When things get tough, I write

So here I am, leaning on the only coping mechanism I know.

I know most people won’t want to read this and see my blogs pop up and think ‘again?!’ So I wont be offended if you keep scrolling.

I wrote my last blog on how well I was coping and how resilience and positivity keeps me going. It gives me the strength to fight whatever is thrown my way.

Until today. I feel lost. I am terrified. I feel physically sick.

Ellis has tested positive for Covid-19.

My boy. My son. Not someone in the paper, not a story of a friend of a friend. My child.

The same child who has already been fighting cancer for 7 months.

I am beaten.

I can’t fight anymore.

I don’t want to have to fight anymore.

I very rarely get angry about our situation, but now it’s all I feel.

We were shielding for 12 weeks, not even going to a single shop. We have been so so careful and it still got us.

I keep racking my brain thinking was it me? Is is that time I went to the shop last week when the oncologist told us we could? Should I have checked on him more that he was washing his hands more? That time he pressed the lift button because he was being his usual stubborn self, I should have stopped him.

We all need to get tested, but until then I’m separating myself from everyone just in case. Glenn has come home from work to start the shielding all over again. Ellis is confined to his bedroom and I am in mine so we can have some kind of control over the situation.

I told the girls this morning, to remind them they need to be super careful and hygienic and not to go into his bedroom.

Lily is 10 and extremely empathetic. She just cried and cried. I just sat there watching. Do I hug her and potentially give it to her? Or do I sit helplessly. So I sat.

My heart feels like its been broken into a million pieces.

I’m scared that actually this time, things won’t be ok.

The laid back boy who never gets scared, is scared too.

Everything is blurred.

I have just spoke to UCLH who were incredibly lovely. They feel like family. We have to self isolate for 14 days and we have all got to be tested. If he gets symptoms, he can be treated at home unless he has a fever. If this happened, we follow our normal neutropenic protocol and head to Rainbow Ward.

So to all those people on the beaches and on the marches, this is the aftermath.

A family who have done everything right for the past 3 months. You have done this.

I am angry like you wouldn’t believe and I hate that. There is blame in this. There is fault.

People carrying on like nothing is wrong, all because they can’t see past their own noses.

I ironically had a conversation yesterday with a good friend about people going about their life and how I feel about it. I said anger is a wasted emotion. As long as we were doing as we should, we would be fine.

How wrong could I be.

My head is pounding, my eyes are sore and my heart feels liken it has been ripped out and stamped on.

I hate feeling angry and out of control. I hate that I’m helpless and letting the anger consume me.

But mostly I hate the fact its unfair.

What has my family done to deserve kick after kick. Every time I dare to feel in control or have the tiniest glimmer of hope, things fall apart.

I find myself seeing other families on Facebook and feeling so incredibly jealous. Why can’t that be us. Why can’t we just live like everyone else. Why have hospitals and tests become our norm.

I am finally broken.

Xxx

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