Russell McLuckie, a vibrant young man with a passion for gaming and a future brimming with promise, is gone. He was a dedicated DPD delivery driver, a fiercely competitive Call of Duty player who once ranked among the world’s top ten, and a loving fiancé, poised to build a life and start a family.
His world began to unravel with initial complaints of stomach problems and blood in his stool. What followed was a harrowing 20-day ordeal within the walls of a hospital, a period his family would later describe as care “the worst you can imagine.” The pain of his loss is etched into the hearts of those he left behind, a wound that may never fully heal.
“A part of me died with him,” his mother, Anne McLuckie, confessed, her voice heavy with grief. “I will never unsee what I have seen.” She remembers the vibrant blue of his eyes, and the agonizing moment the color faded, replaced by the stillness of death. Her desperate pleas – “Open your eyes, open your eyes!” – echo the unbearable reality of losing a child.
Natasha Schieritz, Russell’s fiancée, described the devastation as if her own life had ended with his final breath. They had been together for nearly a decade, and were excitedly discussing starting a family, a dream now shattered. “We were planning on a family…plans we were overjoyed about,” she shared, the weight of what might have been almost unbearable.
Even as his health deteriorated, Russell held onto hope, sharing a poignant wish with his mother. “Being in here is an eye-opener,” he said, “and all you’ve ever wanted is to be a gran. And when I get out of here, we’re going to make that happen.” A promise cruelly unfulfilled.
The family’s anguish is compounded by the belief that Russell’s suffering was preventable. They allege a shocking lack of compassion and inhumane treatment during his final days on Ward B12. When Russell begged for pain relief, he was reportedly told to “stop ringing the buzzer as there were cancer patients who needed the morphine more.”
His ordeal continued with a stoma bag he was expected to manage himself, despite his weakening condition, and a dismissive instruction to “stop hyperventilating” just thirty seconds before his death. Independent review of his medical records has raised concerns about the timing of steroid administration, delayed recognition of critical symptoms, and abrupt medication changes.
A hospital report acknowledged a failure to recognize the severity of his sepsis quickly enough, but offered no response to the family’s accusations regarding the standard of care and staff conduct, citing a lack of documentation. The family is now seeking answers and justice, supported in their fight by legal representation.
The hospital has stated it has implemented improvements to sepsis training and education, and encourages the family to reach out with further concerns. But for Anne and Natasha, an apology feels hollow, a small comfort against the immense and enduring pain of losing Russell – a son, a fiancé, a life tragically cut short.
