The whole ‘packing’ episode hit me at a point in time, that my mind was unpacking my life over the last 27 months. It hasn’t been ‘like magic’ in fact, it’s been pretty grim.
I’ll never forget 24 hours after leaving hospital, arriving back on the children’s ward for Mike to start on antiviral treatment. The painted Mickey Mouse on the walls, the big smiles from the nurses: my mind collapsed and in a second, had to pick itself up again. I remember at that moment, there was no room for self-pity or anger anymore, my new born was starting on chemotherapy like, toxic drugs and really there couldn’t have been much worse to throw at me.
Hospital soon became second home and I suddenly became someone coping with everything. We had hospital visits constantly, nurses and doctors were on first name terms with us, horrible blood tests for Michael were a staple; and I just kept this brave face on, desperately keeping note and learning anything I could to keep track of what was going on.
I’ve cried a lot over this time in our lives recently, it was horrible. Being able to admit that is such a good feeling, because there’s only so long you can be brave.
