Fast
Eddie's Last Stand
One of my dearest, closest and most
cherished friends, Mark Rutter (Lowlife's the Imp), tragically departed
this Earth today. Mark had bravely and stoically overcome the ravages and
indignities of leukaemia twice in his short life but the unwelcome condition
cruelly returned three months ago and this time the illness and the affect it
had on Mark's already weakened heart and kidneys, simply proved too much. It
goes without saying that my heart and sincere and deep felt condolences go out
to his wonderful wife Kate, his lovely boys Harvey and Niall, his father Graham
and his wife Lesley and Mark's sister Helen, more warm and loving people you
could not wish to meet. The strength and dignity that all of Mark's family have
shown throughout his illness has been simply incredible, it has been an
inspiration to us all.
As you can probably tell by the opening
paragraph above, Lowlife this week is through necessity not going to be
the usual jocular romp but an altogether more sobering experience. I make no
apologies. I had already written this edition of Lowlife (entitled the
Pirate-less Pensax) about our annual visit to Pensax beer festival, but
that will have to wait until next week at least in the sad circumstances.
I met Mark many years ago when we were
both young footballers playing for Enville Athletic FC and I met Steve Newton
(known to all as Newty) and Carl "Tater" Taylor around the same time
and we have all remained close friends ever since. At that time Mark was more
of a nightclub dwelling, fashion conscious type, whereas Newty, Tater and I
were more pint of bitter, bar-room banter merchants but we slowly ground Mark
down over the years and brought him round to our way of thinking. We must have
done a good job on him as he became a regular and extremely popular patron of
his local, the Park Lane Tavern, therein after.
Everyone in the Tavern knew and liked,
and loved even, Mark. This is for two principal reasons. Firstly, Mark made
everyone laugh and smile and if you asked people who knew him to describe him
the word “cheeky”will invariably pop up; he had a gift of being able to take
the mickey out of people and humour them but in a very endearing way without
ever pushing the boundaries too far (except for a couple of exceptions which
were confined to football dressing rooms and of course all is fair in love, war
and sports changing rooms.) Secondly, Mark was an archetypal people person, he
was like an octopus that spread his long tentacles far and wide and he made
such a positive impression on people who only met him briefly that they would
always ask about his welfare thereafter. If you put Mark in a room full of 50
strangers he would know them all within a short space of time, that was what he
was like, sociable, effervescent, vivacious, interesting and interested in
others always.
It is very odd to be writing about my
friend in the past tense, as it has still not sank in that I will never see his
cheeky grin again and it will most probably not sink in for quite a while,
which I know is the way many people feel when they have lost a loved one. Even
in the short space of time since his death I have thought to myself a couple of
times that I will tell Mark this or that next time I see him, but of course
that will not come to pass.
Over our years of friendship Mark and I
grew closer and we found increasingly that we were able to talk to each other
about the experiences and emotions that life throws up and in that respect Mark
was an invaluable confidant to me as I hope I was to him. Us men of course are
great at trivial and humorous bar room talk but we are a poor second to women
when it comes to sharing our feelings, so although I will miss Mark terribly
for many reasons, more than anything I will miss the intimacy and closeness
that we shared as true friends. It will take some getting over the fact that I
will never be able to talk with him again.
When Mark went into hospital three odd
months ago when I visited he would always say (thinking of others as always)
that I didn't need to visit so much that I must have better things to do. I
would reply that I was there as I wanted to be there, because I loved his
company, whether that be in the pub, on the terraces at Aston Villa or in a
hospital room, it didn't matter to me, sharing time together was the most
important thing, which of course is a large part of what friendship is all
about.
Increasingly over the last year or so
Mark's health, strength and fitness waned and he finally took the very
difficult decision to discontinue his business as a builder, a partnership he
had grown with his dad Graham, which had an impeccable reputation and very high
standards. I knew what a demoralising effect this would most likely have on
Mark, especially as all men tend to think of themselves as breadwinners with a
primary responsibility to look after their families, so for Mark not being able
work in his normal profession it was bound to have a profound and detrimental
psychological effect on him. I stayed in close contact with Mark around this
time knowing my support would be appreciated and needed and indeed it was.
Over a period of months different
theories and diagnoses were put forward for Mark's increasing difficulties and
one by one each of these were ruled out after what seems like endless tests and
appointments with specialists. Eventually and inevitably the “L” word was
mentioned and Mark was tested for the dreaded blood cancer again and it was a
bitter, awful blow when the result came back positive; the collective sound of
Mark's family and friends' hearts sinking must have been heard all over
England. Not leukaemia, please no, anything but that f*cking horrid, atrocious
leukaemia, that Mark has seen off twice before. Mark knew that he could have no
more radiotherapy treatment, so I assumed that the hospital would not be able
to successfully eradicate the leukemic cells in Mark’s blood.
