Friday 25th - It begins

The day started shortly after midnight by Victoria having two cannulas, one in each hand, and the nurses still needed to take blood from her arm in the usual way. She'd already been cannularised at Northampton unsuccessfully, and had blood taken, so she had more pricks than a hedgehog at this point, and sadly more was to come. It seemed to be an endless stream of blood tests. Then she was given platelets, followed by a blood transfusion. Constant obs were taken which kept us both awake all night. This was particularly distressing for Victoria as she was already exhausted, and just wanted to rest, but was never able to do so. Every short period of sleep was punctuated by the loud bleeping of the obs machine, or the bleeping of the machine monitoring her drip.

As I lay on a camp bed in a cramped cubicle next to her, I couldn't stop thinking, why her, why her, why her, over and over again. Please be me, let me take her place. PLEASE. I sat up and questioned the existence of God. To be, the very fact that this happened to an innocent child disproved his existence to me. But it didn't stop me asking Him what she had done to deserve this, and this was strange behaviour for an atheist. Very strange indeed.

As dawn broke, Victoria had to prepare for sample of bone marrow to be taken, and to have a lumber puncture. This would be done under general anaesthetic. Once again, she was frightened, and you feel so helpless, all you can do is watch. All your words seem meaningless and whatever ones you find, your desperately not trying to say anything that might make the situation even worse. I can be quite frank at times, so this was doubly hard.

My first feeling of relief came when Debbie arrived with my mobile phone charger. I realised that like most people, my whole life was in the phone, and that without it, I was helpless. I realised that I should keep the important numbers on a business card in my wallet. Sounds easy when you say it like that!

As the day wore on, it became clear that the facilities here were really excellent. I started to learn my way around the hospital, and we waited patiently for the confirmed diagnosis. Victoria seemed a little more bright, but was still weak and tired.

In this foreign world, we would have to get used to tubes, wires, bleeping machines, and collecting her urine every time she needed the loo. I'm not sure who was more traumatised by this, me or her!

At tea time, the consultant came over and confirm the diagnosis, it was Acute Myeloid Leukemia. Then finally some positive news followed. It is possible to cure. However, the treatment would require six months of Chemotherapy and other drugs, which of course all come with their own set of complications. He explained these, all the time addressing Victoria, and she seemed to understand, and took all the information in her stride. Well done her.

Tracey arrived to take over from me, so I could go home and get some rest. Victoria's first chemotherapy would start immediately. I stayed for a while, and Debbie and Tracey went to the supermarket for provisions. Whilst they were gone, they were discussing ways of reuniting Samuel and I. Coincidence is a funny thing, because at exactly the same time, Samuel rang me. We talked for 25 minutes, and the past melted away. When Tracey and Debbie returned and I told them, we were sighed a collective sigh. I went home tired, and fearful of how she would respond to treatment.