Sam's Story
It is true to say that Sam Broome could be late for everything and indeed
invented the phrase ‘in a minute….’ Tragically the only time he arrived
prematurely was in his untimely death, aged just 18 years.
As a child we have overwhelming memories of him lying on his bed laughing
the laughs of a person put on this earth to smile and make others around
him laugh. He was the ultimate optimist and whenever we came home from
parents’ evening ready for a serious chat, Sam could always shake off any
educational blues with ‘Well it could have been worse!’
In more recent years Sam found his niche in more ways than one. He
commenced a computer course at 6th Form college and then met Becki,
his girlfriend. Sam’s world became a great place to be, full of humour, jokes
and cheer. The day before Sam died, we had been at his grandma’s funeral.
Even when expected to kiss elderly ladies, he was able to make a joke of
things to lighten the mood and cheer us all up.
Football was his greatest passion, both playing it with his brother William and via his X box. His favourite time
was going with Will and his Dad to support Blackburn Rovers, always coming home blaming any disappointment
on the referee but ultimately optimistic about how they were improving!
The morning of Sam’s illness he was his usual self and had agreed to help clear his grandmother’s room at
the residential home. He ate lunch before becoming suddenly and catastrophically unwell. He was placed on
a ventilator at the hospital and despite everyone’s very best efforts was diagnosed with brain stem death the
following morning. With family and friends support the decision was made to donate Sam’s organs.
It would be an understatement to say that we all miss Sam. We are still, six months on, finding his death
hard to comprehend. We visit his grave and stand and stare in disbelief. However, we have been blessed
with overwhelming amounts of kindness from family and friends and firmly believe that there can be no greater
celebration of Sam’s life than to continue to live our lives as fully as possible. We are not naïve and realise this will
take time but we hope that we are, as a family, making tentative steps towards this.
Daniel's Story
In July 1994 my two-year-old son died of encephalitis caused by a virus called cox-saxie
B. He became ill at about 6am on the Wednesday morning and by 4pm that afternoon
he was in hospital in a coma. By 4am on Thursday my little son was dead.
The hospital were very good, trying to explain everything that went on, drugs that
were given etc. But they have never been able to explain why the virus took
the course it did or what could have been done to save my son. I don't think
there was anything that could have been done, so maybe I'm grabbing at straws trying
to find answers to my questions.
My husband and I are feeling so alone because we had never heard of this thing called
encephalitis and have never heard of any other families who have been through what
we have.
We are lucky in some ways as we have a lovely six-year-old daughter who has helped
us so much through all this. I have enclosed a poem which, although it has nothing
to do with encephalitis, has given me comfort.
In a Baby Castle just beyond my eye
My baby plays with angel toys that money cannot buy
Who am I to wish him back, Into this world of strife
No, play on my baby, You have eternal life
At night when all is silent and sleep forsakes my eyes
I hear his tiny footsteps come running to my side
His little hands caress me, so tenderly and sweet
I'll breathe a prayer and close my eyes and embrace him in my sleep
Now I have a treasure that I rate above all other
I have known true glory, I am still his mother.
Kirsteen's Story
My wife and I lost our daughter, Kirsteen 15 years ago when she was three years
old. She had chicken-pox encephalitis. The night before she died she was dancing
to records with me. The next morning we couldn't wake her.
She was taken by ambulance to an infectious diseases hospital. When she was admitted
the doctor told us they had never had a case of chicken-pox encephalitis. All they
could do was try to stabilise her. She died eight hours later.
When we hear parents say their child has chicken-pox it is hard not to tell them
to watch their child closely as chicken-pox could lead to something worse. Until
this happened to us we had never heard of encephalitis. We hope there is now a far
greater understanding of the disease.
Natalie's Story
Natalie was studying for three A levels when she went on a biology field trip to
Somerset. She came back with a cold and then developed flu-like symptoms.
As she became increasingly ill her parents called an ambulance which took Natalie
to hospital. She was given a body scan and taken into intensive care.
After 32 hours on a life-support machine she died.
Four years after her death, her parents are still devastated. Her mother,
Angie, describes her daughter as a person who had it all. She was kind, loving,
clever and she was just blossoming. She said it left her and her husband feeling
very guilty because if they had known what was going to happen they would have called
an ambulance as soon as she became ill.
The family rang their doctor four times before calling out the ambulance but they
were told to give Natalie paracetamol and fluids, remedies for a cold. They
did not know what killed Natalie until some time later. Since then, they have been
trying to learn more about encephalitis and made contact with the Encephalitis Society.
