Not metaphorically. Literally. Well, potentially.

My love life has become so unbearably boring that last week my heart decided to pack it in for a few beats and see what happened.

There I was, cycling up Water Lane when I thought I was feeling tired and so stopped to have a breather. Only when I’d stopped and taken off my rucksack, jumper and helmet I realised my heart was pumping incredibly hard, and then I started having palpitations. Three or four times my heart beat very hard and then seemed to skip a beat before restarting its normally routine. . . routine. As it did this my vision started going blurry and my breathing was heavy as I tried – and failed – to provide enough oxygen for my body.

I sat on the stone wall next to my bike in otherwise blissful sunshine in the middle of the countryside and sucked in air as my vision continued to deteriorate. The corners of my sight were blurry and going dark and my head felt completely spaced out.

My heart gave one final thump, and then ‘stopped’.

I distinctly remember thinking ‘Oh Dear‘ – or words to that effect – before I hit myself on the chest and passed out.

I woke up face down in the dirt to the sound of a car driving past; not stopping to see if the person lying face down in the dirt was okay, but driving past. I hope for the sake of my faith in humanity that they were busy texting or something and so didn’t see me and not that they were in too much of a rush to pause and see what was going on.

I was confused as to why it was that I used to be sitting on a wall and was now on the ground with blood trickling down my face but was more immediately concerned with the fact that my vision was still dark and patchy and my phone was just out of reach.

Then I blacked out again. Some people just can’t hack their oxygen deprivation.

Anyway, once I’d regained consciousness I scrambled up and grabbed my phone before crossing the road to see if anyone was in the house next door. In the end I elected to call dad rather than knock on the door as I was convinced no one was home. This was harder than usual as apparently words being in a useful order and non-slurred weren’t coming from my mouth at first. After that failed my mind out synced seemed of cohesion with reality for about 10 seconds; before my sight completely returned and I was able to blurt out where I was and to please come and find me.

Doctor Dave advised that more in depth tests were needed because 22 year old, relatively fit guys with great beards (he may not have said some of that) shouldn’t pass out like that, even with heavy backpacks on.

A day later the doctors at hospital hadn’t put their finger on why that had all happened but had agreed that it was very odd and that they’d also test me for viruses and pass the case onto the cardio team. I’ve heard nothing since but they’ve now got 24 hours worth of heart monitor data to look through to see if the slight anomalies they found earlier are anything serious or nothing at all.

It’s probably nothing, but it could be something is the general consensus from them so far.

For now the booking of my next big adventure has been put on hold, along with strenuous exercise and not feeling sorry for myself. As soon as I’ve got the all clear I’m booking my trip, the details of which I’ll disclose on the next post. Hopefully that’ll be soon. By the way, the NHS was brilliant throughout all of this. Top marks to the doctors, nurses and general staff in Maidstone Hospital. If I wasn’t trying not to be too concerned by recent events then I would have loved it.

So that’s two rounds I’ve fought with the ground and I have to say I lost both times, my face didn’t appreciate it either time but at least I wasn’t concussed again. But, I like to think that because I hit myself in the chest, there’s a chance I saved my own life. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

It’s probably nothing. Fingers crossed.