Dying is a lonely journey. Not only for the sick person but also for the family. As hard as we may try to avoid death, the truth is that we do a lousy job of it. Science and medicine will certainly postpone it, even staying healthy might seem to delay it, but the harsh reality is that death does not wait for you, it does not ask you, and it does not listen to you. Death ignores your feelings and wants; you do not matter to death…Death is the only certainty in life! We need to remember that our existence here is fragile, and we never have as much time with people as we think we do. If there is someone or someones out there that you love, don’t neglect that and don’t put off engaging with them because waits for no-one… Vic's Journey ended on 18 January 2013 at 10:35. She was the most courageous person in the world and has inspired thousands of people all over the world. Vic's two boys are monuments of her existence. She was an amazing mother, daughter, sister and friend. I will miss you today, tomorrow and forever my Angle Child.
Somehow 31,536,000 seconds or even 525,600 minutes makes far more sense than 8760 hours; 365 days; 52 weeks and one day or 1 year…
If feels as if a lifetime of sorrow has passed since you stopped breathing. If feels as if it has been a lifetime since I held you in my arms. It feels as if I have cried an ocean of tears.
In the past year I have aged. I have gained weight. I have existed. A year ago my life ended. The boys and I still burn candles for you.
I am still filled with rage. I know you were born with Osteogenesis Imperfecta but doctor arrogance caused you so much pain, suffering and indignity. I know that you would more than likely have died before me but perhaps with less suffering?
I will always miss you. I will always remember your smile, your laugh, your bravery. I will never forget how you fought to live.
Today I want to thank you for my beautiful grandsons. Thank you for remaining my little girl through-out your life. Thank you for fighting for so long. You were such a warrior!
I thank God that you came home to die. I thank God that I had the privilege of caring for you. I thank God that He entrusted me with something as pure and precious as you.
I am grateful that you are no longer fracturing vertebrae from vomiting. As much as I miss your laugh I do not miss your pain filled tears. I am grateful precious baby that your suffering is over.
I miss your company. I miss our late night chats, drinking untold cups of tea/coffee. I miss your text messages, your telephone calls, your shuffling footsteps down the passage… the smell of smoke alerting me that you are awake and sitting on your step…
I miss the boys laughter. I miss the joy that you brought into our lives.
We will continue to honour your memory – every day of our lives. Your legacy will live on in each and every person that is allowed to live until they die with dignity.
I love you Angel Child with every fiber in my body.
Your Silent Dreams by April D. Parker I held you as you were sleeping… All the while I sat weeping…. Gazing at your beautiful features… For you were one of God’s Creatures…
I loved you from the minute you existed to be… Living inside me, Dreaming silently…
You were always a part of my life…
Even before you saw day-light…
Looking down at you, I kissed your warm little hand…
Knowing you had passed on to the Promised Land…
You, my sweet baby, are forever my Child…
The fact you were in my life makes it worth while…
Undeniably I have hope…
The thought of seeing you again allows my spirit to lift…
I thank God to have had what time I had with you…
Love and cherish you I shall always do…
Today was an amazing day. I desperately miss my beautiful child.
I woke up early this morning remembering that I had a 8am meeting with the Hospice Bereavement Councillor or psychiatrist, whatever you prefer to call Alan. I looked at the time on my cell phone (can’t read my watch without my glasses) and thought to myself
“Hmmm, I need 45 minutes travelling time, 30 minutes to shower, dress, do my make-up and 15 minutes for breakfast and tea…”
I lay there in my war bed and decided I would be very rude and I would LIE – I would let Alan know I am stuck in the traffic… Writing this I am so ashamed for blatantly lying to this good man but it is done! I cannot undo the lie or my decision not to go… I will however confess if I see him again.
My first business appointment of the day was at 11am so I decided to lie in and check my emails in bed. There was a comment on one of my first posts…I reread the post and the next and the next and the next… I reread every one of the 335 posts I had written.
