Walk Away

June 2022

So the year’s definitely having its ups and downs, although, if I’m honest, that’s just my life in general.

I was on shift at work when I got a call from Theo’s dad. Theo’s my youngest—just five years old. Bright-eyed, cheeky little soul with the softest voice that could melt anyone. His dad sounded tense. Said they were at A&E, Theo hadn’t been feeling well - tummy pain, mostly. They’d already been waiting for over five hours.

I told him to keep me updated and said I’d leave work if needed, but with my job… it’s not always that simple. The young people I care for depend on consistency. I couldn’t just walk out, but I couldn’t focus either. Not with my baby sitting in a hospital waiting room and me not knowing what was going on.

Four more hours crawled by and there was still no update. I couldn’t shake the anxiety. My manager must’ve seen the panic written all over me because she stepped in and said, “Go. We’ll cover. He needs you more right now.”

By the time I got to the hospital, Theo had been sat in A&E for twelve hours. Twelve hours. Curled up on the floor, pale and quiet, his little backpack by his side. A doctor had just seen him and confirmed it, appendicitis. And it wasn’t just that, to add more trauma, it had already burst. They were prepping him for emergency surgery.

The guilt hit me like a truck. I should have come sooner. I should have known.

He looked so tiny in that big hospital bed. He reached for me, asked me to hold his hand as they wheeled him down to theatre. His eyes were wide but brave. “Don’t leave me, Mummy,” he whispered. I didn’t until I really had to and it broke my heart.

Waiting was the worst part. I sat in that blue, cold plastic chair, clenching my coffee like it might do something to keep me grounded. His dad and I, despite our ugly ending, just sat in silence, side by side, wanting the same thing. Our boy to be okay.

“The surgery went well.” A doctor announced leaving the double doors opposite the waiting area. Theo’s dad and I embraced. It was the first time since Theo’s birth but in that moment it seemed right. We were two parents overcome with relief for our little boy.

The doctors were hopeful. They’d flushed everything out and said Theo would need some time to recover. We exhaled, just a little.

But the next morning, I knew something was wrong. His face was puffier than the day before. His legs looked swollen. His hands were ballooned. And he was warm to the touch. Nurses moved in quietly, efficiently. Monitors started to beep more often and Doctors looked at notes with a frown that told me this wasn’t what would be expected.

The doctor came in with a softness that always means something serious is coming. “We think it’s nephrotic syndrome,” he explained. “It looks like the burst appendix may have impacted his kidneys.”

I didn’t even understand at first. I just stared at them, blinking. How did we get from a tummy ache to surgery and now kidney issues?

They started him on IV steroids and antibiotics. “We’re confident this will get things under control,” the doctor said.

“Okay, but then it’s over, right?” I asked. “This just… goes away?”

He shook his head gently. “We can’t be sure. Some children relapse. Some manage it long-term. Right now, we just focus on getting him better.”

Relapse. The word stuck to me like glue. I looked down at Theo, my beautiful, brave little boy. Sleeping, wires all around him, his hand wrapped in tape holding a cannula in place. My heart cracked open once more.

My phone buzzed in my hand. It was Charlie.

“Hey babe, hate to ask… but my wages haven’t gone in. Could you lend me some money?”

My stomach twisted.

We’ve met three times in person. We’ve been speaking almost daily for weeks. It feels like we’ve known each other forever, but still… money? Now?

He had known about Theo’s surgery and the feeling of knowing each other our whole life had grown even more. He listened, checked in, told me he was there if there was anything either of us needed. Yes myself and Theo’s dad had a quick hug following surgery but after all that happened with us I couldn’t get support from him. My family were typical. Tara so far away and so busy. I needed someone to lean on, even if it was just over the phone. The closeness I already felt from him as he had this way of consuming me at any given moment. I needed that right then.

When I had rang Charlie to tell him things weren’t as they should be with Theo he had told me that he was also going out of his mind with worry as his daughter was in hospital, just a year older than Theo. What the hell was going on!

Maybe we’re that close already. Or maybe I’m just falling into old patterns again. Either way, I couldn’t think straight, not with everything going on. He had stuff going on too and maybe we just both needed each other.

“How much you thinking?” I replied.

His answer came instantly.

“Can you afford £350?”

I hesitated. But my fingers moved anyway. Got his details. Sent it over.

I stared at the screen after pressing send. My baby is lying in a hospital bed and I’ve just transferred money to a man I barely know. I don’t even know what that says about me. Maybe it says I’m kind. Maybe it says I’m desperate. Maybe both.

All I know is—I just need Theo to get better. Everything else can wait.

Charlie was grateful and sent me a picture of his daughter with a sling on, she had fractured her elbow falling over at school. He was working away and her mum had sent him the picture. He had posted it all over social media and states how awful it was for him to not be with her and so worried. It was clear he loved his daughter deeply.

After that I didn’t get any phone calls for a few days. He was working or then with his daughter and his focus was her as he still was worried about her being at hospital. His focus was his girl. That was fine.

I carried on caring for Theo and it was honestly one of the worst experiences of my life. Theo in his bed and his little body fighting to get back to health. The fish light above the bed setting a dim light across his still swollen face. The tray of untouched hospital food. The red hard chair I had been sitting in all night. The feeling of helplessness was intolerable at times. I just wanted to take his place, take it all away from him. I just wanted him to be better.