‘Suddenly I was in a deep coma for seven days’
Patrick van Rhijn (52) is a novelist and freelance TV editor. He lived all over the world and has five children. For his columns he draws on an endless source of recognizable and remarkable stories about fatherhood.
Anyone who knows me knows, for Pat his children are sacred. I am far from special in that, because what parent doesn’t think their own offspring is fantastic? But my point: without turning them into spoiled brushes, I almost always go along with their choices and by default make myself subservient to their interests. Do they like to eat pokébowl tonight and would I rather make a curry myself? I care. Then I still get ingredients for pokébowl? Do I have to give up my own nice attic for another slumber party full of teenage girls? Go ahead. Do I have to work overtime, but did I promise the kids to do something together? Then I will keep my word with them. Even if it means working myself into jet lag the next few nights. Do they melt with every Labradoodle on the street? Okay, then I surprise them with a puppy, even if I know that they won’t keep their promise to really really walk the animal, so I can go to work every day. In short, my self-interest is never important.
Contents
Seven days in a coma
Until last week. Then life suddenly caught up with me and due to an unexpected severe asthma attack I was put on a ventilator for seven days in the ICs of the hospital in Beverwijk, the AMC and the VUmc, successively. There I lay. In a coma. With about 25 cords and wires that went in and out of my body in the craziest places. Somehow my body couldn’t get the CO2 out of my blood and not only did I start fighting with the rhythm of breathing, I started poisoning myself. The doctors saw no other solution than to put me to sleep and give me a muscle relaxant. If the values on the screens keep diving into the deep red and the doctor comes to ask your family what the resuscitation protocol is, then you understand that it is serious.
“When the doctor comes to ask your family what the resuscitation protocol is, you understand that it is serious”
Completely dependent on others
My daily worries for the kids came to an abrupt halt. I went from strong guy in a few hours to totally dependent on doctors, nurses and a group of beautiful dear friends who watched over me and my kids.
“What is your relationship to this man?” asked the doctor present.
“Well,” said one of the three women, “all three of us have had a love affair with him. She is now his girlfriend. I have been his girlfriend and she is the mother of two of his children. And she and I are now a set together.” The doctor was a bit confused by this Anton Heyboer-like sketch.
Read also: Patrick: “Do you hear that?” says my daughter to her little brother. “Dad is going to abuse us for his stories!”
In times of need you get to know your friends
Opening your eyes after something like that is very strange. Around me a white world. Apart from a tube sticking out of my nose, my throat, my neck, both my wrists, my mouth, my groin and I know where else, I had no idea where I was, how long or what I was doing here. Did I sleep? Was this real?
A crazy Alice in Wonderland-like clock that couldn’t be tied to a rope grinded down time. Two of my exes were looking at me like happy elves (the third had just been relieved after a day’s watch) and they told me that I had just opened my eyes again after a full week (?!) There were trolls walking around in crazy green suits and to top it all off, my sister was about to arrive. Because there was a tube sticking out of my throat and one out of my nose, I couldn’t talk or swallow. But… my sister?! Then I had to lie here sleeping with my eyes open because, even in my dreams, I know that my sister has been living in Australia for ten years and that I last saw her over four years ago. suspicion. So this is what a dream looked like from the inside!
“I wanted to get up and run, wake up from this nightmare that had seemed so real for long enough now”
Nightmare or reality?
The women told me that I had an asthma attack and that I had been sleeping for seven days now (yes, of course…). Because of what had happened, my sister would have jumped on a plane and could be here any minute now. Everything around us had a bluish glow. Beeps sounded everywhere.
My girlfriends giggled at my grimaces and lovingly held my hands and feet as one of them softly chanted a mantra. Rows of pictures of the kids and me hung at my foot. Loving pictures full of smiling faces. How lucky I was to know this wasn’t real. I wanted to get up and go, wake up from this nightmare that had seemed so real for long enough now, go back home and to my kids, because there was bound to be some laundry to be done or a packed lunch for school, but then open the door. A young woman quietly came to sit with us. I saw a mix of a smile and a tear on her face. She had medium length brown hair and a flower tattoo crawling down her arm, just like my sister has one.
PS 1: Patrick is now back home and working on his recovery
PS 2: ‘How many people with a beautiful heart work in healthcare!’
PS 3: ‘Kekmama, behdaank for those bluhmen!’
Read the best stories, most recognizable columns and the best tips for you and your kids every month. Subscribe to Kek Mama now and get up to 45% off.
