Those dreaded words echo down the phone, Felix has Leukaemia. That phone call etched in our ears on that Thursday evening in January. We packed our bags in tears we couldn’t wait to be there to comfort our anxious, distressed family. Those were the first tears of many, many more to come. As an older generation, the word cancer was an unforgiving life sentence. That first (one of many, many more) visits to the children’s ward at Southampton was a devastating sight and one never to be forgotten. Tots in cots bloated through steroids, bald through the intense chemotherapy, chilled us to the bone. We were in complete shock seeing such poorly children who did not deserve to have this horrific disease. Keeping busy was the only way we could put those visions to the back of our minds, so in between helping with the school runs, washing, dog walking and generally keeping the home ticking over, we were coping, but only just. Nothing seemed important anymore, nothing mattered. We just wanted and needed Fe to be back to his normal cheeky, funny, handsome and clumsy self. We decorated, cleaned and revamped so that when things were back to normal we could leave Team Brown to be complete.
Watching, hearing and reading the support from doctors, family, friends, neighbours and professional footballers, managers, charities, from all over the world made us feel so humble and we are sure that it has certainly contributed to Felix’s positive journey with cancer. Now we are over 18 months down the line and we are looking forward again.
We still hesitate when the phone rings, we still long to see Fe every day so we can see for ourselves how well he is looking and how grown up he has become.we love to touch his hand or wink at him with no tears in our eyes.