Mother of the Bride

by Marita Conlon-McKenna

  Afterwards he was asked to do an exercise stress test on the treadmill. He wasn’t much of a one for the gym, preferring eighteen holes of golf or a good walk in the fresh air, but he had been on a treadmill a few times before and felt confident enough as the machine started. The pace was slow and steady and it increased very slightly, but after only a few minutes Paddy felt he was struggling; the nurse stopped the machine. A few more blood tests and he was finished. He chased back into town for a meeting with a new client who was converting a warehouse to a manufacturing unit.

  Doctor Galligan’s secretary phoned him two days later, and Paddy returned to the surgery for his test results.

  ‘The results of your tests are back and there are a few things that are causing some concern,’ the doctor explained. ‘Paddy, your cholesterol is high and the results of your stress test, the ECG and ECHO, and some of your blood-tests, are flagging up that something is going on. I’m referring you to a cardiologist, Paddy, as the ECHO shows there are some definite changes to your heart and there may be some blockage of two arteries.’ Paddy sat in the chair feeling as if he had been punched. He had never really been sick in his life and now he had to go and see a specialist. Paddy listened as the GP tried to explain it all to him and gave him a letter for Doctor Clancy, the cardiologist he was to see.

  Doctor Brendan Clancy, the cardiologist, saw him five days later. He was a small, dapper man and he studied the results of Paddy’s tests carefully and read the letter from his GP.

  ‘Paddy, I’m afraid that the result of the echo and your other tests indicate that there is a problem with the arteries, and we need to investigate further. I’ve scheduled you for an angiogram on Monday morning, here in the clinic.’

  ‘An angiogram!’ Paddy couldn’t believe it, and listened as Doctor Clancy explained how they would inject dye into the top of his leg and it would show up the arteries in his heart so that they would get a much clearer picture of what was going on. It sounded awful, and Paddy was scared, petrified. He didn’t know what to think.

  ‘Once we see the angiogram we can decide what treatment you may need,’ said Doctor Clancy.

  ‘Treatment?’

  ‘Well, if you need a stent or even a bypass.’

  Sitting out in the car afterwards Paddy felt suddenly afraid. He was as healthy as a horse, had been all his life, and yet now there were doctors and tests and this bloody angiogram thing. He hated doctors, no matter how nice they seemed to be! What the hell was he going to do?

  On Saturday night he persuaded Helen to go for a drink in Fitzgerald’s. God knows, he could do with a drink after the strain of the past few days. He set her up with a vodka and orange and himself with a pint of beer. The pub was fairly busy and the barman, Ambrose, came over to say hello to them. Paddy wanted somewhere safe and quiet to tell Helen about his appointment on Monday. He knew her mind would be racing once he told her about seeing a cardiologist, and she would have lots of questions. Likely she would be furious with him.

  Helen rambled on about Amy. ‘I’m still so worried about her, Paddy. She’s trying to put on a brave face but you can see she’s heartbroken.’

  Paddy took a long sip of his pint.

  ‘Then of course there’s Sheila. We need to know what’s facing us!’

  Paddy took another sip of his pint.

  ‘Nursing homes and hospitals and doctors and carers, that’s what the Hennessys and the O’Connors are facing!’

  ‘Talking about doctors,’ he began slowly, ‘I was with Tom Galligan the other day and he sent me for a few tests.’

  ‘I thought you had your health check done a while ago?’ Helen put down her drink immediately.

  ‘I haven’t been feeling that well recently. Anyway, my cholesterol is raised and a few of the tests came back as abnormal so Tom sent me for an ultrasound and organized for me to see a heart consultant. A nice chap in Blackrock Clinic called Brendan Clancy.’

  ‘Paddy, I don’t believe it. You went and saw a consultant in hospital without telling me!’ Helen whispered. ‘Why?’

  ‘You’ve had so much on your plate with Amy and Sheila that I didn’t want to worry you,’ he explained. ‘It’s bad enough one of us worrying about it, without the two of us going up the walls!’

  ‘Paddy O’Connor, if we weren’t in a public place . . . I’d kill you,’ Helen blurted out. ‘I bet that’s why you brought me down here to tell me!’

