I returned to Derriford with 3 dachshunds tucked up in the back of my car, found a spot out of the sun, paid my parking and went back inside to the High Dependancy Unit (HDU). It was 7 or 8 am and everybody else was still about, sat in the tiny waiting room waiting for some news, any news. Anne was still off in a different ward undergoing tests for signs of life, responses, any indication that she was more than just a fatally damaged body fading away.
Eventually a very well spoken gentleman with crisp chinos and a smart blue shirt came in and laid it on the line. There was little if any chance of recovery based upon the extent of the brain injury they had seen. However she had been given a great deal of medication and they would wait until this was no longer clouding the situation and they would have a much clearer idea the following morning. If there were any developments before then they would let us know immediately and we were welcome to ask any questions. But what do you ask? We made a few attempts, mainly based around finding some scope for hope, but they weren't going to lie to be kind. I had thought about the brain damage of which they spoke, had tried to imagine an Anne sat there with far away eyes, not sharing in this world, just surviving. That would be even more painful than what appeared inevitable. In the worst of all possible worlds this was probably the best outcome. But I didn't want to lose her, it was all so sudden, the only slow realisation was the night before as the surgeons faces looked ever more grave.
So it was just a matter of time, wait until the next morning and see if there was even the slightest hope. Meanwhile the news was getting around and people deserved to have their questions answered. I sat for a long time on the bank outside the main entrance talking to Anne's friends and family on the phone, sending and replying to text messages and emails, trying to make sense of what had happened for them as well as me. Every time I was asked if I minded talking about it but to do so helped me focus on reality, definite things, not the unknowns ahead. I didn't want other people getting Chinese whispers, all the more so because Anne was so loyal to and close with her friends, I knew how hard it must be for them to take it all in so gave as much information as I could. The number one rule was "no pussyfooting", don't talk in hushed tones, you can make jokes, laugh about things, Anne always would and now is not the time to change that.
Having been reassured that we would be called immediately if anything happened, the family group decided to head up the road to a pub for a drink and a meal. There was one within easy walking distance so we sat outside in the sun away from the windowless HDU and talked and laughed and cried and laughed. Any talk of Anne always turned to laughter, you couldn't talk about her without ending up how she did every hour of every day, laughing about something. From the side people would have thought it was a family celebration, these people all chatting away, bursting out into laughter repeatedly. Every now and than I would think about what we were doing, should we be laughing, was it just our nerves, but always knew it was just how it was and hopefully always would be, Anne and laughter.
The rest of that day is the least clear of that time. I walked the dogs, sometimes alone, sometimes with others. More phone conversations, texts and emails, occasional updates that told us no more from the medical staff. Eventually I bedded down in the back of the car, the dogs behind me, and slept for two or three hours, occasionally waking up and remembering why I was there.
Sunday morning we were all brought into a small waiting room with the door closed and a do not disturb sign placed on the door. The surgeon came in and told us there were no signs of any response even after the medication had cleared Anne's system. The only thing keeping her alive was the life support system and without that she would die fairly soon. Once that had sunken in and we cried and hugged we then had to make a decision. Anne had signed up as an organ donor but ultimately the decision was ours to respect her wishes or not. Would we be prepared to talk to the transplant coordinator, we were unanimous on that point. In some ways it felt like throwing in the towel but the surgeon inspired confidence in his diagnosis, we hadn't said yes at that point but all knew Anne's principles, her wish that everybody would give others the chance to live better lives if they lost their own one. As we waited for the coordinator to arrive we spoke about it and the decision made itself.
Chris Chalker the Derriford Transplant Coordinator arrived, dressed very smartly in a suit and sharp tie. He summarised Anne's situation, spoke of her wishes, reaffirmed our option to override them should we so wish...but we told him no, Anne would want it and so did we, whatever good can come out of our tragedy must be given a chance. Chris explained how Anne's remarkable fitness and the nature of her injuries meant that all of her major organs would be very suitable. The process was not simple however. He and his team would effectively speak to the "market" giving details of Anne and have to persuade them of her suitability, they wouldn't come rushing, they would need convincing. Once convinced each recipient medical team would fly into Derriford where there is an airport right behind the hospital, remove the organ within minutes of death and fly it to the person that needed it, multiple teams working on the same body. We would have a few minutes to say our goodbyes but after that they would have to get down to work very quickly. This would take a few hours to arrange, the organs would need to be allocated, organ recipients would need to be made ready, aircraft would need to be hired and the various teams would have to be assembled simultaneously. We were looking at approximately 5 hours. At this time Anne's life support would be removed. If she died within the hour her heart and lungs could be used, beyond that they would be damaged and unsuitable. Two hours was the cut off time for the other major organs, beyond that time was less of the essence, the transplant teams would depart and heart valves and cornea could be removed and stored for the longer term. It all sounds very businesslike the way I write it but Chris was very reassuring, sincere and comforting. Whatever the outcome he and his team would be there to do whatever they could for us both in the short and the long term. So again we confirmed we would like Anne's wished to be carried out and off he went to start the highly complex process.