The family organised a walk around Coate Water Reservoir, passing a tree planted
in Natalie's memory on the way and raising money for the Natalie Taylor Research
Fund, part of the Encephalitis Society.
David's Story
I recently lost my eighteen-year-old brother through the measles virus. He died
on April 20th 1999.
David was a kind and caring member of the community who took an active role in many
different activities. He represented Cornwall on a number of occasions playing
table tennis. He was also was in division two of the league, he often went
riding at Boskell riding centre and he helped run a youth club. During
the day he attended St Austell College where he was pursuing a course in health
and social care as he wanted to be a paramedic. His weekends were busy with
the pub, college dances, golf, table tennis competitions and visiting relatives.
At Christmas we went skiing as a family. Last Christmas, David and his brother,
Matthew tried snowboarding which they couldn't get the hang of. They were
brilliant skiers and apparently if you can ski you can't snowboard. That was
their excuse anyway! At Easter we usually went on hot holidays somewhere abroad.
In the spring half-term we would go camping somewhere in England. In August
we would often camp in France. As you can see, David led an action-packed life.
Up until the beginning of December he led his life as normal, but he kept feeling
funny. It was worrying him a lot so we told him to go to the doctor. He came
home quite upset and said the doctor thought he was a "nutter". A couple
of weeks passed and it was still worrying him, but he did not want to return
to the doctor, believing that he would be laughed at again.
At this time, David was working and doing his exams at college. He was an organised
student and a hard worker. However, in the period up to Christmas he forgot a couple
of exams and some changes in shifts at work. We put the memory lapses down to stress.
We visited the French Alps over Christmas. David was aggressive, becoming angry
at the slightest thing. Although he was never physically violent, it was very unlike
David as he was the calmest member of the family. As the days went on, a forceful
twitch developed in his right arm. The twitch was uncontrollable and caused
David a lot of pain.
We rang home and my Gran made an appointment with the doctor. My Mum got really
mad with the doctors as they didn't seem to care. Within ten days David was
in hospital. He was there for three weeks and we spent all the visiting hours
with him. He had a throat biopsy, lumbar puncture, CAT scan – you name
it, they did it. The doctor's first opinion was that it was CJD, but as he
progressed we were told it was the measles virus.
In February he could walk, talk, swim, eat, drink, bath himself and go to the toilet
on his own, but by March we had to do it all for him. He couldn't communicate with
us in any way. He couldn't walk so he had to use his wheelchair or we had
to carry him everywhere. He couldn't eat so he only got fluids when we used
a syringe to feed him. Life was hell. We couldn't help him but we kept
him home with us and did our best, although our best wasn't good enough. Doctors
visited daily. Because he couldn't communicate he was unable to tell us where
the pain was. This made it very difficult. Before he lost communication with
us he said he was fed up with being ill and he was going to fight with all he had
left to get through it.
On April 13 he was admitted to hospital with suspected appendicitis. They checked
him out, said it was just part of the illness and this was one of the final signs.
They gave him two weeks to live. Exactly one week later, at 3.30pm David died.
Dad had come to pick me up from school as they knew I wanted to be with him when
he died, and my eldest brother had gone back to Bristol.
David was with my Mum when he took his last breath and died. I rang Matthew immediately
and he came home straight away.
For the first time in ages I walked home from school a different way that day. When
I saw my Dad he was crying but I didn't believe David had died until I saw him lying
there, not breathing. He was only 18 years old. His 19th birthday was
June 17, 1999. Everything happened so fast. He was here, then he was
gone.
The thing most people remember about David was his smile. We miss him terribly
but we try to remember how he would have felt if he knew how unhappy we are without
him. David planted an oak tree at school when he was five. The teacher
had kept it in a pot all this time. We have planted it in King's Woods so some part
of him lives on.
Jenny Mitchell, aged 16
Where are you now?
Where are you now? I do not know,
I call your name in vain,
Your room stands waiting your return to end this ceaseless pain,
I know that you will age no more as I grow old and grey.
Your time with us was far too short, we wanted you to stay,
"Don't worry mum" you breathed,
"There's nothing we can do."
Without a backward glance you sighed and went away,
Still, I see you from the hill, you're there, the air, the sea, the trees,
But by my side you'll never be.
My tears are falling like the rain, they are no help to me,
In time my thoughts of you will fade, you'll be a memory.
David’s Mum
Last modified: July 2010