My health heroes at Tameside General Hospital
They were there with me on one of the hardest days of my life
Health hero nomination by Laura Saxon
I met my health heroes on the 27th March 2019. This is the day I also watched my grandad die.
That day, just over a year ago will always be one of the hardest of my life but the doctors, nurses and strangers that helped or consoled me with their kindness and understanding will always cushion the blow of losing one of the most important people in my life.
“I vividly recall how his chest was pumping rapidly”
A little bit of backstory
My grandad – Jimmy - had always had a dodgy heart ever since a motorcycle accident when he was younger. He found out later in life that his aortic valve didn’t work properly, and he had major heart surgery the day I was born. My mum recalls him coming round and saying, “I’ve only pushed through to see Laura.” Ever since then, we had a very strong bond and for the last year of his life (unbeknownst to both of us at the time), I was living with him in Manchester.
On the 27th of March, I received a call from my uncle telling me Jimmy had a heart attack. Two paramedics who I have never met worked on him for twenty minutes and managed to revive him on his living room floor. He was then transferred to Tameside General Hospital. When I got there, my uncle had to go pick up his kids, leaving just me there with him.
So many emotions but so many people there to help
I vividly recall how his chest was pulsating rapidly, like his heart wanted to burst out of his chest. I also remember a cacophony of beeping sounds coming from the machines he was hooked up to. I asked anyone I could find what every new beeping sound meant and everyone I encountered assured me his oxygen levels were fine and they were monitoring him. Not one person I asked ever seem annoyed at my questions.
“he suddenly jumped up and shouted that he couldn’t breathe”
My grandad had been transferred to the resuscitation unit which I had an inkling was not good but the moment I walked through to see him, I knew I had to put on a brave face – he was terrified of hospitals. He signalled me to get a chair and sit by him as he lay on his right side facing me and I remember being so aware of the pain in his eyes as he admitted:
“I’m tired now Laura, I’ve been doing this for 25 years. I’m tired.”
I responded with a blasé attitude that he’d be fine, he’d survived major heart surgery after all!
As I got up and walked around to hold his hand, he suddenly jumped up and shouted that he couldn’t breathe. I watched his eyes roll back and a flurry of nurses and doctors gathered around me and drew the curtain. The beeping sounds had become unbearable. A student nurse – who I wished I had asked the name of – ushered me into a waiting room and rubbed my back while I cried.
They helped me know when to let go
After what seemed like a lifetime, two cardiologists entered the room and sat down. They said: “your grandad’s heart is not pumping like it should be and there’s very little activity, it’s going to be hard for us to get him back. If you would like, you can watch us try and revive him.” An offer which some might find macabre but I was touched by their openness and honesty. They spoke to me like an equal even though I knew nothing about medicine or cardiology for that matter! They went on to mimic the motions of his heart with their hands, clenching their fists tight and expanding widely to show how a normal heart should be beating and comparing that with tiny, slow movements to show how my grandad’s was beating.
I followed them and watched as they put apparatus deep into his throat and made an incision in his groin for a balloon-like object and after a blur of movement, they advised me that to carry on would be cruel – I agreed. They walked around me removing apparatus and detaching monitors, a nurse felt his pulse and looked up to another nurse stood by me. She simply nodded her head and I instinctively asked her whether he was gone. She put her hand on my shoulder and softly said yes.
We later found out that my grandad had died of ischemic heart disease. He was 69. What I distinctly remember taking away from that experience, apart from the pain of losing my grandad, was profound admiration for all those working in that hospital, especially on the resus unit. I was no longer an outsider reading articles and watching Junior Doctors. I had witnessed first-hand the split-second decisions healthcare workers have to make every day, all the while tempering heightened emotions and remaining compassionate among the chaos of trying to keep someone alive.
To the student nurse, the two nurses, cardiologists, and paramedics at Tameside Hospital that helped my grandad – thank you, you have my eternal gratitude.