  ‘Too right,’ he laughed, taking her hand.

  ‘So what did this doctor say?’

  ‘He said that I need to have an angiogram done of my heart.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘On Monday.’

  ‘This Monday?’

  ‘Yes, I have to be in Blackrock Clinic by nine in the morning, and I’m not allowed to drive.’

  Helen was furious with him for not telling her that he was going to the doctor, and, worse still, that he had been sent to the Blackrock Clinic.

  ‘You could have keeled over, Paddy, and how do you think that I would have felt – or the kids?’ she demanded, all emotional.

  He held her hand.

  ‘Paddy, we’re in this together. No more secrets, promise me!’

  Paddy leaned over and kissed her, stroking her cheek with his finger. ‘No more secrets,’ he promised, relieved that everything was out in the open.

  Chapter Forty-six

  As Paddy lay waiting to be brought down for his angiogram, Helen sat beside his bed. Helen sighed; Paddy was being his usual protective self, trying not to worry her. He was such a good man, and without thinking she reached over and hugged him.

  ‘I’ll be fine, love,’ he said, stroking her back with his hand.

  Paddy was talking to the nurse as she took his blood pressure. The nurse explained everything to them, and said that Paddy would likely get a hot flush when the consultant injected the dye into him, and would be able to see what was going on on all the screens around him as they tried to find the source of his problem.

  ‘Now you’ll know what a hot flush feels like,’ Helen teased, squeezing his hand.

  Minutes later a porter came to collect Paddy in a wheelchair, and he went downstairs to the cardiac catheterization lab.

  Helen didn’t even want to think about the procedure he was facing, and got up and went for a walk, glad of the big glass windows and the views from the hospital, which overlooked Dublin Bay and the bird sanctuary at Booterstown. The waves rolled in one after another, their rhythm strangely soothing and calming as she waited for Paddy to return.

  * * *

  Paddy was tired when he got back, telling her about the miracle of modern medicine that had let him see inside his own heart.

  ‘What did Doctor Clancy say?’ she asked.

  ‘He said that he wanted to show the films to Mr Mulligan – he’s a surgeon,’ Paddy said, unable to keep the concern from his voice.

  Half an hour later Doctor Clancy appeared, with another tall grey-haired doctor dressed in blue scrubs.

  ‘Paddy, this is Mr James Mulligan: he’s one of our finest surgeons here,’ he said, introducing the other doctor. ‘I asked him to review the film from your angiogram, and we are both agreed that the best mode of action is for you to have immediate bypass surgery.’

  Helen could see that Paddy was shocked, as she fought to control the sinking feeling in her own stomach.

  ‘You have severe blockages in three sections of arteries and we need to urgently bypass them,’ explained the surgeon, calmly sitting down beside Paddy. ‘We use grafts taken from veins in your legs or chest to bypass the blockages. I attach them above and below where the blockage is so that the blood can flow freely into the heart. It is the only way that your heart will regain its normal function. That is why you have been having some pain and difficulty exercising, lifting and doing things.’

  ‘I see,’ said Paddy, totally overwhelmed by the news.

  ‘When does he need to have the operation?’ Helen asked.

  ‘He is scheduled fo
r first thing in the morning,’ said Mr Mulligan, serious.

  Helen and Paddy couldn’t believe it. How had this all happened so quickly, and become so urgent?

  ‘Paddy is in the best place for this kind of surgery,’ said Mr Mulligan. ‘Our cardiac unit is world class. He was lucky that his GP suspected what might be going on and sent him here to be checked out.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Helen, trying to smile when inside her world was collapsing.

  ‘What about the risks?’ Paddy asked quietly.

  ‘There are always some risks associated with any surgery,’ Mr Mulligan explained. ‘But with bypass surgery there are slightly more. However, the benefits of the surgery far outweigh any of the risks, which is the important thing.’

  ‘I see,’ Paddy said slowly. ‘So you think that I need to have the operation?’

  ‘I’m afraid you have no choice,’ said the surgeon. ‘You need an urgent triple bypass operation.’

  Helen took a big shuddery breath, trying to control her fear. It had all been taken out of Paddy’s hands and they both had to trust the two men standing beside them.

