So here we are… again. Back to the start of a cancer diagnosis but this time not for me, for my son. For my amazing, thoughtful, gorgeous 12 year old son.
I used blogging when I was ill to document my journey as I thought, just maybe it could help just one other person through theirs. And it did. Not just one, lots of people. The people I have met through my blogs and Instagram are incredible and to think possibly I have made them feel supported is humbling.
So although it is my Son’s journey to share not mine, I will be sharing and documenting my side of things from a Mum point of view.
Ok so imagine your worst fear, followed by your worst pain imaginable. That’s pretty much where I am today. My heart physically hurts, my lungs hurt. I can’t eat, can’t sleep.
It’s been less than a week since he visited his GP last Monday at the emergency appointment I booked for him (and then being moaned at for using up an emergency appointment) After two trips to a local minor injuries unit within the last month and being fobbed off both times with “growing pains” and exercises to do I had had enough.
After telling me off for wasting her time, the GP gave me a form to take him for an X-ray. We did it straight after the appointment as having my son with me and away from his Xbox was a rare occurrence so I wanted to grab the opportunity while it arose.
Just before 8.30 the next morning I had a call from another GP at the surgery, telling me she had referred him to a hospital in London but specifically to the cancer team. My heart literally sank. She got into a fluster and had to ring me back as she had forgot to tell me some information and that she would like me to come in to talk with her on my own.
When faced in that situation, whether it’s you or someone you love, your body almost takes over. You go into auto pilot, taking in all the information and starting to make plans. Thats how I’ve been all week. Almost robot like.
Then today happened. Nothing has changed, but it’s all hit me like a tonne of shit. The enormousness of the situation, the negotiating work, the financial worry and the thought of my little big man going though what he’s got to go though has beaten me today.
I don’t feel strong enough for this at all. I feel like I’ve failed him, like I’ve let him down. We’re meant to protect our kids and I haven’t. I keep thinking it’s something I’ve done, choices I’ve made. Is it my faulty genes? Could I have prevented it somehow? If I had pushed sooner and not taken their stupid “growing pains” diagnosis as gospel, would he have been referred quicker?
I’m numb. My eyes are sore from crying and my husband probably hates me because I’ve shut him out all day.
But tomorrow is another day. Maybe I’ll be a little bit stronger, maybe I won’t. Be I’m trying my absolute hardest not to let this beat my family again.
So here starts our journey. The good, the bad and the scary.
Honest and raw, warts and all