My Son My Hero

One day John came home from school crying, he had fallen at playtime and hurt his

leg. I kissed him and gave him a hug, your ok son , I said , sit for a wee while and it will get better.

An only child at the time he was spoiled rotten but it hadn’t changed his nature, he was a happy wee boy who loved playing with cars, at 3 years old he knew the names of cars that went by or were parked at the side of the road. So much so that I thought he might be guessing. I didn’t know one make from another, except for a beetle or a mini, they were obvious, so he could have told me anything, but sure enough when my husband got him to do it , he got them all right, very much to the pride of his father, that was where he got his passion for cars from.

John had only started school a few months earlier in Aug and though he was still a wee bit shy, he was mixing well with the other kids and happy to go to school.

So it was unusual for him to cry, but he kept telling us his leg was sore, and when he cried through his sleep that night, well, I got a wee bit worried.

Next morning, we got John to the doctor, who said he had torn ligaments and strapped his leg up, this would be better within a week or 2 he said.

We came home and got on with normal living, but a week later, it hadn’t got any better, so my husband took him to the A&E they looked at it, said the doctor was right and sent him home. My poor wee son was in pain and it would seem nobody cared about that. Another week went by and john was still complaining , the swelling he had on his leg, didn’t seem to have gone away, so we got him back up to the hospital, but this time at my insistence John was x rayed and the doctor said, he could see something but he would refer him to the orthopaedic doctor but this would take another week. we had to wait, we had no choice, we had to rely on the NHS, we didn’t have a lot of money, That was a long week, John went back to the hospital for his appointment and the orthopaedic doctor admitted him for an operation, by that time we were nearly out of our minds with worry, running up to hospital to see our wee boy, wondering what could be the matter , praying, hoping it would turn out all right for him, our precious son.

It was 12th December 1979, everyone was running around, getting Christmas presents for their kids, doing up their houses with decorations, we were holding our breath. Trying hard to be optimistic.

It was also flu time and I had wakened with a heavy cold that day and Archie had suggested he would go to the hospital and get John’s results, our Janice, my niece said she would go with him for company.

Ok! I had said, feeling miserable, but hurry home. Yes! Archie said, then left.

Keeping busy round the house, I tried to be happy, look forward to Christmas, planning what we would do with John when we got him home, remembering his favourite meals, God, it was so hard, the house had been terrible without him there, so quiet.

My thoughts went back to how it was when it was only Me and Archie, the house was never untidy, everything in its place, we could go out when we wanted, didn’t even have to plan it , just up and out. I had babysat some of my sisters and brothers kids, I loved them but didn’t have the responsibility of them.

So when I found myself pregnant it was a wee bit of a surprise, but I got used to the idea quick and started planning for this wee mite, he was spoiled rotten even before he arrived I remembered, cases full of baby clothes, every new baby toy, educational of course, this one would be special, he would be mine a baby of my own. John was born on 2nd September 1974 at 1810 , it was a Monday evening and I was so tired that I only wanted to sleep, happy with the knowledge that I had a son and he was like the world.

It was the following day before I really got to appreciate him. There I was, had been frightened out my wits about the labour thing , it had been quite long, 14hours, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I had thought. The sister brought him in, he was, 6lbs 10oz blonde hair and blue eyes that looked as if he could not only see but study everything that was going on about him, his wee cheeky face lit up the room, God he was beautiful I thought. Soon after that I had wondered how I had got by without him.

The key turning in the door brought me back out of my memories into reality,

Archie walked in, went through to the room and sat on our bed,

John has a malignant tumour he said, as he started to cry!

That was it, just like that , our lives had changed for ever.

Oh My God! It was as if somebody physically punched me in the stomach, my head reeling I fell against the wall.

I didn’t faint, unfortunately, I would have welcomed it, anything would have been been better than my thoughts.

It was a terrible day, we both come from a large family and the phone didn’t stop ringing, with relatives, concerned about how John had got on, some of them hanging up the phone and coming straight to our house to comfort and support us.

“Try not to worry too much , he is young he will fight it, John will be ok”

I remember my poor mum, looking back she would be distraught at the news and worried sick.

Mum offered me a cigarette, “would you no take one of these hen, this might calm you, even a wee bit”

“But I stopped smoking a year ago Mum” I said!

“I know you did, but I don’t know what to do for you hen, I don’t know what to do” she cradled me in her arms.

It had only been a few hours since we were told but so much seemed to have transpired in them, full of confused feelings of Sadness, terrible fear, and anger, so much anger. We were left on our own late that evening to try to come to terms with the news of our son’s illness.

Mums parting words had been , trust in God, he will help you get through it.

God? I had thought , who was he? Why had he let this happen to my son?

Then I asked him, straight out, it was 3am I was sitting in front of a picture of Jesus, a picture I had often smiled at, until today “Why?, Why? Why did you let this happen, what have I done?” “I have loved you and prayed to you and you let this happen” I blamed God, “ what has John done, he is an innocent wee boy, a beautiful innocent wee boy, my wee boy” I sobbed, my heart breaking I fell asleep exhausted.

