Charlie is brought to Rupe. And we remain silent. Indeed, worse: inert.

By Lucia Scozzoli
(translation by Michelle Curran)

I’m furious: Charlie Gard will be sedated tomorrow and then they will tear the respirator away. It will happen in that awful London hospital, because doctors denied the parents permission to take him home to die (they would have paid for their own care and transportation expenses themselves). It will happen in a flash, without leaving the time for relatives to arrive and offer a last greeting.

Great Ormond Street Hospital Offer Peter Pan Literary Project

So much hurry eh! According to his parents, Charlie was not getting worse at all. They just wanted to try out an experimental cure. Maybe it would have worked and he would have survived. Certainly he would hardly have come back perfectly healthy, but he would have lived a bit longer. It would have been just enough for them.

The ECHR had taken three weeks to actually consider the appeal, but responded in three days.

The doctors said the detachment procedure would have taken place calmly, preparing the parents well beforehand. Instead it was to be the following day, nothing like what the parents’ requested. Why? Could it be that Charlie was actually improving?

He was supposed to die in April, now we are in July and despite this with his respirator, he is still alive. Had it been so serious why didn’t he die in the meantime?

They will kill a living child, not dying, not agonizing. First they will sedate him so as not to make him suffer (because to die suffocated mustn’t be very nice), so probably we will never know if Charlie had the ability to breathe independently, at least for a while.

charlie_gard__6_jpg-js306303692I’m furious because parents know how their son is better than doctors. Don’t be fooled? Do you think I am speaking nonsense? In fact this isn’t me speaking but the primary paediatric surgery at Sant’Orsola in Bologna, he told me personally in 2008, while my 4-month-old girl struggled between life and death in his department. To me a simple mother, completely ignorant of medicine, this great luminary of the matter wondered if they had to act quickly or if they could wait, he asked me how things stood. If I felt that she could hold out a little longer, because only a mother, sitting next to a cot, between wires and tubes, can catch the nuances of the breath, the increased or decreased sorrows, the strength that comes back or fades. Clinical records, monitors, and examinations are not enough. She needs a mother’s assiduous gaze.

That’s why I believe in Connie: she says he was growing and showing signs of improvement. To the Hell the doctors!

Charlie Gard Case at Supreme Court Connie Yates and Chris Gard leave the court in tears after losing appeal with their sick baby in hospital Pic by Gavin Rodgers

In Europe, euthanasia is more or less covers an exorbitant number of people: the old, the demented, the depressed, much more than mere terminal sufferers. In Holland, euthanasia kills 3% of the population, 5,000 people a year. There are ongoing causes of relatives against hospitals who have terminated their dear ones without authorization, but nobody is prepared to talk about it because it’s best to keep this news silent, and this is partly because the people involved do not have the guts to make a fuss amongst so many sighs and hidden truths . Why are we not indignant about them as we are for Charlie?

wire-384477-1491974073-296_634x475The reason lies in the parents: Connie and Chris have something special, a superhuman strength, an unthinkable capableness, a heroic aura. This is notably chance.

In the desire of one’s heart there is a divine sign, especially when the desire is so burning, countercurrent, pure and clear. Perhaps this case is not chance at all, perhaps it is a sign for the world, a test for humanity.

People did pray for the judges to let Charlie go to America, but someone wrote that we had little faith, that we should have asked for him to be healed.

I say more: we should have taken a plane and gone there. Why are we still here writing heart breaking posts, web sites, and signing petitions? 19601196_839409392881002_2363155235732231735_n

Why are not we outside the hospital, with signs, but also with the forks, with the batons, with our bare hands? Do we really fear thirty bullies? How many doctors are involved in this affair? And the judges? 83,000 people donated money: are there not 100,000 in the world wanting to defend Charlie? Why are we sitting on our couches instead of being there breaking through the doors and taking the doctors by their throats? A nice, straightforward news report would be perfect, with helicopters flying over the area along with anti-riot policemen, the crowd screaming assassins. We have to hunt the doctors, ask for a charter flight that goes straight to the US to free them. Everyone has to speak, along with parental statements to unified networks in all the languages ​​of the world, people need to see this family, this wonderful family!

We must overcome the veil of hypocrisy regards the “dignified death” that becomes death by the State, we must claim that freedom of choice and self-determination include life in the first place.

The doctors are in a hurry to close this matter that keeps them on the edge, to turn off the spotlight, to let the European population, now accustomed to swallowing everything, back to the same old apathy. They are afraid we will awake and scream and squash them. We are just ants, but at the same time so many, they are so few and overbearing.

Then, after we pay the price for our civil disobedience in jail, we will pray. We will pray for us, for Charlie, for this damned, neo Nazi Europe.

But nothing like this will happen. Many rosaries said, so many requests for a miracle from God, but this miracle was also up to us .

I’m furious with myself : I’m sorry Charlie, it’s also my fault. I hope you can forgive me.

«Un jour, tu verras, / on s’aimera. / Mais avant on crèvera tous / comme des rats» • «One day, you will see, / we will love each other. / But before that we will all die / like mice» (Stromae, Carmen)

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