“I am trying to find a new home for them, as I am unable to keep them over the winter. One cold day I found the cage littered with a number of frozen-stiff, naked newborn bunnies. I had not even known the two bunnies were not the same sex. Since then, I have kept the lovers separate, because I don’t want more bunnies. You know the saying about rabbits…But now the neighbour’s dog comes by every night, barking at them and scares the heck out of them.”
They laughed and then James asked: “Could you eat these bunnies? Are they like other rabbits?”
I was a bit taken aback, but replied, “Yes, sure. I am not interested in doing that, as I couldn’t eat a pet. Some people breed bunnies as a food resource. They are mostly in their cages and my girl hardly ever plays with them anymore. They turn pretty wild if you don’t handle them regularly.”
“If you like, I’ll take them off your hands.”
Not a man of many words and a good provider, that James. A few minutes later the cages were deposited in the back of his truck. Bye bunnies. I did not tell my daughter what or where the bunnies’ destination would be.
As my temporary assignment had come to an end, I would not see Candace and Amy anymore in a professional capacity after that summer. To my surprise, one Saturday morning in the fall I got a call from Candace.
“Hi, I am just calling to tell you that Amy has died. I thought you would want to know.” I was stunned, could not reply right away, then I stammered after some seconds:
“How can that be, what happened?”
“Amy was sick, she had a fever and was throwing up, so I went to the hospital, but they sent me away and said Amy was fine, just a flue, and to give her water or juice. Then a couple of hours later I went again, as Amy was not getting better and again they sent me back. Then she was not doing anything anymore and was just pale and not moving, so I went again with James and he got mad at them and that time the doctor sent her by air ambulance to Edmonton. I was with her on the way to the hospital; she died in the ambulance.” James could not be with us and he had to go by car. He was very upset.”
“Oh, Candace, that is terrible, I am so sorry. How could that have happened? Why did the doctor not listen to you? There should be an inquiry about that. You did the right thing. It is absolutely not your fault. You are a good mother. Would you want me to come by your place?” I was unable to keep my emotions in and started weeping for this young woman and her lost baby.
She replied, “I will come to your place. I will tell you more about it. We are going to Granny’s later today.”
When the family, with one small person missing, arrived at my place, both Candace and James were quiet and sombre.
“How are you coping? Is there anything that I can do?” I asked.
“There is nothing that can be done now. The doctor in the hospital has apologized to us and said he did not realize how serious it was. I know there are other Native women that bring their babies to the hospital when they want a night off, but I wouldn’t want to do that and never did that anyway. I don’t drink; we both don’t drink. They asked later if there was anything they could do, but I wouldn’t know what could be done now.”
“What did the doctor say why Amy passed away? Why was she sick?” I barely kept my composure, but felt I needed to, as Candace and James were calm and dignified, even little Joey was moving around a lot less and stuck close to his parents.
“She had a scar inside her from the feeding tube and that part of her small intestine got narrower and narrower and in the end blocked her intestines as she grew bigger. It poisoned her from the inside out. It is something that happens often to premature babies, they told me.”
Candace’s eyes looked tired and missed their usual brightness, and her colour was paler than usual, her skin more grey than brown. She moved as if in physical pain. James just sat there, defeated, quiet.
“That was so preventable and if they had checked better and did tests and took x-rays, the doctor might have found that in time and could have saved her life. They failed to do what is their duty and they should be liable for it. If you want to take the hospital to court and claim compensation for suffering and loss of Amy’s life, I will support you and go with you to court. They were at fault in the hospital, Candace. Just because you are young and First Nations, that does not mean your family should get less proper treatment.”
“I know. That’s just the way it is. I can’t change that. You have always been good to us. I want to give something to you,” she said while she handed over a small piece of yellow paper with something on it.
When I saw what it was, I could not contain my tears and wept. Candace had given me a print of Amy’s 1 ½ inch small right foot. It was made when she was fighting for her life the first time around at the preemie ICU because she was born premature at twenty-four weeks; and a team of professionals kept her life. In the end, all the technological advancements in the world could not keep her alive when low-tech prejudice prevented her from being saved.
Great art. Very interesting.
Such a tense and sad nonfiction piece by Johanna Van Zanten. Terrible and unacceptable that First Nations people, time and again, are not getting proper care.
A terrible outcome. I too grieve for her loss.
Thanks for your response to my story John, Chris and Mathew. Much appreciated.
Johanna