The year started off bright, Dexter having finished treatment before, a year of chemotherapy, maintenance and seven weeks of radiation behind us. Despite the imposed lock down and the tragic luring events of covid that have separated us from our friends and loved ones, we felt so lucky to start the year off feeling we have Dexters tumour under control and inactive.
Jack and I were relieved to see that the MRI hadn't changed and it looks good.
Then Boris comes in with another national lockdown, our teenagers are devastated to feeling at a loss for having their studies ripped away from them and then the day before Oscar and Dexter were meant to return to school School locks down and home schooling begins.
Thats right people, at home, all of us, the only saving grace is that the nurseries are still open. This is a life saver as now 10 months old, Quill is teething and for the first time in his chilled out life, he's exercising the right to disrupt the January nights with hot teething tantrums in the dead of night.
The 3rd of January, we are trying to piece the house back together, scooting our christmas goodies together and changing beds, the whole family chipping in, when screams and shouts come from upstairs. Suddenly again, like a ghostly image of Christmas 2019 Dexter stands before me, his nose pouring with blood, covering the floor, hands and tiny body. This shook Jack and I, after we stemmed the bleeding and resumed normality, the shock and the scare subsided. The millions of reasons started shuffling through our brains, trying to convince ourselves that it's normal, kids get nose bleeds all the time, and they do, but this isn't any kid, this is Dexter.
Just for peace of mind I emailed his consultant, thinking they would reassure me, its only been 4 weeks since treatment ceased. All will be fine, these things happen. Jack and Dexter were heading to Southampton Hospital for a kidney function test, so we agreed it was wise to take him up to Piam brown, in hope that someone could check him over, but there were no doctors available.
So by January 5th the house was quiet. Jack trapped in the endless cycle of work meetings infront of his screen behind a closed door. Ethan, Lily, Felix and Oscar dotted all over the house, head phones ferociously writing in work books and flicking through assigned worksheets.
The day was a tad chaotic, Dexter needed support and Jack juggled his demands between, cleaning, cooking, working and our new vocation Teaching. By 2pm I had a lot of missed calls it was the hospital calling us in for investigation.
Well that hospital visit was tough, you can't hear anyone through the masks and visors and when trying to put a scope up a six year olds nose, with no numbing agent and he's had his face radiated, it didn't go well. It was traumatic, upsetting and we didn't really get any answers. With dexters back ground, you can't be too cautious, so they had us wait till seven in the evening, when I finally said; 'He's hungry, we've been here hours, we live five minutes up the road, please let us go home and we'll come back as soon as the ENT consultants answer your call.'
Agreeing with us and saying they'd call, we went home to spend a restless night at home. The following day, I hung by my phone, sending nudging texts to the community nurses and our consultants, but they said they had tried to be in contact and would do again. I felt furious, I felt the ENT department let us down in the days of us looking for a diagnosis, treating us with arrogance moments like, 'well let's find out what he's shoved up his nose?' and 'I'm sure its a reaction for whatever lego brick he's popped up there.' Not only that but refusing them to see Dexter on the Monday I took him to the GP, trying to fob us off with a Thursday appointment. Luckily we knew better and took him to A&E the day after, buying us time and getting Dexter the help we needed.
Anyway, that's old wounds and resentment.
So we continued with the school day and by Friday evening I thought we wouldn't be hearing from them.
I poured myself a slimline Gin & Tonic and waited for my online catch up with some friends. And then a 'no caller id' flashed up on my phone, I thought it might be the hospital so I answered to it, a consultant was on the other end, running me through the worst case out comes, telling me of the terrible treatment and scaring the crap out of me.
Today, I've been hit with a heavy heart and sadness in like to the one I had when Dexter was first diagnosed.
t was so hard to get to this point, its been so painful and pulling to see Dexter fight through the year, i'm hoping that the consultant is wrong, that the bleeding isn't from the tumour - it is just a weak blood vessel and nothing more than. All the fear that's crippling me today is rendering me unable to function. I feel so internally sad and low at the prospect of the cancer rearing its ugly head once more that it's consuming my thoughts, my mind and my heart.
Today I've looked at Dexter, so happy and jolly, playing with his siblings, it feels like its impossible he's sick, that we'll have longer before we have to worry about the cancer again. The whole thing is unbelievable, the dread of it heightened by this shit covid living, a lonely winter many are enduring.
Despite the fears and the worry that is now plaguing my thoughts, we have to be grateful. Dexter's wonderful, happy and we're together. We've had a year with Dexter already that we never thought we'd have. I mean its been a hard year with the treatment but we've had some lovely close, family moments and a lovely Christmas.
I bloody hope this year is gonna be better than 2020, covid and cancer can piss off.
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