Other times, when I reread any of my journal entries or blog posts, I teared up. Today I did not. I was filled with relief.
I reread my baby girl’s journey filled with unbearable pain, suffering, discomfort, loneliness and indignity. The more I read the more I realised how selfish I was being. I took cognisance of the fact that in the early days of my blog I was careful with my words… Today I realised how much was never written. I was shocked at how little I had actually written of Vic’s pain… I remembered my child’s screams of pain and tears … I remembered how I prayed that her dreadful journey would end.
Today I was grateful that her suffering was over!
Does that mean I am “over” the death of my child? No! No! No! But I am at peace today that Vic is free of pain…
I missed her today as I will tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, next year and forever!
At about 01:00 this morning Vic came into my room and got into bed with me. Her tummy was cramping badly and she was scared. She just lay with me for a long time, sobbing and talking about her fears.
E.H.Chapin said: “Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls, the most massive characters are seamed with scars”…
Sobbing her little heart out she expressed her fear of how Danie and I will cope with her death… She asked me to remind Jon-Daniel of how he made her laugh when she was sad, Jared how much he helped her…
She told me I will have to be stricter with the boys after she is gone… She asks me to deliver her eulogy at her funeral…
It is 20:00 and Vic has been fed, changed, powdered and medicated. She screamed with pain when I changed her. Seeing my child sick and in pain, every day of her life , kills me. I am dying, painfully slowly from my child’s pain. https://tersiaburger.com/2012/07/09/i-am-dying-9-7-2012/
Vic is still a very sick little girl. The fact that her pain is better controlled does not mean that she is well. If any of us had spent the amount of time vomiting and cramping that she has this week we would be in bed hooked up to an IV and praying for death. This week Vic’s amazing resilience again amazed me. She is strong beyond comprehension!
My heart bleeds for her that her fragile body has once again failed her incredible will to live. It is clear that she is merely holding onto life, as she knows it, with her fingertips……
I will go to the meeting with Prof Froehlich and continue my fight for Hospice to become involved. Vic will never function on any level again. She is confined to bed relying on medication to keep her sane. Maybe she will have a good couple of days here or there but her sentence has not been commuted. https://tersiaburger.com/2012/08/12/mommy-i-broke-my-back/
Every day of her life countless indignities are heaped upon her. She is dependant for everything from medication, care, food and money. Poor poppet! Death is always in the foreground of her mind. Either fear of dying and at times fear of not dying.
I don’t really know what I set out to articulate in this blog but writing has once again reminded me what a pitiful life Vic has. My poor, poor little baby! No-one in the world deserves her life! But we will never abandon her – ever!
This evening she asked if she could have her injection a little earlier. Jared is going back to theatre tomorrow morning to have his stent removed. “Mommy, I need to try and sleep so I can be with my son tomorrow”
It is as if her wish triggered an avalanche of events.
Vic has been projectile vomiting since, and the perspiration is pouring off her. Her heart is racing, and her blood pressure is all over. Her abdomen is so distended and extremely tender on the abscess side!
Vic will not be at her son’s side tomorrow when he is readmitted to hospital.
Life has ground to a slow, agonizing halt… Vic floats from one pain filled day in bed to the next. When she has a good and busy day, like yesterday, she pays the price for weeks. Vic has not been out of bed today. She is deadly pale and drawn.
It is hard for her not having privacy. Vic is embarrassed that I hold her hair or wipe her face when she is vomiting. Yet she needs me with her….
We are however in this together as a family. It is a rough journey for everyone.
“I am so sorry Mommy…” …it echoes through my heart.
We have already had so many “extra” years. But the fact remains that Vic is ill. Today she is more ill than yesterday or even last week or last month. It is not an UTI causing the pain and fever. Her pain control is good enough to mask symptoms. Waves of severe nausea and cramping remain…
I don’t even want to consider the possibility that the pain is caused by Vic’s organs slowly starting to shut down….. One organ after another…. I have read that it feels “uncomfortable”. It is called terminal agitation.
