by: Peter Flanagan
3 February 2003
Still searching for the answer: " Why was I meant to live?" "Was there a reason for surviving or was I just lucky?" In October 1978 I had a massive heart attack while playing a vigorous game of basketball in a teachers versus students match. I was one of the teachers at a Catholic girls' secondary school.
Considering myself to be reasonably fit and having been a keen sportsman at school, I set out to play in the centre of the court against the school's number one side. The day was hot; the game was a lot faster than any of us were expecting. The teachers won - boasting that their superior knowhow had prevailed over the superior fitness of the students.
I returned to the staff room and sat down. My heart began fibrillating (myocardial infarction). It was as if I was having a fit - my heart was racing irregularly being completely out of beat.
Thank God there were three people on hand who were qualified in first aid: my brother Frank, also a teacher at the school, who realised what was happening; a St John of God Ambulance Officer who was, fortuitously, visiting his wife who was on staff; and a physical education teacher who was trained in first aid. They worked on me for some 20 minutes until the ambulance arrived.
When the MICA unit finally arrived - delayed, I understand, by entering the wrong gate, an event which necessitated their returning to heavy traffic conditions in order to re-negotiate entry to the school - they applied electric shocks to my chest in a bid to normalise my heartbeat.
After two unsuccessful attempts, they were about to cover me with a blanket. It was almost curtains! Fortunately, however, with the assistance of the people who had first come to my aid, they persisted and I was eventually revived. The ambulance then sped off to The Royal Melbourne Hospital. My problems, though, weren't over yet. I went into cardiac shock. The supply of oxygen was temporally cut off from my brain - causing irreparable damage, creating memory difficulties which have plagued me since that time. How my life was changed by those 30 minutes of trauma 24 years ago!
Three days were spent in intensive care while my wife and family re-grouped, followed by 10 more days recuperating.
My wife, Marie, was in tears seeing me unable to recognise anybody and incapable of talking to people I had known for years. I had to be spoonfed like a baby. I was unable to recognise my bed, requiring me to have a sign pinned on my back instructing anyone who found me to return me to Ward No X.
All that mattered to me, however, was that I was still alive!
The greatest difficulity was understanding what had happened and coming to terms with it. Marie had been talking to me all along and realisation gradually dawned. Days passed. One evening when my brother Frank came to see me, I expressed concerned that Marie wasn't coming in. Frank contacted her, only to find she had been in all afternoon as she was working that evening. On another occasion I was sure Marie's brother, Peter, had been in to visit me. She explained that he was many thousands of miles away in South America!
Marie also had our baby, Naomi, to feed and was pregnant with our second child when all this happened.
At the first rehabilitation centre, Royal Talbot, in Kew, the orderly would chase me if I walked on my own in the vast grounds. Apparently, I was categorised as a wanderer on my medical report. I must admit that these wandering escapades were the best part of the day. The rehabilitation exercises made me bored, frustrated and upset because the tasks they subjected me to were seemingly soul destroying. I thought I was past matching pairs of cards, hop-skipping-and-jumping and throwing rings over poles. I was keen to return to work to support the family. My frustration must have shown through, for I was perceived as non-co-operative. Marie was summoned to the hospital and informed that if I didn't cooperate there was nothing they could do. However she defended me, explaining that I needed to be supported and encouraged rather than being told that my behaviour was inappropriate.
My desire to return to work quickly proved forlorn. It was necessary to proceed slowly. The extent of the damage required the passage of time to assess. Marie was advised she might have to become the breadwinner.
Neverless determined to move on,I was sent to a new rehabilitation centre, Coonac, which was more specifically set up to assist me learning skills that might aid my return to the workforce. There were some good and some frustrating learning experiences. I was moved from one program to another - depending on whether the intention of the moment was to assist my return to work or to assist my rehabiliation in some other area or, I felt, to suit their convenience. Convenience of timetables did cause problems as I found myself scheduled to do metal work which involved lighting up an oxyacetylene bottle. I had just survived a heart attack and lost a significant number of brain cells; trying to remember which switch to turn on first and put a match to was of concern to me - I had visions of lighting the gas first and blowing myself up.
