It’s not cancer, it’s curable, it will be over within four months.
This is my daily mantra.
These words help me pick up BB when she falls again as her hip dislodges, these words let me see the light at the end of the tunnel.
It’s not cancer, it’s curable, it will be over within four months.
This is my daily mantra.
These words help me pick up BB when she falls again as her hip dislodges, these words let me see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Both my pregnancies have resulted in me being placed in a wheelchair and wheeled into an operating theatre to have my children removed from my tummy via the sunroof. They were never traveling down the birth canal, with a shadow of a doubt without assistance from a team of midwives I would have died giving birth to my beautiful babies.
Its been six months since BB had her first seizure. I remember watching my smallest turn blue and convulse and I genuinely thought I was losing her. The horror of not knowing what was happening to my baby was insurmountable. Tears spring to my eyes as the memory surfaces of the fear that grabbed hold of my heart when the fit controlled her.
Sometimes I read rubbish stuff; mainly from the trash magazines that I read for a guilty pleasure but more often from the rags we call newspapers.
Today the headline that caught my eye in the Metro was:
Years ago, back in the day when I still wore little knickers because I was slim, as opposed to big knickers to make me look slim I worked in the …