Time slips away in A new era

Three years ago today my mum was diagnosed with acute leukaemia. Actually, strictly speaking, it was yesterday, but three years ago today is the day my dad told us, via Skype. That day is forever etched in my mind.

We knew she had gone to hospital on the 10th, we knew she was having blood tests. I was still a student at that time, on placement with a local health visiting team, and was working with an agency health visitor, who was lovely, and we clicked straight away. I remember sitting in the car, between visits, telling her that my mum was in hospital and I knew she had cancer. I don't know how I knew, I just had a feeling. My bet was on something gynaelogical, she'd been having some problems in that area while she'd been home for Christmas.

I knew my dad was hiding something. I knew when he said they didn't know her blood results yet that that was a lie. I can't blame him for wanting to put off telling us.

That Friday, I came home from my placement, and he messaged saying he needed to Skype with us. My brother had been sat in the cinema waiting for a film to start, my dad said it was important but could wait. My brother left the film and came straight home, and said to me, it's not going to be good is it? I remember us all standing in the living room, too anxious to sit still.

Then that Skype conversation. Mum and dad were living 3000 miles away in Dubai at the time. I remember him saying your mum's for leukaemia. And crying. I don't think I'd ever seen my dad cry before. I was sat in the middle, my brother to my right, my sister to my left. And all three of us just cried and cried.

They didn't know what type she had, but they were certain from her blood results that it was an acute leukaemia. And that they needed to start treatment right away. The irony of the whole situation was that my final placement was due to begin in a few weeks time, on the haematology ward. I had decided 18 months before that I wanted to specialise in haematology when I qualified.

My brother said to me, what's the success rate, you know about this. And at the time, I did have a little knowledge. Nothing like what I know now. Now, I know that she should have died. She was that unwell when she was admitted to hospital that it could quite easily have gone either way, and the odds were stacked against her.

I also know that she's a tough old bird. She asked if she could be treated, they told her yes, and she gave them free reign to do everything they needed to do to make her better. She had chemo, platelets, blood, a Hickman line, countless antibiotics, infections, cellulitis/phlebitis in her hand from a misplaced cannula, making it impossible for her to text and keep in touch.

When we visited, three weeks later - by weird coincidence we already had flights booked - she looked at deaths door. If my dad had told me she'd have died after we returned home, it wouldn't have shocked me. I still spend hours thinking about that, thinking about what life would be like without her.

It's selfish things really. I think that she wouldn't have seen me qualify and become a fully fledged nurse, and all the things that I've achieved and accomplished in my career since. She wouldn't see me meet my perfect guy, get married, have kids, all the things I want for my life, and I know she wants for me.

I thank my lucky stars every day. We were so incredibly incredibly lucky. She went to the doctor there with a throat and ear infection. Due to the fact that healthcare is private out there, she was sent to an ENT specialist, and he recognised the signs and did blood tests on her. We're super lucky that her haematologist was one of the leading haematology professors in the world, and gives lectures worldwide.

It's been three years that's changed each and every one of us forever. It completely changed the way I look at my life. It made me realise what's important, and what's not. Of course we all still get bothered by trivial things, I still want to murder my sister when she steals my things, but we're closer than ever, we look after each other more in little ways.

So we go to the follow up appointments, now at three monthly intervals. We go to the bone marrow biopsy appointments, again three monthly, and it's the smallest price to pay, to hear that everything is good. That's there's absolutely no residual disease, that she's entirely cancer free.

Xx