The Last Days of Us

by Caroline Finnerty

  ‘Unfair though it may seem, unfortunately it is a harsh reality and one that you must be aware of. If you wish to defend your choice to abstain from the treatment in the US that JP wishes to pursue, then I’m afraid you don’t have any other option.’

  I drove home in a daze. In the distance, sunlight glinted off the Spire as the car stopped and started in the city-centre traffic. When I reached the house, Fiona, who had been staying with Robyn and Harry for the afternoon, opened the front door to me and wordlessly I trudged into the kitchen. I felt defeated before the battle had even begun.

  ‘Well? How did it go?’ she asked.

  ‘Awful, there were so many things I didn’t realise. If I lose, as well as subjecting Robyn to the treatment, I could have to pay JP’s legal costs as well as my own. Where would I even get that kind of money?’

  ‘But that’s hardly fair!’

  ‘Geraldine said that’s the risk I run if I want to defend myself.’

  ‘Well, you have to do it,’ she stated matter-of-factly.

  ‘Every time I doubt myself and wonder if I’m the one who’s got it wrong, I think of Robyn’s face whenever she had to have a cannula put in or all the times that she was so sick after her radiotherapy and I know I can’t put her through any more. I have to fight for her, Fiona, she’s been through enough, I cannot put her on that plane…’

  ‘Come on,’ Fiona said, opening the fridge and taking out a bottle of white wine. ‘I think you could use this.’

  ‘I probably shouldn’t even drink, I’ll just end up crying.’

  ‘Well, maybe that’s what you need.’

  She went to the drawer and found a corkscrew. Even though it was only five o’clock, I didn’t protest as she opened the bottle and poured two large glasses.

  ‘I just don’t know how I ended up here,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘How did I go from having everything I ever wanted – a husband and two beautiful children – how the hell did I go from having a happy family – because we were happy, Fiona – no matter what JP says, we were happy – to losing everything?’

  She placed her hand over mine. We both knew she had no words that could console me. ‘I’ve no answer for that except that life is cruel, but you’re strong, Sarah. You’re much stronger than you give yourself credit for.’

  I shook my head and took a sip of my wine. ‘I’m not though – people say that to me all the time, the nurses in the hospital, Linda and Mel, my neighbours or people I bump into in the supermarket, but they don’t really know what I’m like inside here.’ I jabbed a finger at my chest. ‘I’m so scared, Fiona, I’m terrified. I’m afraid of the court case, I’m afraid of what will happen to Robyn, but most of all I’m so scared for the future without her. You know back when we were trying to conceive, I always thought my biggest challenge was to get pregnant. I thought once that happened, I could relax, but then when I discovered I was pregnant with Harry, I realised that I was petrified of something going wrong and all I wanted was to get through the pregnancy and have my baby arrive safely. I was sure all my worries would be over once my baby was here and then Harry was born and as soon as that newborn is placed into your arms, it’s like you’ve just opened up a door leading to a chasm of unfathomable depths which is full of new fears and you realise then that your real worries are only just beginning. It’s like you’ve just exposed your Achilles heel to the world because you feel so vulnerable. And suddenly there are so many more sad stories on the TV because you’ve opened your eyes up to just how fragile life is because how could you possibly survive if anything should happen to this tiny new person who is now your whole heart? And now it’s happened to me – my biggest fears will be realised – my daughter is going to die, but I’m still frightened. I’m a wimp. I just can’t imagine my life without her in it.’ I shook my head as if it would reorder the chaos inside it, rejig my worries and give me clarity. ‘Do you know something? Sometimes when I look at her, I can see the fear in her eyes that she can’t voice and it gets me right here.’ I thumped my fist against my solar plexus.

  ‘Oh, Sarah,’ Fiona gasped.

  ‘I’m so tired, Fiona,’ I sighed. ‘I’m frightened and tired.’

  Fiona placed her hand over mine on the table. ‘I believe in you, you’re not alone. I will support you every step of the way. You need to fight for her, Sarah, this is where you need to dig deep. And even if the whole world seems to be against you – you’re her mother and you know her better than anyone.’

