One Man in His Time...: A Memoir by Michael Audain

Author:Michael Audain [Audain, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Philanthropists, Businesspeople, Social Activists, Biography & Autobiography, Personal Memoirs, business, Collectors and collecting, British Columbia, Political activists, Autobiographies, biography, Michael Audain, Art objects
ISBN: 9781771623018
Google: nSNGEAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Douglas & McIntyre
Published: 2021-10-30T23:32:14.246703+00:00

Chapter 35

“You Must Take That Baby Home” Vancouver General Hospital nurse, 1966

When our first daughter was born, on April 20, 1966, I was working in community liaison with the United Way in Vancouver and had been accepted to start PhD studies at the London School of Economics and Political Science in the fall.

Tunya was a very confident expectant mother. I recall her saying that she didn’t need to go into prenatal classes because everything she needed to know was in Dr. Spock’s book. Also, she decided that she didn’t want her baby in a hospital nursery but in her room at the Vancouver General Hospital. Our obstetrician, Dr. Gaiman, gained permission for this, so our daughter Fenya became the first child at VGH to have this “lying-in” experience, as it was called.

The birth was difficult and painful because Fenya was a big baby. Nevertheless, once it was over, mother and daughter did fine together, until three days later, when it was time to go home. I took the day off from work and drove Tunya and our baby back to the furnished home we had rented for the summer in West Vancouver. All went well for two or three hours, with Fenya sleeping and feeding normally. Then I suddenly heard a yell from Tunya, who was sitting on the toilet in the bathroom. She said, “I have been sitting here for ten minutes and the bleeding won’t stop.”

“Is there much coming out?” I asked.

“Yes, I am losing a lot of blood,” she replied.

“Well, I am not going to wait for an ambulance. Get in the car and I’ll drive you straight back to the hospital, and the baby will come with us.”

I put Fenya, still sleeping, in a bassinet on the back seat of our Volkswagen Beetle. Tunya climbed in the front, wrapped in a housecoat with a whole bunch of towels around her middle. Without stopping to lock the house, I sped over the Lions Gate Bridge with my warning lights flashing. I went through the bus lane, using my horn to force my way onto the bridge, and proceeded with great dispatch back to VGH. Red lights were only respected to the extent of avoiding any obvious collisions.

By the time we reached the hospital the towels between Tunya’s legs were sodden with blood. I rushed inside the door of the emergency department, saying, “I need help, quick!”

“What seems to be the matter?” asked an admissions clerk. “Everyone has to take their turn.”

I grabbed a wheelchair and put Tunya in it, with more towels around her midriff, and wheeled her in the door, right past the admissions desk.

A nurse intercepted us and said, “You cannot force yourself in here like that! Is that woman your wife? What’s wrong with her?”

I parted the bottom of her housecoat and said, “Take a look.”

“Oh my God! You can’t reveal your wife like that in a public area. Stretcher!” the nurse cried.

I left Tunya there and dashed out to the car to grab Fenya in her bassinet.

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