Interlude pt 2. The Haemorrhage

I've just been to visit Adam, and his girlfriend Ellie, in Oxford. They told me more about that day on September 22nd when Adam called the ambulance for me. Ellie had just left our student house in Sheffield to catch a bus to Reading (I heard her leaving). Adam rang her and she came back, and they got the bus and taxi to A and E. My friend Cameron joined them. The doctors wouldn't tell them anything about me because they weren't my family. Adam got my mum's number, via another friend of mine, and they finally told him something. Joanna picked up the phone, and I've asked her to write her experience below.

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This is my sister Joanna's account.

I woke up on the 22nd of September, with all my stuff packed ready to start University, although somehow it just didn't feel like it was going to happen. My mum and I loaded the car and set off for London. 20 minutes drive away from the University, we realised we were going to be late to the welcome talk. Mum planned to drop me off and then find a place to park, but before we got any closer my phone rang. It was Elizabeth's friend Adam. He told me, in a very serious voice, that he'd found Liz unconscious on the floor in her room. He said he'd called an ambulance and she was now in hospital, also that she was still breathing. I wondered for a second if this could be a prank call. He said he'd been trying to get hold of us for ages, and that the hospital staff could only speak to family about Elizabeth's condition. Feeling sick, but a bit like it was all a dream, I turned to Mum in the driver's seat and told her what Adam had said. We pulled into the next hard shoulder and a doctor spoke to Mum on the phone. My mum then told me Elizabeth had had a brain haemorrhage that morning, and I got the message that she was unlikely to survive. They also said we must turn around immediately and go to the hospital. Afer relaying this information, Mum asked if I wanted her to drive me the last bit to University and drop me off. I said no. Then I said a prayer out loud for Liz and we did a 'U turn' on the M1 and headed to Sheffield.

"Not a brain haemorrhage... This is what happened to Grandad, this is really bad Joanna." This is something I recall Mum saying. Her Dad died of a brain haemorrhage. I knew all of this of course but I still did a google search to find out any extra information I could. I learnt how to spell 'haemorrhage' pretty quickly. The world had stopped, yet neither of us cried or spoke
much, it didn't feel that real. I felt God with me and His peace, very real, though. I felt like He was sitting opposite me, face to face.

As Mum drove, I made phone calls to family members. First, of course, I rang my Dad, but there was no reply, as he was away in Somerset for the weekend, on a walk, with no reception. We decided to ring Mum's sister Ruth next, and ask her to go straight to Liz, so she'd have someone with her sooner, as she was nearer to Sheffield than us, and our journey would take a few more hours still. Mum got out of the car to get petrol and I rang Ruth. The moment I told her the situation, I heard her burst into tears on the other end of the phone, and I cried too for the first time. She said of course she'd go to meet Liz.

Then it was calls to the wider family, repeating the story over and over again, asking them to pray for Elizabeth and hearing the different exclamations as the news hit each person, whilst Mum drove on, silently. I kept ringing Dad at half hour intervals, but still no answer. I rang my University, told them why I hadn't enrolled, and found out I had another few weeks until the enrolement deadline. After a while, we stopped at a service station. The song 'Somewhere only we know' was playing. As I walked out, I heard the line 'this could be the end of everything'. It certainly felt that way.

Kind friends of ours offered to meet us at a service station to drive us the rest of the way, but we missed the turning, so Mum decided to stick it out and keep going. Back on the motorway, Mum finally cried. I suggested we pull over, but she wanted to carry on, so all I could do was put my hand on her shoulder, in an attempt to comfort her. It broke my heart to see my Mum sobbing over the steering wheel.

Finally, we got to speak on the phone to Dad. His sister had got through to the son of his godfather who he was walking with, and he told his Dad, who told my Dad. I was very worried about whether or not he would be okay driving alone from Somerset to Sheffield. I can't remember exactly what was said when we spoke at last, although there was one part of that phone call I will never forget. We were anticipating that we might be asked whether or not Elizabeth should receive brain surgery. What if surgery was the only way to save her life? On the other hand, what if the surgery went wrong and she was sent into a Permanent Vegetative State, then would she be kept alive on a life support machine indefinitely or could the machine be turned off? We decided no brain surgery. At this point we didn't know the haemorrhage wasn't in a part that could be given surgery.

Approaching Sheffield, Mum's phone satnav started to play up, and we were sent in different directions around the city in search for the Northern General Hospital, where Liz was for the first day before she was transferred to the Royal Hallamshire hospital.

At last, we arrived, and we met my cousin Sarah near the hospital entrance. We went through to the room where Elizabeth was. Aunt Ruth was there and cousin Emma.
Elizabeth was lying in the hospital bed, sedated, with tubes coming out of her face and all over her body. She looked peaceful. The tubes didn't seem that weird to me, it was just Elizabeth, and she didn't even look ill, infact her skin looked brighter and healthier than mine (probably due to her tan). The nurse with us was very friendly and upbeat and that helped a lot.