  30

  June sunlight warmed my face and the smell of the hops from the Guinness brewery across the Liffey filled my nostrils as I climbed the steps of the court. The hum of hushed chatter murmured around as I followed Geraldine into the courtroom. I saw JP standing, emboldened by his legal team, while I took a seat beside Geraldine at our table. He was dressed in a navy-blue suit with a crisp white shirt beneath and sunglasses perched casually on top of his head. I noticed he was carrying a large file, making me immediately feel underprepared as I held onto my handbag which contained just my purse, phone and a few tatty hair bobbins. Although we were doing our best to put on a united front when we were with the children, his visits to the house in the days leading up to the hearing had become increasingly strained. I looked across to him – my eyes boring into him, begging him to stop all of this madness – but he wouldn’t meet my gaze. He knew he could withdraw his application at any time, and we could walk away from this, but right now I resented him. The in camera restrictions meant only family members could attend and I noticed his parents, Joan and Richard, were sitting a few rows behind him. Fiona was staying at home to take care of Robyn, so it was just me on my own against the world, or so it felt.

  I watched Geraldine move briskly and efficiently as she removed her papers from her tan leather briefcase before flicking it shut again in a swift move. She was wearing a plum-coloured power suit that gave her an air of business. She seemed calm and composed. She was always so unflappable, I wondered what it would take to ruffle her feathers?

  I took out my phone to make sure it was silenced and saw I had messages from both Linda and Mel wishing me luck. I replied with a quick ‘thank you’ and then put my phone back in my bag.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Geraldine asked me. ‘Remember the report from Dr Sharma is really strong – it will be very hard for JP’s team to argue against it. They’ll have to come up with something all-singing and all-dancing to beat it.’

  I winced. She was so fired up to win this case and I was grateful for that – that’s what I was paying her to do after all, but there were real people behind this, real people with real feelings and a little girl who wasn’t going to survive. Geraldine had practically whooped when she had received the medical report from Dr Sharma and I knew to her it was like having a grenade stored in our arsenal. His report had been unequivocal and bleak in his outlook for Robyn. It had been hard to read his words, knowing it was my daughter he was talking about.

  ‘Let’s hope Judge Williams sees sense and dismisses this application entirely,’ Geraldine continued with confidence. When I had heard it was a male judge, my heart had sunk. I had somehow hoped that a female judge, who might even be a mother herself, would have more sympathy for my case.

  ‘And if he doesn’t?’ I asked, my eyes searching her face for answers. Geraldine never seemed to think of the alternatives.

  ‘Well, then things are going to move up a gear, but let’s not think about that just yet,’ she said.

  A clerk stood up and ordered, ‘Silence in court. All rise,’ and I saw Judge Williams entering the courtroom. I gulped. I had expected him to be wearing a wig, but his salt-and-pepper grey hair was neatly cropped, and he wore a simple black gown with white collar. If it weren’t for the fact that he entered at the top of the courtroom, on a raised platform, I wouldn’t have picked him out as the judge. He looked normal, like he could be my father or a man you would meet in the supermarket.

  I followed what everybody else was doing and rose as he took his
seat. I had never been in a courtroom before; everyone else around me seemed to know the protocol. It was all so formal. Geraldine had told me to address the judge as simply ‘Judge’ and only to speak when spoken to, but I was so terrified I was going to say or do something wrong.

  ‘Here we go,’ Geraldine whispered as the judge shuffled his papers in front of him as if we were about to watch a match kick-off or a movie in the cinema.

  Oh God, I thought as my stomach somersaulted, wondering what lay ahead for us that morning.

  ‘An application under the Guardianship of Infants Act in the matter of McIntyre v. McIntyre,’ the clerk called out from the bench beneath Judge Williams.

  The judge put on his reading glasses as he looked through the details of the case in front of him.

  ‘I have read the application papers before me. Can the respondent’s solicitor, Ms Horan, approach the bench, please?’

