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Author Topic: Mark Rutter (rutski) - Charity donations  (Read 37923 times)

Online dave shelley

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Re: Mark Rutter - Rutski
« Reply #90 on: July 12, 2013, 01:40:33 PM »
Lovely tribute Dom, thank you for sharing and stay strong.

Offline Chris Jameson

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Re: Mark Rutter - Rutski
« Reply #91 on: July 12, 2013, 01:44:18 PM »
Dom, I can only echo what Mr Cooper said, you've done your mate proud there. Never met Mark but he was a familiar name on here, really sorry for your loss and hope he gets a good send off.

Offline Rudy Can't Fail

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Re: Mark Rutter - Rutski
« Reply #92 on: July 12, 2013, 02:51:45 PM »
Wow, Dom, that is some tribute. Thanks so much for sharing and once again, sincere condolences to his family and friends.

Offline richard moore

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Re: Mark Rutter - Rutski
« Reply #93 on: July 12, 2013, 03:11:30 PM »
What a beautiful piece of writing, I had tears in my eyes - I can't ever imagine anyone writing that about me. It was very moving indeed
 
Trust Chelsea to fucking spoil things as ever

Offline Dave Javu

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Re: Mark Rutter - Rutski
« Reply #94 on: July 12, 2013, 03:17:58 PM »
Thanks, Dom. I agree, that's a beautiful and moving tribute. You're obviously a true friend.

Online Brend'Watkins

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Re: Mark Rutter - Rutski
« Reply #95 on: July 12, 2013, 03:43:20 PM »
Thanks for sharing the moment Dom.  It is a lovely moving tribute to your last days with a wonderful friend. Mark sounds like he was a really good bloke, you do too.

Offline Dom

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Re: Mark Rutter - Rutski
« Reply #96 on: July 12, 2013, 04:21:24 PM »
 Many thanks, it is greatly appreciated – it was a difficult but worthwhile piece to write.

Yes, the club do a lot of good work and in this case I can’t speak highly enough of what Alan and the club did for Mark, it really was tremendous.

Online SteveN

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Re: Mark Rutter - Rutski
« Reply #97 on: July 12, 2013, 04:27:50 PM »
Dom - that brought a tear to me eye.  Both you, Mark's family and friends stay strong together.

Offline PeterWithe

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Re: Mark Rutter - Rutski
« Reply #98 on: July 12, 2013, 08:27:43 PM »
Could the piece be cut and pasted into here please?

Offline Legion

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Re: Mark Rutter - Rutski
« Reply #99 on: July 12, 2013, 08:28:50 PM »
Quote
Fast Eddie's Last Stand

One of my dearest, closest and most cherished friends, Mark Rutter (Lowlife's the Imp), tragically departed this Earth today. Mark had bravely and stoically overcome the ravages and indignities of leukaemia twice in his short life but the unwelcome condition cruelly returned three months ago and this time the illness and the affect it had on Mark's already weakened heart and kidneys, simply proved too much. It goes without saying that my heart and sincere and deep felt condolences go out to his wonderful wife Kate, his lovely boys Harvey and Niall, his father Graham and his wife Lesley and Mark's sister Helen, more warm and loving people you could not wish to meet. The strength and dignity that all of Mark's family have shown throughout his illness has been simply incredible, it has been an inspiration to us all.

As you can probably tell by the opening paragraph above, Lowlife this week is through necessity not going to be the usual jocular romp but an altogether more sobering experience. I make no apologies. I had already written this edition of Lowlife (entitled the Pirate-less Pensax) about our annual visit to Pensax beer festival, but that will have to wait until next week at least in the sad circumstances.

I met Mark many years ago when we were both young footballers playing for Enville Athletic FC and I met Steve Newton (known to all as Newty) and Carl "Tater" Taylor around the same time and we have all remained close friends ever since. At that time Mark was more of a nightclub dwelling, fashion conscious type, whereas Newty, Tater and I were more pint of bitter, bar-room banter merchants but we slowly ground Mark down over the years and brought him round to our way of thinking. We must have done a good job on him as he became a regular and extremely popular patron of his local, the Park Lane Tavern, therein after.

