The week from hell…
It started Tuesday night, Alex came in from rugby training, white as a sheet and in agonising pain…I hear the noise from out side and run out, something wasn’t right, but I put it down to the fact he was severely dehydrated, had done far too much, and I have been going through some very hard things on a personal level the last month or so, so I thought the stress and physically over doing it, had just all been too much, I was convinced if I could get some fluids into him he would be OK. But the night passed with neither of us sleeping, me nursing him through his incoherent mumbles and cries of pain. First thing that morning, I ring the doctor, he’s on his way round. I am reassured after, it appears he has done too much, the doctor knows well our situation too and thought the stress may have got to him as well, hence combined with doing too much, he had severe bronchitis, but the antibiotics and anti-vomittting tablets would sort him out. The day trails on, I manage to leave him a while in the afternoon to give him some peace, and take the kids outfor a nature walk. He just lies there, turns and rocks and tosses about in bed, I cannot get him to keep anything down, so the next morning I am at the doctors again, ‘it’s not right, how he is, I’ve never seen him like this.’ I tell him.
The dr changes the antibiotics and I leave feeling mildly reassured. But the pain and the vomiting continues, and I rush him to A and E where the firemen stretcher him into the unit. I wait 3 hours, colouring in fish with crayons, checking the clock regularly, why is every one who came after us now leaving? I numbly colour in fish, crying, knowing something’s not right. I tell Esmie it’ll all be alright, daddy’s poory and that’s why we are waiting, ‘yes, my angel' I cup her angelic little innocent face, ‘he will ‘be better’ but I don’t know when’ I answer her question. But the 5 minute intervals in which i regard the slowly ticking clock, have been my most painful, numb, confused, alone and slowly passing moments I have ever experienced. I continue to wait.
The scan has shown a blood clot on his brain, he is taken to intensive care. The doctor calls me into a room to explain this to me.
I can see you quickly, children are not normally permitted. But under the circumstances, we follow. Esmie and I, me cuddling my tears into her warm body, being carried by me.
As the tears roll uncontrollably down my face I try and stroke you to reassure you that it’ll all be alright…only here, I have no idea, I am so confused. The evening visit passes similarly, you lie there, I stroke your hurting head.
Everyone’s prayers and thoughts and emails and help and messages have been of great comfort to me over the past few days and I wanted here, to thank you all. I tell Alex, I remember all the messages and tell him almost the whole world is fighting for us! In our corner, we have quite a brigade it seems, and I cannot tell you how much this means, and how touched I am. As is he.
Today Alex is moved out of Intensive Care, and into the neurology department they rescan him and the results show there is no change. He will be under constant surveillance, and next Thursday have another scan, he will be home Friday if the scan shows the clot has started to be reabsorbed. The doctor tells me you're not out of the woods, but the fact there’s no change is good.
For you my angel, for the kids I am being strong, well, I am trying to be strong. But I miss you so very much, the valley of emptiness that fills me when everyone’s in bed is insurmountable. I just need you here.
You know you and the kids are my everything, and I am trying too, to stay positive, but the trying is hard, because I have some moments, when I find I am wandering, aimlessly looking at things in the supermarket, not knowing why I am here, I want to allowed to be all day and night by your side.
You ate a yoghurt tonight! Your first bit of food to pass your lips in 4 whole days. I broke down.
Honey, you’re SO very, very strong and so INCREDIBLY capable, I know you’re coming home, you have to. You just have to. You are so strong, so determined, you have the heart and the spirit of a lion, and you WILL pull through.
I love you, and I will be back tomorrow. Everyone’s thinking of us and praying hard. Their protection is strong and I will see you in the morning, before permitted ‘visiting’ hours, because I do not care!
Thank you every one from the bottom of our hearts for your support. I will try (at 2.30am) to get a bit of rest/hopefully sleep now.
Good night my honey, I miss you.