Death in Shenzhen
We flew to Shenzhen yesterday.
V had always been in favour of visiting Geoffrey, but I talked him out of it at first, because it seemed as if the money would be more useful than our presence. When it became apparent that Geoffrey was dying far too quickly to receive a transplant, I originally thought we'd be in the way if we went down, but you may have noticed from my previous entry that I was starting to talk myself out of that position.
During the night, I finally decided that Geoffrey's parents might appreciate a visit from his foreign teacher. Of course, not at the time - they would be too preoccupied with their own grief - but maybe in years to come they'd remember.1
Thus, rather than just sending V to Shenzhen, I decided to go too. I finally made this decision at 9.30am on Tuesday. (Just as Geoffrey's classmate called to say that she'd received the money I had transferred for the operation. By that time, of course, we both knew the money wouldn't be needed.) I got the pets dealt with for the day, and then woke V at 10.00am. Within ten minutes he was on the phone to the ticket agency booking the tickets. By 10.30 we were in a taxi on the way to the airport (both phoning and texting various folk to cancel all previously scheduled appointments and work2.) We were hoping to get the 11.55 flight, but the agency were unable to get us tickets delivered in time, so we have to change to the 12.45 one. At least it gave us time to grab some food and to make an inventory of what we'd brought with us.3
The flight was slightly delayed, but we arrived in Shenzhen at 3.30pm, got in a taxi and drove to the hospital. The trip was about an hour, so we arrived at about 4.30pm and were met by Geoffrey's cousin who knew both of us from when we all lived in Ningbo. She was her normal busy, bustling self, except she kept on breaking down in waves of wailing grief - especially when she was away from the rest of her family.
We went up to the ICU. (This was not an ICU like the ones westeners might be expecting. It was more primitive than that, but at least Geoffrey had a private room.) His mother, father, younger sister and aunt were all there. And Geoffrey, of course. We spent time talking to him, and just being with the family. V was more focused on the former, and I on the latter, although I did talk to Geoffrey's body a lot, and pray, while V actually communicated verbally with the family more.
Geoffrey really wasn't in his body any more. He was breathing with some difficulty (and an oxygen mask) and his heart was beating, but there were precious few other signs of life. Some nurses checked whether his eyes were responding to light4 but they weren't, and a group of doctors walked in, ignored the relatives, pronounced him brain-dead amongst themselves, said it was a pity, and walked out again. However, at one point when Geoffrey's breathing started getting very irregular, and he started moving as if in pain, his mother spoke to him, and he calmed down. Thus, it did appear as if he recognized her voice on some level at least.
The family were grief-stricken of course. His mother was keeping a vigil by his side, and didn't leave the room. His aunt was the one who ran around and did most of the nursing - wiping his face with water and replacing the ice pack on his forehead - but the mother did speak to him more and sing to him when she could. Father also tended to keep vigil. He sat in a chair at the foot of the bed (occasionally coughing and spitting into the bin placed under the bed), and joined in with major nursing activities. However, he was willing to leave the room occasionally, for example, to talk to the guests (us). The aunt and cousin did most of the bustling around, as well as most of the wailing. And the younger sister just sat still, silent, and stunned. At one point, with her cousin's prompting, she did speak some English to me, and she was in such terrible pain.
None of the family ate while we were there, although there were take-out cartons of food on the side table. Of course they weren't thinking about food, but I know how terribly important it is in China to eat regularly, so when I went out to get money to pay the agent for our return tickets (delivered to the hospital) I bought some tangerines. Mother and father both accepted one from me, but I don't think they ate. Cousin, sister, and aunt did at least eat one each.
Our return tickets were delivered at 7.00pm, and by that time Geoffrey had visibly worsened. Two of his classmates (and my ex-students) arrived soon after to drive us to the airport. J, the girl, burst into tears as soon as she entered the room, while W, the boy (and Geoffrey's old room-mate) told me he couldn't bear to stay to watch the death. The family seemed to want to be alone, so we left very quickly. J recovered enough to talk to me on the trip back to the airport, but V was still struggling to speak. Then we checked in, grabbed some food, and flew back to Shanghai. Arrived at midnight.
It was a very, very difficult day. But in retrospect, I'm seriously relieved that we went.
He died during the night. I don't know what time exactly, but I got the call at 8.30am. He was 25.
1 Geoffrey and his parents are very normal Jiangxi people. The parents are possibly peasant farmers or migrant workers - I didn't really have a chance to ask - and those people always treated their children's foreign teachers as complete VIPs. Having a foreign teacher in Jiangxi is considered to be a privilege. With privilege comes responsibility, and, as a privileged person I decided I should try to act.
2 Tuesday is the day I work freelance, so it was easier to cancel work than it might otherwise have been.
3 I managed to bring two books, an umbrella, a belt for my dress, a hair-removing roller (useful as I was covered in cat hair), a hair brush, and a pair of scissors that I just had to throw away. Luckily the £18 moisturiser I had in my handbag was in a small enough bottle to get through the security check, as I would not have been so happy dumping that.
