By Lindsay Slogrove
Pansy, sunflower, buttercup-thingy, tulip, bouquet, two stars, smiley sunface five hearts and I love you.
Two hearts, pansy, sunflower, daisy (which really looks like a fried egg), hibiscus, tulip, bouquet, three stars and I love you too.
These were the last exchanges on WhatsApp with my beloved sister, Janet, last Thursday. Within 24 hours she had suffered a huge bleed in her brain stem and we would never talk again. She died, at 53, just eight weeks after her husband of 32 years, Sean, died of a heart attack.
Her two amazing daughters, Tyane and Maxine, lost both parents within two months.
The family is, naturally, shaken to its boots. But there is comfort in this horrible story.
Janet had made it clear for many years that she wanted to donate her organs. As siblings, we discussed it, as she did with Sean and her girls.
The organ donor staff were kind, compassionate, sensitive and caring. They made all the arrangements, the matching, contacting the recipients, making sure organs and recipients would be together at the right place and time.
After the papers had been signed, a senior nurse came in to talk to us about the decision and how it had been made by people who were hurting and in shock, but with no debate, argument or further discussion. This was, essentially, Janet’s choice, and we honoured it.
The nurse told us that even if a person had registered as a donor, that wish could be overturned by a family member who would not agree. She said she had seen family rows when some tried to fulfil the donor’s wishes, but others refused.
The discussion of death in some families was taboo, she said, and decisions of such magnitude were put aside, only to be made during a time of heartbreak and pain for the dead person’s family.
The choice is a deeply personal one, and Janet’s story is not meant to sway anyone in any particular direction. It is, however, a plea to at least consider the lives that can be changed, and have the discussion with those closest to you.
Our family takes great comfort knowing that at least five families have been given new lives, that Janet lives on outside of just our hearts and memories, and we wish the recipients long, happy, healthy lives. Her tissues will help about 60 more people.
Her last days also reminded us that heroes in all forms are in short supply in these times of disease, hunger, poverty, joblessness and poverty.
We met a few last weekend.
Because of Covid, the rules are stringent and visitors strictly limited; many of our family were unable to say goodbye in person.
We were in full PPE, and it’s horrible. You sweat and your mask gets soggy and the long sleeves are tucked into the gloves and the little hatty things make your hair drip.
But we did it for two-and-a-bit days: the people working to save lives, Covid and non-Covid patients alike, do it for 12-hour shifts. They deserve gratitude, admiration and every care we can take to not add to their burden.
And make sure the people you love know it.
RIP, Jan and Sean.
The Independent on Saturday