Nice day, ward wedding!
Debbie Couttie, 52, Guardbridge In the hardest of times, kindness carried us through
Walking past the hospital reception, I spotted a few familiar faces.
‘Hello again, ladies!’ I grinned.
‘Morning, Debbie,’ a nurse chirped to me.
‘How are your girls?’ smiled another.
It was September 2018, and I’d stopped in to see my partner Robert Couttie, 50.
We’d first met on a dating app in 2010 – and just a few weeks on, I knew we’d go the distance.
Then Robert revealed his kidneys had failed to develop properly in the womb, leaving him with lifelong problems.
From age 15, he’d had dialysis to replicate his kidney function, until a transplant in 2006.
‘I’ll understand if it scares you off,’ he said glumly.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ I promised him. ‘I love you.’
Our relationship went from strength to strength. But, on 27 August last year, Robert was admitted to Ninewells Hospital following an infection.
He was in a bad way, suffering chest pains, fever and fatigue.
He lost weight, became too weak to walk and had to rely on a wheelchair.
Robert also had to go back on dialysis, as his kidneys were affected by the antibiotics.
With the transplanted organ now beginning to fail, his life hung in the balance.
‘I’m going to spend as much time with him as possible,’ I vowed to my girls Christine, 33, Ayla, 29, and Donna, 27.
I visited Robert every day, and we quickly became friendly with the doctors, nurses, receptionists, cleaners and other staff on the ward.
We called them our ‘renal family’.
They were all so kind and considerate, always offering
He was in a bad way – his life now hung in the balance
us tea and toast, stopping by for a chat.
We’d talk about our children, our home lives...
It helped Robert and I remember that there was life outside of the hospital walls.
One day, a nurse asked, ‘Are you two married yet?’ ‘Not yet...’ I replied. We’d talked about tying the knot for years, but had never got round to it.
Whenever we started chatting about it, Robert got ill and our priorities shifted.
‘You could get married here,’ the nurse suggested.
She moved on to the next patient, and Robert grinned.
‘Well, how about it, love?’ he asked, smiling broadly.
The more we spoke, the more excited we became.
I didn’t care about having a big white wedding – as long as, at the end of it, I was Robert’s wife. Hours later, Robert called. When I’d left after my visit, he’d spoken to the hospital’s chaplain...
‘Our wedding’s on Friday,’ he beamed, delighted.
‘But that’s just three days away!’ I said, slightly panicked.
With hardly any time for us to pull it all together, the nurses pitched in.
In between ward rounds, the team organised flowers, a cake, sandwiches...even a red carpet to use as an aisle!
Local businesses all kindly donated, hoping to get us to the altar on time.
The hospital’s social worker arranged a kilt for Robert, and my daughter Ayla pitched in to help pay for my dress.
Before I knew it, it was the morning of my wedding.
As I stepped into my beautiful white, floor-length gown Ayla told me, ‘You look amazing, Mum.’ Then the hospital hairdresser and a friend of the social worker did my hair and make-up, and I looked in the mirror and gasped.
I was stunned by the blushing bride staring back.
When I walked into the bay where the ceremony had been set up, I fought back happy tears.
The room was beautifully decorated, and packed with our friends, relatives – and, of course, our hospital family!
Doctors and nurses even came in on their day off to attend.
As my dad Jackie, 82, walked me down the red carpet, I locked eyes with Robert.
He was sitting in his wheelchair and looked like the cat that got the cream!
It was wonderful to see him so very happy. After everything he’d been through, my heart was fit to burst.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispered when I took my seat next to him.
We exchanged our vows, and when we got to the part about in sickness and in health, I choked back a sob.
Then the minister told Robert, ‘You may kiss your bride!’
And the room erupted into applause.
We enjoyed a wonderful day celebrating our union.
Just six weeks later, Robert’s condition improved enough for him to be discharged. He was home after spending nearly three months in hospital.
I have no doubt the happiness of getting married gave Robert the boost he needed to get better.
Now, he has dialysis three times a week, but it’s like visiting our family every time.
The renal team didn’t just give me a dream wedding, they’re still making my dreams come true by helping keep Robert alive.
I’ll never be able to thank them enough.
Robert looked like the cat that got the cream!