Our Hell Part 2

As Amelia lay lifeless on the hospital bed from the happy gas, we had to ask.......

"Could it be Cancer?"

"It could be anything. You need to prepare yourselves for anything" the doctor said.
"We need to get you a bed upstairs on a ward".

Scott and I went out the front so Scott could make the long trip home.
Only one parent was allowed to stay.

He had brought his motorbike in and I was worried about him getting home safely.

He was shaking.
Uncontrollably shaking.

"Ring me when you get home please".
I was nervous that he may not make it.
I made him message me when he got home safely.

Back in the hospital room, Amelia was relaxed from the happy gas but anxious.
She wanted to go home.
I started wondering when we would ever get home.

At 1:30am they moved us up to a ward.
The Kelpie ward.
It was for adolescents.
It was spacious and so different from our last stay in December 2010.
This time we were by ourselves.

We slept a few hours before the noise outside our room woke us up.
It was morning time and breakfast was being served and doctors were starting to do their rounds.
A nurse explained the facilities and after a shower, I headed downstairs for what would be the first of many coffees at the café.
Amelia was content watching television.

Gynocology was the first department to come and visit our room.
Two middle aged ladies were very understanding of our concern and our need to be kept "up to date" with anything and everything they were thinking, researching and considering when it came to Amelia.
During the A-T diagnosis in 2010, doctors did not speak to us about what they were "thinking".
It made the actual day of diagnosis so much harder.
We wanted to move with them in their findings, rather than have it smacked into our faces at the end.

On this first day, they explained that the ultrasound showed a high probability of it being joined to at least one ovary.
They said that Amelia would be undergoing more blood tests and an MRI to try and further understand what this "mass" was inside of her.

Now this is where I get a bit lost.
I cannot remember the exact order of words, procedures or what I even did in that first week.

Many parents understand the "auto pilot" mechanism.
Where life suddenly because so stressful, so worrying and there is so much to understand and listen to.......
You shut down a huge part of your brain.
Your life becomes very mechanical, but also extremely focused on the most immediate and the most important.
For me, that was Amelia first and foremost.

Conversing with doctors, asking questions and looking to the next procedure.
It was looking after Amelia's normal daily necessities like showering, toileting and eating.
It was trying to keep her calm (which was near impossible sometimes), distracting her and trying to help her to stop worrying.
She was not sleeping.
She wanted to talk, debrief and talk about her worries at all hours of the night.
She did not want me to leave the room.

I remember Tom crying on FaceTime when he and Amelia saw each other for the first time since we were admitted.
Amelia had the happiest grin from ear to ear to see someone she adores so much and poor Tom just started erratically wiping his eyes, trying to hide it.
Our 10 year old was displaying the fear we were all feeling.
I looked at my dad standing behind him crying.

We were all petrified of what this fucking mass was inside of Amelia.

Scott went to work, looked after the pets, went to visit Tom AND came in to see us.
He was exhausted.

I remember them using "happy gas" to put a canula in Amelia's arm.
I remember the doctors madly researching A-T.

I remember the battle for them to put her under a GA for the MRI of the abdomen area and not force her to try it without (A-T tremors and her hysteria were not going to help her lay totally still).

I remember her going under anaesthetic for the MRI.

I remember her sobbing as they wheeled her into theatre.

I had a friend there and when she had to leave, I remember then walking out of the hospital and feeling myself start shaking.
As I leaned against a tree for support as my legs began to give way........
I finally began crying.

After 90 minutes, I received the call to go to recovery.
Auto pilot kicked in again.

My dad rings while I am making my way there.
He has gastro and can't have Tom.
Ring Scott and he goes home to collect him from school.

Scott and Tom together at home now.
Amelia and I together in hospital.

The next day Oncology arrived at our room and introduced themselves.

"We have joined the team looking after Amelia now".

Ok.
Shit has just got real now.

We are in serious trouble.

xxx