Firsts



When you lose someone there are a lot of 'firsts' you have to get through. By that I mean things like the first day when you wake up with the awful realisation that they really have gone and it wasn't some nightmare. The first week when you look back and think with disbelief, this time last week they were still alive. The first month, the first birthday without them, both yours and theirs, the first Christmas, the first time you go into a new year without them... I could go on but you get my drift.

Since the children's father, Steve, son, Joe and brother, Mally died in such tragic and individual circumstances we have had a lot of firsts. In my experience, they aren't usually as bad as you think they are going to be.  I think the fear of how you are going to feel is never quite realised. Probably because you have already experienced the worst that could possibly happen.  There can't be anything worse on those 'first' occasions than what happened the day you lost them, or the days and weeks after that. That's not to say that those first occasions are easy but, in the main, you don't struggle as much as you think you are going to.

For me that has been true until today. Today is the first time one of our children has had an operation since Joe died. For anyone who doesn't know, Joe died of an allergic reaction to a one-off drug given in theatre after a kidney transplant. The drug triggered a massive bleed in his lungs, from which he never recovered. His reaction was so rare and so unexpected, doctors in this country have never seen it before and there is only one other person in the world to have suffered similarly. That person survived!

Our son, Robbie went into hospital today for a tonsillectomy. Today's op was much more routine than that, of Joe's. Not a pleasant operation for an adult to have but nevertheless a routine op. Not for us though. This 'first' was just as awful as we expected. We know it was a small op and we know he has had operations before. That didn't help today.  We have experienced the rare and the unexpected, so reassurances of odds and rational thinking didn't help. I was quite convinced this morning that he wasn't going to come through his operation. (and it doesn't matter that he is a 26 year old grown up he is still our child, sometimes much to his exasperation)

When he had been over an hour in theatre we went up to the ward where he would be recuperating and asked for news. It was obvious from the look on their faces that the staff wondered why we looked so fraught, so we explained. That changed the atmosphere immediately and they were marvellous. Never let anyone tell you that the NHS doesn't care. As soon as possible they called down to theatre and found out how he was doing and the minute he was ready to come back they let us know and told us how soon be back on the ward. We were so grateful for their consideration.

When he first came back he was awake and seemed well enough, given it was only an hour since his op. What I hadn't factored in was the fact that he would be coughing up blood. As this was the first sign that Joe was in trouble it triggered more stress and more fear. Of course I know that the blood was coming from the tonsils, and not his lungs, but again, rational thinking wasn't making any appearances today and the fear was sharp and hard to contain. Robbie stopped bleeding, he is now home and recovering. We will all feel much better when he is fully recovered and we are through this particular first.

It's true that time numbs a lot of the pain and misery of loss. Time allows you to recover and gives you some of your strength back.  Days like today, however, highlight how very fragile that recovery is.





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