Hiking with Hella in Best . in Brabant
At the age of 34, Lian Coppens was told that she was seriously ill. Her tongue had to be removed, making talking virtually impossible. Despite all the trials, she feels like a privileged person.
Lian Coppens and I meet at the Vleutse Hoeve in Best. Known in North Brabant for the clogs of the Van Aarle brothers, which are sold here. And since six years also because of the nativity scene route that starts here. You can walk past more than eighty nativity scenes, displayed on driveways and in the gardens of the hamlet of De Vleut. After Lian’s lisping greeting, the result of her tongue being gone, our conversation seems to have turned into a guessing game. From her enthusiastic gestures I can tell that she loves to share her life story with me. A life with events so heavy that she was almost gone, she wrote in her letter to me.
Without a tongue it is difficult to talk, but Lian can communicate with the best, I soon notice. I get the belt from one of her faithful companions. Animals are important in Lian’s life. After a very happy childhood, she had to overcome a first obstacle around her 30th birthday. She did everything to become a mother. It almost sharpened the happy relationship with her partner Henri. At the height of her frustration – “Everyone got pregnant except me” – Lian felt a bump on her tongue. “Actually, our blown-in cat had already discovered it. He kept hitting and sniffing my neck, as if to say, ‘There’s something there…’” The dermatologist assured her, however, that they were canker sores, which would disappear if she rinsed her mouth well. But Lian’s intuition said otherwise. Only after much insistence was she further investigated. At the Antoni van Leeuwenhoek hospital, Lian was told: “It’s wrong, but we’re going to help you.” She felt both distress and reassurance. “And very miraculously: when we got home, the blowing cat was gone.”
The first, life-sized nativity scene has now come into view. Lian’s dogs Troy and Sepp curiously poke their heads through the bars. We both enjoy the Brabant cosiness. Large, small and above all from a good heart, these are the nativity scenes that the local residents have made or collected. It is exceptional that Lian developed a malignant form of tongue cancer at the age of 34. This usually happens to older people who smoke or drink a lot. The tongue cancer seemed to treat well with radiation and chemotherapy. Henri, her parents, brother and sister were Lian’s mainstay in this arduous process. Besides the pain, Lian was vomiting all the time and barely sleeping. “I’ve never gone this deep before. Losing my hair was nothing compared to the pain. My tongue felt like one big blister. I spoke no more. I completely lost myself. I thought everyone was better off without me.” In her eyes I read the despair of that time. It not only brings Lian to tears, but also me.
No one involved her in her death wish. She suffered alone. While Henri was away from her room for a while, Lian’s eye fell on a sturdy curtain hook. That was it. With that she made an attempt. In an even softer voice she continues: “When Henri came back, he found me wriggled behind that hook. That night he sat at my bedside crying. Henri and crying, that was a rare thing.” Lian had never been suicidal before. From that moment on there was ‘family surveillance’ 24 hours a day. At that time, Lian also started to worry about her relationship. “But Henri said, ‘If you stay as you really are, positive and optimistic, I’ll stay with you. You go and mope and whine, I’ll leave you.’ That seems harsh, but it was fair and it helped me.”
Lian went to her parents for rehabilitation, who looked after her 24 hours a day so that Henri could continue to work. Lian was gloomy about her future and regularly asked her parents ‘for an injection’. She had to tear the piece of paper with her death wish on it before their very eyes. “Their love has ‘opened’ me up.” There was a moment of hope when, after a month and a half, Lian was told, “Congratulations, you’re clean.” The tumor was gone. Lian slowly picked up her work and life again. She even dared to hope for motherhood. Until two months later, a severe headache announced even more bad news: a new tumor. Her only chance of survival was an amputation of her tongue.
“Then I was faced with the most difficult decision of my life. What was certain was that without a tongue I would no longer be able to eat normally and perhaps no longer be able to swallow and talk.” Lian asked the doctor if she would scare children, with scars and no tongue. “When he was able to reassure me, the survivor in me came out. I thought: if I can still have the cat on my lap, walk with the dogs and be with Henri, then I’ll be happy, and can have my tongue out.”
We walk into an attractively lit backyard to view more than ten Christmas stalls. How hospitable and confident the people are here. Shortly before the operation, Lian and Henri went to the Belgian pilgrimage site of Banneux to prepare themselves spiritually for her ‘new self’, as she calls it. The weather looked like this day of our Christmas walk: misty and dark. After the church service, Lian went to pray at the statue of Mary. And then something happened. “I asked Maria, ‘Whatever happens, I hope I can deal with it.’ And suddenly from that gloomy sky a beam of light fell right on me. My face warmed and I heard two words: “Have faith.” An intense sense of peace overcame her. The surgery took place a week later, and Lian felt so calm that she didn’t need any sedatives. That feeling has never left her: “Have faith, I’m always here for you.”
Lian had to learn to swallow and talk again. That took two years. She could no longer exercise her office job, but it paved the way for an old dream: working with animals. She studied naturopathy and started massaging horses with an injury. And with success. She is now in permanent employment and treats top horses from a large stable. Despite their unfulfilled desire to have children, Henri and Lian made it together. “If it weren’t for my family and animals, I wouldn’t be alive.”
We end the Nativity Route at the most beautiful stable of all, at the Lady Chapel in the heart of the hamlet. Every evening the Christmas lights are turned on and chocolate milk is served for the walkers. While I wait outside with the dogs, Lian lights a candle near the statue of Mary. When we say goodbye, she says: “It’s not about living big and compelling, but about appreciating the small. Not despite, but thanks to what I’ve been through, I feel like a very privileged person!”
Sources):
- Plus Magazine