Saturday, 3 January 2015

NYE

She died on NYE. 4 days before they said she had a couple of weeks. 2 weeks before that we were all optimistically singing on a few months at least.

We were at college together and only for a year. But due to the nature of the college and the size of it, you got to know people quickly and intensely. She tried 4 times to get into medical school - but there were problems bigger than her academics, big life issues she was facing and then bang, here's something else to deal with. She was 21 years old.

I'm not going to pretend we were best friends but when you're in a college who's population probably couldn't fill a quarter of a gym hall and classes with no more than a handful of people, they sort of become your life for a while. We didn't stay in touch well... she had bigger shit to deal with and I was spending 40 hours / week in a hospital and the rest of it trying to get into university.

I've seen people die, i've been in the room when they've taken their last breaths, i've rushed to a crash call to see someone fight not to live, but to finally be allowed to let go. It would play on my mind, i'd think about them for a while, it was always sad but it wasn't for me to be upset. It was for the people that truly and utterly knew them, ill or not ill, for longer and better.  Then it happens to someone you know personally and in a way, I think having "inside" knowledge as to how hospitals and deaths occur, rather horrifically I imagine it so vividly, what was said, what was done, who was there that I have to sit down.

I know the answer, I'm sure I could write at length about if anyone else asked, but still, in the back of my mind as I try and sit down and revise for the very degree she would have moved the world to do, it begs, it falls to it's knees and pleads to know: what, is even, the point?

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