There have been times in the past couple of months that all Vic can do is lie in bed and breathe. Completing simple tasks is a cause for celebration….if Vic is able to get out of bed, showers and put on clothes, all in the same day, it is a major achievement. There have been days (few and very far in-between) that she has been well enough to pick up the boys from school, take them for a milk shake. She attended Jared’s confirmation and Jon-Daniel’s prize giving… We are so grateful for the good days!
Vic is going through a grieving stage where she (once again) is experiencing profound grief for the life that she had known and which has been lost forever. Vic is feeling lost and confused. She is on the down ride hurdling to who knows what stage of her journey.
Vic had a night out of hell! The nausea was vicious and unrelenting. Pain reduced Vic to a whimpering bundle of human flesh.
Vic’s palliative Care physician, Dr Sue, visited Vic this morning. I think she was a little taken aback by Vic’s condition.
Sue is an amazing person. She was so gentle with Vic. Vic’s heart rate is fast and her blood pressure is 101/58. Vic has a bronchial infection, her liver is taking severe strain and the sepsis has flared up – badly. Her oxygen saturation levels are low – 90%.
Sue gently explained that although Vic is running a fever her body’s “warning systems” have started shutting down….. Vic is very warm to the touch, yet the thermometer only reflects a temperature of 36.8⁰.
Vic is having a lousy day. She is exhausted and very swollen. Despite the injections she has been nauseous all day. This evening she had another vomiting bout. Tomorrow we will see Dr Sue again. Just maybe there is a 3rd anti-nausea type injection available
Vic also complained of a terrible “acidic” feeling.
Sue gave us a script for Pethidine. We will alternate the morphine and Pethidine six-hourly. The poor pharmacist…. She went into shock when she heard that the morphine is NOT being replaced by the Pethidine… that it is in addition to the morphine.
Now it is only a matter of time. Vic’s organs are slowly shutting down. My child is gently being eased into death.
The entire day it echoed through my mind “we cannot stop this. It is happening”
Vic is calm and serene.
“Next year my mom and I are going to Italy” she told Sue today.
12:42am and Vic is sleeping peacefully. She had a “good” day. In between her naps she had lunch with a friend, a visit from Esther and a walk in the garden with Jared!
Vic’s legs are growing very weak. The cellulitis on her arm has worsened despite the antibiotics. It is now oozing pus. Sr Siza will see her tomorrow, and I believe Vic will have to go onto IV antibiotics. She had a violent vomiting spell just after she took her antibiotic tablets tonight. It is very difficult for her to keep tablets and food down. Despite the six-hourly anti-nausea injections she has…. And of course there is the problem of the poor absorption.
Vic’s arm is very painful. The antibiotics have not started working yet. Dr Sue will come and see her tomorrow morning, and we will then decide whether it warrants hospitalization. Obviously Vic need intravenous antibiotics and her tissue is too poor….
I ran down the passage knowing that my poor child had vomited again. The poor little thing was standing in the shower covered in her 7 pm dinner and antibiotic tablets. The food had not digested at all. She was shivering and crying.
I cleaned up whilst Vic showered.
“I am sorry Mommy. I am so sorry Mommy”… Vic sobbed.
“I can’t do this anymore Mommy. I don’t want to live like this anymore….”
I eventually got into bed at 5am. Three hours sleep used to be enough sleep when I was younger. I think I am getting old. I need more than 3 hours. Maybe it is time to look at a night nurse…..
Hospice called early this morning. The antibiotics have been changed to IM injections. We cannot put up an IV drip. Sr Siza told Vic she should be admitted to hospital to have the abscess lanced and drained. Vic refused. “No more hospitals. Mommy you promised…”
Monday morning Dr Sue will come to the house and do the procedure here.
Vic has been vomiting non-stop. The acid has burnt the inside of her mouth. Her derriere is so lumpy, black and blue from the constant injections. Sr Siza popped in. She examined Vic and started drawing up a Clopamon and Morphine injection.
