Michael 23.45

Michael was my little cousin. I didn’t know much about Michael’s problems but I believe his heart was back to front. I know he couldn’t walk very far, I know he couldn’t run. I know he hated being different from the other kids.

I know that Michael had operation after operation after operation until eventually, he just didn’t want to any more.

The op he needed before he was five couldn’t be done so they did something else until they could do what needed to be done, and the same when he was nine and the same when he was 11.

Michael carried on fighting. He left school, got a decent job, was a hot shot with computers. He impressed people with what he could do.

Michael was 18. They told him he’d have to have a heart transplant. He was tired of the operations, the infections, the sickness. He was tired of the evil dreams he had, which was linked to the medication. Michael didn’t want a transplant.

Michael gave up his fight when he was 18. Some would say that it was cruel to make a child suffer so, others would say that you have been given is yours. We had Michael for eighteen years and no one can take away the memories.

If research had been more advance, if hygiene had been more advance, perhaps Michael would still be here?

Perhaps another child may be if the BHF earns enough money.