D was no longer for Dexter, it was for despair.
The night we were told the news that Dexter was so ill, we'd meant to be in London with our close friends, watching a 25th anniversary screening of The Nightmare before Christmas.
Despite thinking Dexter was going to be in and out of hospital that morning, my instinct was strong that we wouldn't make it. I dropped off our tickets to our friends before we headed to the hospital, encouraging them to still go.
Throughout the evening, climbing the walls in the glum children's ward, I thought of Nic and Stu, enjoying the beautiful music of Danny Elfman with the image of Jack Skeleton gracefully moving across the screen. They had said it was good but were asking for updates on Dexter throughout the night.
That all faded away after Dexters diagnosis and now we were sat, only a moment of disbelief before we pulled our fragmented selves back together. The first person I rang was mum. I knew she'd be waiting to hear and I just told her, and then I told her I didn't know what I was going to do because I was having another baby in less than four months.
'Oh Rach' was all she managed in between our tearful conversing, sobs and animalistic sounds of two wounded hearts, bleating down the phone at one another. My mum - the person I needed when my world is falling apart. Dad didn't answer when I rang, but I rang the house until he did. He told me we needed to be positive, but I could hear the shock in his voice and he paused as though processing what I had said between every sentence. Sheer disbelief.
Jack had tried his parents, but now gone one in the morning, we couldn't get through but knowing Jack's dad, he would be awake in three hours. I told Jack I'd go over when they woke. We sent a mass text to our closest friends , I can't imagine the shock that they all must of felt when they woke to that news, but it was the quickest way to make sure everybody knew.
Nic and I are old school friends, one of my closest friends and sound board for most of my life events. As Jack and I sat, tear streaked faces, composing ourselves watching Dexter sleep, I texted.
'Having our own nightmare before Christmas. Really bad news, Dexter has cancer.' Im not sure if she replied that evening.
I didn't know if I should leave Jack, but I needed to go home, prepare a bag for the three of us,. They intended to blue light Dexter to the nearest specialist hospital, Southampton General at 8am the following morning, six hours time. I needed to tell the children, and I needed rest.
I hugged Jack, he hugged me so tightly. It was unbearable. My bump squished into his body as his arms locked round me. I coughed and coughed until I thought I was going to be sick. Gasping for air, I stretched out my neck desperate to open my chest, gasping, my breathing was laboured and as I looked towards the sky, I felt the sting of fresh hot tears rolling down my face, pooling in my ears. Jack encouraged me to leave. I ordered a taxi and again found myself drifting through a lonely dimly lit hospital. I felt numb, but my mind was racing, fast, thoughts springing in and out of focus, nothing fixed. I had no control over my mind, over my thoughts and within minutes I was at the taxi, with no recollection of the walk, I was just here.
Like déjà-vu, I arrived home, mum was in the lounge, we again sat and had tea. I don't think I lifted my cup from the table in front of me. Tissue rags piling on my lap as we spoke about how bad the situation was and I talked though the doctors diagnosis. My mind felt heavy with grief. My sister rang, we spoke, tearfully - she was incredibly distressed. I could offer no comfort, this was the worst.
Nearing three am and my eyes were sore and puffing, I was ill. I went to lie on my bed. Within seconds my mind filled with images of a hearse and its accompanying cars, parked outside my picturesque home, the turret dramatically pointing to a darkened sky - the thought was unbearable.
My phone vibrated. Assuming it would be Jack, I lifted it in the dark. It wasn't, it was Claire, Jack's sister who had heard form him before he fell into an exhausted sleep. She wanted to know if I was awake for a hug. I replied and pulled a jumper back over my bump. I'd been lying fully clothed on the bed, I hadn't dressed for bed as I wouldn't be sleeping.
Mum heard me move down the stairwell again, she sat up in bed. I explained I was going to see Claire. Living in the cottage in front of our home, it wasn't far to go.
We bumped into to each other on the drive, she hugged me and I followed her into the quaint cottage. She made me tea, or hot chocolate, I don't remember which but I remember she was calm, she was holding herself together, under the guise it may be better than we thought. I however was crying again, still crying, so much crying.
We chatted and before I left I shared a hug with brother and sister in law. It was kind and I felt the love.
I had messaged my father in law to let me know when he was up, living in the house next door, the commune was awake. I dragged my aching bones across to the house and let myself into the kitchen, feeling like the grim reaper arriving with dreadful news in the wake of a new December morning.
By five I was back in my room laying on my bed, I must of dropped off at some point. By seven I was up, still dressed in yesterdays clothes. I went into Ethan's room first, told him and all the children in turn that they wouldn't be going into school today and to meet me downstairs when they had gotten dressed.
I looked pale and sleep deprived, Lily could sense the dread and was crying before I'd even said a word. We all sat in the lounge opposite one another. I explained that Dexter was very poorly and that he had cancer. There was few questions but lots of tears.
Ethan, was visibly upset before composing himself and telling Felix and Oscar 'it's a cell malfunction, they will fix it.' And with that he was together again.
Oscar was visibly shaken by the news. I said that the children could come and wave Dexter off before he went to Southampton and that my dad would come meet them at the hospital and take them home before we left. Oscar didn't want to come, but as we went to leave he changed his mind and decided he must come. But he was quiet. I held his hand supportively as he got out the car. He held Oscar's, Lily and Ethan held hands and together we made our way to the children's unit.
I explained that Dexter had no idea how terribly ill he was and that he would just be so happy and excited to see them, so if they could try and be happy with him it would be fantastic of them. The kids did just that. Dexter sat up in bed excitably as we walked in, and he held up his lego as Ethan walked into the room.
'Ethan, Ethan, look at my Venom lego,' Dexter said waggling it in the air. Ethan enthusiastically made a fuss, as all the boys did. Dexter climbed off the bed and jumped on his brothers and played. Oscar was noticeably quiet but he tried his best.
As I watched my five oldest children lark and play about, it suddenly hit me that this was really happening to us. Dexter was looking worse again, his cheek was puffing and swelling, his nostril was bulbous and stretched and his right eye was turning inwards. He was deteriorating fast.
It was now Thursday morning. Today was the day we had been scheduled to have the appointment with the ENT specialists and instead within hours we were being sent to Southampton and who knew what else was ahead of us from there.
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