“Please Sister, not my bum. Please do it on my thigh.”
Vic no longer has an appetite. She is sleeping at least 20 out of 24 hours. Vic is very warm to the touch and appears flushed. The thermometer reflects a temperature of 37 degrees C.
“Do you understand what your body is telling you Vic?” Siza asked
Vic is having a strange day… Her blood pressure is all over; her heart races and then slows down.
“Something is wrong mommy.”
This evening Vic double checked with me whether I remembered which hymns had to be sung at her memorial service. She cried when she (again) named her pallbearers. “Please don’t let me lie in a refrigerator for a long time Mommy…Let them cremate me as quickly as possible” https://tersiaburger.com/2013/01/02/sisters-by-heart/
Vic worries about the family’s ability to cope with her illness and eventual death. When Jared whispered to her “Mommy, I want your face to be the first thing I see when I wake up from the operation” he validated her fears…
Vic often says “You know Mom I worry how Daddy is going to cope with my death…” or “Mommy, do you think the boys will cope without me?” or “Promise me you will go for counselling when it is over…”
No amount of reassurance will comfort her…Vic in time will have to let go. She knows how deeply we love her and what void her passing will leave in all our lives. If you lose a marriage partner it is possible to find another partner and experience love again but if you lose a child or parent…how do you replace a child or parent?
Vic is quite hard on the boys (for their own good I must add). She always says “I am your Mother not your excuse”
And then on the 10 th of September 2012 I blogged the words that I want to repeat today…
So baby, if you read this post, know that we will miss you. We don’t want you to leave us behind but we want your suffering to end. We will continue to love you until we are reunited one day. You have to trust us that you will always be “my baby” and the boys’ mummy. But know that we will be grateful when your little body is freed from its pain and suffering. You will be at peace… You will not suffer more pain after death. We will mourn you, but we will also be at peace… We will think of you and smile…
I had my first counselling session with the Hospice psychologist. It was terribly difficult and emotional.
So often when Vic and I chatted Vic would say “I am so worried about you Mommy…”
In November last year when Dr Sue, Vic’s palliative care physician, broke the news to Vic that her organs were failing Vic’s first words were “Oh Mommy, I am so worried about you – How will you cope?”
When our housekeeper went on leave late December, Vic said to her that they would not see one another again…that she was dying…. Vic asked our Betty to look after me because she was worried about me…
My standard answer to Vic was “I will be okay baby!”
Vic would say “I know, but I worry about you. Promise me you will see someone professional after I am gone?”
“I will be fine. I will be grateful that your suffering is over…But I promise I will!”
I did not know what I was talking about when I said I would be fine… Vic knew me better than I know myself. Nothing could have prepared me for the tsunami of grief that hit me, the void in my life…
So I walked into Alan’s office this morning. I noticed the strategically placed box of tissues, the crumpled ones in the little wastebasket next to the chair…I crossed my mind that he only deals with grief.
We spoke briefly about the boys, but Alan firmly said that today we would focus on me…
I bravely started talking without waiting to be prompted. After all, that is why I was there.
“I knew that I would miss Vic after her death but nothing could prepare me for this” I said
“Vic was diagnosed with Osteogenesis Imperfecta at 18 months. The doctors said she would not live to be older than 12 years.”.
I spoke clearly and succinctly about Vic’s medical history. It was familiar territory. I have share this information with many doctors, research centres, medical professionals… I spoke about Vic’s blotched back surgery and the devastating effect it had on the rest of her life. I ranted about Drs S + V. I articulated my hatred of them, my anger at their arrogance.
I spoke at length about how I fought doctors, tried to find solutions, cures… How I would not leave Vic’s side when she was in hospital or ICU. I told him about the ventilator been switched off and Vic starting to breathe on her own again…
I sobbed my way through Vic’s uncontrolled pain; the doctors telling her that she was a morphine addict…The doctors refusing her adequate pain control post-surgery because of her so-called morphine addiction…
I battled to tell him of Vic’s incredible will to live – sobs wracked through my body.
