Andy's Story: Part 2

21/11/2017

Andy's Story

My life was ticking along quite well in the fast lane - I was going to school, coming home, going swimming training and generally enjoying a happy life...everything was fine at this stage. However, a major change then came along, my Dad was offered a job abroad after being made redundant. This was a massive change, obviously not only was my dad not home, but he was also not able to take me training and he was my main source of transportation (and encouragement). This had an immediate impact on the amount of swimming I did at that time. But, all clouds have a silver lining and we did notice an increase in our standard of living at home, with the additional income that Dad was now earning. The next logical step for my parents was probably to move home, as the kids were slowly flying the nest and fairly soon it would be one of them. So, an attractive little house in a tree-lined suburb was found, and we made the move - me, one of my three sisters, my Mum and Dad.

My Mum did a great job of refurbing the new home, and my Dad worked hard 4 weeks away and 4 weeks at home, my Mum even took driving lessons and had a small Datsun car that we would call the “cookie mobile”. Ah yes, the cookie mobile; a yellowish two-door Datsun which we used to pile into, and mum would drive in a very cautious manner, she was never a confident driver really. So, on the face of it all, everything was going swimmingly well (excuse the pun). 

The next part of my story is probably the darkest part in many ways. I'd like to take you back to the 19th of October, 1982. For the past couple of days, my mum had been complaining of indigestion and pains in her chest. I said to her that maybe she should go to the doctor and finally she agreed, she had this suspected indigestion for two days solid, and nothing would shift it. Upon meeting with the doctor, she was in and out of his surgery probably within 5 minutes as I sat in the waiting room flicking through a magazine. As she emerged from the consultation with the doctor, she gathered her bag and umbrella from me, as we walked out I sensed all wasn't well but at 14 I didn’t know what to ask. Finally, I asked her what the problem was and she told me that the doctor had said that it was indeed just indigestion and “nothing to worry about”, so we just got on with our day. Later that day, a second medical appointment was in order at the local hospital, but this time it was for me. Some days prior to this, I had been fooling around with my friends in the nearby field lighting fireworks (not a good idea) and a rocket had landed at my feet and gone off. Foolishly, as a 14-year-old boy would, I picked it up, took a large breath of fresh air and blew on the smouldering firework to relight it. Sure enough, it exploded in my face. I was incredibly lucky as I only had a few splinters in my left eye which needed treatment. 

The appointment was at 2:30, so by 2 pm we took our seat in the waiting room while my mother sat there looking uncomfortable with a grimace on her face. At 2:20, I said to my mum “why don't you go for a walk and see if some fresh air will help you”, as I felt confident enough to go into the consultation on my own. My mum agreed, and I watched her as she walked through the big blue swing doors and out the front of the hospital.

That was the last I ever saw my Mum alive.

Do you know, as I sit and write this that's probably the first time I've ever really thought of it that way. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t just grab me around the throat just for a second. My mum had walked out the front door of our General Hospital and suffered a massive heart attack. The details of which, even to this day, I am unsure of. So, I don't know if it was a cardiac arrest, or what the actual reason was, all I knew was that my Mum had passed away at exactly 2:30p.m, on the 19th of October, 1982.

That was a harsh introduction to the pain and loss that can be caused by ignorance of heart disease. My life was never to be the same again.

Click here to read Andy's Story: Part 3!