4 Rather than using a special pen-light as you see in films, they used a normal sized flashlight / torch.
V had always been in favour of visiting Geoffrey, but I talked him out of it at first, because it seemed as if the money would be more useful than our presence. When it became apparent that Geoffrey was dying far too quickly to receive a transplant, I originally thought we'd be in the way if we went down, but you may have noticed from my previous entry that I was starting to talk myself out of that position.
During the night, I finally decided that Geoffrey's parents might appreciate a visit from his foreign teacher. Of course, not at the time - they would be too preoccupied with their own grief - but maybe in years to come they'd remember.1
Thus, rather than just sending V to Shenzhen, I decided to go too. I finally made this decision at 9.30am on Tuesday. (Just as Geoffrey's classmate called to say that she'd received the money I had transferred for the operation. By that time, of course, we both knew the money wouldn't be needed.) I got the pets dealt with for the day, and then woke V at 10.00am. Within ten minutes he was on the phone to the ticket agency booking the tickets. By 10.30 we were in a taxi on the way to the airport (both phoning and texting various folk to cancel all previously scheduled appointments and work2.) We were hoping to get the 11.55 flight, but the agency were unable to get us tickets delivered in time, so we have to change to the 12.45 one. At least it gave us time to grab some food and to make an inventory of what we'd brought with us.3
The flight was slightly delayed, but we arrived in Shenzhen at 3.30pm, got in a taxi and drove to the hospital. The trip was about an hour, so we arrived at about 4.30pm and were met by Geoffrey's cousin who knew both of us from when we all lived in Ningbo. She was her normal busy, bustling self, except she kept on breaking down in waves of wailing grief - especially when she was away from the rest of her family.
We went up to the ICU. (This was not an ICU like the ones westeners might be expecting. It was more primitive than that, but at least Geoffrey had a private room.) His mother, father, younger sister and aunt were all there. And Geoffrey, of course. We spent time talking to him, and just being with the family. V was more focused on the former, and I on the latter, although I did talk to Geoffrey's body a lot, and pray, while V actually communicated verbally with the family more.
Geoffrey really wasn't in his body any more. He was breathing with some difficulty (and an oxygen mask) and his heart was beating, but there were precious few other signs of life. Some nurses checked whether his eyes were responding to light4 but they weren't, and a group of doctors walked in, ignored the relatives, pronounced him brain-dead amongst themselves, said it was a pity, and walked out again. However, at one point when Geoffrey's breathing started getting very irregular, and he started moving as if in pain, his mother spoke to him, and he calmed down. Thus, it did appear as if he recognized her voice on some level at least.
The family were grief-stricken of course. His mother was keeping a vigil by his side, and didn't leave the room. His aunt was the one who ran around and did most of the nursing - wiping his face with water and replacing the ice pack on his forehead - but the mother did speak to him more and sing to him when she could. Father also tended to keep vigil. He sat in a chair at the foot of the bed (occasionally coughing and spitting into the bin placed under the bed), and joined in with major nursing activities. However, he was willing to leave the room occasionally, for example, to talk to the guests (us). The aunt and cousin did most of the bustling around, as well as most of the wailing. And the younger sister just sat still, silent, and stunned. At one point, with her cousin's prompting, she did speak some English to me, and she was in such terrible pain.
None of the family ate while we were there, although there were take-out cartons of food on the side table. Of course they weren't thinking about food, but I know how terribly important it is in China to eat regularly, so when I went out to get money to pay the agent for our return tickets (delivered to the hospital) I bought some tangerines. Mother and father both accepted one from me, but I don't think they ate. Cousin, sister, and aunt did at least eat one each.
Our return tickets were delivered at 7.00pm, and by that time Geoffrey had visibly worsened. Two of his classmates (and my ex-students) arrived soon after to drive us to the airport. J, the girl, burst into tears as soon as she entered the room, while W, the boy (and Geoffrey's old room-mate) told me he couldn't bear to stay to watch the death. The family seemed to want to be alone, so we left very quickly. J recovered enough to talk to me on the trip back to the airport, but V was still struggling to speak. Then we checked in, grabbed some food, and flew back to Shanghai. Arrived at midnight.
It was a very, very difficult day. But in retrospect, I'm seriously relieved that we went.
He died during the night. I don't know what time exactly, but I got the call at 8.30am. He was 25.
1 Geoffrey and his parents are very normal Jiangxi people. The parents are possibly peasant farmers or migrant workers - I didn't really have a chance to ask - and those people always treated their children's foreign teachers as complete VIPs. Having a foreign teacher in Jiangxi is considered to be a privilege. With privilege comes responsibility, and, as a privileged person I decided I should try to act.
2 Tuesday is the day I work freelance, so it was easier to cancel work than it might otherwise have been.
3 I managed to bring two books, an umbrella, a belt for my dress, a hair-removing roller (useful as I was covered in cat hair), a hair brush, and a pair of scissors that I just had to throw away. Luckily the £18 moisturiser I had in my handbag was in a small enough bottle to get through the security check, as I would not have been so happy dumping that.
4 Rather than using a special pen-light as you see in films, they used a normal sized flashlight / torch.