  ‘Paddy, I’ll see you in theatre first thing tomorrow morning,’ James Mulligan excused himself. ‘If you have any questions, Doctor Clancy or my registrar, Doctor Lennon, will explain things to you and your wife.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Paddy.

  They sat in silence after the doctors had left, both stunned by the results of the tests. Doctor Lennon, the registrar, had explained things further, going into more detail about the surgery and Paddy’s post-operative care and long-term treatment.

  ‘Well, I just have to have the operation tomorrow morning and get through it,’ Paddy said, trying his best to sound calm and matter-of-fact.

  ‘Of course you’ll get through it,’ Helen encouraged, trying to disguise her own fears. ‘You are strong and fit and have had no health problems up to now.’

  Later on that evening Amy and Ciara and Ronan all came to the clinic together. Helen could tell the girls had been crying.

  ‘I can’t believe it, Dad!’ Amy said, throwing herself into his arms.

  ‘It’s a bit of a shock,’ he admitted. ‘But at least they discovered it, and I didn’t just go and drop down dead somewhere!’

  Ciara was quiet, watching him and stroking his wrist with her fingers.

  ‘Dad, if there is anything you need me to do, let me know!’ urged Ronan, his dark eyes filled with concern.

  ‘I’m going to be tied up here for the next ten days or so,’ said Paddy, ‘and I’ll need you to keep in touch with the office and give a hand to your mum and the girls. Most of my affairs are in order, and details of my bank account and insurance policies are all in my study.’

  ‘Paddy, don’t talk like that!’ pleaded Helen.

  ‘I have to tell you what’s what,’ Paddy said firmly, ‘just in case things don’t go well tomorrow.’

  ‘Everything will go well,’ she said fiercely, not wanting to contemplate the alternative.

  The children stayed for about two hours. Paddy eventually sent them packing.

  ‘You lot need to go home and go to bed. We all have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.’

  ‘Ciara’s taking your car home, Mum, so give me a shout when you are ready and I will come back and collect you,’ offered Ronan, saying goodnight to his dad.

  Alone at last, Paddy and Helen chatted easily about the time they first met, the first kiss and their struggles to save to buy a house and get married.

  ‘The kids had us worn out,’ he laughed. ‘I remember when I used to come home from work I didn’t know how you stuck it all day.’

  ‘It was a bit crazy,’ Helen admitted, ‘but we had such fun. How time has flown, and now they’re all grown up!’

  ‘They are the best thing we ever did,’ said Paddy, serious, holding her hand. ‘And I’m proud of each and every one of them. They have grown up into fine young people. But now we have time for each other – time to do the things we couldn’t afford to do when we were younger. Time to go to all the places I promised to take you to, Helen – Rio, Cape Town, Sydney, Bath, Cornwall . . .’

  ‘Paddy!’ she laughed, ‘we’ll get there.’

  ‘I know.’

  Helen’s eyes welled with tears. Paddy gave out to her for crying as she blew her nose.

  The nurses were in and out and she knew she had to go when they started turning off lights in the corridor and in the room. Paddy needed to rest.

  ‘I’ll see you first thing in the morning,’ she promised, kissing him.

  Ronan had texted her to let her know that he was outside.

  ‘Sleep well,’ Helen said, and Paddy held her close. Helen felt such tightness in her own chest as they said goodnight, that she could have been the one with the heart problem.

  At home, Amy and Ciara and Ronan were full of questions, and they all sat up eating toasted cheese-and-onion sandwiches and drinking coffee and talking till all hours. Helen was glad of the company and of having the people she loved the most in the world around her.

  When the girls and Ronan had gone to bed, Helen crept downstairs because she couldn’t sleep. She spent two hours on the internet Googling for information on heart surgery. Reading about the surgical procedure, and scrolling through accounts from patients and patients’ families somehow made her a little less anxious. Think positive, that’s what Paddy believed, and what she had to believe, too. Switching off the computer and the lights she eventually went back to bed, checking that her alarm was set for 6.45 a.m.

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Helen slept badly, tossing and turning for the rest of the night. She kept thinking of Paddy’s operation.

