(Cont from last post)
Clarity was a rare thing and came, as mentioned in my last post, at the zenith of either Fear or Love.
The main bout of the former came in the early hours of another spaced out morning. Fear always seems to have impeccably bad timing.
During a routine Ob’s check (blood pressure, heart rate etc..), my temperature had risen dramatically enough to sound the proverbial alarm. A high temperature amongst transplant patients is the ultimate fin in the water for the nursing staff. Predicting to an almost 99.99% accuracy that the patient had fallen victim to an infection. No hiding from this one. What happened next depended entirely on what and where it was in the body.
So despite sharing that I genuinely felt ok, for the time being it became a very serious situation. Requiring the immediate attention of a barely audible masked medical team and several large syringes of antibiotics, pumped with alarming urgency into my PICC line.
Clearly awake, alert and frightened, it’s on occasions like these that I wish Doctors would remember to balance compassion with procedure and duty. Knowing how serious an infection could be, my fear and anxiety could have been assuaged a little with a few words of both explanation and encouragement.
Instead the drama ended as quickly as it had begun. A medical flash mob. Only they’d forget to tell me about it. Thankfully I was out of danger within 24hrs.
But the best clarity always comes at times of great Love. And those times are rarely greater than with your children.
Given the aforementioned risk of infection, one had to be very careful and strict on Visitors. So despite flying in to be with her Mumma, and staying a genuine stones throw from room 302, I wasn’t sure I’d get to see my little Angel. But even though it had been nearly 3 weeks since I last saw and held her, having her so close again was enough to draw energy and added determination from. Such is the inexplicable power we’re gifted through the love of our children.
So it wasn’t without a huge (if not slightly emotional) gasp of surprise that she walked in one morning. I can’t recall where my head was at before she arrived, but I can remember very clearly how quickly I tuned back in and burst to life, the moment she did. Everything became perfect again. Hell, I even noticed the view.
But on reflection this was more than just having Ava close again. It was about having Family close again, to.
There’s collateral damage in every life trauma. But being needlessly separated from your family for so long is the worst there is. I live and breathe through my wife and daughter. Being apart from them for so long has been the hardest part of this entire journey. So on the rare occasions that we do manage to get together – even for a brief 20 minutes, 16 floors up above the streets of Central London – the time is inestimably precious. Our circle closes again for just a moment and nothing can touch us. Not even another medical flash mob!
Those brief visits from Ava and Emma provided without doubt the inspiration and motivation that saw me discharged so soon afterwards on Thursday 22nd, May.
And 14 days are all that’s left between us being reunited again for good. Hopefully under the inky blue sky of a perfect Swedish summer.
Peace and calm