| june 13 2007, my last update. hello again xanga
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| To be honest, I'd been tired for so
long i dont remember, not accurately, when i realised something serious
was wrong with me. I put up with it though. Told myself i needed more
rest and that it'd pass. But it didnt.
No matter how much i slept i was always tired. Proper, bone tired. It
wasnt until tegan asked me to go to the doctor that i realised. My 4
year old actually voice what i couldnt- wouldnt face, the simple fact
that i wasnt myself anymore. she'd gotten tired of me being too
exhausted to play with her. Of me having nosebleeds. Of me being
breathless after even the smallest amount of exertion. " Mummy, if you
go to the doctor she can make you better," she said one day out of the
blue. Just said it, and i did it.
I sat in yhe doctor's, told her what was wrong, and she did a blood
test. Then called me in for more tests. More tests with names and words
i'd heard on the medical shows on telly, then words that never had a
happy ending on TV were being bandied around. But they couldnt truly
have anything to do with me. Not really. They were eliminating
possibilities.
Then, i got the call. The call saying I had to go see my doctor
straight away. Even then....And even when she told me...When she said
she was sorry then started talking about treatments and prognosis, I
didnt believe it. No, thats not right. I did believe it. I just didnt
understand. Not why. Not how. Not me.
It took a good few days for what i'd been told to sink in. Maybe even a
week. Every second counted, they said, but still i couldnt
comprehend. I didnt look that ill. A little paler, a little shower, but
not really and truly ill. I kept thinking they were wrong. You hear
about it all the time. the wrong diagnosis, people defying the doctors'
theory, people finidng out they had glandular fever instead of...
Anyway on this particular day, i sat at the staion and a woman came and
stood beside me. She got her mobile out of her bag and made a call. Ehn
the person on the other side picked up she said. 'hello its felicity
halliday's mother here. Im calling because she is not very well and she
wont be coming to school today.' I fell apart . Just broke down in
tears. It hit me then, right then, that i would never get hte chance to
make a call like that. I would never get to do a simple mum thing like
call my daughter's school. there were a million things I would never
get to do again and that was one of them.
Everone was terribly British about it all and ignored me as i cried and
sobbes and wailed. Yes, wailed. I made a hideous noise as I broke into
a million, trillion pieces.
Then this man came to me, sat down, put this arm atound me and held me
as i cried. The train came, the train left. As did the next one and the
next one. But this man stayed with me. Stayed with me as i cried and
cried. I totally soaked and snotted up the shoulder of his nice suit
jacket but he didnt seem to mind, he waited and held me until i stopped
wailing. Then he gently asked me what was wrong.
Through my sobs, all i could say was, " ive got to tell my little girl im going to die."
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