And so it was.

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.

Diagnosis Day
Team Brown, Poole Hospital, 28th January 2016, Day of diagnosis









9 thoughts on “And so it was.

  1. I’ve was a little scared to start reading, worried I would be overwhelmed with sadness and fear for my own children. But already I’m over that and just here reading it in total support and awe of you Mrs Brown aka Kerry, knowing that even when one of my children is unwell my whole being is wishing them better, knowing the next calpol will help and it’s a virus and it will pass. For you Kerry, it’s nit that simple but you have faith and unfaltering love for your own. This will carry you through. Keep writing. Until tomorrow much love x


    1. Thank you so very much. Sometimes I wonder if I should publish my story, but reading comments like yours makes me know I’m doing the right thing. 😃🎗


  2. Hi Kerry,

    Having yours and Felix’s diaries pop up on my Facebook newsfeed has given me a little window into your world. As a mum of five children, I thank you for showing us your strength and positive attitude. It puts my everyday life and all its little niggles into perspective. Please do keep writing. Wishing you all the very best and all our love x x x


  3. I read this and it is so true to life . I remember I couldn’t say the word leukaemia without crying , worst day was when I took my youngest to the school I work at and everyone had had a normal Christmas and seeing the staff and children I worked with , I just couldn’t speak , but things do get better and things to get to a normality , I feel we all get a strength to deal with anything , keep going and sending my love xxx


  4. I have been following Felix’s story as a fellow AFCB supporter, and yours as a fellow mum. Your son is the most incredible and inspiring young man, and I know you must be so proud of him. Your story is so important, and you tell it so vividly and honestly. Lots of love to you all x


    1. Thank you so much for messaging. I sometimes wonder if I’m doing the right thing but getting messages like yours convinces me I am. Best wishes xxx


  5. I remember the tears too but like you say, eventually the crying stops and it is replaced with laughter, hope and resilience. Felix has such a bright twinkle in his eye in his photos that pop up on my Facebook. His look says that cancer picked the wrong family and it’s going to get a run for it’s money! Keep blogging, both of you xx Marie xx 🎗🌟💛


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