Shortly after Mark’s diagnosis Aston
Villa played Liverpool and I met Mark at Villa Park
as usual together with our respective children and other friends. I didn’t know
quite what to say to Mark, even though we had spoken about things on the
telephone the day before, so I didn’t speak at all, I simply hugged him.
Shortly after I told him that I love him, which is not something I have told a
friend before, but it was wholly appropriate in that moment. Mark was due to go
into hospital to start his treatment in the week after that game and it struck
me then that it could be the last time he attends Villa Park but like with most
things Mark proved me wrong.
Although Mark could have no more
radiotherapy treatment, once he had attended the initial consultation with the
haematology consultant all seemed to be quite positive as it was explained to
him that the condition can now be treated with arsenic, a new development since
Mark last had the illness. The consultant assured Mark that the treatment would
get him into remission so everybody was hopeful that Mark could once more
overcome the nasty condition. However, once Mark started to have the arsenic
treatment it had a progressively adverse effect on his heart and his kidneys
and increasingly the doctors struggled with a fine balancing act of treating
the haematology, renal and cardio difficulties that Mark had.
On the early evening of Saturday 27th
April I visited Mark and I found that his wife Kate and two sons, Harvey and
Niall were there together with Mark’s father Graham. It was clear the situation
was not good so I offered to take Harvey and Niall to the canteen for an hour
or so, so Mark could talk openly to Kate and Graham. Harvey and Niall were such
pleasant company which highlighted what great parents Mark and Kate are and
what a fine job they have done in bringing up their two little treasures. Later
when we were alone, Mark explained to me that he was fearful that his body
could take no more of the arsenic due the damaging effect it was having on his
kidneys but that he had to go for dialysis the following day to see if that
would help overcome the renal complications. I told Mark I would visit him the
following evening after he had been through the dialysis and I departed that
night at 2200 hrs but I desperately didn’t want to leave but Mark was tired and
needed his rest.
During the course of the following
morning, I felt an acceleration of uneasy feelings, I was not sure what was up
but my antennae told me to get up the hospital immediately. When I arrived in
the cardio ward I could see that Mark’s room had been completely cleared and I
felt an overwhelming feeling of dread as I immediately thought that Mark had
passed away in the night; my legs went to jelly, all the energy drained out of
my body, my heart was going ten to the dozen and I started to sweat profusely.
I composed myself and asked a nurse (who recognised me) where Mark was and the
nurse took me to a private room to explain that Mark had been moved to
intensive care which was not good news but I did feel relieved as I fully
expected the nurse to tell me that he had died.
I cannot begin to adequately explain the
emotions that I experienced for the remainder of that day in Mark’s room in
intensive care. I am sure that all of Mark’s family and friends that saw him
that day will tell you the same. I found Mark hooked up to forbidding looking
machines, with his father Graham sitting with him. His first words to me were,
“this is it buddy” meaning that he had reached the end of the line and that
there were no more avenues for the doctors to explore. Mark explained that his
kidneys had failed and dialysis had transpired to not be a realistic option as
it would almost certainly send him into cardiac arrest. The medical staff had
explained to Mark that once the life support machines are switched off he would
only have a matter of hours to live. Mark quickly decided that he wanted to say
goodbye to his family and close friends and to then be disconnected from the
life support, so as to not prolong the agony for his wife and children and all
concerned, which is one of many indications of the great strength, selflessness
and thoughtfulness of the man.
Once Mark had finished explaining the
position to me I hugged him and kissed him but I nearly accidentally killed him
off there and then as I realised that I was treading on the wires that were
supplying the life support drugs to him. Luckily he did didn’t go blue in the
face and I removed my foot to the welcome sound of lightly relieving laughter.
Naturally Mark talked about his concern for his children but I tried to assure
him that the influence that he has had in their happy and decent upbringing
will never cease and it will continue to have a positive bearing on Harvey and
Niall throughout their lives and that Mark and Kate’s grounding will see both
boys grow up into fine young men.
Mark’s friends and family were beckoned
to the hospital, including Newty and Tater, who I telephoned and people
filtered in to say their heartbreaking goodbyes to him. At one point the room
was full of just Mark’s friends and fed up of the heavy, sombre atmosphere Mark
said, “for lord’s sake, please just talk some sh*t!” For the following half an
hour or so there was a bar room type atmosphere in the room and everyone tried
their best to laugh, joke and reminisce with anecdotes from the past to lift
Mark’s spirits a little. But soon the mood changed once we were informed that
Mark’s little boys were to visit shortly to say their own crushing farewell to
their father. It was time to say my final, tearful adios to Mark. Again I think
I nearly ended Mark’s time there and then as I squeezed him so hard and I said
to him what we would usually say when we parted, “Up the Villa mate” but this
time it was said through stinging, tormenting tears. Like everyone else who
shared a goodbye with Mark that day I left the room devastated, bereft.