I share with him my guilt at being the one who administered her sedation at the end of her life. It took me a couple of minutes to get Vic’s final words of “Mommy, I love you…” out.
I saw Alan look at the clock on the wall. I knew our time was almost up.
He sat forward on his chair, his elbows on his knees. His voice and eyes were gentle with compassion.
“Tersia, it is normal to grieve. Vic has taken up all your time and energy for 38 years. You never separated from her. In your mind you were one…”
That is so true. That is why I feel as if part of me has died. Vic and I were so close. She always remained my baby girl. I never became Ma, Mom or anything but “Mommy”.
As a family we have lived with Vic’s pain and her excruciatingly slow journey towards death for the past eleven years. For eleven years we have heard her scream with pain, moan with discomfort, we hold her hair back when she is doubled up over a toilet bowel, vomiting until she fractures a vertebrae. We have nursed open wounds, changed colostomy bags…. We have watched our daughter and mother suffer the most horrendous symptoms.
So baby, if you read this post, know that we will miss you. We don’t want you to leave us behind, but we want your suffering to end. We will continue to love you until we are reunited one day. You have to trust us that you will always be “my baby” and the boys’ mummy. But know that we will be grateful when your little body is freed from its pain and suffering. You will be at peace… You will not suffer more pain after death. We will mourn you, but we will also be at peace… We will think of you and smile…
It is okay to let go my angel child.
Vic and I discussed this post… We cried then, and I cry now.
Today I attended my first serious business meeting in almost three months. I have really neglected my business. Fortunately there was the Christmas recess, so it was not too bad. The series of very important meetings scheduled for the week of the 13th of January was pushed back to the first week in February once I realized that Vic was dying.
I dreaded seeing my (all male) colleagues today. I have known some of them for 25 years and they all knew of Vic’s precarious health.
I sat in my car outside the building and took deep breaths. These guys have never known me to show emotion. I have been stoic throughout Vic’s illness, many operations and setbacks. I was petrified that I would not be able to contain my grief!
Lots of hugs and pats on the back dispersed with the sympathies…a hushed silence followed me into the boardroom. With a couple of minutes to spare before the start of the meeting the guys decided to go smoke.
“It must be a relief for you to not have the responsibility of a sick child any more…” the one said through a cloud of smoke…..
“Yes” said another. “It has been many years”….
I did not have to dignify the insensitive remarks with a response as one of the female directors came out and hugged me. “I have no words for you” she said.
We went into the board room and took our seats. Being our first meeting of the year the normal New Year pleasantries was exchanged. I coped beautifully.
The meeting began and as soon as I started speaking I could hear a quiver in my voice! I was mortified! I shut up as quickly as possible and spent a couple of minutes trying to compose myself without drawing any attention to myself. Breathe in through my abdomen …exhale! Breathe in – exhale… My hands were shaking so I clutched my pen tightly! I put my hands on the boardroom table to steady them.
For years I have NEVER switched off my cell phone in case Vic needed me. If I was away from home (or even when I was home) I would fall asleep in with my phone in my hand. 24/7 my phone was on.
In a way it was liberating switching my phone off when the meeting started.
When I got home this afternoon I sat reading through my old BBM messages from Vic.
“Can I phone you Mommy?”
“Mommy may I have morphine? I am so sore!”
“When will you be home Mommy?”
Tonight the boys went to their dad for dinner. Danie and I popped in at a friend whose daughter-in-law was paralysed in a motorbike accident on the 8th of December. Her three beautiful granddaughters seem a little bewildered. Their mommy is in rehab and their daddy is staying with her 24/7. My friend became a substitute mommy for the girls. I have become a substitute mom to the boys again.
It was strange going to dinner – just the two of us.
Last night I covered schoolbooks… tomorrow morning I will take Jon-Daniel to the orthodontist to have his braces removed. Vic desperately wanted to live for the “event”. I hope she will be there in spirit. Tomorrow afternoon Jared and I will go and make an appointment for our motorbike learner licenses!