Everyone in the Tavern knew and liked, and loved even, Mark. This is for two principal reasons. Firstly, Mark made everyone laugh and smile and if you asked people who knew him to describe him the word “cheeky”will invariably pop up; he had a gift of being able to take the mickey out of people and humour them but in a very endearing way without ever pushing the boundaries too far (except for a couple of exceptions which were confined to football dressing rooms and of course all is fair in love, war and sports changing rooms.) Secondly, Mark was an archetypal people person, he was like an octopus that spread his long tentacles far and wide and he made such a positive impression on people who only met him briefly that they would always ask about his welfare thereafter. If you put Mark in a room full of 50 strangers he would know them all within a short space of time, that was what he was like, sociable, effervescent, vivacious, interesting and interested in others always.

It is very odd to be writing about my friend in the past tense, as it has still not sank in that I will never see his cheeky grin again and it will most probably not sink in for quite a while, which I know is the way many people feel when they have lost a loved one. Even in the short space of time since his death I have thought to myself a couple of times that I will tell Mark this or that next time I see him, but of course that will not come to pass.

Over our years of friendship Mark and I grew closer and we found increasingly that we were able to talk to each other about the experiences and emotions that life throws up and in that respect Mark was an invaluable confidant to me as I hope I was to him. Us men of course are great at trivial and humorous bar room talk but we are a poor second to women when it comes to sharing our feelings, so although I will miss Mark terribly for many reasons, more than anything I will miss the intimacy and closeness that we shared as true friends. It will take some getting over the fact that I will never be able to talk with him again.

When Mark went into hospital three odd months ago when I visited he would always say (thinking of others as always) that I didn't need to visit so much that I must have better things to do. I would reply that I was there as I wanted to be there, because I loved his company, whether that be in the pub, on the terraces at Aston Villa or in a hospital room, it didn't matter to me, sharing time together was the most important thing, which of course is a large part of what friendship is all about.

Increasingly over the last year or so Mark's health, strength and fitness waned and he finally took the very difficult decision to discontinue his business as a builder, a partnership he had grown with his dad Graham, which had an impeccable reputation and very high standards. I knew what a demoralising effect this would most likely have on Mark, especially as all men tend to think of themselves as breadwinners with a primary responsibility to look after their families, so for Mark not being able work in his normal profession it was bound to have a profound and detrimental psychological effect on him. I stayed in close contact with Mark around this time knowing my support would be appreciated and needed and indeed it was.

Over a period of months different theories and diagnoses were put forward for Mark's increasing difficulties and one by one each of these were ruled out after what seems like endless tests and appointments with specialists. Eventually and inevitably the “L” word was mentioned and Mark was tested for the dreaded blood cancer again and it was a bitter, awful blow when the result came back positive; the collective sound of Mark's family and friends' hearts sinking must have been heard all over England. Not leukaemia, please no, anything but that f*cking horrid, atrocious leukaemia, that Mark has seen off twice before. Mark knew that he could have no more radiotherapy treatment, so I assumed that the hospital would not be able to successfully eradicate the leukemic cells in Mark’s blood.

Shortly after Mark’s diagnosis Aston Villa played Liverpool and I met Mark at Villa Park as usual together with our respective children and other friends. I didn’t know quite what to say to Mark, even though we had spoken about things on the telephone the day before, so I didn’t speak at all, I simply hugged him. Shortly after I told him that I love him, which is not something I have told a friend before, but it was wholly appropriate in that moment. Mark was due to go into hospital to start his treatment in the week after that game and it struck me then that it could be the last time he attends Villa Park but like with most things Mark proved me wrong.

