'I wished my son dead in a car accident': Mum's despair as 10-year-old dies slowly of brain tumour
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A grief-stricken mum-of-four has described the pain of watching her 10-year-old son die of an inoperable cancer.
Sarah Pullen's son Silas was diagnosed with a malignant and aggressive brain tumour in August 2012.
His final two years were spent in and out of hospitals enduring intensive treatment before he died just after Christmas in 2014.
In order to both come to terms with her unbearable loss and tell the story of a brave, smiling boy, Sarah has documented her family's struggle in a heartbreaking book.
Within the moving account, she reveals her reaction when the doctor broke the news, the moment it really hit her, and little Silas' last words.
(Image: Dragan Mikki/Sarah Pullen)
(Image: Dragan Mikki/Sarah Pullen)
"There is a moment I wish my son dead," Sarah writes. "I wish for him to be killed instantly in a car crash.
"Can you imagine wishing your child dead?
"It’s not something I would ever have thought possible, not until a stranger in a crisp Italian suit and polished leather shoes tells me that my ten-year-old son is going to die in a matter of months.
"That he’ll die a tortuous and undignified death that will rob him of his personality long before his heart finally stops beating."
(Image: Dragan Mikki/Sarah Pullen)
(Image: Dragan Mikki/Sarah Pullen)
Sarah said her family's nightmare began when Silas started getting headaches.
"It’s August 2012. The sun is shining. Silas is under the weather and over a couple of days has a few headaches," Sarah writes.
"We play cricket in the garden. The shadows lengthen and we come inside. Silas walks into the kitchen. 'What do you want for supper, darling?' I ask.
"I get no reply, so I repeat the question.
"Silas mumbles a few unintelligible words - 'I, I, I...'
"I look up. 'Are you OK?' I ask. My eyes search his face.
"'I . . . I can’t think,' he says.
"What’s your name?” I ask.
"'Si . . . Si . . . Si . . . Si.' His eyes widen in surprise and confusion.
"'It’s OK,' I whisper, although I know it’s far from OK. 'Let’s go upstairs and lie down on Mummy’s bed."
(Image: Dragan Mikki/Sarah Pullen)
Doctors later explained to Sarah that Silas had a "significant mass" on his brain and was seriously ill.
Surgeons managed to remove 70% of the growth, but the rest of it was too close to his motor nerves - cutting it out would have likely paralysed him.
"A few days later we are standing in the hospital playroom, being told there is no hope and that with treatment, our son has 12 to 18 months left to live," Sarah said.
"My mind is far away in a deep, dark place. Ben and I can barely communicate. At one point I say that I am glad I have him by my side, that I don’t have the strength for this journey without him.
"Ben’s reply cuts me deep, even though I know he doesn’t mean to hurt me.
“'I wish we had never met,' he states simply, as if erasing our history together and mapping out a different life for both of us could remove his agony."
(Image: Dragan Mikki/Sarah Pullen)
(Image: Dragan Mikki/Sarah Pullen)
The family then decided to take charge of Silas' future and give the dark, frightening mass they had seen on a hospital monitor a name.
Silas picked 'Bob' and so Bob it became.
As time passed, Silas' personality began to fade. He stopped being able to walk properly and no longer sounded like himself.
But his mum said he never stopped loving his family.
"At bedtimes he constantly calls us back for kiss after kiss," Sarah writes.
"I whisper in his ear as he sleeps about how much his mummy and daddy love him. He rolls over without waking and says clearly: 'Same - I love them so, so much.'
"A few days into the Christmas holidays we put the tree up and start to decorate it. Silas sits on the sofa.
"He doesn’t engage.
"Standing on the top of a ladder, putting the star on the tree, I double over in agony as the realisation explodes inside me. He’s leaving us.
"The day after we put the Christmas tree up, I ring the oncologist and say we have decided to stop the chemo. He’s not surprised and agrees that it sounds like the right decision.
(Image: Dragan Mikki/Sarah Pullen)
"Silas lies in our bed before breakfast only a few days after we stop the chemo.
"'I love you, Splodge,' says Ben, kissing his cheeks. 'I really love you, Daddy,' says Silas, his eyes wandering towards the window.
"'What about Mummy?' says Ben. 'Aren’t you going to tell Mummy how much you love her?' says Ben, nodding his head in my direction.
"Silas’s eyes focus on my face lying on the pillow next to his. 'I really, really love you, Mummy.'
"'Ditto,' I say, rubbing his nose with mine. I hold my thumb and forefinger a small distance apart. 'But just a smidgen more.'
"He smiles. Those are the last words he ever speaks to us. Simple and perfect."
Sarah's story is told through exacts from her book, A Mighty Boy: A Mother's Journey Through Grief , by Sarah Pullen, published on August 17 by Unbound.
All of Sarah's proceeds from the book will be donated to The Brain Tumour Charity .
The family also set up a fund after Silas' death.