How Ben Died

Ben and I loved each other with a fire so red hot that nothing could extinguish the flame we held for one another. We married young, teenagers, playing house and making the most of our incredibly blessed lives. We honeymooned in Australia in Port Douglas. A magical place, just North of Cairns and adjacent to The Great Barrier Reef; possibly the most magical destination on Earth. The years that followed were bliss. A perfect symphony of love, laughter, leisure and lust.

When we were in our mid twenties we shared the joy of bringing our first child into the world; Cameron. As we cradled our son we shared a new love, an unconditional affliction that could never have been thwarted by the throws of life. We were wrong.

When Cameron was one Ben started to have incredibly painful migraines. He lost his sight during episodes and started waking up with black eyes in the morning. The doctors were baffled. Ben attended multiple appointments to find the cause of the health issues he was facing but was misdiagnosed time and time again. Eventually, we sought out a new doctor who issued an MRI of the brain with contrast. We received the imaging results along with an urgent appointment to see a neurologist. Together we held the image of his brain up against the light, unknowing, uneducated about such things we stared at the image. The longer we stared, a feeling of dread and panic filled us as our eyes honed in on a large, egg shaped white patch near the front of the brain.

The neurologist confirmed a day later. It was a brain tumor and before we knew it Ben was in surgery having it removed. Surgery went for four hours and I waited patiently at the hospital while Cameron was at my parents. A lifetime seemed to pass until I got the call that the surgery had gone well and I could see Ben in intensive care. Ben spent three days in intensive care and was then moved to the neurology ward. The surgery was a success. We were filled with elation and relief and were reunited as a family once again.

Ten months later another blessing came. Our daughter Blaire. Blaire was two weeks old when Ben's headaches started again. Knowing the probable cause we immediately booked in for Ben to have another MRI. Heartbreakingly, the tumor had grown back. Bigger, bolder, malevolent. Nevertheless, we felt positive. The surgery had worked before so why not now? The surgeons were proactive and Ben was back in surgery for the second time less than a day later.

Together we held each other as a family, I kissed the love of my life, my one and only and told him how much I loved him before he was wheeled off to the operating room. I waited four hours, then five, then six, then nine. The anxiousness fed on me like a spider in the night, a dark, sadistic hunter. By this point I had left the hospital to see our children. Cameron was asking questions about his Daddy whilst Blaire cried for a feed and a cuddle from Mum. I had no answers to his questions.

Then came the call. It wasn't one of the nurses this time. It was the surgeon. I asked how the surgery went over the phone but he told me to come in so we could talk. I felt my stomach lurch and my heart quicken. Something was wrong.

When I reached the hospital, the surgeon took me into his office to discuss the surgery. Ben was alive, in intensive care but struggling to hold onto life. The following days were a blur. Ben had been in intensive care far too long. The children weren't allowed to see him and the room only allowed for one visitor at a time. After a week, he was moved into the neurology care unit. He was in a coma but the worst had passed. He was going to be OK. He would wake up soon, of that I was convinced. I took the children in to see him everyday for a straight week. Cameron and I held his hand and sang his favorite songs. I stayed for ten hours each day and read to him, waiting, praying for him to wake, stir, move. Two weeks later he opened his eyes and looked at me. He spoke my name, "Anne, is that you?". Crying I fell into his arms, "Yes Ben, it's me. I love you so much". The nurses were ecstatic. I knew them well by now. This wonderful team of caring people who bathed, monitored and tube fed my husband for weeks.

Shortly after Ben had woken, the surgeon came in to see him. "Would you like to sit up a little?" he asked. Ben nodded and as they raised the bed horror took over once again as brain fluid began gushing out of Ben's nose, an awful palpable stench enveloped the room. Blue lights flashed, an emergency alarm was pushed and Ben was immediately rushed back into surgery.

I was breaking. not quickly like a glass jar thrown against the wall, but slowly like ice cracking on the surface of a frozen lake as the Winter comes to an end. I waited.

Once again, Ben was in a coma. Once again, he woke. Once again the nursed raised his bed, once again the fluid gushed from his nose and once again he was rushed into surgery. At this stage I had lost eleven kilos. Once strong and filled with life, I was slowly becoming a ghost.

The call came at three AM in the morning. I answered to a panicked nurse who told me it was time to come and say goodbye. Running out of time and alone, I woke the children and wrangled them into the car. As I drove my tears blurred the road ahead and my son asked me "What's wrong Mummy? Is it Daddy?" All I could say to him at this time was "Cameron, remember how much we love you. Remember how much Daddy loves you and never let go of that thought".

When I arrived at the hospital, a nurse came and took the children to a playroom so I could say goodbye. He was cold, deathly cold. A drip with warm saline was pumping through him and a heat blanket was whirring, wrapped around his now frail and lifeless body. I held his hand whilst he died. The heart monitor was turned down but I watched as the beat of his heart wavered into one single line across the screen. I waited, I prayed, I wept and out of the blue his finger moved, a twitch. I looked at the screen and the thin straight line had begun to pulse again. "Nurse!" I shouted. Ben's eyes opened slowly. "I know you", he said. "You're Anne of Green Gables. My wife loves Anne".