Although Mark could have no more radiotherapy treatment, once he had attended the initial consultation with the haematology consultant all seemed to be quite positive as it was explained to him that the condition can now be treated with arsenic, a new development since Mark last had the illness. The consultant assured Mark that the treatment would get him into remission so everybody was hopeful that Mark could once more overcome the nasty condition. However, once Mark started to have the arsenic treatment it had a progressively adverse effect on his heart and his kidneys and increasingly the doctors struggled with a fine balancing act of treating the haematology, renal and cardio difficulties that Mark had.

On the early evening of Saturday 27th April I visited Mark and I found that his wife Kate and two sons, Harvey and Niall were there together with Mark’s father Graham. It was clear the situation was not good so I offered to take Harvey and Niall to the canteen for an hour or so, so Mark could talk openly to Kate and Graham. Harvey and Niall were such pleasant company which highlighted what great parents Mark and Kate are and what a fine job they have done in bringing up their two little treasures. Later when we were alone, Mark explained to me that he was fearful that his body could take no more of the arsenic due the damaging effect it was having on his kidneys but that he had to go for dialysis the following day to see if that would help overcome the renal complications. I told Mark I would visit him the following evening after he had been through the dialysis and I departed that night at 2200 hrs but I desperately didn’t want to leave but Mark was tired and needed his rest.

During the course of the following morning, I felt an acceleration of uneasy feelings, I was not sure what was up but my antennae told me to get up the hospital immediately. When I arrived in the cardio ward I could see that Mark’s room had been completely cleared and I felt an overwhelming feeling of dread as I immediately thought that Mark had passed away in the night; my legs went to jelly, all the energy drained out of my body, my heart was going ten to the dozen and I started to sweat profusely. I composed myself and asked a nurse (who recognised me) where Mark was and the nurse took me to a private room to explain that Mark had been moved to intensive care which was not good news but I did feel relieved as I fully expected the nurse to tell me that he had died.

I cannot begin to adequately explain the emotions that I experienced for the remainder of that day in Mark’s room in intensive care. I am sure that all of Mark’s family and friends that saw him that day will tell you the same. I found Mark hooked up to forbidding looking machines, with his father Graham sitting with him. His first words to me were, “this is it buddy” meaning that he had reached the end of the line and that there were no more avenues for the doctors to explore. Mark explained that his kidneys had failed and dialysis had transpired to not be a realistic option as it would almost certainly send him into cardiac arrest. The medical staff had explained to Mark that once the life support machines are switched off he would only have a matter of hours to live. Mark quickly decided that he wanted to say goodbye to his family and close friends and to then be disconnected from the life support, so as to not prolong the agony for his wife and children and all concerned, which is one of many indications of the great strength, selflessness and thoughtfulness of the man.

Once Mark had finished explaining the position to me I hugged him and kissed him but I nearly accidentally killed him off there and then as I realised that I was treading on the wires that were supplying the life support drugs to him. Luckily he did didn’t go blue in the face and I removed my foot to the welcome sound of lightly relieving laughter. Naturally Mark talked about his concern for his children but I tried to assure him that the influence that he has had in their happy and decent upbringing will never cease and it will continue to have a positive bearing on Harvey and Niall throughout their lives and that Mark and Kate’s grounding will see both boys grow up into fine young men.

Mark’s friends and family were beckoned to the hospital, including Newty and Tater, who I telephoned and people filtered in to say their heartbreaking goodbyes to him. At one point the room was full of just Mark’s friends and fed up of the heavy, sombre atmosphere Mark said, “for lord’s sake, please just talk some sh*t!” For the following half an hour or so there was a bar room type atmosphere in the room and everyone tried their best to laugh, joke and reminisce with anecdotes from the past to lift Mark’s spirits a little. But soon the mood changed once we were informed that Mark’s little boys were to visit shortly to say their own crushing farewell to their father. It was time to say my final, tearful adios to Mark. Again I think I nearly ended Mark’s time there and then as I squeezed him so hard and I said to him what we would usually say when we parted, “Up the Villa mate” but this time it was said through stinging, tormenting tears. Like everyone else who shared a goodbye with Mark that day I left the room devastated, bereft.

