Even at the age of five, Holly Morris had star quality. She was every inch the petite fashion icon in her carefully-chosen outfits. She may have been a bit small for her age, but her big personality more than compensated.
And she could shop for Ireland. With her flair for bright colours and extrovert fabrics, she might have grown up to become a flamboyant and successful fashion designer.
“She was my little girl, my pal, my shopping companion,” says Marie Morris, with the visible glow of a proud mother. “No matter where I look in the house, there is always a bit of her here.”
But in January, 2003, Holly, who was then aged six, started to feel unwell and noticeably lose weight. “She didn’t complain at all,” says Marie. “She never was a complainer, even later own when she must have suffered terribly. But I just knew something was not right. I suppose it was a mother’s instinct.”
Holly was taken to the GP, who referred her to a paediatrician at Our Lady’s Children’s Hospital, Crumlin. After a dreadful weekend as Marie and Martin, Holly’s dad, waited for results, she was diagnosed with neuroblastoma, a rare and particularly aggressive from of cancer which affects very young children. The devastated Morris family was told that she would have to undergo a severe programme of radiation and chemotherapy to reduce the stage-four tumour. At best, she had a 25-per-cent chance of a full recovery.
“We were immediately assigned a liaison nurse and social worker who gave us a children’s book called Lucy Has a Tumour,” says Marie. The book said clearly in a child’s language what Holly was about to face: an intense period of chemotherapy, hospital visits, blood transfusions and the certainty that she would lose all her hair. “She had a Hickman line into her chest, which administered all her medication intravenously,” says Marie, with the pain of such memories visible on her face. “Family and friends rallied around and were so supportive,” she continues, “and my mother moved into our house to help try to keep things as normal as possible.” But it was a terribly time for everyone, they had to witness Holly suffer numerous blood transfusions as the chemotherapy blasted her tiny body.
The doctors at Our Lady’s Hospital were encouraged when, by September, the treatment had worked very well and the tumour was so significantly reduced in size that they felt confident enough to perform surgery to remove it. Holly endured four hours in theatre and two days in intensive care, followed a month later by a bone-marrow transplant which reintroduced her own previously stored stem cells into her body. With most of the tumour removed, she had shown astonishing physical resilience but, with no ability to fight infection, she was confined to her house for a nine-month period of lonely isolation. During that time, the only outsider who was allowed to visit was her teacher, Deirdre Hickey, who called by every day for home tuition.
“The first thing she really missed in hospital was her maths book,” recalls Marie. “It really broke her heart not to be able to go to school. School represented normality to her.”
But Holly was making excellent progress and, by July 2004, for the first time in 15 months, she was taken off all her medication. “Her hair grew back, all thick and curly, whereas before it had been totally straight,” says Marie with a smile. “Holly was doing well and things seemed to be getting back to normal.”
But in December, while giving her daughter a bath, Marie noticed that one of her legs was very swollen. After an ultrasound at Crumlin Hospital, they discovered that the tumour was back.
“This was the worst possible news,” says Marie. “There is a limit to how much chemotherapy anybody can bear, least of all a little child. And we had used up all the radiotherapy options as well, back in January 2004.”
The Morris family, bracing themselves for the reality that time was running out for her precious little daughter, decided to do all the things that they had put off during Holly’s prolonged periods of chemotherapy and isolation. They were put in touch with the Make a Wish Foundation, an organisation whose primary purpose is to provice a dream-come-true event for terminally-ill children. When Holly made her wish to go to Disneyworld in the USA, the foundation provided the family with return airline tickets, accommodation and entry to all of the theme parks for the entire week of their stay. But with a limited amount of time at their side, the doctors advised the family to go soon.
After they returned from Florida, the family remained adamant that Holly would continue to live each precious day to the full. She made her Communion with the rest of her class at school and fulfilled her dream to be a flower girl at her uncle’s wedding, even though by then she was terribly weak. But as the tumour grew, it became necessary to put her on morphine and, with the gradually increasing doses, she became less capable of functioning. Finally, after two years of courage and dignity that amazed her doctors, Holly lost her battle. She died at home in her own bedroom on August 4, 2005. She was eight years old.
Almost a year later, Holly’s bedroom at home in south Dublin is just as she left it. Her brightly-coloured bedspread is still covered with her menagerie of cuddly toys, all competing for the best position on the pillow to watch the bright pink TV mounted on the wall. It’s as though she is out playing in the garden with her big brother Andrew and little sister Delphi. “But it’s not a shrine, it’s not unhealthy,” says Marie. “It’s just the way it always was, and that’s how it will stay for the foreseeable future.”
Some time after Holly passed away, a friend came by to visit Marie and Martin with a very special present. Inside the narrow tube was a document specifically pinpointing a far off star in the Phoenix Constellation. With its coordinates 23:27:04.142 it had been registered with the British Library and was to be known forever by its new name: Holly’s Star.
Marie and Martin were deeply moved. In her short life, Holly had suffered so much but she had also touched so many and had never given up hope. It seemed entirely appropriate that Holly, with her radiant spirit and strength of character, should be remembered as a star, a celestial light shining brightly for ever in the firmament.
Marie, Martin, Andrew and Delphi want to say a huge thank you to the medical team at Our Lady’s Children’s Hospital for looking after Holly with such expertise, humour and care. To make a donation to Children’s Cancer Research at Our Lady’s Children’s Hospital: tel: (1890) 507508 or see www.cmrf.org