John Healy has lived life at such speed that the 45-year-old is now awaiting a heart transplant. Donal O’Donoghue meets the star of The Restaurant.
"Everything has an expiry date in this business", says John Healy. "It either gets too boring and familiar or you burn out. I burned out and I didn’t see it coming."
He looks around the hotel bar. Waiters flutter to and fro. A few people give him a second glance, a whisper of recognition, but this is a posh pile and people are too polite to point and certainly unlikely to yammer: 'Look, there’s yer man from The Restaurant!' He has been with the TV show since 2002, the loquacious maitre d’ with the impish smile and devilment in his eyes. In a way, Healy was born for the role as he was for the work (outside of the TV world he was doing it for real) but he had inhabited it to such a degree that it nearly buried him. With his lightly tanned features, John Healy looks fit and healthy for his 45 years.
He sips his tea, ignoring the biscuit on his plate. His eyes dance. He doesn’t look like someone waiting for a new heart, but he is. He pulls down his jumper to expose the upper part of his chest. The skin bulges with an ICD – a monitor, pacemaker and defibrillator that was surgically inserted in May 2010. That was following his second heart attack (and he’s now on the national donor heart waiting list). "That time I thought about not calling the ambulance, about letting it all end there", he says blithely. By then he had been through the wringer: the Cathal Brugha Street graduate who worked the restaurants and hotels of London and New York. At the age of 22 he came out, encouraged by his friends in London. But the demons stayed. He had his first drink when he was 16. It coincided with his first full-time job – a cocktail waiter in his home town of Naas.
Night-living became the norm for John. "I had two candles going and burned them at both ends", he says. "I saw my job as theatre, as a bit of a performance", he says of working his way up the rungs of the hospitality industry, from commis waiter to duty manager in restaurants and hotels in Dublin, London and New York. "I developed this persona, picking up mannerisms from other people, the role models", he says. "Little did I know then but what I was actually doing was hiding away, hiding the real me. So when that person needed to come out it was very difficult."
If at times Healy talks like the man who has served his time in therapy, it’s because he has. Twice he went into rehab, five-week stretches each time to fix the broken down machine. In 1999, Healy came home, battered by his four years as maitre d’ at Mezzo, Terence Conran’s huge London restaurant. Initially, he pinballed from post to pillar before landing a job at the new Four Seasons Hotel in Dublin. He was back on the treadmill. In 2001, he checked into rehab at St Patrick’s Hospital. He stopped drinking. "But now I was a workaholic", he says. Then in January 2007, he had the first heart attack. He was 41. He returned to work in March then physically crashed in August. He was back on the drink.
In May 2008, he checked himself into the Rutland Centre for another five-week programme. "That second time went to the root of my problem", he says. "Stuff that I had completely blocked out. Bad stuff. I drank to block out the emotional pain." He had his second heart attack in November 2009. "It happened the day I was going to the Rutland Centre to pick up my medal for being 18 months sober", he says and laughs dryly. This time the pain was sharp, nasty and ominous. It was the one that did the damage: ripped him up inside.
"I started crying because I knew what was coming", he says of the moment it happened. "For a split second I thought of not phoning the ambulance, of just letting it happen." He was rushed to hospital. His life changed to a routine of medication, diet and weekly hospital visits. He is now easing back on work: as far as possible he is keeping his body ready for the transplant. "If my condition deteriorates too much I will end up on a machine", he says and grimaces.
It is nearly two hours since we first met. The faces around us have changed, a few men in suits sit at the bar. Healy looks out into the darkening evening. Rush hour traffic ribbons the southbound N11. "I could write a book", he says. He could. The truth is he has told me only half the story. He is still struggling up that hill but his family are travelling with him. There’s a peace now, it seems he’s achieved some sort of equilibrium, and hope. "I lost my religion as a teenager, turned my back on the church for many reasons but I’ve regained that", he says. "I’m not a practising Catholic but my journey has helped me to explore my spiritual side. Ultimately, I do believe that we are not alone and that we will be looked after."
For more information on how to get a donor card go to: www.ika.ie
Donal O'Donoghue