  Geraldine coolly walked towards the top of the room. I held my breath. My hands grew clammy and my heart started to race. I wished I felt half as confident as she looked.

  ‘The case before you today concerns four-year-old Robyn McIntyre who is the daughter of Mr and Mrs McIntyre. The couple also has a nine-year-old son,’ Geraldine explained.

  ‘The couple is estranged, is this correct?’ Judge Williams asked.

  ‘Yes, Judge, Mr McIntyre left the family home a few months prior to Robyn’s diagnosis,’ Geraldine replied.

  ‘My client is in daily contact with his children and remains a committed and loving father,’ JP’s solicitor interrupted.

  Geraldine continued unperturbed. ‘Robyn was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumour earlier this year. Unfortunately, it is both inoperable and incurable—’

  ‘Objection,’ JP’s solicitor interrupted once more.

  ‘Continue, Ms Horan,’ Judge Williams ordered.

  I shot a look over at JP’s table, where he was clearly not pleased as he began furiously scribbling something on his notepad.

  ‘The particular type of brain tumour that Mr and Mrs McIntyre’s daughter has has a zero per cent survival rate – I reiterate, no child anywhere in the world has ever survived this type of cancer. As you can imagine, it is a devastating diagnosis for any parent to receive. Robyn’s medical team in the Dublin children’s hospital, headed by Dr Sharma, has always been adamant that she will not survive. We have filed an expert report from Dr Sharma in support of our position.’

  Judge Williams riffled through the papers and began reading Dr Sharma’s report. ‘Dr Sharma cites irreversible progression?’ he asked.

  ‘That’s correct, Judge,’ Geraldine nodded. ‘The applicant, Robyn’s father, Mr John-Paul McIntyre, wishes to pursue treatment in the United States against the advice of Robyn’s medical team in the Dublin children’s hospital and also against the wishes of the child’s mother, the respondent, Sarah McIntyre. The clinic John-Paul wishes to use is trying an experimental and unproven regimen. The doctors in question have never submitted their procedures for peer review nor have they allowed the wider medical community to examine their research. At best, the treatment may buy Robyn more time, although this is debatable as she has previously responded poorly to radiotherapy, therefore it is highly unlikely. Again, I repeat, nobody, not in this clinic or elsewhere in the world, has ever survived this type of brain tumour. As well as significant side effects and the risks this experimental treatment would pose to such a sick child, Robyn is too weak to travel. My client wishes not to subject her daughter to an unproven regime where the prospect of cure still remains nil. It is ultimately not in Robyn McIntyre’s best interests to pursue this treatment and we ask today in the first instance that the application be struck out.’

  I exhaled slowly; Geraldine had made an articulate argument.

  Judge Williams steepled his fingers together thoughtfully. I studied his face to try and read it, but it gave nothing away.

  ‘And the applicant’s solicitor, Mr O’Reilly, what do you have to say?’

  ‘My client is Robyn’s father,’ JP’s solicitor began. ‘My client loves his daughter very much so you can imagine how devastating this diagnosis has been for him.’

  My knuckles grew white gripping on to the railing in front of me. JP’s solicitor was making it sound as though he was the only one suffering here.

  ‘Robyn’s medical team in the Dublin children’s hospital have offered only palliative treatment, even though there is a treatment centre in Arizona that is seeing good results and is at the early stages of a cure. My client is seeking a court order compelling Sarah McIntyre to allow Robyn to travel to the US for curative treatment. Time is of the utmost importance as any delays in withholding consent will have dire consequences on her prospect of survival. We have included documentation from the clinic with their proposed treatment plan for Robyn and case studies of previous patients.’

  ‘But it is my understanding from the testimony that Dr Sharma has provided that this type of tumour is incurable?’ the judge argued.