  She rose early and downed a full pot of tea, her stomach too sick to eat. Then they all showered and dressed and got ready to go to the hospital. Paddy’s operation was scheduled for about 8 a.m. and she wanted to see him before he went down.

  Ciara appeared in tight-fitting jeans, a pale-blue buttoned grandfather shirt, and a black cardigan.

  ‘Did you sleep, pet?’ Helen asked.

  ‘No!’ Ciara admitted as she filled a giant glass with orange juice and munched on two slices of brown bread and butter. She still looked half-asleep and had forgotten to line her eyes with their usual kohl.

  Amy and Ronan both had to go to work, but wanted to see Paddy before his operation; Ciara had decided to stay with Helen. Helen checked that her phone was charged as they all went to the hospital. Ciara was driving her car for her, as she didn’t trust herself on the roads today!

  * * *

  Paddy was already dressed in a hospital gown, ready for theatre, when they made their way to his room. He looked tired and had a scared look on his face, something they had rarely seen. He had been washed with a special antiseptic soap and his legs, arms, chest and underarms were shaved.

  ‘I feel like a big turkey being got ready to put in the oven,’ he joked, as they sat with him.

  The nurses were busy and kept coming in and out, checking on things.

  ‘I even had a priest in last night to give me a blessing after you’d all gone home!’ Paddy joked.

  Ronan was great, telling him about the football results and about his plans to go on holiday to Poland with Krista.

  Ciara told him that she was glad to miss lectures today as their new lecturer was like a Nazi and constantly shouted at them all. ‘Honestly, Dad, it’s a wonder people take his class on Ancient Mesopotamia, as he hates it when anyone asks a question, and shouts at them if they try to ask someone else! It’s a nightmare.’

  ‘Ciara, don’t you let that fellow my lad of a professor, or whatever he is, think he can walk all over you. You should all write out your questions, and put them in his inbox in the college. He couldn’t ignore a hundred student questions!’

  Doctor Puri, a young Indian doctor in blue theatre scrubs, came in, listened to Paddy’s chest briefly, and gave him the consent form to sign.

  ‘I am your anaesthetist,’ he
explained, ‘and we will be ready for you in theatre in a short while.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said Paddy, wanting to get it over with.

  Helen tried to control her nerves when Staff Nurse O’Donnell came into the room to tell Paddy that it was time.

  The nurse checked Paddy’s wristband as they all hugged him and wished him luck.

  ‘Daddy,’ said Amy as she flung her arms around him. Ronan gave him a big bear hug, unable to say anything, while poor Ciara was crying as she hugged him tight. Paddy fought to control his emotions.

  ‘You keep an eye on your mum!’ he teased. ‘I don’t want her moping about the place just because I’m laid up.’

  ‘Will do!’ sniffed Ciara.

  As the porter wheeled his bed away Helen was the last one to kiss him.

  ‘Don’t worry, love, everything will be OK,’ he said.

  Helen could have wept. There was Paddy going to have awful surgery, and his concerns were for her.

  ‘I love you,’ she whispered.

  ‘Love you, too,’ said Paddy.

  ‘Mr O’Connor!’ called Staff Nurse O’Donnell. ‘Paddy O’Connor!’

  The porter wheeled Paddy down to the theatre on the first floor, where another nurse checked his name bracelet and his chart.

  Helen stood watching them push his bed down the corridor to the lift, praying that in a few hours he would be safely returned to them. She tried to compose herself till she was sure Paddy was well and truly out of sight.

  ‘What will I do if anything happens to him?’ she cried, searching for a tissue in the black hole of her handbag.

  ‘Dad will be all right,’ assured Amy, hugging her. ‘He said that he’s got the best medical team going, and he’s been fit and strong all his life. He’ll sail through the operation. Just you wait and see.’

  The staff nurse reappeared.

  ‘Are you OK, Mrs O’Connor?’ she asked kindly.

  ‘Yes,’ said Helen, blinking away the tears. ‘How long will he be in theatre, do you think?’

  ‘It’s usually four to six hours,’ the nurse explained. ‘You do know that he won’t be coming back here to this room, but will go directly into intensive care?’