I am battling to contain my grief. I am trying to find the time to research “teenage grief”. How do we know how to treat grieving teenage boys? What if we make mistakes? What if we fail Vic and her boys? I fear I am not spending enough time with the boys.
Last night I had a discussion with someone who Vic loves very dearly. This friend of Vic has spent endless hours, days, weeks and months in hospital with Vic. She is actually the only person that has truly travelled this horrific journey with us. Vic has lived through many death sentences and reprieves. Lee has been around for at least the past 7 years of Vic’s journey. Vic has nursed Vic back to health many times and I know she cares deeply for Vic, her friend.
I discussed the various treatment options with her. Do I insist on having a stent fitted or do I request feeding tubes? Or do I go with Vic’s non-intervention wish? But if I comply how do I bring calmness and peace in Vic’s life? Vic is no exception to the rule…As Bella pointed out last night even Jesus of NAZARETH feared death….Fearing death is as natural as breathing is to us.
Last night I decided no sedation. If I allow sedation, which is against her wishes, I will silence Vic’s voice, her fears and her tears.
Dr Sue says the bleeding is from the abdomen. Her Oesophagus, throat and mouth are covered in a mass of sores from all the vomiting. Her breathing is shallow and her heart rate weak but very rapid. Her blood pressure is dropping and her circulation is poor. The liver is very enlarged.
We are past the point of no return. Vicky is dying and only a miracle can save her. There is no operation, no magic medication, and no nothing that can save her.
Today I again witnessed her anguish and phenomenal will to live. I saw Vic, in my mind’s eye, Vic being escorted, in deadly silence down a long dark passage. Her family and friends were escorting her on her final walk into the chamber of death. I clearly saw the fear in her eyes and I could feel her little body trembling with fear. I heard a voice saying “Dead woman walking…”
I saw her walk into an execution room, being strapped down and the needle being inserted into her little arm. I was the head warden and my eyes were flitting between the clock and a telephone…Would there be another reprieve??
It is so cruel. For all of us. Why do people linger? Why don’t we all just go to sleep and never wake up? Or die in a car accident? Why this suffering??? I want to go to sleep and never wake up. Life sucks!
Vic is on a mild sedation. She is more calm and peaceful than she has been for a couple of weeks. She woke up this evening and had dinner…half a hamburger!! My little take-away queen!! She only vomited at 11.30 pm so she managed to actually keep down the food. She has passed no urine today.
She sobbed when I told her the boys had covered their school books…”I want to do it for them!” She wailed
“I have let down my boys. I always cover their books…”
“Oh Jared, look! Oupa Tienie is standing behind you…” It really spooked the boys. Tienie died on the 5th of November 1999…
I wish Vic was married. I wish her biological father was still alive! I wish the decision was not mine!!!
Tomorrow I will ask that the sedation be increased. I will silence my child’s sweet voice. I will also silence her tears and fears.
Monday 7.1.2013 was a crazy day. Vic was not in a good space.
Angela, Vic’s BFF came to visit. She is not only beautiful but also a calm and serene person. She radiates goodness. Angela being here gives me some time because I really trust her. I am able to get some essential chores done knowing that she is keeping an eye on Vic.
“Gramps was here” Vic said.
“How is he?” I asked
“I don’t know. He just came to tell me how much he loves us all…” Vic replied
My Dad forgot how to breathe on the 15th of May 2011. He died in our home (in the very same room as Vic) surrounded by his beloved family. At times he was a stranger in the world. Some days he woke up in a room he could not remember from one nap to the next, lived with “strangers” and thought I was my Mom. Despite the advanced Alzheimer’s, he never forgot who Vic was and that she was ill. At times he forgot whether she was in hospital or out but he never forgot her or that she was ill.
“He has come to take you by your hand Sweetie…” I said
“I KNOW Mommy” she said impatiently.