On leaving the hospital Newty, Tater and I went for a doleful, down hearted pint and I went to my local, the Waggon & Horses, thereafter to, not to put too fine a point on it, get drunk. All the Waggoners showed great sympathy and humility and behind the bar the kind natured Caroline and Bill looked after me.

The following day saw a waiting game whereby I was fearful that every text or phone call was going to be the dreaded news of Mark’s demise. But no such news came so off I went to Villa Park with my son Kenny and my friends Davie B and Tim as Villa were playing Sunderland in a crunch relegation battle. Villa Park felt the right place to be in the circumstances and I shared the terrible news of Mark with other Villan friends of ours. I was determined that no-one would sit in Mark’s seat that night, despite there being a near capacity crowd but looking at Mark’s season ticket I realised I’d been unknowingly sitting in Mark’s seat all season and he in mine.

The atmosphere in Villa Park that evening really was something immensely special, it was electric, something I had not quite experienced before and above the stadium shone a solitary bright, glistening star and it felt like the star was Mark looking down on the occasion. That night we beat Sunderland in emphatic style, winning 6-1, in one of the best displays that has graced Villa Park in many a year and it felt very much like it was a performance and a night for Mark; it was just meant to be. My overriding and dominant thought that evening was that I had wished that Mark could have seen the game and I fully expected that he would no longer be with us by that point. But little did any of us know that miraculously Mark had not only survived the night but that he had even managed to watch the game with Graham; I learnt this the following morning at breakfast and couldn’t hold back what were paradoxically tears of joy that Mark had seen the game but laced with tears of deep sadness.

Again on the Tuesday and Wednesday of that week I was waiting for news of Mark but being the lionhearted battler that he was he was still clinging on. I was unable to cope with going to work but equally I did not know what to do with myself and I felt very isolated and alone, even when in the company of other people. On the Thursday I decided to see if I could face work but after being in the office for a short while I had a very strong sense that I should travel to the hospital, so that is exactly what I did. On arrival I sat in the canteen, as I did know what else to do, and it did not feel in order to go to Mark’s room on the ward as I had said my farewell on Sunday. However, after a while Graham spotted me and invited me to go and see his son stating that Mark's friend Nigel Round, was also present. Having thought that I would never see my dear friend again I spent what felt like a magical hour or so with him and Nigel was delighted that he got to see Mark as he was in America the previous Sunday. I left the hospital that day feeling elated almost, serene and peaceful and eternally grateful for the additional time with Mark.

The days passed and not only did Mark stay alive but he actually started to get better and free of the poisoning arsenic his kidneys began to work again and he started to pass water. Every time I visited Mark he seemed to be a little bit better than the previous visit but I was not prepared for the astonishing sight that I saw on 5th May, the day of his son Harvey’s birthday. I arrived at the hospital and I could not believe my eyes as I was greeted by a beaming Graham pushing a fully clothed Mark in a wheelchair back into the hospital via the main doors. In typical Rutter fashion, come hell or high water Mark was determined to get out of the hospital to celebrate Harvey’s birthday, much to the delight of his family.

Graham said that Mark had even drunk a piña colada at the birthday meal. I explained to Graham the reasoning behind Mark’s choice of drink: when we were on Newty’s stag do in York a few years before we had returned to the hotel late at night and approached the night porter for a nightcap. The night porter stood in what appeared to be a serving hatch which was a makeshift bar for residents, with the bar proper being shut given the lateness of the hour. The only drinks visible in this hatch were cans of beer and bottles of wine so in a characteristically devilish move Mark ordered three piña coladas, nudging me with his elbow , grinning, as he did so. To our great surprise the night porter replied, “coming right up” and minutes later he produced three glasses of the cocktail, which we continued to drink for the rest of the night.

