Kevin's Story
Kevin never expected his daily bike ride would end in the ICU.
Kevin loved riding his bike. Every morning, he’d set off from Hope Island to Surfers Paradise, embracing the stunning scenery of the city as he pedalled along the Broadwater and the coastline. One morning, what had always been his joy almost became his end. A terrifying crash left him fighting for his life.
Kevin remembers nothing of the incident. It’s hard for him to comprehend how his daily routine could take such a horrifying turn, leaving him with severe internal bleeding, a damaged pancreas, and a ruptured bowel. Barely an inch of his body was left unscathed, leading to a prolonged hospital stay. Miraculously, an off-duty police officer and a nurse happened to be nearby and rushed to help, calling for an ambulance and tending to Kevin, who lay motionless on the ground.
As Kevin was loaded into the ambulance, paramedics immediately began administering blood and contacted the hospital, giving the Trauma Team every chance to prepare for what lay ahead.
Dr Martin Wullschleger, one of Gold Coast University Hospital’s (GCUH) trauma consultants and trauma surgeons, was on-call and ready. The GCUH Trauma Call System was activated and mobilised every department crucial to Kevin’s survival: the Emergency Department, surgical and anaesthetic teams, the Intensive Care Unit (ICU), operating theatres, and the blood bank.
“There are a number of things that go through my mind before the patient arrives: It’s all about preparation and getting the teams together, making sure the right specialties are notified and in attendance. Once the teams are assembled, we pre-brief the team members led by the team leader, the resus emergency consultant, and distribute the roles and jobs. For me, my role as the surgeon is to make decisions about surgical management and the timing to go to theatre either straight away or later,” explained Dr Wullschleger.
As soon as Kevin arrived, it was clear he was in grave danger. Dr Wullschleger made the urgent call to take him immediately to the operating theatre—Kevin was losing more blood by the minute, his life hanging in the balance.
The surgery was intense. Kevin’s internal bleeding continued as Dr Wullschleger navigated through layers of tissue and organs, searching for the source. At the same time, the anaesthetic team resuscitated Kevin with many bags of blood products, which are warmed through a blood warming device donated by the Gold Coast Hospital Foundation. The impact of the handlebars had been catastrophic causing deep bruising and damage to his bowels and blood vessels. Finally, Dr Wullschleger managed to control the bleeding —a detrimental tear of the portal vein, buried beneath vital organs, the very vessel carrying blood from the stomach, intestines, spleen, and pancreas to the liver.
“There were a couple of hairy moments, I managed to stop the bleeding, though also called the vascular surgeon to assist with definitive control,” said Dr Wullschleger.
Meanwhile, an hour away in Brisbane, Kevin’s 25-year-old son Harry was about to receive the most heart-stopping call of his life. “The hospital first tried to call me at 9:30 pm. I didn’t take any notice of the private call until they called me four times in a row to deliver the news. I went into a bit of shock, wondering what I was going to do. I had to hand the phone off to my fiancée and take a minute before I could really make sense of the news,” Harry recalls.
In the weeks and months that followed, Kevin endured 25 procedures on his long road to recovery; his injured bowels could be restored, avoiding life with a stoma bag. The initial damage to his pancreas sparked a painful, complicated pancreatitis. Harry remembers a two-week period of constant upheaval—good news in the morning, devastating updates at night. “The constant rollercoaster of it just exhausted us in the end. It got to a point where the nightly phone call from the nurses could’ve been anything, and I’d have expected it. Towards the end, it became second nature, but we knew he was tough enough and would get through it his way,” said Harry.
Throughout this ordeal, Harry spent countless hours in the ICU waiting room. Recognising the need to support families like Kevin and Harry's, along with the estimated 9,500 yearly visitors, the Gold Coast Hospital Foundation transformed this space into a tranquil, calming environment to improve the ICU waiting room experience.
The project, which was made possible thanks to the support of generous donors, included the interior design and fit out of the waiting area and three private family rooms, which includes all new tables and chairs, family-sized lounges, leafy green wall wraps, modern cabinetry and artwork.
It became a refuge for Harry, as he waited for one of Kevin’s many procedures to finish or where he would take a moment to relax before walking into the ICU.
“I spent a lot of time in the waiting room and met a lot of the families there. It was a mix of happy and sad stories, with many people worse off than Dad and I were. It gave me time to reflect on the situation and be strangely grateful that he was doing as well as he was. A lot of people weren’t as fortunate as us, and you’d witness that during the time spent in the waiting room,” Harry recalls.
When Kevin finally emerged from the worst of it and could understand what had happened, Harry shared the unthinkable news: Kevin had just escaped death. Now, with his external wounds healed, Kevin still struggles to grasp it all.
“I’ve never had a broken bone in my life—some scrapes and injuries, but nothing like this. The accident felt like I had been hit by a bus. The damage that was done was just incredible when you consider I fell off a bike and just landed wrong. So, my initial reaction was disbelief; I thought there had to be more to the story,” said Kevin. The only visible reminder of the ordeal is the long scar that stretches across his chest and abdomen.
Kevin recalls the hardest part of his recovery: enduring so many surgeries and knowing he wouldn’t feel like himself for a long time. “I’d lost 10-12 kg—a huge loss for someone my size—and I knew this was going to be my reality for a while. Even simple things became impossible. I’d try to grab a towel off the rail after a shower, but it was too heavy,” he says.
Then came learning to walk again. “The first time the physio came and said, ‘We’re going to go for a walk,’ I thought I’d just get up and go. But as soon as my feet hit the floor, they went numb and tingled, and I could barely manage to put one foot in front of the other. She reminded me I’d been in bed for three months; every muscle from my toes to my ears needed to be reconditioned. It was frustrating, especially after being so active. But I remind myself—I’m still here,” Kevin shares.
After months of pushing himself to regain strength and ability, Kevin was finally able to go home. Remembering this moment still brings tears to his eyes. As Harry wheeled him toward the exit, a nurse asked them to wait a moment. Then, guiding them down the hallway, they found themselves met by the dedicated team who had saved his life, joyfully lined up in a guard of honour to celebrate Kevin’s recovery.
“It was astounding, absolutely astounding,” Kevin recalls. “I’ll just be sitting at home, and I’ll think of it, and it brings me to tears. The quality of care, the personal service from everybody—from the cleaners right up to the Trauma Team—was just amazing, absolutely amazing, and I will never, ever forget that. I can’t thank them enough.”
With many months still ahead in his recovery journey, Christmas will be quiet for Kevin and his family this year. But both Kevin and Harry are simply grateful he is here to be part of the festivities. “Christmas with Dad has always been prawn rolls or a barbecue near the beach somewhere. The fact that we will be able to do that again this year is amazing. I try not to think about the alternative anymore; I’ve had enough of that in three months for a lifetime,” says Harry.
Waiting in a hospital can be an incredibly vulnerable experience – whether you’re anxiously awaiting news about a loved one in the ICU like Harry, or sitting with a child before their chemotherapy appointment. It can be the place where you receive the best news or the worst. In these moments making every environment as comforting as possible is crucial for the emotional well-being for patients and their families.
The Gold Coast Hospital Foundation is dedicated to enhancing hospital spaces. We believe the experience of those in our community who visit these areas truly matters. By upgrading spaces with comfortable furnishings and soothing wall murals, we transform what can feel like a sterile environment into a warm, peaceful space – helping to ease some of the heartache and stress that comes when facing a critical health challenges.
When you support our Christmas appeal, you’re helping to ensure patients like Kevin and their families have enhanced experiences in our Gold Coast Health and Hospital Service (GCHHS). Please donate today. Your donation could be the difference to the life of someone you know.
