<*dv_4*>15th may 2000.
Officially the worst day of my life to date. I daresay it will never be peaked again. This is the day my little sister, Laura, succumbed to the plague of our century. Cancer.
A year prior, she awoke one morning to find that her left arm had become paralysed. By misfortunate timing, the day previous she had banged her left elbow into a door frame, so once she had visited the local Doctor, he presumed she had hit her funny bone and prescribed Paracetemol. No further thought on the subject did he have,
<*dv_0*> A week later, no change. We were all suspicious from the initial consultation (nobody just wakes up with a paralysed limb) and insisted she return to another Doctor. Yet again, no further examination was made and she continued to walk around and take care of my nephew, who at this point was only a few months old, with one functioning arm. Nothing improved with regards to her arm and a day trip to Blackpool with her pals suddenly became the catalyst of a very painful time in my family's history.
She went on a ride with her friends and suffered a major seizure. Upon admittance to Hospital, in which she was kept for a week, they just kept her stabilised and insisted that she be brought back to Birmingham for treatment. This Blackpool hospital was insufficiently equipped for a proper diagnosis so she was admitted to QE in Birmingham and then we found out what was wrong...
<*dv_1*> "Laura's got a brain tumour, Clyde. She'll need to have it removed straightaway" My moms words echoed out from the telephone. I didn't really listen, I just felt hollow. As if all the life in me had just drained out.
The next morning, I was at the Hospital with Laura as they got her ready to go down to the theatre. She was her usual chirpy self and sat there worrying about me & apologising - as if she had anything to apologise about. The nurse came to bring her down to theatre and she defiantly refused to be wheeled down, She instead got out of bed - and this memory will stay with me for as long as live - and followed the nurse, part dragging her left leg which had now become as damaged as her arm due to the seizures she had. After supressing the consuming need to cry, just so I could be strong for my mom, I had a cold realisation pass over me and although I will always punish myself for the thought, I knew at that moment it would never end well. It was my birthday that day. That's why she kept apologising. I now do not celebrate my birthday as the memory is quite upsetting.
She recovered from the operation well and spent a few days in intensive care. We had a little laugh about the fact she looked like she had been kicked in the head by a horse - the incision is horse shoe shaped - and we thought all would be well. Then came the results from her biopsy..
Not only had she endured the horror of knowing that the tumour had been growing since she had my nephew but it was also the most malignant variety known. This vicious tumour had the ability to spore and could also grow in a very short space of time. Immediate Radiotherapy and drug therapy was needed. Basically every legal dose they were permitted to give her and the change was frightening...
The night of her first dose of Radiotherapy, her hair began to fall out. She had long brown curly hair that went to her spine and handful after handful fell out. She wept uncontrollably and it was truly heartbreaking. It really began to hit home that she had Cancer. And that moment, I think she 'realised' what she had. There's so much I could write about this time but suffice to say she endured - regardless of how many times I wished I could have taken on her suffering - the worst side effects that were medically possible. She was slowly poisoned by the 6 tablets she had to take daily, three times a day. The sessions of Radiotherapy meant she lost what remained of her hair. Her gums bled horrendously, she was violently ill and the severe nausea & metallic taste all food now had meant she barely ate and this wittled her already petite frame to less than six stone. She managed to get round using a walking stick until one day she fell over. Because she was already such a meagre weight and all her muscle mass had wasted away, she fell painfully on her buttock bones. The sound of that sobbing. The sound of a human being that had endured all bravely and was now being ridiculed and humiliated by it, will stay with me forever. She never walked again after that.
<*dv_5*> Steadily all other dignities were taken away from her because of this parasite in her body. I carried her almost everywhere, even to the toilet. I knew at this point she had given up. There was no dignity left. She was helpless and it killed me knowing that.
The Friday before the 15th, she was in a lot of pain. So much so that she asked my mom to read her story in bed to make her feel better and take away the pain in her head. My mom slept beside her and stroked her forehead whilst she read. Laura was 19yrs old but it just shows that no matter our age, there are few things in this life we experience that make us feel safe and protected when needs be..
We took her to hospital the next morning and I carried her to the ward. The last time I carried her alive. Through the course of that weekend we found out that in the space of 10 days since her last clear scan, five tumours had grown. All the time she had treatment for the right side, the spores made their way to the left. I wished at that moment that this illness had a tangible form because I would have throttled it for its cruel, devious methods. The way its covers its murderous intentions behind hope.
She was placed on a Morphine driver at the highest dose available and prior to falling unconscious, we all managed to say 'I love you' to each other. They were the last words she spoke and then she fell into a coma. Because she was very healthy and looked after herself prior to the illness, her lungs and heart refused to stop although she was now effectively a vegetable, according to the Doctor.
My mother and I did not sleep for the whole weekend. We just sat there and watched. We sang to her, talked to her, even played her favourite Ocean Colour Scene songs. Waiting for her to die. Sounds really callous but we were now emotionally empty. All cried out.
Around 5pm on the Monday, the steady crescendo of her breathing just stopped. I remember looking at my mom and we said nothing to each other. I got up and in an almost pragmatic way - as you would do with a watch - placed my ear against her chest.
I cannot describe the feeling of not hearing a heart beat. How could you? But what it meant to me and my mother was not that Laura was now dead. It meant she was free from the suffering. 'It' couldn't hurt her anymore. Nothing could hurt her. The nurses came in and after taking out all the shit that had stuck in her, left us alone.
There she was. My beautiful sister almost serenely sleeping. It was the first time that her face had not been ravaged with pain. No more furrows in her brow. Just serenity and calm.
Five years on it still kicks my ass to think about. I've blubbed all the way through typing this. Not too macho but I don't give a fuck. I loved my sister and I'll never get over losing her but I know my loss is in no way equalled to that of my nephew who lost his mom. A week before his first birthday as well. The Cancer Research advert where Eve Cassidy's version of 'Fields of Gold' plays still tears me up, especially the part where the little boy sees his mom in the mirror before School. How I wish for James that such a mirror existed too.
<*dv_6*> So what was the aim of this article? I don't really know as it could work on so many levels. Maybe it would make you feel fortunate that you are healthy and well. Maybe it will make you question judgements that are made about your health when you feel unsure. Maybe it will make you remember a loved one who fell prey to this illness. Maybe it just helped me release a bit of pent up grief. Who knows.
<*dv_2*> Maybe you don't give a toss and that's ok. We can't genuinely 'feel' for everyone. But we can donate to those who do care. So buy the Daffodils and the Pink bows. Give the donations when you see fit.
Maybe it will never lead to a cure for Cancer but the harder fucking time we give it whilst it does its 'job', the better.
<*dv_3*> This article is also in the glorious memory of my best mate & bro Ricky Bhalla, who lost his struggle against the same Cancer as my sister on the 15th July 2003. I look forward to seeing you both again.
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