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Time for a Cuppa!

The Magazine

For all the Family

Swimming with the current...

Jim MacConnell

A true story...

31st July 1990

The afternoon was just like any other, Agnes was doing her usual bit, making me feel old... she was nine months gone with our third and kept me going about how I, was soon to be an 'old' father of three. We had two girls already, Victoria and Jenny, one 4 years, and the other 11 months old... this third child would surely be our last... I regard myself an intelligent man, I have figured out what is causing this baby lark ... tomorrow I pick up the new TV!

It is time; she says without even a hint of panic in her soft voice...she was by now, an old hand at the delivery bit!

Me I refused to be drawn into this calm world of serenity, just because she is calm is not justifiable reason whatsoever why I should remain so...TIME! TIME! Quick... Wife into in the car... granny get your ass down here, kids act your age PANIC! It was just like how Top Cat used to order the gang about..." we are off to the hospital... it is TIME!" All this being intimated in a controlled, misty viewed, haze driven, panic levelled frenzy you understand... I too was an old hand at this bit and knew the hell I was about to witness again.

The delivery went well...as well as a delivery can go... Ok, so it was no 'Next Day DHL recorded Delivery' that all you had to do was just sign for... no a wee bit more, a sit down hold... her hand, and pray to God almighty that she doesn't break all my fingers ... Things were moving nicely, a slight lull appeared in the proceedings... when... a wee thought came across my head..."there are a heap load of things to do at work and that grass sure needs cut" ... hmm "I could do without being stuck in here" popped out of my mouth... I was just thinking! You know how it is... men will understand this bit... brain thinks, message is sent to mouth to repeat what brain was thinking then (if you are in the presence of your wife) the safety device cuts in and your life is saved. Not here the safety device was apparently having a day off...

WHAT? YOU! Could do with out being 'STUCK' here? What the HELL do you think I could do without?

Oops... what do I say... err... err... Me?

"No! I could do without being stuck here too; this is not a party you know!"

"Of course dear, I am sorry, I did not mean that... So sorry", I grovelled like a wee boy, caught eating all the Homewheat...

God alone only knew how the events of the next few days were to put my little slip into oblivion.

17:40 31 July a baby boy born...

Carrickfergus

*******

Day two 1st August

All is well, mother and baby are both fine, I am still in the dog house, but now being thrown the odd bone... I brought the girls in to see their wee brother... no name yet. "Daddy why don't you call him Jim after you? ", Tory asks. "I am not sure why, I guess I have always thought that one Jim around the house is bad enough, "Indeed," quips Agnes... but by now she has her familiar hint of a smile in there... somewhere... I could have sworn I saw it... yes! The boy looked a wee bit off colour but babies do and he seemed to be crying allot but then babies do that too...

The girls strained to get away, as the crying was distressing for Jenny, only a baby herself. I took them away and left Agnes and Granny to talk over how I looked a lot like Hitler in a certain light.

Outside, the summer sun was strong, I knew that from my previous visits here, just around the corner was a large duck pond, this used to be an old folks home which seemed to ironic to me, given the current use for the building. The ducks were encouraged to stay around they gave the old people something entertaining to do, we were not all that old but the ducks were still entertaining us... the stashed bread I had hidden in my coat early that morning, had crumbled to a million pieces, Tory joked that mum would shout if she knew. I swore her to secrecy, as I was in enough bother.

That night Tory asked, "will the baby cry like that when he comes home daddy?" "No, not at all darlin, he is just finding the hospital strange, and wants to be home with us all in our nice warm, not smelly like a hospital, bed"... "Good" she said, and she fell asleep.

*******

Belfast Gardens

Day three 2nd August

I got a phone call from Agnes at 10:20 am, the baby is ill come in...

The doctor doing his rounds was not happy with the baby he was still crying a lot and was this morning covered in a rash.

I did the 25-minute journey to the hospital in 15 minutes. Mother and baby had been moved since the phone call; they were now in the main hospital... I had never heard of the SCBU (Ska - Boo) Special Care Baby Unit. I found it, only to be met by a doctor and nurse who ushered me to an office. Mr McConnell (shit this was bad, no one called me Mr anything).

'Your baby is very ill, he has a viral infection called “Meningococcal Meningitis,"'

"MENINGITIS?" but I thought new born babies couldn't get Meningitis?" I replied.

"It is quite rare, but we have done blood tests and it is confirmed." "He is really very ill, Mr McConnell", said the doctor.

"Just how ill?" I queried. "This form of meningitis, though rare, is in 50 - 70% of effected babies, fatal, in the 30 - 50% who survive over 50% of them have brain damage", he replied.

I was annoyed, frustrated emotional... what on earth was Agnes going to be like? "God, so many numbers, was my son a percentage now, where is my wife?" I spouted.

"She is with your son."

"How long?" I asked.

"Sorry, sir, How long?" the nurse was confused...the doctor understood... "Not long, we don't expect him to survive more than an hour, we are giving him all we can but he is just slipping downward,"

This guy was serious...

Agnes, seemed not too bad, a bit concerned but not at all as I would have expected... they hadn't told her! That was to be my dirty job... "He is not going to make it Agnes he has meningitis and it is bad...

Without a tear...an emotional response or flicker... she said, "Get the Rev McClintock".

I was not going to argue or discuss this... she wanted the minister who married us 5 years earlier... and that was that...

Agnes has always had a deep religious faith, one I must confess to not having myself once maybe but life seemed to deal me cards, which watered down any faith in God... but she believed and that was good enough for me. Luckily he was home and came right away... only 10 miles away so he was there very quickly, he was a good man who knew Agnes from childhood...I ordered my sisters to come too, this was not going to be pretty and I was gong to need all the help I could muster... not just for Agnes but I knew how emotionally weak I was becoming as the reality of the situation dawned on me.

Sam McClintock, assembled us all, nurses, doctors too, around the baby in the life support machine, he lay there so still not a movement, not a cry or whimper... I wished he was well enough to cry... I could put up with crying now... "What is his name?" the minister asks... Agnes breaks the silence with "James," "after his dad... Jim..." she continued...

A long warm tear streamed down my left cheek...

Sam McClintock performed a short christening ceremony, followed by a very long prayer... and that was that; the un-named baby was now 'James McConnell'...

Agnes was happier... by now 2 hours had passed...

...3 hours... 4.... 5 hours.... 6...7...

Was it the prayer... was it the Rev Sam McClintock, was it Agnes's faith? Who knows, maybe it was the treatment the doctors were giving... and perhaps as Agnes has said since, "Maybe it was a bit of everything". Either way, James was improving. That amount of hope and love in one room seemed to help him fight on, soon he stabilised...

Three days later he turned the corner and came of the machine... a week later he was feeding by a bottle and not crying very much at all...Within three weeks James came home, a few years of worry followed, would he be deaf, would he walk, would he speak... but we did not care really, James was alive and home that was all that mattered.

As it turned out James has had no effects from the Meningitis what so ever, he is a quiet boy but that comes from his mother... she is a very quiet person... He is now 10 years old and doing very well in school, kept in line at home by his two bossy sisters, who actually do a very good job of looking after him. They are all very close and I hope that is how they will remain. It is my firm belief that without a family a man is nothing... the family need not be a large numerous one, but for me If my kids do nothing else in life but stay close and keep their families close I will have achieved something...

Jim McConnell