From left to right: Isabella, Joanna Sloan, Christy Sloan. The lump of fur in Christy’s lap is Sara Wilhemina, aka “Willy” or “Fast-Moving, Barking Throw-Rug”. This is the last picture I have of her, taken 18 July 2004, at Lake Wylie, SC.
My cousin Christy was diagnosed with ALS over five years ago. Since then, she has fought the good fight, her spirits high in spite of her deteriorating body. Her family, an unshakeable foundation of support, even started a non-profit group to raise money in search of a cure.
I remember an evening in December, just before the turn of the millennium, where Christy read scripture in front of a group of people gathered to celebrate my wedding to Michelle. At that time, you couldn’t tell that she had a terminal illness that would eventually steal away her body’s strength, wasting away her muscles.
Her speech at my wedding was clear and precise; in recent times, it was more of a mumbling as each syllable took a Herculean effort for her to pronounce. As a result, conversations with her became frustrating to maintain, as you knew that her mind was as sharp as it ever was, but you could not pick out what she was trying to say. “I’m sorry,” I would say, sometimes tearing up, “but I don’t understand.” She would shake her head, slowly, and mouth, “It’s OK.”
A few weeks ago, she had several episodes where she had great difficulty breathing. She was taken to the ICU at Mission Hospital in Asheville, where she was put on a respirator. The end was nigh; many ALS patients end up at this point, as the last thing to go is the ability to maintain the involuntary muscular contractions in their diaphragm. Nevertheless, she soldiered on. There were trials without the respirator. Eight minutes. Thirty minutes. In the end, she would always have to be put back on the respirator to continue to live.
Last week, I received an e-mail from her mother, my Aunt Joanna. In that e-mail, she stated that Christy had decided that the respirator was not the solution to her problems. In effect, she was deciding to go off the respirator one last time—even if it meant that she would die in the process. For her, this was no worst case scenario; she envisioned that if she died, she would be with God, and she would be running once again, freed from her wrecked physical body.
Her last day on Earth was Sunday, 19 September 2004. At approximately 9:30 am, after being off the respirator for just under an hour and a half, Sara Christine Sloan, my beloved cousin, a wonderful, awesome woman who brightened the lives of every single person she came into contact with, passed on.
It is an understatement to say that she will be missed dearly.