My husband died in the operating theatre... he survived but now looks nine months pregnant

Pouring out two small glasses of prosecco, I checked the time.

It was an hour to midnight on New Years Eve, 2020.

I settled in front of the TV with my husband Garry, 46, at our home in Rotherham.

With the pandemic and Garry's health issues, we'd had a tough year.

He’d been suffering with Parkinson’s disease for years and it was really hard on both of us. He shakes constantly and finds it difficult to get around without my help.

“I've got a pain in my stomach,” Garry told me.

“Maybe you should have a lie down and drink some water,” I advised.

But as time went on, his pain got worse.

Within an hour, he was in agony, screaming and holding his stomach in distress.

I knew he needed an ambulance.

In a panic, I picked up the phone and explained what was going on.

“He probably just needs the toilet,” I was told by the 999-call handler.

“Does he sound like he just needs the toilet?” I exclaimed, with Garry screaming in the background.

Despite hearing my plea for help, they refused to send an ambulance out.

Not knowing who else to call, I rang Garry’s doctor to see if he had any advice.

He advised me to call them back and explain he’d given the green light for an ambulance.

Eventually, they agreed to send one.

The paramedics were completely taken aback at the state he was in.

“We better get you to Rotherham hospital straight away,” they said.

Due to Covid rules, I wasn’t allowed to go to the hospital with Garry, so I waited anxiously at home whilst they took him away.

He kept me up to date over text.

‘I'm still waiting in A&E,' he messaged me 12 hours later.

I was sick with worry.

Finally, he was sent off for a CT scan which confirmed he had acute appendicitis.

Garry was then scheduled to have surgery that night, but they cancelled it and said it would be the next morning.

In the morning, he was ready for his surgery, but the doctor told him they had to cancel again.

“I remember when they cancelled it again, with no explanation, everything went black and the next thing I knew, I’d woken up in the ICU”, Garry explained to me.

Whilst Garry was in hospital, I rang up every day to check how he was doing.

“He’s sat up and having a drink. He’s fine,” the nurses would say, sounding too busy to elaborate.

But I felt like something wasn't right.

When it got to 10 days of Garry being in the hospital, I went to see his mum, Patricia Young, 63, at her home in Worksop.

'They're being so vague with me, I'm really worried,” I explained to her.

“You're right, I’m going to see if I can find anything else out,” she agreed and proceeded to ring the hospital.

After some intense questioning, she got the nurse to admit Garry's appendix had burst.

I was devastated, I had no idea how ill he was.

It turned out he’d had his operation on January 1st after he had blacked out, but I didn’t know his appendix had burst until Patricia found out.

They even told Garry he’d died on the operating table during his time in intensive care.

I felt livid.

Finally, after another four days of waiting around for news, I heard that Garry was able to come home.

He looked awful, I couldn't believe it. Pale, drained and physically, he looked like he was still in so much pain.

It was clear from Garry's stomach scars that the surgeon had completely butchered him.

The wound was almost coming open and there were visible staples left in him.

His belly button had been twisted around so it’s on the side of his stomach, and he’s got a horrendous scar from his rib cage all the way down to his pubic bone.

He’s a real mess.

“My stomach still hurts,” he complained most days.

“Hopefully it's just swelling from the operation,” I said, worried.

But it wouldn’t go down. His stomach began to expand in size, and we kept telling the nurses over the phone but they also said it was just swollen.

I was still concerned and so we went to see his doctor, and he discovered that whilst his appendix was removed, Garry’s bowels had pushed through his abdominal wall, leaving him with a huge hernia.

The hernia has made his stomach huge. He now looks bigger than a very pregnant woman.

He’s a 55inch waist and I find it really difficult to find any clothes that fit him. He can’t even bend down to tie his own shoelaces up, I have to help him do everything.

A year and a half on, we are still waiting for the go ahead for surgery to fix this.

The longer he has to wait, the more problems it’s causing him.

On top of the physical impacts, it's massively knocked Garry’s confidence.

He'd always been a quiet man but after 15 years with me by his side I felt like he was finally coming out of his shell - it feels like we're back to square one.

The hospital argue Garry isn’t a priority for further surgery.

“It’s like they’ve just stuck him on a shelf to collect dust. It’s not fair,” I confided in my daughter.

Garry doesn't even like leaving the house now, he's too self-conscious.

We are hoping to speak to a specialist surgeon in May 2022 to try and figure out when we can proceed with further surgery.

Garry has to have a complex abdominal wall reconstruction for the hernia, which is a life-threatening operation.

But if we do nothing, there’s the worry that the hernia will strangulate which could also kill Garry.

It’s terrifying for both of us, not knowing what the future holds, but the sooner he has this operation, the more successful it will be.