Lee, Jared’s BFF mom popped around with a huge basket of exquisite flowers. Of course, Vic immediately got a bee in her bonnet and had to get out of bed. Always the social animal!
Esther arrived and Vic burst into tears when she saw her sister.
“I am so scared Sis” Vic cried in her sisters arms.
Esther has become Vic’s “coach”. She has the love for Vic to ask her what is holding her back; she tells Vic to run towards the light; to let go – the boys are safe are cared for. She holds Vic and dries her tears….
Danie took the boys for a haircut and new school uniforms.
In the afternoon Joanna, one the Jon-Daniel’s primary school friends’ Mom, popped in for a visit. It was touching when she spoke with Vic and apologized for coming to visit too late. Vic was sleeping and not aware of the visit. Joanna left with tears streaming down her cheeks. She left a little gift for Vic
“I wrote your name in the sand
But the waves blew it away
Then I wrote it in the sky
But the wind blew it away
So I wrote it in my heart
And that’s where it will stay.”
Siza arrived and told me that Sue would be in tomorrow morning to assess Vic. She said Vic’s colour is very poor and the circulation in her legs bad. Siza is of the opinion that the most humane thing to do for Vic would be to sedate her… Her body is building up so much adrenalin fighting death that it is preventing her from dying – despite the organ failure.
I am torn. My poor child’s anguish and pain sears through every nerve ending in my body. Not only mine but also the rest of the family’s…..I want the emotional side of her journey to end. But when I think that I will never hear her voice again, that I will never hear her cry and plead again… I want to die. Sedation can end her emotional anguish, but deprive us of last words.
When I walked into Vic’s room after Sr Siza left Vic said “I just saw Dries. He came to visit. I have thought of him the whole day….”
Dries is a dear family friend who died last year…
In the evening Judy (Dries’ widow) popped around for a visit. When I told her that Vic had seen Dries she burst into tears. She said, her sister Lida, a deeply religious woman, told her earlier in the day that she had dreamt of Dries and that Dries was going to come and “fetch” Vic…
I pointed out to Judy that Dries, who was a tour guide by profession, would take Vic on the scenic route…
Later in the evening Bella, one of the ministers in my Church, and James, the senior elder, came to visit. Bella, a dear friend over the years, spoke to the boys with so much compassion. He grew up in a home with a mother who was ill. He said that the congregation has never stopped praying for us as a family. He said the congregation carries us in their hearts. (One day I will still blog about Bella and his amazing ability to “pray Vic out of the claws of death”…)
We all stood holding hands around Vic’s bed whilst Bella said a beautiful prayer for Vic and the family. Someone stifled a little sob. There was absolute peace and a Godly presence in Vic’s room.
Today has been a very, very bad day. Sr Siza was here when Vic had a violent vomiting spell. Yesterday Vic fractured a vertebra again. Her pain is out of control. Her breathing was shallow.
“I don’t want Jon-Daniel to see me now Mommy. It freaks him out when I can’t breathe” Vic pleaded
I lay behind her back, gently holding her whilst the tears wracked through her little body.
“I don’t want to die Mommy. If only I can live for another year….. But I am so tired!” Vic softly cried
“Do you think we will be able to do Italy Mommy?” she asked after a long silence
“I hope so Baby. I think we must take the boys with us…” I replied
“Oh Mommy, can we? We don’t have to go for a long time…” Vic said
We lay quietly for a while. Vic trying to breathe through her nausea and pain and I contemplating how I am going to pull off this Italy thing… Just imagine flying with a caseload of injections and a litre of morphine syrup…
“Mommy, I don’t care what you do with my ashes… It was so hard putting my father’s ashes into that wall of remembrance! Are you going to be okay Mommy?” Vic cried
My heart stopped. This was so out of the blue… “You will always be with me. I will not put you into any wall” I said
“I will be your guardian angel.” Vic said
“I know but remember I will need some privacy… “I said
“Don’t worry Mommy! I will make sure my father doesn’t peep as well” Vic laughed through her tears