Education, speech therapy and occupational therapy were very helpful activities. Had there been an intensive timetable in those programs I would have been out of rehabilitation a lot earlier. Also at this stage personal counselling would have been extremely helpful.
Desperate to return to work, I was reminded by the Coonac staff to set my sights low. At this point I took some initiative on my own behalf and contacted the Catholic Education Office. The staffing officer had heard about my accident and noted my concern about work. Some time later, I was contacted by a priest from the Office. There was a vacancy for a clerk under a special program. It was suggested I should apply. My application was successful. I felt relieved at last.
My real rehabilitation was about to begin. I shook hands with the director of the rehabilitation centre who was happy to see me go as I had become somewhat of a "thorn in their side".
Back in the real world. A rehabilitated person with another chance. There should have been some ongoing support at this stage. It was very sudden. I leaned heavily on Marie who really didn't need that extra burden, being pregnant with Anna.
Conversations had become thin as it was hard to retain all that people had said. Friendships disappeared. Being unable to contribute to conversation, as I was, people quickly withdrew. Responding to my inability to communicate some people were unkind and insensitive. This caused me considerable anguish and undermined my self-confidence. Not only was I feeling particularly vulnerable, I began making excuses for myself and couldn't wait to defend myself as a person. Practically all the personal support I had received to this time had been eroded.
Marie has been the greatest strength and instrument to my rehabilitation. She took the brunt of it, shouldered all the responsibilities, fought with the doctors concerning my medical treatment and with the social workers and the various therapists concerning my rehabilitation. She became counsellor, motivator, teacher as well as her role as mother and potentially the main breadwinner. Members of her large family and my brother also contributed to my regrowth as a person. But still, it took some four years to find my way back to "normality".
Returning to work allowed me to re-develop some self esteem and live a relatively normal life.
In retrospect I am sad that I was not able to be an adult father to my children as I was regrowing at the same time as they were growing up; although it is impossible to measure how it might have affected them.
Our eldest daughter, Naomi, was only 9 months old and Marie was pregnant with Anna. Naomi's experience was of growing up with a father who had to put so much emphasis on relearning himself and who had little idea about raising children. At the same time Anna was exposed to constant adrenalin rushes from her mother. A few years later when things had settled down we had our third child, John.
Growing up, Naomi developed chronic fatigue in her later secondary years which could have been a result of being forced to make adult decisions early in her life. She has now moved out of home, completed her degree in human movement and is very involved in meditation and singing, even writing a song and preparing a CD about my heart attack. Unfortunately she still suffers from residual aspects of her illness.
Anna is a nature lover and is passionately involved in her study of Forest Science at Melbourne University, studying her 4th year on exchange in Canada.
John is studying Arts at Melbourne University but continues to gain his greatest pleasure and satisfaction from acting, singing, playing piano and guitar. He has also developed a significant social conscience.
The best move Marie made was to do her nursing at the weekends because this forced me to take full responsibility for Naomi, Anna and John. I am not sure what precise memories they have of their childhood and can only hope they retain fond ones.
Several years ago we went on long service leave as a family for eleven weeks, mainly camping our way up the East Coast of Australia from Victoria to far North Queensland - this was a rewarding experience.
Family finances have always been lean so the children have a healthy appreciation of the cost of living; they have developed values not influenced by material gain and each of them is actively pursuing worthwhile interests.
I am tending now to see some positives the children might have gained from this experience, especially in the choices they make and their ability to pursue their own interests and travel their own journeys amidst pressures to do otherwise.
The main disappointment in my life has been the total lack of opportunity and choice. Twenty four years on, it seems impossible to answer the question "Why was I meant to live?" There has been no great revelation. I have not achieved great things. Opportunities to move in my work have been non existent. On the other hand, I work in a pleasant environment, learn many computer skills, work with people who treat each other with respect, am given opportunities to attend seminars, in-services, sponsored study leave, etc. and to perform meaningful tasks.
I have to admit, however, to an occasional feeling of despair and frustration as I watch many of life's choices pass by and ask myself if this is as good as it gets. Meanwhile Marie and I just continue to plod along.