You should never ever give up hope.
I refused to think that I would lose my Aunty, It just wasn't possible for that little pocket rocket to be gone.
My Stepmum rang last night with news from my Dad.
My Aunty opened her eyes, made contact with my Dad and gave him a huge smile. She also raised one of her arms.
We will not know more until later today but if just proves to me that hope is a powerful tool.
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Putting things in perspective...
I read a blog today that ripped my heart open
The thought of something happening to your child, your flesh and blood, the baby that grew in your womb and gave birth to, is so frightening it can make you physically ill.
As I read the story of this man and his fight to save his daughter, my chest felt as if it was in a vice, my hands started to shake and sobs came from deep inside. So deep I thought I had forgotten them.
It has been quite a while since we had the all clear on Millie.
I remember the Dr coming out to see me still in his gown after they had given her an MRI to check for tumours. I was sitting on a spare chair in the reception of the surgical ward while I waited to see her in recovery (she had had an general anaesthetic) and he casually told me they would have to wait for a complete study but it looked to be all clear. I think my gutteral moan scared him. It was a release of tension that had gripped me for so long. I felt as though I had taken my first breath in over a year.
Lumbur punctures, EEG's, ultrasounds, MRI's, catheters, canulas, beeping drips full of saline and antibiotics...These are the sights and sounds of a parent that lays awake in a fold out bed next to their softly snoring child, praying desperatly to a god they dont believe in for something, someone to make it all right.
The despair and helplessness is overwhelming. As a parent, it is your duty to protect your child. When they are ill, you should be able to administer a pill, a potion, an incantation and make it right. The anger when you cannot almost consumes you.
I am still angry. Angry that I lost time with my daughter, that she had to got though so much, her little body poked and prodded. Angry that I bore the stress and knowledge while my husbands way of coping was to bury his head in the sand. Angry that I was angry at HER for being ill.
We are so so so lucky, the suspected neuroblastoma turned out to be nothing more than a congenital ptosis and some (many) febrile convulsions.
I have a friend whose child has a life threatening condition and I dont know how she copes day in day out. She is a marvel and I look up to her and admire her more than anyone I know.
It has been almost a year since Millies last seizure, every month that goes past I am thankful and when we hit that milestone I will, for some reason, feel like we can finally put this nightmare behind us.
I dont pray, I dont believe, but I want to lay down on the warm earth with my arms spread and thank the universe for Millies continuing good health and send healing energy To Michael Laws and Lucy.
Please (insert preferred diety here) cure this wee sprite, this tiny scrap of all that is good in this world. Let her parents have the good news and do the gutteral moan and freak out her doctor.
Please?
The thought of something happening to your child, your flesh and blood, the baby that grew in your womb and gave birth to, is so frightening it can make you physically ill.
As I read the story of this man and his fight to save his daughter, my chest felt as if it was in a vice, my hands started to shake and sobs came from deep inside. So deep I thought I had forgotten them.
It has been quite a while since we had the all clear on Millie.
I remember the Dr coming out to see me still in his gown after they had given her an MRI to check for tumours. I was sitting on a spare chair in the reception of the surgical ward while I waited to see her in recovery (she had had an general anaesthetic) and he casually told me they would have to wait for a complete study but it looked to be all clear. I think my gutteral moan scared him. It was a release of tension that had gripped me for so long. I felt as though I had taken my first breath in over a year.
Lumbur punctures, EEG's, ultrasounds, MRI's, catheters, canulas, beeping drips full of saline and antibiotics...These are the sights and sounds of a parent that lays awake in a fold out bed next to their softly snoring child, praying desperatly to a god they dont believe in for something, someone to make it all right.
The despair and helplessness is overwhelming. As a parent, it is your duty to protect your child. When they are ill, you should be able to administer a pill, a potion, an incantation and make it right. The anger when you cannot almost consumes you.
I am still angry. Angry that I lost time with my daughter, that she had to got though so much, her little body poked and prodded. Angry that I bore the stress and knowledge while my husbands way of coping was to bury his head in the sand. Angry that I was angry at HER for being ill.
We are so so so lucky, the suspected neuroblastoma turned out to be nothing more than a congenital ptosis and some (many) febrile convulsions.
I have a friend whose child has a life threatening condition and I dont know how she copes day in day out. She is a marvel and I look up to her and admire her more than anyone I know.
It has been almost a year since Millies last seizure, every month that goes past I am thankful and when we hit that milestone I will, for some reason, feel like we can finally put this nightmare behind us.
I dont pray, I dont believe, but I want to lay down on the warm earth with my arms spread and thank the universe for Millies continuing good health and send healing energy To Michael Laws and Lucy.
Please (insert preferred diety here) cure this wee sprite, this tiny scrap of all that is good in this world. Let her parents have the good news and do the gutteral moan and freak out her doctor.
Please?
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