WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO ...

What it feels like to ...

IWAS roofing in Edinburgh and felt short of breath. I was going up and down stairs but not functioning properly. I thought I had a cold or a flu or some sort of irritation. The doctor did a check and found out I had an irregular heartbeat and put me on medication.

He told me there were three options: do nothing, take medication or get a heart transplant.

I wasn’t leading such a bad lifestyle and didn’t do anything which could affect my heart negatively. It just happened. Even the doctors say they don’t know how I got it. My dad had heart problems, so it may be hereditary. I’ve never smoked and that helped because you need good lungs for the operation.

My two children were shocked because I’d had no problems in the past. I tried to be as calm as possible because if I looked scared then it would have affected everybody. I kept them positive. I always had a bright outlook.

I never thought I would die. Maybe I didn’t realise the risk I was taking. When I was told I was on a transplant list, I didn’t know when it would come. I didn’t think “they’ve found me a heart” every time my phone went. I just got on with life. Not as if nothing had happened but I tried to live as normally as possible.

When they phoned me at half past four in the morning I didn’t have time to think about life or death. I only had time to calm the situation, to make sure my wife, son and daughter were all right and to prevent myself from panicking. If I went through the operation and didn’t come out, then I couldn’t do anything about that. It’s the people you leave behind, the people around me that had more concerns.

Before the operation a transplant coordinator asked me questions to make sure I was in the right frame of mind. I said I was in for a heart transplant. It was to give me a new life and more time with my family.

I used to wake up when I was lying in the hospital bed and think to myself “hospitals don’t kill you, they keep you alive”. That kept me focused while I was sedated.

I don’t believe in life after death, but while I was sedated I saw a star, a big light. I was going towards it up a hill where there was a grave for me. Two nurses were preparing me for my burial. That was the last dream I had and I woke up soon after that. It could’ve been the afterlife, but I don’t know. It was the hill behind the

Clutha Vaults, maybe based on what was on the news at that time.

You see things because of the drugs you’re on. I had nightmares. I remember them but I wouldn’t tell them to anybody.

The minute I woke up I felt fantastic. I wiggled my toes, wiggled my fingers and was so happy. Then I saw my wife and my daughter. It was the best feeling I’ve ever had.

I’m grateful for a future. Since my transplant a new granddaughter has arrived. Being able to see her is a bonus, because I might not have otherwise.

PHOTOGRAPH: KIRSTY ANDERSON Ronnie Hamilton and his wife Jess stroll through Pollok Park, Glasgow