How to Catch Butterflies (20 page)

When he returned, one of the nurses had left him a tray of breakfast, which he was very grateful for.

A senior consultant arrived into the glazed room, looking through his father’s charts, and talking to the young doctors that had accompanied him.

Poor Jason stood at door listening to the consultant instruct the young doctors. At least he was finding out what was going on as none of the nurses told him anything and didn’t understand him. He listened on. He felt like he was suddenly ‘overloaded’ with information making his head spin until he heard the consultant say something about ‘Sudden cardiac death results.’

And that alone made the color from his face drain. As the doctors filled passed him, he re-entered the room. How would he explain any of this to his mother? He paced that room several times that day; when he wasn’t holding his dad’s hand, he wanted him to know he was there.

Later that day they were told by his doctor that he had actually suffered a massive heart attack. They had the results in confirming this.

“It’s probably a 50/50 chance at this point of him surviving it. It really depends on which heart tissue had suffered.” Jason stood there hanging on every word.

“People survive heart attacks all the time, but usually because they get treated at the first sign of one, as opposed to after you collapse and stop breathing.” The doctor could see Jason’s reaction.

“Well, it definitely indicates he is in a critical state.” He continued. “So he needs heart surgery. People do recover. In the short term, it means that the medical team are doing everything they can to reduce the chances of a second attack. The long term is impossible to predict.” Poor Jason’s mouth hung open with shock.

The doctor having seen his reactions, he asked him out into the corridor as the machines continued to beep and hiss. He pointed indicating for them to take a seat on the bench. He tried to lighten the conversation with his tone

“We doctors will throw around a lot of terminology at you that leaves you wishing you had a computer in front of you during THAT conversation like now,” he said looking at Jason’s bewildered face. “I understand your worry, let me explain. We are going to have a look at what the coronary arteries are doing in there.”

Jason nodded his head.

“Your coronary arteries are the blood supply that feeds the heart, which for obvious reasons is very important. No blood supply means no working heart. Only problem we have at the moment is the Cardiologist who will be doing the Cath, will want the patient awake or at least responsive to pain.”

“And Dad hasn’t woken up yet.” Jason looked helplessly at the doctor.

“Yes, but
he can
at any moment and as soon as he does. We will operate. Have hope,” he put his hand on Jason’s shoulder and walked off.

Jason returned to his father’s room and sat down in his chair, clutching his father’s hand.

“Dad, you have to wake up. We need you and mum needs you,” he squeezed his hand hoping he would get a response of a squeeze back.

The only response he received was the constant beeping and hissing of the machines. He buried his head in his other hand as it moved through his hair as Jason breathed heavily out.

Later that morning something happened. It was while he was holding his dad’s hand he felt it. He ran out into the corridor shouting, “Quick, quick, please, someone come quickly please” as a nurse ran towards him following Jason into the room. His father had woken up.

Later that day, Jason’s father was taken in for open heart surgery. They had discovered that the blockage in the RCA (right coronary artery). It was so small that they have to take him immediately up to theatre. Jason paced the corridor waiting for news; looking at every nurse or doctor who passed him, in the hopes they had good news for him.

He had tried to limit his mum having to stay hours. He had sent her home earlier with Magda with the promise of a phone call with any news he had. He sat and waited. Eventually, a doctor arrived to tell him the surgery was a success and something about extubate. Jason didn’t hear anything he said after that. He was delighted, rushing outside to give his mum the good news. Later that night another doctor came in. Jason was sitting in what he affectionately called
his chair.

The doctor explained. “Surgery went well, but we were unable to extubate him,” he saw the worry on Jason’s face. “We will continue to keep trying to extubate him,” he smiled trying to give Jason some hope.

The next four days were a blur for Jason spent in the ICU. His father was still on the vent and an array of I.V’s attached to him. He had stayed sleeping in
his chair
at night, not once letting his dad’s hand go. Over those four day’s they tried on many occasions to remove the tube, but to no avail.

“Come on dad, please wake up.” Jason begged his dad after another set of doctors had left the room. “Pop’s come on, it’s Jase, please wake up for me. You have to wake up and get better mum needs you, please dad open your eyes.”

He looked down horrified to see he was grabbing his dad’s arm with both hands as he released it seeing his handprints remaining where he had held him. He crumbled, the tears popped out of his eyes and cascading down his cheeks. As he buried his head at his dads side and sobbed like a baby.

He awoke the next morning, his head still at his dad’s side, a doctor waiting to speak to him.

