Bloody Optimism
Who can remember back when they were five years of age? I can remember a couple of things. Firstly a holiday to Anglesey, beaches, ice-cream and a birthday cake, but more so I remember being five for staring down at myself beside a clock mounted on the Children's ward at Hope Hospital, Salford. A bizarre feeling if not surreal to be honest, but that's what I recollect. So what put me there? Well as a child I struggled badly with tonsillitis so much so that I was referred to have them removed along with my adenoids. I don't remember much about the operation apart from being really scared as you would be at any age about to be put under for the knife. However, I do recall being back on the ward when things happened. I was bleeding out of my nose and mouth at the same time, that felt so wrong. I remember doctors rushing to me with a suction unit sucking the blood from my mouth to keep my airway clear. Next I know I'm looking down on myself and my Mum and Dad, peering over the top of the bedside screens. I don't recall much else to be honest but that was scary enough. I learnt that I had a post operative haemorrhage and required a blood transfusion to stabilise me. This was incredibly important as leading up to the operation I was struggling with anaemia. So this transfusion was life saving in these circumstances. I now consider the timing of this episode in my life as lucky, due to the fact it was 1978. Two years later and my blood donor days would have been over!
This episode in my life soon was to be forgotten about as it would at the age of five. In July 1994, at the age of 21 I went to Gateway House in Manchester with my girlfriend (now Wife) who coerced me into donating. This I did and as you do I found out I was O+ blood group. Pretty common and nothing special. I continued to donate blood on an infrequent basis and generally when the National Blood Transfusion Service turned up at work. When they stopped coming, I stopped too. Looking back I was not a committed donor. I didn't understand what I do today about the vital role it can play to both save and change lives, and in the amount of ways it is used in various treatments.
In 2007 my Wife was pregnant with our second child after already having our eldest boy, Matthew, in 2002.
Eighteen weeks pregnant and on holiday in Gwynedd North Wales, my wife started to spot (bleed small amounts). This was a harrowing time. We weren't sure what was going on. We went to Ysbybty in Gwynedd, Bangor. The bleeding had stopped and nothing was found at that time. However we were both concerned. We only had one more day in Wales before coming home, but so concerned we were we went to see a Senior midwife in Pwllheli. Baby was fine with a strong and normal heart beat. This was somewhat reassuring. When we returned home, my Wife started to bleed again. We went to see our assigned Obstetric consultant to determine what was going on. It turned out that my wife has the condition Placenta Preavia (Grade 4 - the worst grade)!! Placenta Preavia is where the placenta implants over the entrance to the cervix which prevents the baby being able to pass through it normally.
My Wife was now hospitalised as she was producing blood clots on a daily basis and the consultant would not allow her home until she had gone twenty four hours without bleeding.
There was an occasional couple of times when she was allowed home for the night, which she enjoyed and so did our Son, Matthew who was five at the time.
Kerry's time in hospital put pressure on me trying to maintain a steady ship at home for Matthew, whilst deep down knowing things weren't great with Kerry and the pregnancy.
Kerry's stay in hospital was made slightly easier by the lovely and fantastic staff on the Gynae unit at Trafford General Hospital. Kerry had a side room which was renamed the Rick and Kerry Suite, as they gave me relaxed visiting hours so that I could get Matthew to bed before visiting. We occasionally ordered a take away to destress the situation we both found ourselves in. The Gynae unit was only meant to allow Kerry there until she was 20 weeks pregnant, however she was allowed to stay there until she reached 24weeks
At this point Kerry's mental state changed as she wasn't happy about the change and to be honest neither was I. The relaxed visiting hours stopped which put pressure on everyone. The room was isolated, dark and depressing a bit like the ward managers attitude towards Kerry. She wanted Kerry to mingle with pregnant ladies who were in labour or postpartum (with babies). We weren't even sure of what the outcome would be for our pregnancy, so to force this was a disgrace and total lack of emotional understanding of Kerry's position. However, Kerry's stay in Maternity was not to be long lived. Kerry pleaded to be let home for the night as things were just too much for her on the ward.
The morning at home, Kerry awoke in a panic, her waters had broken. 24 weeks 4 days. I rushed her back to the Maternity unit immediately. It just became a whole lot worse as we both knew whatever the outcome it was going to be happening soon and there wasn't much we could do to prevent it. The hospital administered steroids to aid the babies lung development. As the hospital were not equipped with dealing with a highly premature birth they organised us to be sent to St. Mary's Hospital in Manchester. We left Trafford General to be urgently taken by Ambulance to St Mary's. The ambulance journey was a first for us both especially one travelling with Blues and Twos - this added to our anxiety as we hurtled through Regent Road in Salford. The midwife who travelled with us was a massive comfort.
We arrived at St. Mary's and I remember the lifts being out of order. You know that feeling when everything's against you!! We used the emergency lift to floor 6 CDU Central Delivery Unit. As we on our way there, Kerry started going into labour, at this point she started shaking from head to toe in fear of the unknown journey we were embarking upon. It was nothing less than frightening. Kerry was still bleeding. We were placed in a side room and was assessed very quickly by a lovely Consultant - Dr Byrd. She calmed things down and spoke to us about what was happening and all the risks we were facing. The prognosis wasn't looking brilliant but there was some optimism.
Kerry and baby were being monitored, but when evening fell, things changed not emergency style but a sense that something had just written the script. Baby was no longer being monitored in the early hours of 26th July. It was a harrowing time a psychological dilemma as I wasn't quite understanding what our baby was feeling, thinking etc. To this day that time still plays back as a non healing scar, that bleeds at the thought.