Given his stable state it was decided to move Mark to the more pleasant surroundings of Mary Stevens Hospice in Oldswinford, the place where I was born when it was a maternity hospital. Mark expressed his desire to me to attend Aston Villa’s last home game on the Saturday, 11th May, Vs Chelsea. Mark was Chairman of Kingswinford Lions supporters club, which he had invested a lot of time and effort into to make a success, so I called Alan Perrins, who is head of the Lions Clubs at Villa Park, to see if arrangements could be made for Mark to be present at the game in his wheelchair. Alan was magnificent and not only did he fix it for Mark and Graham to watch the match from a box, with free complimentary meal, but also he suggested Mark present Brad Guzan with the player of the season award on the pitch before the game. I explained that Mark would not be able to participate in the player of the season award due to his weak condition but I suggested that Mark and Kate’s children, Harvey and Niall, could present the award and Alan liked the idea and we decided to keep the presentation a secret from Mark.

On the day of the match all went according to plan and the main thing was that Mark was well enough to attend and the presentation went well, the boys were thrilled to meet one of their heroes and Mark proudly looked on seeing his lads on the Villa Park pitch. It was a very special day, especially as I never imagined in my wildest dreams that Mark would be able to go to the famous old stadium again, one of his favourite places.

Even though Mark was resident at the hospice he certainly was not confined to its walls and thankfully he was able at times to spend time watching his boys play sports and spend valuable time with his wife Kate. One day, on a Monday, Graham sent me a message that they would be in the Forrester’s pub in Wollaston that evening if I cared to join them. I didn’t, of course, need any second invitation and I went up there along with Mark and I's mutual friends Tony Parks and Newty and many people were there in addition to Mark, Graham, Kate and Lesley. Mark’s improvement seemed almost miraculous and he sat and chatted, walked to and fro the toilet unaided, and even drank three pints.

That night Mark talked of possible treatments and medical options and at that stage it seemed possible that the unthinkable might happen and that he may recover and continue to live with some quality of life; this hope was further strengthened a few days later when a deliriously happy Graham called me to explained that preliminary results from a bone marrow test had revealed that no leukemic cells were present in Mark’s blood, so it seemed that the small amount of arsenic treatment that Mark had been able to have had done the trick. Highly unusually, Mark was even discharged from the hospice and returned home for a spell.

After the elation of Mark’s bone marrow result, the reality of his situation dawned again as his health fluctuated for a while thereafter and eventually he was admitted back into the cardio unit of Russell’s Hall hospital because of escalating obstacles in relation to his heart and kidneys. About a fortnight ago the situation took a significant turn for the worse and Graham and Lesley were called back from a short trip to Greece, which they reasonably went on as when they departed Mark’s condition was not too bad and seemed stable. When I visited Mark I found him in the worse plight I had seen him in since he was originally admitted to hospital and he was barely conscious for most of my stay. At that point I could not see Mark lasting long at all and that seemed to be the consensus amongst Helen (who once again had dashed back up from her home in London), Kate and Graham.

But I should know my stoical and determined friend better. On the football field Mark never gave less than everything, he battled as hard as he could and fought resiliently always for the team and he always carried these immense qualities with him in his life. On my next visit to Mark I found him very thin, as he was substantially unable to eat, but he was bright, animated and he had the trademark Rutter glint in his eye and we spend a couple of invaluable hours laughing and chatting; it was a priceless time for me. The highlight of the visit though was unquestionably when Harvey walked into the room and seeing his father in a much more lively condition Harvey produced a big, luminous, disbelieving smile and Mark responded with the same, and it was an extremely momentous sight, one I will certainly never forget.

The following day, Saturday 29th June, saw the occasion of Mark's 40th birthday, which was a day I am sure most people, including me, thought that he would not see. Mark proved again that we should not underestimate his fighting qualities and his ability to endure what is beyond the abilities of most other people. I visited Mark in the morning and he was in a pretty jubilant mood, especially as the doctors had agreed to him leaving the hospital for the afternoon to go to Graham's house for a barbecue with his family. I didn't know what to get Mark for his birthday given the circumstances, but when I found my camera that I had mislaid months before it presented to me an idea for an his gift. I had taken a photograph of Mark and Aston Villa hero Peter McParland (who scored both of Villa's goals when we last won the FA Cup in 1957) at Villa Park many months ago but when I lost the camera I had forgotten about the picture and Mark had never seen it. It is a wonderful photograph as for some reason that day Mark was wearing very smart clothing and the picture captured his enigmatic, radiant smile. I framed the photograph and presented it to Mark and I hope his family will look on it as a memento of him in happy times in years to come.

