Silverlock day2

October 2002 we we're on a rememberance gathering the night before the funeral of a male colleague of Annemarie, who died of a braintumor. Annemarie already was way too exhausted and without energy. At the end of the gathering she said to me in a proclaiming way > "I'm going to be the next one!" I was too flabbergasted to think straight or remember what I did do exactly , but tried to give her comfort in my belief in her strength and recovering powers. Thinking it was another hump in her existence that she would overcome. 16th of December, just seven weeks further down the road, the blooddisease was diagnosed. A form of bloodcancer which is one of the less dangerous and lethal. It influenced her trombocyte level ( blood platelets). All the year it was said it should or could not influence her energylevel, like it did. On 6 November 2003 she went to a restaurant with the women she regulary played tennis with. 8 women. In a town adjacent to Amersfoort.
About eight o'clock I came back with my youngest daughter from her violinlessons and entering the back garden my 14 year old daughter ran out to me with the phone in her hand, shouting with fear in her voice that something had happened to "mama". Annemarie had during the dinner suddenly turned her head forcingly to the left side upwards and suffered a epileptic fit.
I gathered my daughters, my guts and my shock together and speeded as much as reasonably could, having no time to wait for the condensation on the car window to be blown away, which added to the haze before my eyes, but feeling stressed to the limit to hurry as much as possible, but totally aware in no way I should have a accident myself, because she and the kids needed their man/father more than they had needed him before.
I'm crying right now, writing about seeing her when I entered the ambulance and saw her distressed face, her mouth in a muscle spasm and her eyes totally turned away. I got totally distressed and in shock, but at the same time calm as never before, ready to be her support.
During the ride to the hospital she slowly gained consciousness. The next day a braintumor, the size of a mandarin was diagnosed. 2 December she was operated. On the picture above you can see her the night before, and you can see not only her total devastation and her anxiety in her eyes, but also one of the magnets that was used to make a scan and help pinpoint the surgeon to the exact spot the next day.
And here you can see her right after the operation, mangled between the enormous feelings, but already with a little spark of hope on her face.
Around Christmas, a little more than 2 weeks after leaving the hospital, we went to Terschelling, one of the "Wadden" islands in the North of the Netherlands. Here you can see my girl having her spirit back.