The day my daughter died

Jean Murphy tells Jes Salter of the day her world fell apart when her 15 year old daughter Kayleigh Macilwraith-Christie died after a series of ambulance blunders, leaving her without life-saving treatment.

Kayleigh had epilepsy since she was small. I was always scared for her – I sent her to a school where all the kids have some illness. We never went too far in case something happened. I had that fear in me but she never let it hold her back. She did a lot in her little life.
She was a lovely singer. She used to sing Whitney Houston to a T and that Titanic song, she was always singing that. I’ve got her on tape, larking about up in her room. It hurts when those songs come on the radio. But her favourite thing was volunteering at the adventure playground nearby helping kids, pushing them on the swings, drawing pictures for them - that kind of thing.
On July 14 last year she’d come in from the playground, gone to the toilet, grabbed me and said “Mum, I think I’m going”. She slid down me and started fitting in the hall. Her little body was jerking around my ankles – trying to fold up on itself - and I was trying to hold her under the arms. It was terrifying to watch. I had to shout for my partner Martin to help because she was heavy, just a dead weight.
I called for an ambulance at 6.50pm - I knew she needed an injection of diazepam. The station is within spitting distance of our house but after nine minutes I called again. At 7.05pm a medical technician arrived but he wasn’t qualified to give the drugs. He called the base again but their system was down. He kept phoning - he could see that I was in a panic. We were both standing there, we couldn’t do anything. He was in a state, poor man.
It turned out the ambulance had come across an accident and stopped, then the switchboard got the wrong switch and downgraded Kayleigh’s situation to a non-emergency. They didn’t even know which ambulances had a paramedic on board. I’d always thought paramedics were on all ambulances – now I’ve learnt they’re not.
About 7.30pm the technician sent me outside to see where the ambulance was. Even though it had sat nav, I saw them turn in the wrong estate and I had to run and get it. I was out there for about half an hour while my daughter was dying. At 8.30pm she died. I can’t play god and say she would’ve lived, but they definitely ruined her chances.
The cars the technicians go round in were actually issued for paramedics, so why are technicians in them? Why do they have to come out to assess the situation? I’d already assessed the situation. I speak English. He understood what I was saying. It’s disgusting.
My doctor says I’ve shut off half my brain to deal with the grief because I can’t cope with the full whack. I’ve developed this twitch in my eye and jaw when I think about her. I get panic attacks if I hear a siren, so I hardly go out. If I go down Holloway Road the sirens rebound all round you. It’s disorientating.
My friend Michelle came over to support me. I couldn’t cook for a long time. I couldn’t not dish up for Kayleigh. I know that sounds silly but I kept seeing her plate out on the side. I’ve thrown it out now. It’s only in the last few weeks I’ve started cooking again.
We used to go shopping together. Her wardrobe is stuffed full of clothes, all hung up and I iron them. I can’t bear to get rid of them. Eventually I’ll give them to a charity shop, but not one round here. I’ve crammed her room full of pictures and certificates but she wouldn’t like me messing with it.
She was never one for photographs. She had a brace and she’d always cover up her face or look away and in the end I gave up. Now I’ve put pictures everywhere you look. I’m scared I’ll forget what she looks like.
I was taught that if you’re not baptised you won’t get in the pearly gates so I had Kayleigh baptised, she was given her last rites and her ashes were blessed. I did everything just in case. You don’t know if it’s true, but I had to make sure. I want to believe there’s an afterlife – I can’t think that I’ll never talk to her again.
I had her cremated. We’d booked a holiday to Spain and she was looking forward to it. After she died my first thought was, “No I won’t go”. But then I thought, “She wanted to go, so I’ll take her”. I sprinkled some of her ashes in the sea so she could have her last swim. I sprinkled some over my mum’s grave and I’ve got some of her ashes here as well. She’s everywhere now.
Michelle helped me organise a petition to get trained paramedics on all ambulances. We collected 15,500 signatures and I delivered it to 10 Downing Street on November 24 - Kayleigh’s birthday. Tony Blair sent a letter back, but it wasn’t worth the paper it was written on. They’ll talk about Jade in the blooming House of Commons but this – zilch. It’s not mentioned.
People pretend they don’t see you – I make them feel uncomfortable I suppose, but it’s not like I’m going to talk about her all the time. I just want her to come home.