On the Thursday after Mark's birthday, on arriving in Mark's ward at the hospital I was greeted by a cheerful Kate with the gratifying news that once Mark's prescribed medication arrived he was free to return home. Kate had met with the palliative care specialists earlier in the week who had provided Mark with a hospital bed and other useful equipment for his home and after such a lengthy spell of inhabiting and tolerating hospitals and hospices, Mark simply wanted to go home. I helped Kate take Mark back home and he was overjoyed just to sit in comfort on his own sofa in his living room. “Can you hear that?” I asked Mark. “What?” he replied. I explained that all I could hear was beautiful bird song but other than that it was silent, which was a pleasantly welcome change for Mark and Kate from the clatter and noise of a busy hospital ward. I chatted with Mark for a while but he was very tired and sleepy, so I hugged him and bid my farewell and said I would see him soon. Although I did not know it then, it was the last time I would see my wonderful friend. Although I wished that I had seen him again, on reflection it was not a bad way to leave Mark as I left him lying back on his soft settee, relaxed, tranquil and at peace.

During the following weekend as Mark was in his own home, I thought it best to leave him alone to enjoy some quality family time with Kate, Harvey and Niall, though I was in contact with Kate who said that Mark was having difficulties with his kidneys again. On the Monday Kate contacted me with the disappointing and distressing news that Mark had fallen from his bed in the early hours on Sunday night and although he had not broken any bones the fall had further damaged his already weakened body so once more he was confined to the hospital. Kate continued that she had contacted the hospice who had a spare bed, so the plan was to transfer Mark there the following day, so I decided that I would call in on him on the Tuesday evening.

Tragically, Mark never made it to the hospice. I received a call early on Tuesday morning from Lesley, Graham's wife, passing on to me the bitterly heartbreaking news that Mark had died very early on Tuesday morning with his close family around him after he had deteriorated during the night. Apparently, Mark was not in pain and he was asleep and he peacefully and serenely slipped quietly away.

Offline Legion

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Re: Mark Rutter - Rutski
« Reply #100 on: July 12, 2013, 08:41:53 PM »
Hello there all, my name is Dom, I’m one of Mark’s closest friends – we sat next to each other at Villa.  Thank you all on behalf of Mark's family for all of the kind comments.
The funeral is on Monday 22nd July 12 Noon at St Mary’s Church Oldswinford and the burial is at Stourbridge Crematorium  at 1.15 for anyone that wants to attend.
I have written a piece on the last few months of Mark’s life (entitled Fast Eddie’s Last Stand) [/i] in my weekly column Lowlife, please see the link below if you would like to read it:-
http://dominichorton.blogspot.co.uk/
Mark requested that Villa fans wear Villa ties at the funeral if you have one – if not any club tie will do or any non-black tie.  Up the Villa.


Cries.

Offline PeterWithe

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Re: Mark Rutter - Rutski
« Reply #101 on: July 12, 2013, 09:01:27 PM »
A marvelously written tribute.

Offline Yossarian

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Re: Mark Rutter - Rutski
« Reply #102 on: July 12, 2013, 09:10:51 PM »
It would be impossible to be anything but moved by that.

Offline villajk

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Re: Mark Rutter - Rutski
« Reply #103 on: July 12, 2013, 10:15:38 PM »
Dom, what a beautiful read.

Wipes tears from eyes.

RIP Mark.

Offline Dave Clark Five

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Re: Mark Rutter - Rutski
« Reply #104 on: July 12, 2013, 10:22:40 PM »
When you read something like that, who cares who is leaving or joining the club or any such other trivia.
What a most superb tribute.

 


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