Million Pound Football Player Dies

This week I was shocked to hear that Trevor Francis, the first million- pound English Premier League footballer, had died of a heart attack at the relatively young age of sixty nine.

I have always thought that sort of thing was easily avoided by people, like Trevor, who are supremely fit and financially successful. However, the simple fact of the matter is that whilst being fit and wealthy does come with certain advantages, it is no guarantee of being safe from heart disease. It has got nothing to do with money and being relatively fit. A fatal heart attack can happen to anyone.

The main cause of heart attacks is blocked arteries. And this problem can be easily detected and treated before anything happens. I know all of this for the simple fact that I have blocked arteries and thankfully the problem was caught before it finished me off.

In my case, the problem was detected when I went to the hospital for an exhaustive health check. A couple of routine scans revealed that I had had what is called a silent heart attack and a mini-stroke, or TIA. That means that I had no indications whatsoever that my health was not good nor that my life was at risk. The lesson I learned from this was that you should not wait to feel ill before you get checked out.

After my medical discovery, my heart doctor recommended further investigation to ascertain the extent of the problem. I have to say, a tube being fed into my vein at the wrist and then being pushed up my arm and across my chest right into my heart, whilst fully conscious mind, did not exactly fill my heart with joy. In fact, I was terrified at the mere prospect of it all.

It didn't help when the doctors asked me to sign some papers saying that I had been made aware of the risks of having a fatal heart attack or stroke whilst undergoing the operation. My lovely wife pointed out the advantage of having a heart attack or stroke whilst in an operating theatre. "There is no better place for that to happen, Ralph." she intoned. She's a pragmatic and funny girl to boot, my wife.

In the end, with a local anesthetic in my wrist at the point of entry, it was a painless process. An hour later I was wheeled back to my bed with nothing more than a pin prick hole in my wrist. From there on, things just got better.

The doctor informed me that the problem was nowhere near as serious as it was first thought. This meant that it could be treated with medication and some changes in lifestyle rather than invasive surgery.

In some cases, doctors have to use what are called 'Stents' to keep the artery open, allowing blood to freely flow. In more serious cases they can do an artery bypass. And obviously, these days a complete heart transplant is now a matter of routine. Thankfully I have managed to avoid all of that.

My doctor put me on an anti-cholesterol tablet a day, plus aspirin to keep my blood thin enough to pass around my body unhindered. For my part I have had to be careful what I eat (I love deserts, but they're not good for me, so they have been reduced significantly).

I have also taken up daily exercise, which in my case is walking and cycling. This has all had an excellent effect since my last scan revealed that a lot of plaque that was blocking an artery has disappeared. I should make it clear that it all depends on the type of plaque, some will go, others will not. However, the treatment can reduce the size of the guilty plaque that remains.

The other important thing to do is to have regular checks so as to detect any problems as soon as possible. In my case, I am on a program of three monthly checks and annual scans. And I have to say, I am now in far better condition than when this all started three years ago. It is a somewhat sobering thought that had I not had that total health check, in 2020, the chances are that I would not have lasted long enough to write this story.

At this point, I really must give credit to my lovely wife who had to push me very hard to have that health check and monitors my condition almost twenty-four-seven. And of course, I owe a very big debt of gratitude to the doctors and nurses who have treated me, and they still do, with the dedication and kindness of my mother.

By scary coincidence, like Trevor Francis, I am sixty nine years old. And I can tell you, that is far too young to die, especially from a disease that is so easily detected and treatable, no matter how much money you have in the bank. So don't wait until it is too late, get yourself sorted out with a health check now.