By The Tart From Down Under
Posted Thursday, June 16th, 2016
Posted Thursday, June 16th, 2016
“It’s just an infection, I’ll give you some antibiotics for it. Your heart does sound as though it is working a little harder then normal, so here is a referral for an echocardiogram, just get it done once you are finished with the antibiotics”
This conversation happened between my partner and his doctor, less than three days before he had a heart attack. I remember sitting in the hospital room replaying that conversation in my head over and over, I was angry, and that doctor was to blame, at least in my head, I think having someone to blame made me feel better. He could have recommended the echocardiogram immediately, he could have sent him to the hospital, anything.
It's something, that at 24 I had never conceived would happen, that a seemingly healthy 26 year old male, would go to a friends house for pizza and a beer, would run home and almost die. I received a phone call at 11pm, and spent the next two days in turmoil.
When I arrived at the hospital I had an emergency room doctor tell me he thought that Mr. Down Under was going to die on his way in, but it's ok, because he didn’t. I don’t think he understood that this wasn’t a very comforting thought. I sat with my niece, who was 20, and the friends that he had been with in a waiting room, while trying desperately to contact family members. The waiting was interrupted sporadically by nurses coming into grill me about what Mr. Down Under had been doing before his heart attack, where had he been? What had he eaten? What drugs had he taken? At a friends place, pizza and beer, nothing, I repeated over and over.
By 5am, doctors had decided that Mr. Down Under needed emergency heart surgery. They had discovered he had a mitral heart valve calcification, it was so severe it needed to be replaced, immediately, because at the moment, he had a balloon pump inserted to do its job. They moved us to a more specialised hospital, again we waited. We were waiting for Mr. Down Under’s parents. Even though he had instructed EMT’s before passing out that I were to be his next of kin, doctors were refusing to begin surgery without his parent’s permission. One catch, they live in New Zealand, and upon hearing the news, had jumped on a plane, and were unreachable.
Mr. Down Under remained unconscious for most of the day. We were allowed to see him, but I almost wish I hadn’t, he was freezing cold and had no colour, he was surrounded by machines and had tubes inserted into his mouth and nose. It was surreal, I kept waiting for him to open his eyes, look at me, anything.
My mum arrived around lunch time, and ordered me to find some food, as I was leaving the ward, I thought I heard my name being screamed down the hall. I paused, and the heard it again, followed by “He’s awake”.
I returned to the room to find Mr. Down Under looked confused, he was surrounded by doctors, and reached out to me as I walked in. He tried to remove the tube from his mouth but was stopped. When his parents arrived later in the day, the surgery was given the ok. Doctors discussed with us his choices in replacement heart valves and it was decided that a mechanical valve would be used. This meant that Mr. Down Under would be on medication for life, but the valve shouldn’t need to be replaced as often as a tissue valve. The surgeon had some concerns, due to the lung infection Mr. Down Under was still fighting. However, putting surgery off any longer would be even more dangerous.
We were told to leave the hospital, there was nothing more to do except the surgery and we would be notified when it was complete. Nearly 20 hours after that initial phone call I left the hospital, feeling worse for wear, to continue waiting and hoping.
About the Author:
A 28 year old Aussie, from the beautiful South-East of Queensland, a lover of chocolate, good white wine and books, I'm an almost married mum to two, aged 1 and 3, who is pro-vax, pro-choice and pro-you do you. My partner and I run a small business from home.
