Broken Pieces
A couple of weeks ago I found myself at our local hospital. Not a particularly unusual occurrence given Hugo's situation. However this time I wasn't there for Hugo, I was there for me. I'd been to the doctors that morning having felt ill for nearly a week. He was concerned by some of my symptoms and sent me to A&E. A blood test, some prodding and poking and 6 hours later I was released with nothing obvious wrong. I remained ill for about 10 days with a variety of symptoms, but am now, almost, back to full health.
My Other Child
A few months ago I posted a photo of Henry on Facebook. We were on a day out, just me and him. A treat day to spoil him a little, because it's tough when you're the sibling of a child with cancer.
1000 Days
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Sunday marked 1000 days of treatment. 1000 days since Hugo was diagnosed. 1000 days of living a variety of new normals.
So what does life look like after 1000 days?
All About Hugo!
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* He is one of only 4% of babies who are born on their due date. It was a speedy labour lasting only 3 hours from waters breaking to him being born, and only 10 minutes after we arrived at the hospital. He arrived with his hand above his head, in a superman pose. I should have known then that he had superhero abilities.
The Long Version
Over the last few weeks we have had a couple of little blips. Small bumps along the road of our new normal.
We have these every so often. I don't tend to write about them, because everything turns out to be ok. There's nothing to worry about and it just doesn't seem newsworthy in the bigger picture, once the moment has passed. But I should. Because these bumps are so much a part of our cancer journey. They are the reason why our life is so far from normal, they are the story behind the chemotherapy and the more familiar aspects of a cancer experience.
Bring it on 2018!
So, we have reached 2018, the year Hugo will finish treatment. It feels significant. The countdown can well and truly begin.
I remember, just after Hugo was diagnosed, reading that treatment for his type of leukaemia would last just over 3 years. I thought it must be a mistake, a bizarre typo. How could life continue with any semblance of normality for that period of time. How could anyone manage 3 years of chemotherapy, let alone a child, my child.
One Day Cancer, You Will Be a Dot
Labels:
acute lymphoblastic leukaemia,
cancer,
childhood cancer
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Today it has been 2 years, 4 months and 5 days since Hugo was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukaemia.
The significance of this day?
He was 2 years, 4 months and 5 days old at the time of diagnosis.
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