  ‘Dr Sharma has remained close-minded to the potential for life-saving treatment offered by the clinic in question simply because the doctors have eschewed established medical protocol. Although the clinic is having good outcomes with children internationally, there remains a bias from the medical community recognising the life-saving advances that these doctors are achieving—’

  ‘Judge, with all due respect, they have not cured a single patient,’ Geraldine interjected.

  JP’s solicitor continued unruffled. ‘We argue that if there is a chance, no matter how small, of this clinic saving or even extending Robyn’s lifespan, then it is in her best interests to try it. Judge, we are asking you to take a leap of faith and we respectfully request that the application be upheld here today.’

  Judge Williams pushed his reading glasses up from the bridge of his nose, looked down at the papers before him and began scanning through them once again. The courtroom fell silent as he considered what he had been told and I found myself holding my breath. He has to dismiss it, I prayed. The evidence was there before in him in black and white.

  Judge Williams eventually peered over the top of his glasses as he spoke to us. ‘Although the applicant has provided detail of the proposed treatment, he has not provided evidence that this treatment is in the child’s best interest. Application adjourned pending expert testimony from the applicant in support of his position. I also wish to appoint an independent medical witness to review this case and make a recommendation to the court. Due to the time-critical nature involved, the case is adjourned for seven days.’

  I felt the air being sucked out of my lungs. The case wasn’t over today like I had prayed, instead it was growing legs and I now had to endure another week of this stress and worry. It seemed the battle had only just begun.

  31

  That night, after I had tucked the children up in bed, I flopped down onto the sofa. My head was thumping and every bone in my body ached with pure exhaustion. I was deflated and defeated. I was half-watching the RTÉ News when the words ‘In a landmark case set to grip the country…’ caught my attention. I immediately reached for the remote and turned up the volume. I listened as they described the court hearing that had taken place earlier that day.

  Although the media were not allowed to identify us, it was shocking to hear the most private details from our life being beamed into people’s homes across Ireland. Even though Geraldine had warned me that there would be public interest in the case, I hadn’t even considered that it would be featured on prime-time TV. To everyone else, this was a person in a faraway place that they would never meet, but this was my life being pawed over by all the media outlets.

  In bed as I felt the shallow rise and fall of Robyn’s chest underneath my palm, I couldn’t help but worry. Who knew what kind of crackpot JP would find to testify that travelling to Arizona was the best option for Robyn? I had already learnt the hard way that he would stop at nothing in his quest. As I had been leaving the courtroo
m earlier, Geraldine had set up another meeting for the following morning to go through everything before our next court date. I just wished this could all be over.

  The next morning, JP arrived to collect Harry for school, but he didn’t even come into the house like he usually would. Instead, he stayed sitting in his car until I sent Harry out to him.

  ‘Why isn’t Dad coming in?’ Harry asked me in puzzlement.

  ‘You’re running a bit late, so he doesn’t really have time,’ I said, thinking on the spot. ‘Grab your coat and bag, pet.’

  ‘No, I’m not, Mam,’ he said, looking at the clock on the kitchen wall. ‘What’s going on? First, Dad moves out and he never came into our house any more, then he was coming back in and now he’s not coming in again?’

  ‘Of course your dad can come in, you know he’s always welcome here.’

  ‘But then why don’t you tell him that?’

  ‘Come on, Harry, we don’t have time now, your dad is in a hurry. Just grab your stuff and head out to the car.’

  ‘Fine,’ he huffed, dragging his feet down the hallway.

  I hated that we were reduced to this, but I couldn’t even look at JP, let alone talk to him right now.

  After Harry had left, I sighed and made myself a coffee. I switched on the TV while I waited on Robyn to wake up. She was sleeping in a little later every day. She tired very easily and seemed to spend a lot of the day either asleep or watching TV on the sofa. As I flicked through the channels, I caught the panel on Good Morning Ireland discussing the case. One of the panellists was saying if it was her daughter, she would try everything, no matter how hopeless the situation, and the rest of them all nodded along in agreement. It seemed as though everyone was adamant that if there was even the smallest hope of the treatment working, we ought to try it because that’s what any normal, loving parent would do if it was their child.