On New Year’s Day I thought it would be great to visit Ricky’s grandparents, though he seemed a little reluctant to go. I’m now so glad we went along as it turned out be the last occasion many of the family would see him alive. None of us realized how unwell he was at the time. Upon returning to Quito he complained of fever and a severe headache but the following day he’d recovered. I put it down to a surfeit of sun.
Ricky's last photo
Ricky's grandparent's house, surrounded by maize.
Local kids playing football.
Mama Mery (Ricky's Mum) with her Father
La Fernanda (Ricky's sister) with Granny and an Uncle
Papa Luis (centre) and cousin Andrés seated next to him.
On Wednesday 4th Ricky felt very unwell again so we jumped in a cab and headed to the emergency dept. of a local hospital of Ricky’s suggestion. I guess we waited an hour and as they couldn’t attend us we cabbed over to the Nueva Clinica Internacional, located just minutes from our apartment. He was immediately seen (by now he was seriously ill) and after tests and X-rays a “good case of pneumonia” was diagnosed. In a bit of a daze I went through the admission procedure and signed a financial guarantee for his hospitalization.
His room overlooked our apartment but he didn’t get to see the view; his eyes were sensitive to daylight and he was hooked up to drips and oxygen. When deprived of oxygen, upon trying to get up and sit on the sofa, or go to the bathroom, he became very agitated indeed. The first morning he fell over and his drips disconnected (a bloody mess), so from then on Tatiana (his sister), Luis (his Dad) and I took turns to stay with him around the clock.
His headaches continued and he continually complained of painful calf muscles; he appreciated the relief that a camphor massage gave him. Time became a blur; I recall a constant succession of nurses and meal times (Taty and I ate most of the desserts – Ricky’s appetite was slight and we had to feed him by hand). I’d just got home one evening from my shift when I got a call to say Ricky needed to be admitted to intensive care; the clinic required I sign another financial guarantee beforehand. He stabilized and intensive care wasn’t required but what if I hadn’t the resources to ensure treatment? Would they have left him to die?
On Monday the 9th Ricky was deemed sufficiently stable to move him to Eugenio Espejo, a public hospital with an excellent reputation. Taty and I accompanied him in the ambulance, a first for both of us: flashing lights and shrieking sirens. The admissions doctor refused to accept him, claiming his condition was far worse than he’d be led to understand, and there weren’t enough ventilators in the event of an emergency. Taty managed to track down a doctor who agreed to take him and I eventually left the hospital at about 11pm.
Christhian, Ricky’s older brother, flew in that night from Minneapolis and was with him when he passed sometime during the night. Thank God he wasn’t alone in his last moments. Taty called me at about 7 or 8 urging me in tears to come to the hospital to tell me the news. As the morning went on so more family arrived. Poor Mery, Richard’s Mum, had been recovering at home from a throat operation and hadn’t seen him since New Year’s day at Granny’s.
Everthing then happened so quickly: choosing the coffin, returning home to select the clothes in which he would be buried and attempting to dress him in the morgue. His poor body was so difficult to manipulate by then that I simply baulked at the doing of it. All of this was accompanied by the soundtrack of a colossal thunder storm. So gothic.
That afternoon Ricky was transferred to a funeraria for a velatorio (wake); so many friends and family turned up. Intensely moving. Both Granny and Grandad sat with Ricky all night. The following day a mass was held accompanied by a blind accordionist (whom I swear I’ve seen busking on the trolley bus!) and his body was interred at El Batan cemetery.
Ricky's Flowers
Ricky's Flowers
Burial
Ricky stayed unselfish till the very end. He was only concerned about my welfare and that of others. The kindest, most sincere and loving person. I still find his sudden illness and death so hard to accept, but the Ecuadorian way of grieving has helped me. To find solace in strangers is incredibly uplifting.
I’ve spent most of my time since with Ricky’s family who have been so wonderful. Cristhian’s wife, Claire, flew in for the funeral; both have been a tower of strength. They’ve accompanied me to various hospital appointments and I consider them family as well as dear friends. Today we went to see the abuelos (grandparents) again. Abuelita was ready and willing to slaughter a guinea pig for lunch, but we didn’t stay for long. I came home gifted with bags of maize and potatoes. Tomorrow I’m off to Sports Day at little Erik’s school…
Granny's path
Potential lunch!
Claire and Cristhian with a two week old pup
Tio (Uncle) Osvaldo with a "cuy grandote" (huge guinea pig!)
La Taty with a handful of delicious uvillas, a native Andean fruit
La Taty surrounded by maize
Mery with los abuelos
