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Culture Documents
T his is the true story of two boys who never met, but
who are bound together in the most astonishing
way. Marc was t and fast, a star player in his local
football team. Strong and brave but shy and gentle, he
had a sharp face, sandy hair and striking green eyes.
Martin was big, bright and breezy, a loving lad who
was always up for a laugh, with a mop of brown hair
and a friendly face that made everyone smile. Their
names were alike and they were more or less the same
age, either side of a sixteenth birthday, but they lived
hundreds of miles apart in Scotland and England and
never even knew each other existed. Then, one
summer, they both fell down. Just like that, without
warning, they were taken seriously ill at the same time.
Thats where we begin. One of these boys will die. And
without ever knowing it, he will save the others life.
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MARC
over his face and then Linda knew she just knew, in
her shock and horror that this was as serious as it
could be.
My poor wee man is dying away
loved being a mum, and thank God for that she says
with a laugh. Id been pregnant for the whole of the
Eighties!
The family name is McCay, to rhyme with hay. She
was no longer married to Norrie, the father of her
children a sharp, funny guy who worked as a roofer
but Linda still used his name and he was still in all
their lives. Together or apart, divorced or not, we
were good parents.
Linda worked four nights a week as a nursing assis-
tant at the Royal Alexandra Hospital in Paisley, a few
miles from Johnstone. She relied on her mother and
daughter for help with the young ones. We all hung
out together, we were still a close family. The boys
supported Rangers, the proud old Glasgow club. Ryan,
the second eldest lad, was a professional footballer
heading for the Scottish Premier League and Marc
wanted to get there too, so he played the game any
time he could: at school, on the eld, at midweek train-
ing, in the league on Saturday when the scouts from
the big clubs were watching, at the park with his mates
on Sunday, anywhere. Kicking and running, shooting
and scoring. Banging them in. He was strong and fast
up front the top scorer in his team a t lad with a
good pair of shoulders and a sharp face under his
fringe of sandy hair. He could have made it, says Linda.
A lot of people said Marc was a better footballer than
for more expert help. Linda went all the way to the
door of the ambulance with her son, who was uncon-
scious on the trolley as the medics lifted him in. There
was not enough room for her with all the equipment
Marc needed, they were very sorry. She felt a terrible
aching and a longing as she watched the white and
yellow ambulance leave the hospital that Wednesday
evening, 20 August 2003, with the blue light ashing
and the siren telling everyone to get out of the way.
Her boy was being taken away, beyond her
outstretched arms. How could she hold him close and
safe now?
MARTIN
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MARC
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Marcs heart was ill and swollen and could beat only
weakly so the blood was not getting around his body
properly. His organs were being starved of the oxygen
they needed and they were failing his liver was
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through the needle, into the artery and all the way up
his body against the ow of blood, into his chest. Gas
was used to inate and deate a six-inch-long balloon
on the end of the pipe so that it rose and fell inside the
aorta the main artery of the body with a natural
rhythm to match that of the heart, allowing the
inamed and weary muscle to rest and recover its
strength. Amazing but it wasnt enough.
Marcs heart was too damaged and weak for the
balloon to help much, so they tried a more advanced
piece of kit that was new to the Royal Inrmary: a
device that sucked blood out of the body, gave it
oxygen and pumped it back in a bedside mechanical
stand-in for the heart and lungs. This was cutting-
edge technology that made the television news that
evening: For the rst time ever in Scotland, a mechan-
ical assist has been used to keep a patients heart
going. And it was a fantastic success at rst. The
monitors that had been so quiet as Marc lay there,
barely functioning, now bleeped and ashed as his
body found new strength.
Norrie, Marcs father, who was a roofer in his forties
at the time, remembers what he said when he saw the
screens behind Marc come to life: Wow, this is us
sorted. Its like the Blackpool Illuminations in here!
Linda was in the room with him and she was just as
thrilled. She grabbed hold of her ex-husband and
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MARTIN
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