Elizabeth went up to Sheffield University a week early to help welcome International Students. Before her, her last year of an English Literature BA. Dorothy, Min and Elizabeth had planned events with something called 'International Cafe', which aimed to provide a fun social club for international students at Sheffield University. Margaret and I had helped move her into her new student house in Steelbanks with her good friend Adam, and two other students who they recruited through an advert. Elise had just spent a year in South Korean, studying the language, and Alex was an aeronautical engineer from Portugal.
Meanwhile in Leicester, Joanna was preparing to start at Royal Holloway College, London University. Margaret was to take Joanna to her accommodation as I had a prior commitment to prepare a charity fund raising walk in the Quantocks with my Godparents. The Watsan Walk for Water will take place in June 2019. The weekend of the 22nd of September was an extremely wet weekend, but we walk in the rain anyway, like true Brits.
The Quantock are a secret part of rural England which I knew from a childhood scripture union camp. As a 12 year old, I did not stay at Greatwood, the centre Watsan will use, but my sister Frances has done so a few times in her youth. I knew that Greatwood is a small gem in Somerset, surrounded by forests, hills and high moorland. It is also isolated from any mobile phone signal. The first inkling I was to to get that something was wrong for Elizabeth was on late Saturday afternoon. Our walking party pulled into the rented cottage we were staying in. Ian, my Godfather, had just been off to collect his car which had been left in a car park nearby. On the way he accidentally strayed into mobile phone reception and picked up a What-sap message from his son Jonney. The message said that Frances had contacted him to say Andrew was to make an urgent call to Margaret as Elizabeth was critically ill in hospital. I asked at a neighbouring house whether I could use their landline. I got through to Joanna, who was with Margaret. They had received a call from Elizabeth's flatmates to say that Elizabeth had had a brain haemorrhage and was in the Northern General Hospital, Sheffield. Margaret and Joanna were on their way to Royal Holloway and had almost reached it, when their call came through and they had done a u-turn, with the car still laden with all of Joanna's stuff, had headed right back up the motorway. Royal Holloway was forgotten.
Margaret spoke to a doctor in Sheffield who told her that Elizabeth was sedated and in Intensive Care. She had had a hemorrhage in the pontine area of the brain stem. Her situation was critical and we were warned that her life was in the balance.
For the last 9 months, Elizabeth has had occasional migraines with sickness. These have been very unpleasant but she has coped uncomplainingly. In the summer I recall seeing Elizabeth seated at our dinning table. She was happy and relaxed, but I remember feeling that her skin looked gray. It made me feel uneasy. Elizabeth has challenged my ruminations and has pointed out that migraine and sickness are very common, and not normally seen as sinister omen. However I has noted that other people with similar experiences have spoken of earlier experiences of sickness. Takahashi et al (2015) - Journal of Dermatology.
One of my kind friends from the walking party elected to join me on the journey to Sheffield. This was a spontaneous generous act. However I note that I was calm, and think I would have driven safely on my own. His company with me was one of many many acts of kindness we were to receive, and still do.
On the way up in the car my phone rang as the news got about. Messages of support and concern came through. I remember the challenge of having a phone ringing on the motorway, where my security swipe code meant my friend could not operate the phone. We managed somehow, and he held it as I spoke on speaker phone.
Margaret has asked her sister, Ruth to go immediately to Elizabeth. She was the first from our family to get to A&E. She found three of Elizabeth's friends in the waiting room. They were unable to see Elizabeth because they were not family, and had no information about how Elizabeth was. We were very impressed that they had somehow hacked the phone system to find Margaret's number. We continue to be grateful for their love and care of Elizabeth which continues. It's a bit of Elizabeth's private life that has become part of our lives too.
As I arrived in in Sheffield, the first thing to do was to drop my traveling companion at the Train Station so that he could continue on to York. It was dark and I did not have a satnav. I was not sure how I would find the the Northern General Hospital. My friend went up to a couple in a car and asked them for directions. They indicated to me to follow them, and said they would escort me there. Then at breakneck speed, I tailed their car though a complicated network of roads. Once at the hospital they took me to the entrance of A&E. This was particularly necessary as the Northern General Hospital is well known as a city in itself. At the entrance of A&E I asked a security guard to show me the way to Critical Care. He cheerfully took me to the entrance of a large ward. I went in, and was surrounded by sick patients and very busy nurses. It was surreal, like entering a strange dream. Eventually one was able to come to me. "Which Critical Care was I after?" the nurse asked, "we have three." I didn't know so she logged on to her computer and we traced where Elizabeth Starr might be. Eventually, and it seemed like it took an age, she found Elizabeth's records. I suddenly had a pang of panic. Here I was suck in the wrong Critical Care and my daughter was dying. I felt helpless. The staff were great. They had seen despair before, and calmed me down. Of course the ward Liz was on was quite some way away, but for the second time that evening, I followed her brisk strides, across the building, over connecting bridges and over to the other side of A&E. There I found Margaret, Joanna, Ruth, Emma and Sarah. There were all camped out in the A&E Critic Care waiting room. We when through to see Elizabeth. Liz had one-to-one nursing. She was being ventilated, and had masses of electronic equipment about her. It reminded me of a science fiction film. The lights were low. Elizabeth was in an educed coma. She looked peaceful, and I got a strong sense that she was alive, and was going to live.
With Margaret and Joanna, I was struck that each one of us, independently of each other, was ready to say good bye to her. We were all calm, thought in deep pain. I was struck that everything was fine between us all. There was no unfinished business. A few weeks before Liz and I had gone out for an evening walk. Liz had wanted to hold my hand. She often did this not caring at all who might see. We had just walked together, not saying much, but at peace. It struck me that if this was the time for her life to end, then so be it. No one knows how long we live. In the West we presume that we have a right to live into a fun and gratifying retirement. But in other countries people are not so presumptuous.
That night Ruth, Emma and Sarah slept in the waiting room. Margaret, Jo and I were given a room in the junior doctor's quarters. We found a mattress in the corridor, and stacks of hospital sheets.
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