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A deal with God

What would you sacrifice to save the life of the one you love?


Published by: Rachel Haliwell & Sarah Veness
Published on: 18th July 2011

There’s a magical moment in a relationship when you look at each other and know – you’re ready to start a family. That’s where me and my husband Colin were after 18 months of marriage.
But right now, we were getting ready for a wedding. Colin’s brother Mike was tying the knot in Galway, so we’d flown over. A combination of the swanky hotel we were staying in and my gorgeous black dress had clearly had an effect on Colin, though.
‘You look gorgeous,’ he winked, hugging me. ‘Maybe after the wedding we’ll get a chance for some baby-making…’
‘Hmmm… maybe?’ I teased him.
The ceremony was beautiful, and we let our hair down at the reception. At about 10.30pm, I nipped to the loo. ‘Let’s have a dance when I get back,’ I told Colin.
But when I returned, he was sitting on the floor, head in hands, a crowd of people around him. ‘What’s happened?’ I asked, pushing my way through.
‘Nothing,’ he snapped. ‘I just slipped on some spilt drink and banged my head.’
He was so embarrassed, bless him. But after a boogie, he was back to his usual, cheery self.
In fact, he danced so much, he fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow!
Next morning, I was up and dressed early. Colin, on other hand, was face down in the bed snoring.
‘I’m going to breakfast,’ I told him. ‘You coming?’
Zonked out and probably hungover, he didn’t even stir.
At 10am, I headed back, but the lazy-so-and-so was still flat out.
Annoyed, I yanked the curtain open. ‘Wake up!’ I snapped.
But he still didn’t move. Fear shivered through me.
Heart racing, I turned him over. Oh God, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he began to shake.
‘Colin!’ I screamed.
There was just enough time to call his mum Josie, who was staying in the hotel, before I found myself in an ambulance racing to Galway Regional Hospital.
Half an hour after we arrived there, a doctor saw me. ‘Your husband’s suffered a massive bleed on the right side of his brain,’ he told me. ‘Has he bumped his head in the last 24 hours?’
‘Yes,’ I whispered, stunned, explaining what had happened. ‘But he was fine.’
The doctor shook his head sadly. ‘Colin wasn’t sleeping last night,’ he explained. ‘He was slipping into a coma.’ I’d had no idea.
‘We need to transfer him by helicopter to Dublin,’ the doctor continued. ‘He may not survive the flight, though. You need to say your goodbyes, just in case.’
Feeling sick, I was led into the room where Colin was hooked up to various machines and monitors. I grabbed his hand, but couldn’t say goodbye. This wasn’t real!
‘I, erm, I’ll see you later,’ I blurted instead.
Then me, Josie, and Colin’s younger sister Angela made the three-hour drive to Dublin.
By the time we arrived, surgeons had removed the right side of Colin’s skull and drained the massive blood clot.
‘We won’t know the extent of any brain damage until he wakes up… if he wakes up,’ the doctor told me.
‘B-but we’re planning a family,’ I stuttered. We’d got it all planned, possible names, how much fun we’d have pushing our son or daughter on the swings, if they’d inherit my red hair and pale skin or Colin’s piercing blue eyes.
‘I’m sorry,’ the doctor said sadly. ‘Even if he survives, he’ll probably never walk or talk again.’ 
In the days that followed, I
barely left Colin’s side, and slept on the floor at night.
‘You have to wake up so we can make beautiful babies together,’ I told him. ‘I’m secretly hoping for
a boy, are you?’
Smiling, I remembered what we’d always said. ‘If we have a boy, he’ll be a builder just like you,’ I grinned. ‘You joked he’d come out wearing a hard hat.’
Colin just got worse. Finally, a nurse took me to one side.
‘Your husband’s vital organs are shutting down,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid he’s dying.’
‘No, he’s not,’ I snapped, stumbling from the room.
In a haze of tears, I wandered into the hospital chapel. I’m not a religious person but, as I sat in that room, my husband slipping away from me, I reached out to whoever might hear me.
‘Please don’t let me lose him,’ I sobbed. ‘I’d give anything for him to stay with me.’
What could I sacrifice that was anywhere near as precious as my fella? There was only one thing.
‘How’s this for a deal?’ I desperately asked aloud. ‘Give me Colin, and I’ll give up my dream of having a baby.’
There was no clap of thunder. What had I expected? My offer would make no difference.
Two days later, the doctor had some news. ‘We can’t believe it, but Colin is improving,’ he smiled.
‘Really?’ I gasped. Maybe someone up there had been listening to me!
One by one, his machines were switched off and Colin was slowly brought round. He was very weak though, and didn’t seem to know who I was, his eyes barely focusing on me or his family.
Days turned to weeks. Before I knew it, a month had passed and Colin was in the same confused state. One day, I was about to leave his room when, suddenly, he reached out and grabbed my coat.
‘I love you,’ he slurred, the first words he’d spoken.
He did know me!
‘I love you, too,’ I smiled.
Slowly, he gained strength and, after 16 weeks, he was allowed home. Over the following months,  he learned to walk and talk again – just like a child.
What if helping Colin was the closest that I’d get to doing the same for our baby? No, I was being silly, superstitious – we were both young and healthy. There was no reason to think we’d have a problem conceiving.
Finally, four years after Colin’s accident, we decided to start trying for a baby again. Months passed, nothing happened.
Then we got some news. Colin’s brain injury had affected a gland that meant he no longer produced sperm – he was infertile.
What’s more, I had endometriosis, which had severely damaged my reproductive organs.
‘My deal’s coming true,’ I gasped to Colin.
Now, six years on from the accident, we’ve been offered a special type of IVF, but warned that the chances of it working are incredibly slim.
‘We have to try,’ Colin said. ‘Otherwise we’ll always wonder “what if”.’
He’s right but, in my heart, I know it won’t work. A deal’s a deal, and I meant every word. To have Colin safe and healthy, I’d give anything.
Sarah Kavanagh, 32, Manchester