At some point around this time Anne was brought into the HDU main ward and I got to see her for the first time since I got out of the helicopter with her around 36 hours before. She lay there in the bed attached to wires on her skin, in her skin wearing a standard gown. Her face was swollen from the medication, just breathing steadily and regularly but no sign of her usual scrunched up face I had seen on the pillow beside me so many times before. There were grazes on her face and hands and bruises I had not been aware of at the time of the accident, all I had seen was a slight cut on her face and the blood coming from the back of her head. Some of the bruising had been caused by medical procedures but the extent of the grazes shocked me. There had been some surgical work in the back of her skull so I had to hold her very carefully so as not to move her head or the wires and tubes. As we all gathered round and held her the same words "you silly thing", "look what you did to yourself" came lovingly but sadly from several mouths. As I looked at her she was there but I didn't feel Anne was there any more, she was in my heart but this swollen, damaged body seemed strange, sad, helpless, lacking her essential being.
As the morning went on we took time to sit with her or sit in the waiting room talking about her. Nine people sat around a hospital bed is far too many in a very busy ward even though Anne was moved to the far end by the back wall to accommodate us all. The expected time at which the life support machine would be switched off went from 2pm to 4pm to early evening. There was the bizarre need to convince other medical teams of Anne's suitability as a donor and the procurement of executive jets, meanwhile I was sending more emails and texts, making occasional phone calls to keep people informed.
There were 3 stir crazy dachshunds in the back of my car and I proposed a walk with them for anybody interested. Most of the group decided they needed some fresh air, we were hungry and should raise a glass to Anne up at the previous day's pub. There was nothing we could do in the hospital and we would soon be back at her bedside. Unfortunately all of the dogs' leads were back in Woolacombe, they needed a walk but there was a busy car park and busy road to negotiate. Putting grace to one side we got 3 sturdy lengths of strong string from the hospital shop as, oddly, they didn't sell dog leads. As we walked up the hill with dogs on string my heart wanted Anne to drive by in her mini, open the window and shout "oi, you bloody pikeys, you're not taking my dogs out on string!"
Another surreal hour or two passed with more laughter, more sadness, much mutual encouragement and support as well as many moments of despair. In the outside world the sun was shining and it would have been a glorious weekend for us all in Woolacombe. My biggest feelings of sadness came from thinking back how much Anne was looking forward to sharing this week with her boys. They were certainly bonding in Plymouth, closer than they had been for a long time but it wasn't meant to be this way.
We returned to more delays in assembling the teams. It was the day of the Monaco Grand Prix and it seemed every private jet in Europe was taking fat cats and corporate freeloaders there and back rather than doing something to make the world a better place, bastards. As the evening drew on the time was 8pm, 8pm came and went and finally at 9.40 pm we got to hug Anne and say our farewells before all means of physical support were removed. I held her, tried to summarise what I felt about her in a few words in the hope she might still be in there and could hear but equally knowing that if there is an after-life then she would hear me anyway.
We had to go away while they removed the wires and tubes to avoid distress to us and to give them room to work. Once this had been done we all gathered around the bed holding whatever part of her was available as we waited for her to stop breathing. There was a clock up on the wall and occasional visits from the nurses. But as the first hour passed it was becoming clear Anne's condition wasn't changing. On the one hand it was sad to think her heart and lungs wouldn't live on in somebody else but secretly I was very proud of her, then less secretly when we all confessed to the same feeling. We had also realised earlier that this was the first anniversary of Anne's mum passing away and although there could be some kind of celestial powers behind this the thought of a double death on the same date seemed wrong, too neat, too tragic. The nurses kept coming by measuring pulse and blood pressure but they reassured us this wasn't a race against time and whatever time it took was OK by them. We moved into the second hour where the other organs would still be viable but there was no sign of Anne changing. occasionally her body wriggled a bit or she would partially turn but there was no Anne in her face, just bodily reflexes moving her legs. At the end of the second hour Chris came along and spoke with us, no outward signs of disappointment, thanked us so much for agreeing to the donation again and outlining what was still possible. He assured us that while the operating theatre would not now be used he and his team were still there for any needs or questions we had as long as we were there with Anne and beyond.
The jets left empty-organed with their teams, we had to start thinking about where we would spend the night. But I didn't want to go, I didn't want Anne to die alone nor did anybody else. That night I was allowed to lie in the bed beside Anne.
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