Based on the life of:

Max Lechner

2000 - 2011

Benefitting the Charity:   The Compassionate Friends -www.tcf.org.uk

To The Max

I couldn't really sum it up but devastating, saddening, heart-breaking and overwhelming are just a few words to describe how I felt that day. It was hard to believe it, but as my brother lay lifeless on that hospital bed, it was all too real, far too real, just much too real. I still ask myself why it had to happen to such a loving boy. Why did he deserve that?

His name was Max, eleven years of age, and if I knew anyone who could make me feel better (most of the time) it would always be him: his smile, chubby cheeks, cheekiness, friendliness and powerful presence could lighten up any room. As cliched as that sounds, it couldn't be more true when referring to my little brother.

On the day it all began, things couldn't have been more normal, we got up for school, we had a routine day at school and, since it was a Friday, we headed off to Scouts that evening, something that we both enjoyed a lot. It was when we got back from Scouts that the problems started. Initially Max suffered shortness of breath and was cold - very, very cold, I remember him shivering uncontrollably as if he was stark naked in the snow even though he stood fully clothed in our warm house. I was getting nervous and my gut feeling was telling me something was definitely wrong as his breathing got worse as he slept with me, restless above him, in our bunk bed.

My brother and I got on like a house on fire, we had the same tastes and we played together constantly. It was mainly just me and him as my older brother had got to the stage where he was out with friends most of the time or doing something else. I never cared what I played with him in the refuge of our own home.

After a day, Max's symptoms persisted but now his limbs were unbearably painful for him as well, so an ambulance took him straight to the hospital. Max already had a bad heart condition so that was checked each day for three days until they saw what was wrong: vegetation had grown on his heart valve due to a bug. It was bad and I remember crying as he was whisked away to Glasgow for surgery.

School was still on-going for me so I was patient until I got the train with my other sibling to support my little "bro". It sickened me to see him in excruciating pain but he braved it out and actually got through his operation. I couldn't have been more relieved when we received the phone call delivering the great news after we had been in the church to give a final prayer, I thought that maybe there is a God up there. I now was thinking that it wouldn't be long before us, as a whole family, could go back to Aberdeen and continue to live our lives as normal. Unfortunately, someone else clearly did not think the same thing though, that man in the clouds is obviously not there or my brother would not have had seizures on that night, two days before his life was taken from him.

I think of the excitement we had, as the day before was Christmas, a time of joy and happiness, but on that day I was none the wiser as to what was to come in the early hours of the next day. To see that grin on my brother's face get bigger and bigger as he opened up present after present made me surer about Max being fine. The last present he opened was from my family to him and it was the latest Nintendo console which he had been wanting for a long time. However, the look on his face when he saw it was enough to make it not a waste because it was going to be the last time I would catch a glimpse of that lovely visage.

I awoke on that next morning to the very disturbing sound of my mother crying and I can recall distinctly wanting to know what was wrong but not wishing to hear the answer as it could only be horrific news. I learnt about my brothers new state whilst we were in the hospital; an older doctor who looked like he had been in an explosion with his out-of-sorts hair, blew our hopes away with the tragic truth.

I'm not claustrophobic - but as my family and I piled into that small meeting room - I felt like the room was caving in. I could not bear to hear the words of the elderly doctor but, in synchronisation, the floodgates opened from us, filling the room with a chorus of sniffles and sobs which grew deafening and felt never-ending. An aneurysm had developed in Max's brain; it was an extremely complicated job to get it out and, unfortunately, his chance of survival was slim.

We sat patiently for what felt like an eternity until a petit nurse came in to the waiting room with two surgeons at her side. They explained that they had successfully removed the cerebral bulge but that Max was still in a coma with no change to his survival hopes.

It was a day later that the other nurse on the ward came to tell us what we were dreading. These were his final hours. It was for sure now. A definite. Nothing seemed to matter at that moment. I just wanted to be with my brother for as long as possible.

I had heard tales that people in comas could still hear things so, I lay down next to his ear and whispered all the stuff we did together, our birthday parties, our games we created, our explorations we went on whilst on day trips, our holidays. It pained me deeply to see him clinging on to life, so quiet, when I knew his fun, bubbly character. I could just imagine him getting up and saying, "I love you!".

His little body made a choke and a splutter which made me lose my train of thought but he was a warrior and he continued to battle onwards. I returned to my images of Max playing with friends and just generally livingly life to the max.

He stopped breathing.