“Señor Hallow, we will be taking your father for EEG (check for brain activity) today. Why don’t you go home and you can come back later. We should have the results back then. And of course, if there is any change we will notify you?”

Jason could only nod his head, he was exhausted. He reluctantly went home.

Whilst driving back to the hospital Jason received a call from the ICU, he told them he was actually only 5 minutes away. He was wondering why they were calling him, the nurse who had called only told him his father was in critical condition.

He put his foot down and drove, willing his Dad to hold on. He felt panicked. He drew up to the hospital. Parking his hire car across two spaces in his rush and ran through the entrance doors.

People separated, to either side of the corridors, leaving him a clear pathway as he ran to the ICU. Jason’s heart thumped in his chest as he ran. As he passed the ICU reception, he was met by a team of six nurses.

They were very sorry; his father had passed away while he was on route to the hospital.

Jason fell to his knees, “Oh Dad no! He can’t be! He just can’t be, not my dad…” Jason was still on his knees. The nurses were trying to help him to his feet; two had grabbed either side of his arms to steady him back up.

“We’re sorry there was nothing we could do.” They were trying to comfort him with their words.

“What happened? I don’t understand, wasn’t he supposed to be having an EEG? I don’t understand,” he felt so helpless. He wanted answers as the place and noises swirled around him.

As if on cue a doctor appeared. One of the nurses spoke to him, as they walked towards Jason.

“Señor Hallow, I’m very sorry for your loss. The nurse here explained the situation to me,” he had Jason’s fathers medical notes in his hand, his eyes glancing down at them as he spoke.

“Your Father had suffered major organ failure due an unforeseen septic infection. We also have the results of the EEG, I’m afraid they are not good
.
”

Jason stood there, his legs feeling weak again. He could only shake his head in response to the words the doctor was saying.

“The EEG results, I’m afraid, showed no brain activity. We would have been discussing having to make decision to remove him off the vent. I am very sorry for your loss.” He looked at Jason who was still shaking his head in disbelief.

One of the nurses guided him into his father’s unit for the last time and left him there closing the glass door behind them.

Jason stood there looking down on his dad. They had removed all the tubes from him. The room was eerily quiet as all the machines had ceased making their appropriate noises. There was his father, his big strong fearless dad; his hero. This was the man that had taught him how to play football, how to drive. Here was the man who helped him with his homework when he had come home from a hard days’ work. He was gone, but his body still warm to the touch.

Jason kissed his forehead like he had done a thousand times over. He looked like he was asleep. Jason thought he looked quite peaceful, which he was thankful for considering everything that his poor dad had been through. He took his father’s hand and held it tight, not wanting to let go.

“Oh dad, I’m going to miss you. I wanted to tell you about Rebecca.” His lip trembled as he tried to swallow the lump that had built in his throat.

Jason sat on his familiar chair. He was still holding his father’s hand he didn’t want to let go he wasn’t ready. Jason’s other hand held his head as the tears flowed down his checks splashing on the vinyl hospital floor. He would have to go home and tell his mum. And he would have to make arrangements for his father’s funeral. His mum had been through too much already and she would be in no fit state to deal with any of this.

Chapter 14

‘Every Breath You Take’

It had been a month since she had asked Jason to leave. The month proved to be exceptionally hard for Rebecca, in fact. During the first week, it has been her doorbell ringing. When she would check to see who it was, there was no one; nothing and at all hours day and night. She found it unnerving. It became more frequent as the week went on, as did the phone calls.

She had internally hoped the first few were Jason, she hadn’t heard from him since he had left. The second week on the Sunday evening, she had arrived home from being out with Lucy. She had been with her since Friday night. She was only in the door only 5 minutes when the doorbell rang; she had gone to the window to check and as per usual there was no one there.

Although perturbed, she was tired and decided to have an early night for once.

Both she and Lucy’s social life was that of butterflies, they had been out almost every night, at some function or another.

Yes an early night was definitely on the cards,
but not before a nice hot shower,
she thought.

She turned off all the lights, checked the doors, before heading up. As she went up the stairs she grabbed her phone checking to see if any missed calls.

She desperately wanted there to be, but there were none, her heart sank. She undressed and got into the shower letting the water rush over her, wetting her hair through and through.

It was as she was reaching for her shampoo, that she heard the doorbell go again. Momentarily she thought about going to see who it was but decided not to. She had spent more time running to the window to know there would be no one there. She continued on with her task allowing the bubbles to build into lather, the soapy suds running down her silky skin.