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breathlessness, weight loss and lethargy.
'On 28 November, 1992, Chris died peacefully in the Royal Children's Hospital, as much in
control of his death as he had been in control of all aspects of his life.
'Some of the things he said to me in the last month of his life will remain with me forever. On one
occasion, I explained to him that it was OK to express your feelings, and to cry sometimes. He
said: "I'll never cry because I'm in pain. I've learnt with swimming to push through the pain
barrier." I asked: "What if you feel emotionally upset about something?" He replied: "I might cry
then."
'When he was confined to bed, I asked if he felt angry, bitter or frustrated. His response was
that he felt "just numb... and frustrated," adding - "I feel useless. This isn't living!"
'And indeed, it was nothing like life as he knew it. He never expressed to us that he might be
dying. Probably to insulate us from the pain of such a thought, or maybe as a denial that death
had anything to do with 16-year-olds. The expectation was always of improvement - perhaps
the best way of coping.
'Although he was never demonstrably affectionate as a teen-ager, just before he died he held his
emaciated arms up to his mother and grandmother from his hospital bed and said: "I want to
give you two a cuddle. I love you two. I wish I could cuddle you tighter, but I haven't got any
strength in my arms."
He remarked how comfortable he felt that morning, and his mother saw that his breathing,
though shallow, seemed more easy, and that he was at ease with himself. When the nurses came
to evacuate the fluid from his lungs, with the enevitable ensuing trauma and torment for Chris, his
mother told them to go away.
'I arrived a little later, 20 minutes before he lasped into unconsciousness for the last time. He
was in a coma for the last one and a half hours. He just softly fell asleep and never woke up
again.
'To persist in asking ourselves why he had to die so young, with so much to offer, is to get
ourselves into a maze from which there is no escape. Better to celebrate the good times and get
on with our lives the way he would have us live them - to the full. But it's not always possible to
live your life to the full when part of it will always be empty.
'We will never know what might have been for this great kid. But we can learn from his adopted
Reebok motto and succinctly appropriate epithet - Life is short. Play hard:
Six weeks before he died, in October 1992, Chris was presented at a Lions Club dinner in
Healesville with their Citizen of the Year award. In
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accepting it, and wearing a cap to conceal his baldness, Chris said: 'The last 18 months have
been a bit tough. But I guess if I keep plugging away I'll get there.'
Less than a week before he died on Saturday, 28 November, he joined in the Thanksgiving
lunch in the family home. A video was taken of the occasion: Chris looks thin and pale and
wears a cap. He seems like a ghost amid the noise and jokes and apparent jollity all around him.
He says little, but he smiles.
Many were the tributes and messages of sympathy that appeared in the newspapers after his
death. His family contributed this verse:
'With tears we saw you suffer,
And watched you fade away;
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