As things stood Kerry wasn't progressing fast enough through a natural pregnancy even though medication was being administered and changed accordingly. When daybreak came Kerry was having infrequent contractions. She was bleeding but not prefusly. We'd seen changes of shifts and things were starting to get a bit overwhelming. Kerry's contractions were increasing but as they were so was her bleeding. She was bleeding so much to a point that the nurses were weighing the inco mats (absorbent mats) on a frequent basis to calculate the blood loss. I was shocked at what I was witnessing, not really or fully comprehending what was going on. I was putting my full trust in the medical staff to keep Kerry and Baby stable. Things at this stage were not looking good for the outcome of the Baby as the consultant struggled to bring the baby through the placenta and cervix. Kerry throughout this was drugged up with Gas and Air, Pethidene etc.
Kerry was looking grey and the monitor for her vital signs was alarming out, her blood pressure was low normally but I was seeing figures which were extremely low. At this point two bags of blood and a bag of saline were being squeezed into her. There seemed to be some concern in the room and so many midwives present. I sensed the worse, losing Kerry as well as the baby. At 15:33 our Baby was delivered, a bruised but beautiful boy, silent, lifeless, asleep as an angel. Kerry saw what I saw and she let out the most haunting and piercing screem I think I shall ever witness in my life. Our hopes and dreams for our Baby shattered into pieces right there and then. Even with the re-sus team there with him, I knew he'd died and was already an angel not destined for this world.
I felt numb, lost, wrecked and yet spiritually comforted. All strange and new feelings. Kerry was still recovering and obviously distrought almost inconsolable. I tried my hardest to comfort my sick grieving Wife. This was new to me and yet I knew I had to be the strong one.
I remember looking out of the window six floors up over the building site of the new Children's Hospital, up at the tower cranes and then found myself singing in my head "Praise my soul the King of Heaven". Why? No idea, yes I had my faith but never had I felt as strong about it as I did at this time. It was almost a sign. I took strength from this to give me the strength to be as supportive as possible to Kerry and of course to Matthew.
Do things happen for a reason? I believe so. This is why our Baby boy is called Christian, because I believe he made a decision somewhere along the way to sacrifice his own life to save Kerry's. I think I probably know when Christian died as this was the time I felt things had just changed in the early hours of 26th July. This is still what pains me, did he suffer, what did he feel or think at this point? So sad, but I have to take strength that he is now my Guradian angel who appears to me when I request his guidance or support.
Christian had his photo taken, his hands and feet prints done and was laid in a Moses basket for me and Kerry to view when we were ready and whenever we wanted to. I remember holding him for the first time, he was so cold and I thought if I could warm him up he'd revive. He was so perfectly formed and looked so much like Matthew. His toes, fingers and nose. Poor Christian was so bruised though, my boy, my angel x
11 years on, I can still recall everything about it. We will never forget the compassionate care of the Trafford General Gynae team, Heather, Magic Sue and Tracey and that professional care we received at St Mary's especially the CDU Team, the late Louise Byrd, Emma Lane, Michelle Cabrerra, Maria Rives and Sioban. Also not forgetting all the selfless donors who have their blood to save my wife.
It is my positive sense to have turn this tragedy of out into something meaningful in memory of our boy. I go on to tell my story of setting up #bloodnotmoney a campaign aimed to inspire and encourage people to do the most humane of acts, give blood.
My mental state had a stability about it when throwing myself into the campaign, physical activities help with mindfulness.
The test of the mental state however was to be tested again during 2009 when Kerry was pregnant again, but again was diagnosed with Placenta Previa. Carefully planned care for Kerry ensued during this time from the fantastic late Dr. Byrd, having recognised our loss in 2007. Kerry was monitored frequently to see how the placenta was developing, but unfortunately it wasn’t in a great position. The pregnancy continued with a sense of uncertainty whether we would have a healthy child at the end, fearful of events reoccurring.
On the night of 29th June, Kerry’s waters broke and she started to bleed. She was 33weeks pregnant. I remember the flashbacks to 2007 and I remember being very pessimistic.
However Kerry’s labour was stabilised and delayed for three days. On 2nd July Kerry and I opted for a Semi-elective caesarean and at midday our beautiful Daughter Amy was held aloft by the late Dr Louise Byrd. Amy let us know she was alive with a little cry and then was quickly whisked away by the Doctors to SCBU.
Kerry however was bleeding a lot and was requiring more medical and surgical attention. She needed 6units of blood to stabilise her, one unit of her own salvaged blood using the Cell Save Unit.
Amy made brilliant progress and came of CPaC after 4 hours. However Kerry was still unwell and didn’t get to see Amy for 24hours, this I know was harrowing for her.
Whilst writing about my experiences may trigger my emotional state, it also works as therapy. Placing historical events into context. I know that this is probably how I look at things. I would state that this is a few things in here I found too difficult and private to write about, such as Christians funeral, signing a Stillbirth certificate and saying goodbye.
I admit I still struggle with my mental health probably (yet undiagnosed) from PTSD after all I’ve seen and felt, I wouldn’t wish that on absolutely anybody. I’ve struggled with my weight, throwing myself into physically exerting activities to the point of needing surgery on both knees, leaving me in torment, as the activity allowed mindfulness and now I find it painful to run or cycle. Even worse I cannot physically challenge myself for my own campaign #bloodnotmoney - I look for some other inspiration to continue supporting and inspiring others through others doing the physical stuff. Can you run, walk, climb, triathlon, cycle? Would you do it for raising #bloodnotmoney?
I do consider myself lucky, I still have a healthy Wife and two physical Children and a Son who will always be by my side as my Guardian Angel.
