In loving memory of Melanie Janthel Baird

Melanie

Day 1: 3.10 pm

My husband Robert came to me where I was working in the hostel (we were hostel parents for youth at risk) and said “Colleen, Kevin (Melanie’s boyfriend at the time) has phoned and said Mel has been in an accident, but not to worry. She is in hospital and the doctors have said she has mild concussion”.

We didn’t panic too much…mild concussion…hopefully not too much to worry about, and we were delivering the pupils by bus to Port Elizabeth early the next day, and fetching both our daughters and their scooters from University, so we would take Mel home the next day, and if needed, she could lie down in the bus.

Day 2:  7.30 am

We dropped off the boys and fetched our daughter, Samantha and went to the hospital. Mel was lying in the bed and she looked totally normal. There was another young girl who had been in a coma for over a week lying in the bed opposite. We greeted Mel, and she knew we were there, because she said “Hi, Mom, Hi, Dad”. The nurse gave her a sip of water, as Mel was hooked up to a catheter and a drip, but she was thirsty. Mel said to the nurse "Thanks, friend”.

We left Mel to fetch Kevin, and the whole day we all sat and spoke to her, and Kevin said he loved her, and Mel said “I love you too”. Those were the last words I heard her say. The doctor had been and said Mel had a hairline fracture of her skull, and would have to be watched. We weren’t warned how bad the situation was. We were planning what we could do for her 21st birthday in just three weeks. We were planning a big birthday, because the previous year when my older daughter had her 21st, she had chickenpox!

5.30 pm.

We were all sitting just outside the ward door, making plans about what we should do, when the doors flew open and a bed was rushed out. I thought it must be the girl who had been in a coma for a week lying opposite Mel. But, it was Melanie! Her lips were blue!!!!

They rushed Mel to the Intensive Care Unit, and we couldn’t find it, as we were in a strange town and a  strange hospital. We finally found the ICU. Rob rushed in and saw the doctor doing CPR.  Mel was hooked up to a respirator. We were numb, and just stayed by her. The specialist finally told us there had been bleeding on her brain. I phoned my brother in another town, as his was the only phone number I could remember and he brought his wife and my mother through from East London to Port Elizabeth.

Day 3:  11 am.

The surgeon showed us the CAT scan. He said he wasn’t sure if Mel would make it. How we prayed and made deals with God. And prayed and prayed. Mel looked so absolutely normal, with pink cheeks, and long eyelashes. But her hands felt dry, and Sam and I put hand cream on her hands.

That afternoon, we were all sitting in the waiting room, discussing what to do, when a doctor and a nurse came in and closed the door. I froze and told them loudly “DO NOT SHUT THAT DOOR! I knew what that meant! Someone spoke about brain dead, and organ donation. I refused to listen to them, and insisted on a 2nd opinion from another specialist. I rushed to Mel’s bedside, as I didn’t want anyone to touch her. But it was a long weekend in South Africa and we couldn’t get hold of the other specialist

Day 4

 All just a haze… Waiting for Mel to wake up and prove the specialists wrong. Praying and praying. Phoning the second specialist and getting no answer, as he was away. And praying and praying. And waiting and waiting.

Day 5

Sometime in the morning: The second specialist had given us the earth-shattering news. It was too unbelievable. How could God allow this to happen? Mel looked so normal and beautiful. She didn’t look like a dead person. I knew what dead people looked like. I had nursed a lot of old people.

Mel had rosy cheeks and red lips now. Her long eyelashes were closed, and she just looked asleep. It just wasn’t possible. Kevin’s sister had told us that just the week before, Mel had told her one day when she dies, she wanted a cardboard coffin, decorated with ethnic South African designs and yellow daisies. I don’t know why they had even been talking about that…they were all just silly students!

Then another doctor came and asked us if he could talk to us about Organ Donation. I had been signed up as a possible Organ Donor for years. And I had spoken to my kids about it years and years ago, and knew what Mel wanted. We didn’t have to make the hard decision at that time. We just signed the forms as Mel would’ve directed us to do. We left the hospital, not ever seeing Mel’s body lifeless. I think they removed her organs that day, or the next, I don’t know.

On the way home in the bus, there was a fire all along the road for about 200 kms. I felt like my whole world was burning up, and I wanted it to. I wanted to die and be burned up too.

Someone actually organized the cardboard coffin and a bunch of students decorated it the way Mel wanted.

I am glad that I knew what Mel wanted, as I very possibly would’ve gone quite berserk when they asked us to donate. We were able to make the decision based on past discussions. It wasn’t something I ever thought we would have to face, but we were a family who had spoken about it, and knew what everyone wanted.

It is a comfort to know that my lovely 2nd year Social Worker student daughter still lives on somewhere in South Africa. It’s a small comfort, but it does help with the pain sometimes.

Colleen Baird