1 hour ago
5 
Grabbing my younger sister’s lifeless hand, a lump caught in my throat.
‘I’m so sorry,’ the doctor whispered. ‘But she’s not going to make it.’
It was May 2022 and, less than 24 hours earlier, Zoe – a second-year politics student at Anglia Ruskin University in Cambridge – had gone clubbing with some friends in the city centre.
The night, as I understand it, had been pretty standard, filled with dancing and drinking. But then Zoe had collapsed in the toilets.
She was found unconscious in a cubicle by nightclub security, who called the emergency services. The paramedics got her to the hospital, then the police blue-lit my mum and dad from their home in Ipswich to be by her side in the early hours of the morning.
Zoe had gone into cardiac arrest after suffering a massive asthma attack. And she would never recover.
Zoe was four years younger than me and we couldn’t have been more different. While I was calm and quiet, she was emotional, exuberant and felt everyone’s hurt as if it was her own – she couldn’t stand unfairness or suffering, even as a child.
And yet, we had an incredible bond.
I always used to say we were ‘sisters who are also best friends’, which I thought was cute but she thought was cringey because she was younger and infinitely cooler than me.
We loved time together, going to the cinema, going out for lunch, wandering around art galleries but also just being at home. I loved her company; she made me a funnier, happier, more carefree version of myself.
I suppose part of the reason we were so close was because of her asthma. I’d never had it myself, but seeing my sister fight for each breath, hearing her wheeze every time she picked up a virus or a cold made me extra protective.
At times it could be scary, especially when, as a teenager, she was hospitalised twice as a result of serious asthma attacks. I was so scared that there was a possibility she would die. I didn’t think I would cope without her in my life.
That’s why it had been a relief to see that, in the last few years of her life, her asthma had not only stabilised, but had practically disappeared. Or so we’d thought.
When Mum called me to explain what had happened, her voice was shaking. She could barely get the words out, each one tripping over the next, but I just about made out what she said.
‘Not responsive,’ she’d mumbled. ‘Didn’t have her inhaler.’
I dropped everything and raced to Zoe’s side but it was too late.
My feisty, fervent sister, who had dreams of going to Edinburgh to study investigative journalism and of being prime minister one day, would never regain consciousness. She was gone.
Following her wishes to be an organ donor, we said goodbye to her the next day – it was the hardest thing I’ve had to do and a shadow of disbelief and the deepest sorrow shrouded us all.
She was only 20. How could this be happening?
Those next few weeks were a blur but I do remember that her funeral was the perfect send off, albeit too soon.
We played songs from her favourite band, Fleetwood Mac, and everyone wore bright colours too. Those flamboyant shades of purples, pinks and reds were Zoe to a tee: loud, proud, and exuberant.
In the weeks and months that followed, my misery and fury flared: Why hadn’t Zoe looked after her asthma? How could she have been so careless when she knew she was vulnerable?
I knew it was partly the grief talking, but as a nurse, I just couldn’t understand it.
Eventually though, that anger soon softened into empathy and I told myself that, if her asthma hadn’t been bothering her, I could see why it had fallen from her mind.
Still, I couldn’t help wondering if her death could have been preventable.
It’s now been three and a half years since we lost Zoe and a lot has changed – I now have a beautiful daughter, Nadia, and she reminds me so much of Zoe. Just like her aunt, my girl never stops talking.
The one thing that hasn’t changed though is our lack of answers. We’ll never know what triggered her fatal attack, or whether she’d have survived if she’d had her inhaler with her that night.
However, as a family, we’re determined not to let another young person lose their life like Zoe. It’s why we’re working with the charity Asthma + Lung UK to raise awareness of the importance of proper asthma care.
According to the charity, the chances of a young person having an asthma attack triples between the end of summer and autumn with students at greater risk due to the increased exposure to triggers like viruses, vapour, smoke, and alcohol.
That’s why it’s so important for students, especially first year Freshers, to take extra care. Tell your housemates, make sure you have an asthma action plan and get your inhalers checked.
Zoe’s friends didn’t even realise she had asthma and might not have known what to do even if her condition hadn’t deteriorated as quickly as it did. It’s important to be open about asthma and to know what to do if you have a friend or flatmate with a diagnosis.
I’d also urge anyone leaving home for the first time to register with a local GP. That way, if you have a medical issue, you can get seen quickly.
Being prepared doesn’t cost much – and it might just save someone’s life.
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