GLENNY

Only a fraction of Glen Hollands' story has been revealed in the A Current Affair report aired on Channel Nine. Glen and his family suffering multiple indignities post the day of his heart surgery where he died in the operating theatre that had been posed as successful by doctors at Prince Charles Hospital, Brisbane, November 2023.

When I saw Glen post-operation, he resembled nothing like the Glenn Robbin’s comedy ego Russell Coight of which I often quickly compared for others to understand Glen’s cheeky humour. This type of humour was often on public display without bounds, even when he and family appeared on Family Feud in 2016, television host Grant Denyer humoured by Glen’s cheek and wit. 

This is how I knew the moment I laid eyes on Glen’s death-like composure in post-operation recovery that something was not right. My psychological science education and observation mindset was overwhelmed with information that just didn’t correlate with the information we were being fed and the observations that were being made. I knew that to limit complications like stroke during surgery, the machine utilised to act as Glen’s heart whilst his aneurism was being repaired had a preferred window of use between 10 – 20 minutes. When I heard from the lead doctor’s mouth that Glen had been under for more than 32 minutes, my stomach sank, his outcome not good. F.

When the doctor slapped Glen across the face before myself and family to provoke a reaction of Glen’s perceived groggy post-surgery anaesthetic sleep state (done not just once but multiple times), I was both taken aback, but willing to allow such a measure to slide wanting Glen to open his eyes. Communicate. Wiggle a finger. Anything. My wife (Glen’s sister) adored him, and he her, and I wanted him so much to wake up not just for her sake having been in step with Glen and his wife Robynne through pre-surgery education to understand how such an aneurism would be dealt with.

No, for the many others also preying for Glen’s recovery. 

He deserved to survive, particularly after years of Glen and sister Melissa tag-teaming care for their mum Anne who had dementia and their dad Edward who had been limited in movement from a heart attack for over 15 years. Glen working full-time and raising his own family within the same breath. Can’t fail to mention he played softball also and was key organiser and heart of Ipswich Rebels softball team.

The days in hospital rolled on. There was no signs of life. Nothing. Just hope, plied with the doctors’ communication of misleading details and facts. Glen was propped up in the post-surgery recovery ward like a puppet on display, life support hissing and pumping, working day and night as other successful survivors of heart surgery rolled by and observed a family’s grief, relieved, I guess, that they could witness a tantalum of raw  human emotions, something that separates us from other species. On Glen’s sixth day the life support system was removed and Glen rapidly deteriorated. He had prior X-rays that revealed a global stroke of his brain, lighting up the viewing monitor like sporadic fork lightning in a Queensland summer thunderstorm. 

Glen was also an organ donor but after his operation he was only able to donate his skin and eyeballs. His heart, despite not being directly operated on during surgery, was not donated, nor his other organs. And we wondered why? We understood that major organs needed quick transfer and prepping, Glen’s situation no different though to someone killed in a motor vehicle accident far from a hospital. He was well and truly prepped for such a venture. People on organ transplant waiting lists would have rejoiced.  The recipients of Glen’s organs: his heart, liver, kidneys, anything, would be something we could celebrate, another person or persons, we could hug and call Glen momentarily.

A person receiving his liver and kidneys more than likely to develop a thirst for Jim Beam, Glen’s choice of drink.  It is hard of course to donate a donor’s organs if the donor died on the operating table and have been on display in a cruel Game of Life for a week. The puppetry appeared to be a mask to hide something more sinister, and to sate the growing amount of family and friends delivering wishes and hope of recovery, plying them however deeper into postponed despair once the final verdict was delivered.

Glen and family knew the risks of his heart surgery. Death was a great factor. Everyone knew that. Glen signed the forms. The health system was deceiving the family however of how he died and actively suppressing such helpful information, still now, years later. Most information laboriously curated through Freedom of Information. This was not what was expected.  The multiple malpractices pending against the Prince Charles Hospital prior to Glen’s surgery concerned the family, but for Glen’s problem, he wasn’t left with many options: it was either the risky surgery or risk a random rupture of the aneurysm. Death then would be instantaneous, and there were already concerning physical signs that could occur.

The family for years has had the indignity of being silenced over Glen’s death despite their suspicions, Glen’s voice silenced. Until now. The truth however wouldn’t be out if the hospital whistleblower, who despite efforts to find the source, has evaded detection. And I’m glad for it, we all are. Not just for Glen but for the obvious fact that this type of medical malpractice deception is happening to others and families are unable to find answers. The whistleblower naturally would be hung (figuratively) for going rogue with honesty, especially against the hospital, the doctors, and QLD health system.

In an extremely eerie conversation pre-operation, Glen, speaking with his sister Melissa about her wedding preparations and a deep want for him to survive, that he had to recover so he could be with her on the special day, Glen calmly admitted, perhaps in a sense of spiritual insight, that he was not likely to be alive to do that. This devasting more so post-surgery. I mention this only for the sake of the wedding day. It was a sunny, calm Saturday, the ceremony in the early afternoon. As the ceremony began, the sun disappeared and it started to rain. As my wife and I shared our vows, dark sinister storm clouds rolled overhead, the rain pissing down, cold, hard, drenching everyone. The sky lit up with sporadic fork lighting much like the global stroke of Glen’s x-ray of his brain, the crack of rolling thunder so loud it shook the ground. We knew then, Glen and parents were up there in the clouds, so amused, joining us. Glenny, mate, why did you have to make the rain so damn cold though!

Glen always wanted to be there for others, to help others. He would give up his time for anyone. Be guaranteed he would be the man to pull-up on the side of the road as you stood beside your car distressed, damning your luck for motor vehicle failure, lucky though Glen was not just well versed in mechanics and truck parts, but kindness, too. He unfortunately unable to do what he so loved with vehicles, waiting till his final years to buy and restore a EH Holden.

Glen taught me many lessons and supported many others in their endeavours, and if a heart for a heart brought him back, for all those suffering the loss of his life, I would trade mine for his in a heartbeat. Too many good people suffer in this world, and it is about time that those responsible for such suffering are held accountable. With the amount of people in support of Glen at the hospital, flooding the waiting rooms, tagteaming two at a time to be with Glen bedside whilst the industrial hospital machine churned out other patients of varying status, it was then those who were aware of the faults at play  that ended Glen’s life, the deceptions, really started to understand that the truth should’ve been told instead of the lie. Someone within the ranks, we are grateful for, that was unable to stomach the lie.

Half-life: The AA Battery Adventure

was dedicated to Glen Hollands, RIP,

1961 - 2023.