to Stafford
Prev: Warsaw to Berlin

Footnotes

¹ I had always thought there was just the Eurostar station in London and Paris, but there’s dozens of them across the continent, in Belgium and the Netherlands and Germany. And Disneyland Paris. I’m not sure I’m cleared to visit the Haunted Mansion yet.

² Had I known about the rail strike ahead of time I’d have arranged to arrive a day earlier or later, but when I went to rebook my Eurostar tickets they were suddenly £100 more expensive. So sod that.

³ Also years, also decades

⁴ Any more than usual, anyway

⁵ I had — and still have — a lot of people gently (and not so gently) suggesting I should have stayed put or moved slower and while I get and appreciate those concerns they also feel like they’re based on an illusion where there is a way to be maximally safe which I’m blithely ignoring.

Someone asked what I would do if I had another heart attack while I was on the train from Poland to Germany. Like, I don’t know — get off at Poznań and call an ambulance? I don’t think the risk of having a heart attack while sitting quietly on a train is any higher than having a heart attack while sitting alone in a hotel in Warsaw, and I’m not going to live the rest of my life like I could have a heart attack at any second.

Frankly, if I were going to worry about that the time to begin would have been at least five years ago, when I could have stopped with all the tiramisu and maybe ordered the broccoli for once in my damn life.

⁶ I have pains in my hips from the same thing, where all the weight of my body came to rest when I was on my side.

⁷ Among the other deficiencies of the Polish health care system, they told me absolutely nothing when I was discharged. No suggested limits on physical activity, no recommended changes in diet, no warning signs I should be aware of in case things go suddenly sideways. Just a list of prescriptions and a recommendation to get another doctor in a week. So I really am flying blind here.