This was written about a beautiful woman that died 5 years ago on the 17th. She was very special to me and all who had the honour of sharing in her short life. Click on the picture it will take you to the Cystic Fibrosis page where you can get more information or even just donate to help find a cure.
Vicky
Into the world,
came this ball of delight.
Her name was Vicky,
and she was in for a fight.
By eighteen month,
she became really sick.
They struggled to help her.
They tried every trick.
They did a salt test,
found Cystic Fibrosis.
We were really scared,
this was her diagnosis.
With everything she eats,
she takes so much pills.
It breaks my heart,
and gives me such chills.
Her chest filled with flem,
so therapy she gets.
It’s not at all pleasant,
and my eyes, they get wet.
She is a special young girl,
who never complains.
All through her problems,
cheery she remains.
In and out of Yorkhill,
education was missed.
The school would send lessons
on this Vicky would insist.
We once asked a doctor,
what was her prognosis?
He said she would die young,
with Cystic Fibrosis.
To high school she went.
Her health, it got worse.
Her breathing got laboured.
It felt like a curse.
To Great Ormond Street,
Vicky we did take.
They done all their tests,
not a sound did she make.
On the transplant list,
for new lungs she did go.
We had to wait for a call,
it went really slow.
We got the call.
We had to get there quick.
We didn’t really mind,
for after she wouldn’t be as sick.
There was some complications.
Vicky lost her hearing.
We were so upset,
The hardship she’s bearing.
Her medication she took,
made her really frail.
By the time she was twenty,
her kidneys they did fail.
Her mum was the donar,
her kidney she did give.
She gave of herself,
so her angel could live.
The drugs that were taken,
to stop the kidney from rejecting.
Caused the lungs to fail,
and her demise it was reflecting.
Like a feline,
another chance at life.
Lungs become available,
again she goes under the knife.
The operation was over,
it was really late.
Sitting at her bed side.
All left down to fate.
The family were all called,
by her bedside we did cry.
When they switched of the life support machine.
We had to accept that she had died.
This special young woman,
who died at twenty three.
Showed me the kind of person,
I would like to be.
On the 17th of January,
her life god did take.
Ever since that day,
my heart it does ache.
R.I. P Vicky (Angel)
Written by Jerri42
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