It really was the last thing we were expecting.
Our #newnormal was just beginning.
We return to hospital for Felix to undergo a series of examinations, discussions about his medical history, further blood tests and an x-ray. Within hours it was explained to us that the results from his blood test and his enlarged liver both point towards a diagnosis of leukaemia. It was that simple.
Sat on the hospital bed was our fit and healthy 10 year old boy. A boy who that week had been on a three day activity holiday with his school and taken part in every bit of it. A boy who prided himself on his athleticism and football prowess. A boy who just didn’t look ill.
Listening to the diagnosis and an overview of what would happen next was the easy bit. Telling family and friends was the hardest; we just could not prepare them for what we were about to say. But we did tell them and we cried. We cried a lot. We cried about our past, our present and our future. We cried for our family, we cried for our friends but most of all we cried for Felix, his sister and his brother. Our children whose lives were never going to be the same again.
We cried a lot over the coming weeks. This is how the children knew it was serious. What brought us to tears the most however, was the overwhelming amount of love, compassion and kindess that came hurtling our way. The kind gestures, words of support and acts of unbelievable kindess made us blub at the drop of a hat but certainly helped us get through those first bewildering weeks. It was the act of crying that also made us realise that our heads were beginning to lift out of the oppressive and frightening clouds of those first few weeks. We began to laugh at each others’ tears. Each other’s inability to read a card or article without tears streaming down our face started to become a source of amusement. The clouds did burn away and our #newnormal came to be.
And so it was.