Chapter 1

16th January 2016. The day I died.

My wife had been in hospital for a woman’s operation. For three days I’d been batching, feeling a bit under the weather, I put it down to worrying about her; we both are in our eighties and don’t enjoy great health. January in Oz is our hottest month, the 16th was a stinker 40 degrees centigrade plus.

I drove down to the hospital and fortunately there was a veggie patch right at the front door, we both have blue invalid stickers. The Sale hospital is a small rural facility, even so, my wife was in a ward diagonally opposite the entrance and on the top floor. So, of I went, every step sweating quarts, up the elevator and eventually to her ward. I feel like shit I told her, “let’s get home out of this heat.”

Of course, she had to say good bye to all and sundry, by now I was really sweating, so grabbed her two suit cases, (she was only in for three days but had enough crap for a world tour) and headed off to the elevator, her moaning about being rushed. I repeated “I feel like shit.” On the ground floor I started the great trek back to the car, with her trailing behind. About half way there I thought I should stop for a breather but decided if I stopped, I might not get going again. So, I continued my slog. Reaching the car (Thank God for the veggie patch) I threw the bags in the back seat and went to the driver’s seat and flopped.

Matilda caught up with me, took one look and rushed into reception who called emergency, Tony was having a heart attack. Two nursed arrived and put me into a wheelchair and over to ER; minutes later I was hooked up to a monitor, stripped down to my under daks and had medical people probing and quizzing me. Blood samples taken and a quick trip to Xray to check my aorta.

It was a biggie. They trussed me up and stuck pads on me for the fibrillator and filled me with drugs; we’re sending you to St Vincent’s in Melbourne. The helicopter will be here soon.

In the chopper the paramedic, Mike, strapped me down and plonked a set of head phones on and connected me to the defibrillator and away we went.

Goody, a free chopper ride, that soon went to shit when I had a second ‘Gabby’, “Change of direction Tony, we are now heading for the Alfred hospital, they have a helipad”. The next fifteen minutes we pure misery, I felt like I had the worse hangover of my life, just get me there so they can fix me up.

“Nearly there Tony”” we landed and I thought now they can fix me. All of a sudden, the pain stopped and I felt great, the door opened and I thought “what’s that on the side of the chopper?” In the background I heard a metallic voice say “Stand clear.”

I woke up in a semi darkened room, I’d pissed my pants, I was stretched out on a narrow bench, there was a huge TV monitor with numbers down one side, the main focus was this wiggly wire moving around. The next I remember was waking in a recovery ward, a nurse was talking to someone about this patient who had a cardiac arrest. She turned to me and said “Ah, you’re awake now, I have your son on the line, would you like to talk to him?” I was the poor sod who she was talking about.

I spoke to David for a while, he assured me Matilda was in good hands, he was a bit concerned about the term ‘cardiac arrest’ not half as much as I was, I BLOODY WELL DIED, that’s enough to stuff up anyone’s day.

The next day, they wheeled me back into the ‘Cath lab’ to put in another stent, the day before they just cleared the blocked artery, I was also informed that Mike the paramedic broke three ribs in resuscitating me. Again, the big screen, this time I more lucid. A ten-year-old Chinese technologist gave me the guided tour (she looked that old, tiny little thing) she certainly knew her stuff though. A catheter was inserted through a vein in my wrist, not an uncomfortable feeling, probably because I was more interested in what was going on; my little tech lady giving commentary.

Seven days later after a lot of prodding and poking, with ultrasound scans, lectures on the do’s and don’ts, they told me I was being discharged, all I had was a pissy pair of underpants, and I was 250 kilometres away from home. Thankfully, we have a good medical system in Australia; the ward clerk contacted Ambulance Victoria who arranged for non-critical patient transport. A set of scrubs and a list of medications enough to start my own pharmacy. A local ambulance took me out to Essendon airport, a King Air ambulance flew me to Bairnsdale, then a cab ride back to Sale; They had a return trip with a patient, that’s why the extra distance. Home in time for tea.