By The Tart from Down Under
Posted on Wednesday, July 20th, 2016
This post is a follow up to It’s Just an Infection and Leaving.
It seems cliche to write, but life does go on, and I had to go back to mine. Only five days had passed since Mr. Down Under had a heart attack, but it was Monday morning and I had to go back to work. I worked as a child care worker, however, Mr. Down Under was the larger income earner in our relationship. So with him in hospital, money was going to be tricky. Luckily we had been saving for a house deposit, so we were going to be ok financially.
I don’t want to make this post about the medical system, but here in Australia it is fantastic. We have a public system that taxes higher earners at a higher rate to cover medical, and even have a small levy included in our car registration to cover any ambulance usage. With everything Mr. Down Under had been through, and would continued to go through, even though he is not an Australian citizen (he is a permanent resident, and New Zealand citizen) we were not charged for a single dollar of his care. And I will always be so thankful for that. Just continuing to cover our daily life costs was a struggle and reduced our savings to nothing.
Now, 48 hours doesn’t sound like an extraordinary amount of time, but it felt like a long time. I had to push past the fact that someone I loved was sick, and we didn’t know what was coming next. 48 hours were how long we had to wait for doctors to decide that Mr. Down Under’s oxygen saturation levels had stabilized enough to be able to come partially out of sedation.
It finally felt like it was going to be ok, there had been setbacks, but doctors were able to bring Mr. Down Under out of sedation without any immediate issues. He still had a breathing tube inserted and was being assisted with oxygen, but he had improved. The first night I came in and he was awake, there was fear, both his and mine. He held my hand and stared at me the entire time I was there. It was the first time I remember having seen him scared. With a breathing tube inserted we weren’t able to talk, but when the end of visiting hours came, Mr. Down Under made it very clear he didn’t want me to leave. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to stay.
A pattern emerged for me. My life became wake up, go to work, go to the hospital, sleep and begin again. I felt exhausted both physically and emotionally. Working with children made my days especially difficult. I couldn’t let myself feel too much. I had to put on a happy face for the parents and my kids. My assistant at the time was a close friend. She had been and sat with me at the hospital and knew everything that was happening. It made it easier that someone was there with me that knew the extent of what was going on, understood my low points, and was kind enough to help pick up anything I had missed during my working hours.
Removing the breathing tube was the next step, and in doing so the doctors found that Mr. Down Under’s throat muscles had deteriorated. It was a risk that they were aware of, but the damage was normally minimal. Not Mr. Down Under, he had to stand out and be different. In this case, the damage from the breathing tube had been significant, meaning he was unable to talk, eat or drink, and doctors informed us they were unsure how well the muscles would recover.
The good news was that with being off oxygen Mr. Down Under could finally leave ICU and be moved onto a normal ward. The battle had been won, but the war was just beginning.
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.
This post is a follow up to It’s Just an Infection and Leaving.
It seems cliche to write, but life does go on, and I had to go back to mine. Only five days had passed since Mr. Down Under had a heart attack, but it was Monday morning and I had to go back to work. I worked as a child care worker, however, Mr. Down Under was the larger income earner in our relationship. So with him in hospital, money was going to be tricky. Luckily we had been saving for a house deposit, so we were going to be ok financially.
I don’t want to make this post about the medical system, but here in Australia it is fantastic. We have a public system that taxes higher earners at a higher rate to cover medical, and even have a small levy included in our car registration to cover any ambulance usage. With everything Mr. Down Under had been through, and would continued to go through, even though he is not an Australian citizen (he is a permanent resident, and New Zealand citizen) we were not charged for a single dollar of his care. And I will always be so thankful for that. Just continuing to cover our daily life costs was a struggle and reduced our savings to nothing.
Now, 48 hours doesn’t sound like an extraordinary amount of time, but it felt like a long time. I had to push past the fact that someone I loved was sick, and we didn’t know what was coming next. 48 hours were how long we had to wait for doctors to decide that Mr. Down Under’s oxygen saturation levels had stabilized enough to be able to come partially out of sedation.
It finally felt like it was going to be ok, there had been setbacks, but doctors were able to bring Mr. Down Under out of sedation without any immediate issues. He still had a breathing tube inserted and was being assisted with oxygen, but he had improved. The first night I came in and he was awake, there was fear, both his and mine. He held my hand and stared at me the entire time I was there. It was the first time I remember having seen him scared. With a breathing tube inserted we weren’t able to talk, but when the end of visiting hours came, Mr. Down Under made it very clear he didn’t want me to leave. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to stay.
A pattern emerged for me. My life became wake up, go to work, go to the hospital, sleep and begin again. I felt exhausted both physically and emotionally. Working with children made my days especially difficult. I couldn’t let myself feel too much. I had to put on a happy face for the parents and my kids. My assistant at the time was a close friend. She had been and sat with me at the hospital and knew everything that was happening. It made it easier that someone was there with me that knew the extent of what was going on, understood my low points, and was kind enough to help pick up anything I had missed during my working hours.
Removing the breathing tube was the next step, and in doing so the doctors found that Mr. Down Under’s throat muscles had deteriorated. It was a risk that they were aware of, but the damage was normally minimal. Not Mr. Down Under, he had to stand out and be different. In this case, the damage from the breathing tube had been significant, meaning he was unable to talk, eat or drink, and doctors informed us they were unsure how well the muscles would recover.
The good news was that with being off oxygen Mr. Down Under could finally leave ICU and be moved onto a normal ward. The battle had been won, but the war was just beginning.
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.