A friend travelled with Dad from Somerset, and once they arrived in Sheffield, he got a stranger to drive ahead of Dad, to lead him to the hospital. When Dad arrived he cried, and cried. Next I made a list of the people closest to Elizabeth and sent messages, asking for them to pray. We were told that the staff didn't know what would happen to Elizbeth, and we would just have to see how she did over the night, whether or not she'd wake up.

When we were instructed to go to bed, I asked if I could stay with Elizabeth through the night. The answer from the nurse was no, and it was the same each time I suggested the idea.

Unfortunatelyf for us, the Arctic Monkeys were playing that evening in Sheffield, and so all hotel rooms were fully booked. Ruth, Emma and Sarah stayed the night in the visitor's waiting room. Mum, Dad and I were offered the only available hospital guest room. So I left Elizabeth, aware that this might be the last time I saw her, alive. We went out to the car and took clothes, pyjamas and toiletries from my Uni things, and shared them out between the family. Mum likes to point out that 'we were all wearing Joanna's pants!'

My friend Evie sent me a Bible verse. She hadn't known it, but this happened to be the one I find the most encouarging, "The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged." Mum and Dad have told me they stayed awake most of the night, but after reading that verse, miraculously, I fell asleep.

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This is my aunt Ruth's account.

It was unusual for me to be at home with nothing planned at midday on Saturday.  That changed with a text from my sister, Margaret, saying they had really bad news about Elizabeth.  I called her immediately and spoke with Joanna as Margaret was driving the car. She explained that they would like me to drive to Sheffield to be with Elizabeth in hospital, as I was further north than they were and would be able to get there sooner than them.  I knew the importance of somebody getting there to be with her as soon as possible.  It was almost unbelievable to hear them say that the chances of Elizabeth surviving a bleed on her brain were alarmingly slim.  I immediately got ready, and began pleading with God to let her live.

I was struck by the control and calmness of Joanna's voice, knowing what she was facing and there were no words to express the emotion, but I remember saying, 'she can't die, not now'.  I thought of them driving north behind me, as I drove as fast as I could, without stopping. For me, every minute counted and I prayed for much of it, and wondered how they were coping with further to go. I had called some people and asked them to pray and I had also spoken with Liz's cousins, Emma and Sarah, who were making their way to Sheffield too. I imagined all of us converging on the hospital from our separate directions.

At the hospital, everything seemed closed for the weekend and there was nobody around to ask where to go or where to park. I tried to work this out, not wanting to waste any time at all, parked in an empty car park and set off to look for the right department. I later learnt that the hospital covers a huge area and was glad that I had parked fairly near where Elizabeth was.  When I found the ITU, again there was nobody around, but automatic doors let me into reception and from there I could press a buzzer to gain entry.

From start to finish, the staff lived up to their CQC outstanding rating. They were clearly right on it, were very attentive and so I called Margaret and Joanna to let them know that Elizabeth was getting the very best care. I described to them what I saw and what the medical team had said and done so far. The team had explained what had happened since Liz arrived and that they'd taken over control of Liz's functions and wired her up to machines, to allow her body to cope with the bleed, but would slowly bring her off the machines the following day to see if she would survive the bleed. At this point I didn’t know Andrew wasn't with Margaret and Joanna and that he’d been uncontactable for a while.

The staff did not raise any hopes for Liz's survival and explained sensitively the seriousness of the bleed.  They made it clear that if Liz made it through waking up the following day it would be against the odds. However, they were very respectful of her being in ear shot and tried not to make it sound hopeless as we were all aware that she might be able to hear. I read the Bible, prayed over Liz, talked with staff and also Liz. I described to staff Liz's character, so they had an idea of the person they were treating. The rest of the family arrived bit by bit, and some family friends helped out giving lifts, and bringing food. Many people were already praying and letting us know so, in support. I found it reassuring, too, that Liz seemed to have a great medical team around her who knew exactly what they were doing and inspired confidence. They even helped us with arrangements for the night. The Arctic Monkeys were playing in Sheffield that evening and all accommodation seemed booked up in the city, so we were allowed to camp out in a couple of rooms there in the hospital. The staff gave us a supply of tea, coffee and milk as there were no places open, no vending machines and no shops nearby to buy drinks.  

There were lots of people sending texts and we were feeling the anxiety of what would happen the next day when they were going to wake Liz up from the induced coma, but we did get some sleep and it was great to be together as a family.

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Tomorrow I have my outpatient appointment back at the hospital. No idea how much of a definitive thing it will be.