The other part of the last week or so goes as follows. Matilda was born with a defective aortic valve and was due to go into hospital today for the treatment that she needs.
Last weekend we were invited to a retirement party on the IOW and we deliberated long and hard about making the journey, in the end deciding to pop down for the weekend. The arrangement was that we'd stay with son in law's parents, at least in their house as they were away on holiday in the USA. All was planned and we set off, looking forward to catching up with old friends. On the ferry, my phone rang; it rarely does so this was somewhat of a novelty. It was my daughter, telling us that her husbands' brother had died suddenly. We were about to stay in his parents house and they were due back the following day. They had been informed and insisted that we carried on as normal. There was nothing normal about the trip believe me. Well anyhow we did go to their house and stayed the night wondering what the following day would bring. We picked them up from the ferry the following day and were able to offer a little hospitality, if not comfort. Losing a child, however old they may be is very hard. Later that day we got a call telling us that Matilda was in hospital. She had suffered a febrile convulsion and had to be rushed by ambulance into Tunbridge Wells. The party was to be the next day but clearly our enthusiasm for it was waning fast, and we decided to head for home as soon as possible.
We got home the following morning, by which time Matilda was home again, if not well, much better. As a result of her weekend, the operation has been postponed and the anxiety will have to go onto the back boiler once again. I just hope that the next date does not coincide with the funeral.
Last weekend we were invited to a retirement party on the IOW and we deliberated long and hard about making the journey, in the end deciding to pop down for the weekend. The arrangement was that we'd stay with son in law's parents, at least in their house as they were away on holiday in the USA. All was planned and we set off, looking forward to catching up with old friends. On the ferry, my phone rang; it rarely does so this was somewhat of a novelty. It was my daughter, telling us that her husbands' brother had died suddenly. We were about to stay in his parents house and they were due back the following day. They had been informed and insisted that we carried on as normal. There was nothing normal about the trip believe me. Well anyhow we did go to their house and stayed the night wondering what the following day would bring. We picked them up from the ferry the following day and were able to offer a little hospitality, if not comfort. Losing a child, however old they may be is very hard. Later that day we got a call telling us that Matilda was in hospital. She had suffered a febrile convulsion and had to be rushed by ambulance into Tunbridge Wells. The party was to be the next day but clearly our enthusiasm for it was waning fast, and we decided to head for home as soon as possible.
We got home the following morning, by which time Matilda was home again, if not well, much better. As a result of her weekend, the operation has been postponed and the anxiety will have to go onto the back boiler once again. I just hope that the next date does not coincide with the funeral.
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