A father’s love. Six years since my son’s heart surgery
By ‘For Men To Talk’ Founder/Director Luke Newman
Six years ago, my son Oliver had heart surgery, sometimes it feels like yesterday and other times it feels like a lifetime ago.
On 26 September 2017, I was full of emotions when he had surgery for a partial Atrioventricular Septal Defect (AVSD). The weight of anxiety and worry beamed down on me, creating a symphony of emotions that is both haunting and profound.
The journey began long before the operating room doors swung open. From the moment the diagnosis was made, I grappled with a huge sense of being powerless. The knowledge that Oliver would require a surgical intervention to correct a heart defect was a heavy burden to bear.
The worry creeps in straight away, like a dark cloud over my head, as I contemplated the uncertainties of the surgical procedure and the potential complications that may arise from it.
As the day of the operation drew near, anxiety took centre stage but I tried to keep a brave face for my boy. Sleepless nights were spent tossing and turning, replaying conversations with the doctors. Every conceivable outcome, from the best-case scenario to the worst, played out in my mind like a never-ending loop. But one question that was never in doubt, I knew that we made the right decision, entrusting Oliver’s life to the hands of the incredible medical team at the Royal Brompton hospital.
The hours leading up to the surgery were a torturous blend of hope and fear. I watched as my son was prepped for the procedure, feeling a profound sense of vulnerability. As I kissed my child goodbye, my heart ached with a huge mixture of love and dread. I was acutely aware that the outcome of the surgery was beyond my control and I felt useless. The surgeon’s skill, the dedication of the medical team, and the resilience of Oliver would all play pivotal roles in determining our future.
During the agonising hours of the operation, time seemed to stand still. Despite walking the streets of Knightsbridge, every passing minute felt like an eternity, and my thoughts are consumed by the image of Oliver on the operating table. I just prayed for strength, for the surgical team’s expertise, and for a successful outcome.
When the surgery was finally complete and we returned to the hospital, we waited with bated breath for the news, desperate for any sign that Oliver has emerged from the procedure safely. The words of the surgeon and staff when they come, are a lifeline; a delicate balance of relief as well as a feeling of fear or anxiety about something that may happen in the minutes, hours and days ahead.
The road to Oliver’s recovery was fraught with its own challenges. I had to witness his resilience in the face of pain and discomfort as I had to become a pillar of unwavering support, day and night. The worry never truly disappears; it merely transforms into a quieter, more enduring presence. Each doctor’s visit, each echocardiogram, is a reminder of the delicate nature of his heart.
Yet, amidst the anxiety and worries, there is a profound sense of gratitude. I cherish the moments of normality and the simple joys of life. Like today, I celebrate every milestone, no matter how small, and I find solace in the knowledge that Oliver’s heart has been mended. I am truly thankful to the Royal Brompton hospital, the most skilful, miracle workers on the planet.
In the end, a father’s anxiety and worries are a testament to the depth of my love. They are the byproduct of my heart that beats not only for myself but for Oliver, my other children and my wife too.