Diagnosis

This post was written on social media, before the existence of this blog. I think it provides interesting context along with being one of my first forays into “writing”.

So yesterday I got my first dose of the Covid-19 vaccine. Why? You might ask. He’s a 36 year old guy who is fit, healthy with an amazing physique (read dad bod).

Well, let me tell you a little bit about what has been happening over the last two weeks. On the 18th March, completely out of the blue, my darling, caring, intelligent, beautiful wife Zoë collapsed at home. I was asleep and she had just jumped into the shower, locked the door and left “Mark, the baby” (aged 1) crawling on the bathroom floor, just as she always does before work. Our eldest, John (aged 5), was downstairs watching cartoons. I heard an almighty crash, shot out of bed and broke into the bathroom with the screwdriver I use to change the batteries in John’s prolific number of battery operated devices. Zoë was slumped over the bath having a seizure. Paramedics were promptly summoned while I simultaneously cared for Zoë, chatted to the operator, texted a good friend to get over ASAP, played goal keeper with Mark (to try and stop him crawling down the stairs) and shouted down to John who was mildly irritated that I was interrupting his usually peaceful viewing of Octonaughts. Who says men can’t multitask when they need to?

Zoë was whisked off to Gloucester Royal hospital and as the doors closed on the ambulance I stood there in shock, wondering if this was the last time I would ever see my wife alive. Fortunately, it was not. Zoë was well looked after at hospital and despite spending a week there with strict Covid rules, was allowed out for a couple of hours some days to see our children. John was mildly irritated that he missed after school club one afternoon to see his mother in a playground near the hospital. A suggestion by a caring Junior doctor who had spotted the park on his drive to work. During this meeting Mark took great pleasure in trying to remove her cannulas, or “rewire her” as we called it! Zoë was scanned, poked and prodded and given the life changing news that she had a really really serious brain tumour. She then returned home for a couple of days during which we were overwhelmed with love, kindness and support from our amazing network of family and friends both domestically and around the world. Thank you all, you have been incredible!

We spent the weekend eating nice food and spending quality time with our family. The following week we went to see Zoë’s Neurosurgeon, a top quality chap who Zoë and I trust, who told us that she needed two major operations a week apart followed by chemotherapy and radiotherapy, the international standard of care for Zoë’s condition, which he suspected (to be confirmed by histology) was a multi-focal Glioblastoma multiforme. As we drove home from Southmead hospital we laughed and cried, but mainly laughed, especially when I had to stage an James Bond style escape from a malfunctioning car park barrier, shouted at two women who gave me a dirty look when I caused a minor infraction of the 2m rule (whoops) and later when a pigeon flew into the windscreen! While we waited for the plague of locusts to appear we talked about how fortunate we were and how full and exciting our lives had already been. We drew comfort from the fact that Zoë hadn’t been suddenly taken from us and we had been able to say all the things to each other than needed to be said.

We started to mentally prepare ourself and our family for the first operation, then on Thursday morning (a week before surgery was scheduled) Zoë took a turn for the worse. She was re-admitted and then transferred to Southmead for further tests and observations, which is where she is now, awaiting her surgery. The magnificent, compassionate and caring NHS team there are giving her incredible care and keep me regularly updated on her progress. On Tuesday the rules change and I will be able to visit her for an hour a day.

The last twelve months have been incredibly hard for everyone, all around the world and I, like you probably are, am completely fed up of the pandemic and the impact it is having on our lives. We feel we have been robbed of experiences, hugs, social contact, education, holidays, and for some people loved ones.

As you tuck into your Easter eggs today, all I ask is that you make sure the people you love know that, be kind to yourselves, keep Zoë and our family in your thoughts and prayers, and if you feel you can, bung a couple of quid to the Brain Tumour charity. It’s a horrible disease, it’s not genetic, it’s not contagious, it’s completely random and just good old fashioned bad luck.

Zoë has just won one of the worst lotteries in the world and as you can imagine I want to do anything I can to help come up with new and more effective treatments.

Finally, if you are ever tempted to have a rant about someone’s social distancing behaviour, either in person or on social media, stop and think, you don’t know what that person might be going through. I’m a stickler for the rules but even I make mistakes given the right circumstances! Peace out and have a very Happy Easter!

Matty x