On leaving the hospital Newty, Tater and
I went for a doleful, down hearted pint and I went to my local, the Waggon
& Horses, thereafter to, not to put too fine a point on it, get drunk. All
the Waggoners showed great sympathy and humility and behind the bar the kind
natured Caroline and Bill looked after me.
The following day saw a waiting game
whereby I was fearful that every text or phone call was going to be the dreaded
news of Mark’s demise. But no such news came so off I went to Villa Park with
my son Kenny and my friends Davie B and Tim as Villa were playing Sunderland in a crunch relegation battle. Villa Park felt the right place to be in the
circumstances and I shared the terrible news of Mark with other Villan friends
of ours. I was determined that no-one would sit in Mark’s seat that night,
despite there being a near capacity crowd but looking at Mark’s season ticket I
realised I’d been unknowingly sitting in Mark’s seat all season and he in mine.
The atmosphere in Villa Park that
evening really was something immensely special, it was electric, something I
had not quite experienced before and above the stadium shone a solitary bright,
glistening star and it felt like the star was Mark looking down on the
occasion. That night we beat Sunderland in emphatic style, winning 6-1, in one
of the best displays that has graced Villa Park
in many a year and it felt very much like it was a performance and a night for
Mark; it was just meant to be. My overriding and dominant thought that evening
was that I had wished that Mark could have seen the game and I fully expected
that he would no longer be with us by that point. But little did any of us know
that miraculously Mark had not only survived the night but that he had even
managed to watch the game with Graham; I learnt this the following morning at
breakfast and couldn’t hold back what were paradoxically tears of joy that Mark
had seen the game but laced with tears of deep sadness.
Again on the Tuesday and Wednesday of
that week I was waiting for news of Mark but being the lionhearted battler that
he was he was still clinging on. I was unable to cope with going to work but
equally I did not know what to do with myself and I felt very isolated and
alone, even when in the company of other people. On the Thursday I decided to
see if I could face work but after being in the office for a short while I had
a very strong sense that I should travel to the hospital, so that is exactly
what I did. On arrival I sat in the canteen, as I did know what else to do, and
it did not feel in order to go to Mark’s room on the ward as I had said my
farewell on Sunday. However, after a while Graham spotted me and invited me to
go and see his son stating that Mark's friend Nigel Round, was also present.
Having thought that I would never see my dear friend again I spent what felt
like a magical hour or so with him and Nigel was delighted that he got to see
Mark as he was in America the previous Sunday. I left the hospital that day
feeling elated almost, serene and peaceful and eternally grateful for the
additional time with Mark.
The days passed and not only did Mark
stay alive but he actually started to get better and free of the poisoning
arsenic his kidneys began to work again and he started to pass water. Every
time I visited Mark he seemed to be a little bit better than the previous visit
but I was not prepared for the astonishing sight that I saw on 5th
May, the day of his son Harvey Harvey
Graham said that Mark had even drunk a
piña colada at the birthday meal. I explained to Graham the reasoning behind
Mark’s choice of drink: when we were on Newty’s stag do in York
Given his stable state it was decided to
move Mark to the more pleasant surroundings of Mary Stevens Hospice in
Oldswinford, the place where I was born when it was a maternity hospital. Mark
expressed his desire to me to attend Aston Villa’s last home game on the Saturday,
11th May, Vs Chelsea. Mark was Chairman of Kingswinford Lions
supporters club, which he had invested a lot of time and effort into to make a
success, so I called Alan Perrins, who is head of the Lions Clubs at Villa Park , to see if arrangements could be made for Mark
to be present at the game in his wheelchair. Alan was magnificent and not only
did he fix it for Mark and Graham to watch the match from a box, with free
complimentary meal, but also he suggested Mark present Brad Guzan with the player
of the season award on the pitch before the game. I explained that Mark would
not be able to participate in the player of the season award due to his weak
condition but I suggested that Mark and Kate’s children, Harvey and Niall,
could present the award and Alan liked the idea and we decided to keep the
presentation a secret from Mark.
On the day of the match all went
according to plan and the main thing was that Mark was well enough to attend
and the presentation went well, the boys were thrilled to meet one of their
heroes and Mark proudly looked on seeing his lads on the Villa
Park pitch. It was a very special day, especially as I never
imagined in my wildest dreams that Mark would be able to go to the famous old
stadium again, one of his favourite places.
