A real big hug bear, so family and friends know Hennie van Uden from Son en Breugel. Always helpful, cheerful and loved in the village. On August 17, 2009 he died of a double pulmonary embolism, the result of a neglected blister on his foot. “He lives on in everything we do. For us he always remains that warm, caring brother, son and uncle.”
As children, Carola and Hennie, just like many brothers and sisters, could sometimes clash. “One moment it went very well, the next we couldn’t go through one door,” says Carola. But that changed when she left home at the age of nineteen. “From that moment we were two hands on one stomach. We went shopping together, to the riding school or just driving around in the car. We were always together.”
Hennie had a heart of gold and was always ready for others. “He was also crazy about my children, they were his eyeballs. He did everything for them. The only one he could have thought more often? That was himself.”
Hennie worked in a concrete factory at that time. He received new work shoes from his employer, but they provided a big blister under his foot. Going to the doctor, he just didn’t do it. “He had white aprons syndrome, an extreme fear of everything that had to do with doctors and hospitals.”
Hennie suddenly became very sick during a family day. “He was sweating and had a very high fever.” Their mother went to the doctor with him. “He was 42 years old, but he really didn’t dare. That shows how scared he was.”
“Hennie did not want to be a burden to us.”
In the hospital, the doctors discovered that Hennie has diabetes and that the blister was seriously infected. “He had to be under the knife immediately. Two toes were amputated and he received heavy antibiotics. He also ended up in Intensive Care with blood poisoning. He was still there for four days.”
Because the bacterium had to go out, the wound was not allowed to be closed. Hennie got blood thinners every day and his foot was connected to a vacuum pump that sucked the wound clean all day. After almost a week and a half he was allowed to go home.
Hennie has probably been walking around with the wound under his foot for almost five months. “He didn’t want to be a burden to us. Even in the weeks that we had to take care of him, he had difficulty with that.” And that at home? That was hard for him. “Hennie was a real doer, not a home chair.”
After the resignation from the hospital it went better with Hennie. But after the blood thinners were stopped, he got a double pulmonary embolism. On August 17, 2009 it went completely wrong. “He got serious anxiety complaints at home.” I don’t get a breath, “he still cried against our mom while she was calling 112.”
“Hennie died before my mother’s eyes. Our world collapsed. He was a good boy, with a heart full of love,” says his sister. Hennie was 42 years old.
“He was my buddy through thick and thin.”
Sixteen years after his death, Hennie is still a fixed presence in the family. His photo is in the living room and his name falls daily. “His death came as a thunderbolt in clear sky,” Carola looks back. “And still I miss him every hour, every minute, every second. He was my buddy through thick and thin.”
She learned from her brother to worry less. “He always said: everything will be fine. I took it from him.” To keep cherishing that life lesson, she had Yolo (you only live once) tattooed on her collarbone. “That way I always carry his words with me, wherever I go.”
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