John started his treatment right away, he had six weeks radiotherapy and ten months of chemotherapy, during which time, his lovely blonde curls fell out. He didn’t lose all his hair, but it was so much thinner,

It was early in his treatment that I had to go to Johns School to see his teacher to let her know how he was getting on, I mentioned that I wanted to take John for healing, She had said that if John didn’t come through his illness, we would at least know that he would go to heaven.

Good God! Why did she say that, didn’t she know that I wasn’t going to let that happen. That I would do anything, to save him.

My frame of mind at that time was, frantic, running from one point of view to another, sometimes poles apart. He would get through this, no doubt about it, to, what if he doesn’t, what will I do. I had gotten to a point were, so that I could get on with life, I had made up my mind that if anything happened to John then I would go with him, that was the only way that I could survive those fears, there was no way, he would leave me behind. Even though I was God fearing, that was my thoughts, Even though I had decided that I would turn back to God for help, nothing, could make me stay without him.

I was so caught up with those thoughts that I didn’t stop to think of anyone else, My husband, Parents, family who loved us. It was terrible.

I received a letter from John’s teacher, telling me the name of a priest, known for God’s healing. We went to see him right away. That was an experience I will never forget.

We came away from that feeling so much better, having felt the presence of God, we felt John would be ok.

But being human, that feeling of elation didn’t last long. Fear returned to torment.

Months went by and It was nearly Christmas again, John was due to receive his letter from the hospital to go in for his treatment, which he did every 3 weeks, last time they had forgotten to send it out and I had to phone to ask them, they had apologised, it was a mistake, and here it was, time for him to go in again and no letter, had they forgotten again?.

I phoned to ask and the nurse said, happily, “No it isn’t a mistake, there is a letter on its way to you, but not for John to be admitted” she went on “ the doctors are very pleased with John’s progress , he wont be getting anymore treatment, he doesn’t need it”

Hello? are you there? She asked after a long silence

“Yes” I said. “Thanks very much, Goodbye”

“What is it” Archie asked, is something wrong”?

“They said John doesn’t need anymore treatment, at least I think that is what they said, will you phone to make sure?”

John was already jumping up and down laughing, he was so glad. He was only a wee boy and although he didn’t know the danger to his life, he did know that when he went into the hospital, he would be very sick for a few days, so this was a great relief to the wee soul.

Archie phoned the hospital and asked, the nurse said “ I knew your wife didn’t believe us, poor soul, she has been so worried, it has been a terrible strain for you all, but thankfully, John is ok.

Archie thanked her and hung up, kissing me and hugging John and opening a can of Budweiser to celebrate. Me ? I only wanted to crawl into a corner, Oh I knew I was happy for my John but I couldn’t feel it, I could hardly feel anything, except of course fear, that was easy to feel, but it was explained to me later, that I was so emotionally spent with the continued worry that my feelings were numbed.

For me that was the beginning of a long fight back to health I had lost 2 stones in weight, couldn’t go out of the house for panic attacks, Archie my husband had gotten more and more into working , he worked every hour that he could, probably to escape the pressure of what was going on at home with his wife and son.

Meanwhile our family was growing, with arrival of Michelle when John was 8 and Carina when he was nearly 12 years old.

The treatment John had, saved his life, but it had stopped his wee leg from growing, so that when John was 12 years old, his right leg was still only 5 So although that treatment had finished, it was only the beginning of a many long years of him being in / out of the hospital, Glasgow Royal was almost like his second home for a while. He had Operations that included his leg broken and re-set twice, Achilles tendon operation, a Major operation to try to lengthen his leg, were they had metal bars in the space between his bone, we had to turn an allen key on it each day, he had open wounds for 9 months with it, then for 3 months we had to put a metal drum over his leg and plug it in each night for 10 hours for magnetic healing.

None of this worked, and meanwhile John was growing up. When he wasn’t going through treatment, he had perfect attendance at school, he loved it, and when he went to college, we were so happy for him, he had such a great nature, some people thought he was really happy, but I knew different. we always had a close relationship so it was natural for John to confide in me. He told me that his friends in college were great, but if girls came into the company, he could see some of them liked him, but when they seen his limp , that was it, they would be his friend but they wouldn’t go out with him.

It was heartbreaking to watch him hurt, especially when I recalled my teenage years, they were so happy and so special, and there was my John hurting through his.

It was then that John decided that he wanted his leg amputated. At least then, he reasoned, he would appear normal. Well, I thought I would crack, I tried in my selfish way to dissuade him, but he wouldn’t let me. He was so single minded about it ,

but by this time he was 18yrs old and could make up his own mind.

Which is what he did, the doctors were happy to do it. and they went ahead with the operation.

It went wrong and he had to have it done again the following week It seemed like a nightmare but thankfully this time it was a success. It took 3 months to heal and news of that Flesh eating bug was all over the papers,

By this time I was distraught and I had to get counselling to be able to cope.

John has never looked back, his confidence soared and he took his place in society he has always been a worker , come hell or high water, never given in to his disability and a few years after that he met and married his wife.

To this day, it escapes me where my John got his courage from, but I’m glad he did, I’m glad he could see past the hard time, that for me was overshadowed with the fear of losing him, fears of a selfish mother, not willing to take the chance, but for him it was to be a dream come true.

Words cant describe how much I love and admire him for he is my son my hero.