Even though Mark was resident at the
hospice he certainly was not confined to its walls and thankfully he was able
at times to spend time watching his boys play sports and spend valuable time
with his wife Kate. One day, on a Monday, Graham sent me a message that they
would be in the Forrester’s pub in Wollaston that evening if I cared to join
them. I didn’t, of course, need any second invitation and I went up there along
with Mark and I's mutual friends Tony Parks and Newty and many people were there
in addition to Mark, Graham, Kate and Lesley. Mark’s improvement seemed almost
miraculous and he sat and chatted, walked to and fro the toilet unaided, and
even drank three pints.
That night Mark talked of possible
treatments and medical options and at that stage it seemed possible that the
unthinkable might happen and that he may recover and continue to live with some
quality of life; this hope was further strengthened a few days later when a
deliriously happy Graham called me to explained that preliminary results from a
bone marrow test had revealed that no leukemic cells were present in Mark’s
blood, so it seemed that the small amount of arsenic treatment that Mark had
been able to have had done the trick. Highly unusually, Mark was even
discharged from the hospice and returned home for a spell.
After the elation of Mark’s bone marrow
result, the reality of his situation dawned again as his health fluctuated for
a while thereafter and eventually he was admitted back into the cardio unit of
Russell’s Hall hospital because of escalating obstacles in relation to his
heart and kidneys. About a fortnight ago the situation took a significant turn
for the worse and Graham and Lesley were called back from a short trip to Greece London
But I should know my stoical and
determined friend better. On the football field Mark never gave less than
everything, he battled as hard as he could and fought resiliently always for
the team and he always carried these immense qualities with him in his life. On
my next visit to Mark I found him very thin, as he was substantially unable to
eat, but he was bright, animated and he had the trademark Rutter glint in his
eye and we spend a couple of invaluable hours laughing and chatting; it was a
priceless time for me. The highlight of the visit though was unquestionably
when Harvey walked into the room and seeing his
father in a much more lively condition Harvey
The following day, Saturday 29th
June, saw the occasion of Mark's 40th birthday, which was a day I am
sure most people, including me, thought that he would not see. Mark proved
again that we should not underestimate his fighting qualities and his ability
to endure what is beyond the abilities of most other people. I visited Mark in
the morning and he was in a pretty jubilant mood, especially as the doctors had
agreed to him leaving the hospital for the afternoon to go to Graham's house
for a barbecue with his family. I didn't know what to get Mark for his birthday
given the circumstances, but when I found my camera that I had mislaid months
before it presented to me an idea for an his gift. I had taken a photograph of
Mark and Aston Villa hero Peter McParland (who scored both of Villa's goals
when we last won the FA Cup in 1957) at Villa Park
many months ago but when I lost the camera I had forgotten about the picture
and Mark had never seen it. It is a wonderful photograph as for some reason
that day Mark was wearing very smart clothing and the picture captured his
enigmatic, radiant smile. I framed the photograph and presented it to Mark and
I hope his family will look on it as a memento of him in happy times in years
to come.
On the Thursday after Mark's birthday,
on arriving in Mark's ward at the hospital I was greeted by a cheerful Kate
with the gratifying news that once Mark's prescribed medication arrived he was
free to return home. Kate had met with the palliative care specialists earlier
in the week who had provided Mark with a hospital bed and other useful
equipment for his home and after such a lengthy spell of inhabiting and
tolerating hospitals and hospices, Mark simply wanted to go home. I helped Kate
take Mark back home and he was overjoyed just to sit in comfort on his own sofa
in his living room. “Can you hear that?” I asked Mark. “What?” he replied. I
explained that all I could hear was beautiful bird song but other than that it
was silent, which was a pleasantly welcome change for Mark and Kate from the
clatter and noise of a busy hospital ward. I chatted with Mark for a while but
he was very tired and sleepy, so I hugged him and bid my farewell and said I
would see him soon. Although I did not know it then, it was the last time I
would see my wonderful friend. Although I wished that I had seen him again, on
reflection it was not a bad way to leave Mark as I left him lying back on his
soft settee, relaxed, tranquil and at peace.
During the following weekend as Mark was
in his own home, I thought it best to leave him alone to enjoy some quality
family time with Kate, Harvey and Niall, though I was in contact with Kate who
said that Mark was having difficulties with his kidneys again. On the Monday
Kate contacted me with the disappointing and distressing news that Mark had fallen
from his bed in the early hours on Sunday night and although he had not broken
any bones the fall had further damaged his already weakened body so once more
he was confined to the hospital. Kate continued that she had contacted the
hospice who had a spare bed, so the plan was to transfer Mark there the
following day, so I decided that I would call in on him on the Tuesday evening.
Tragically, Mark never made it to the
hospice. I received a call early on Tuesday morning from Lesley, Graham's wife,
passing on to me the bitterly heartbreaking news that Mark had died very early
on Tuesday morning with his close family around him after he had deteriorated
during the night. Apparently, Mark was not in pain and he was asleep and he
peacefully and serenely slipped quietly away.
© Dominic Horton, July, 2013.
