The week leading up to Lauren's birthday is hard enough without being thrown another curve-ball. Yesterday I had to take my son to A&E, he's fine, just has an over cautious mother. He had stomach pain on the right hand side and then he was sick, so I automatically thought burst appendix and took him to A&E to be checked out. The Doctors were brilliant, did some checks & tests and ruled out anything sinister. They sent me away, but told me to return if he got worse in any way, luckily he hasn't.
That should have really been the end of it, but it goes deeper than that. You see the journey to A&E with a poorly child was exactly the same one I took 7 months ago, to the same hospital and same waiting room. On the way there, my son & I were both struggling to keep it together, both scared more than the situation warranted. All I could think about was the last journey I did with Lauren, the last time it was just me and her. How I wished I'd touched her and held her and told her how much I loved her. Back at home my 10 year old daughter was equally scared, she was googling death statistics for appendicitis.
I'm not sure if this high state of anxiety will ever leave us. It's exhausting. Lauren was so fit and well, and then she wasn't. If it can happen to her it can happen to anyone. I know that's always been the reality, but having it thrust into your life is a whole different feeling.
Afterwards I was a wreck, the emotion of the morning causing tears and agitation. We probably did the best thing possible, we talked with friends over wine and I felt some release of pressure. It didn't stop me checking on my son constantly though, but I guess nothing ever will.
