A SENSE OF DREAD
Charlotte woke in the middle of the night and couldnt settle back to sleep until dawn. Whether it was a bad dream or just a wave of unfathomable unease, she could not say. Her chest felt heavy, and tears began to spill down her cheeks for reasons she simply couldnt grasp. Breathing was difficult, and a terrifying sense of impending disaster swept over her with irresistible force.
She quietly walked to the crib where her little son, Jamie, lay dreaming. He smiled in his sleep and made soft, playful noises with his lips. Charlotte gently smoothed the blanket around him and tiptoed into the kitchen. The world outside was pitch black, not a glimmer coming through the window.
Char, is it another sleepless night? came Richards hushed voice behind her.
Its started againI cant figure out whats wrong with me, Rich, she whispered.
Oh, love, maybe its that famous postnatal depression, Richard tried to joke, hoping to lift her spirits.
But Jamies nearly six months old! Theres never been any hint of it beforewhy now?
These things can come on unexpectedlyhormones, nerves, all sorts. Dont worryitll sort itself out.
Im frightened, Rich, she murmured, pressing herself into his arms.
Itll all work out, he assured her, hugging her close.
Three weeks later, Charlotte was called in to see the local GP for Jamies six-month health check. Theyd just finished all the tests and consultations, so the nurses unexpected call unsettled her.
Is something the matter? she asked anxiously.
Dont worry, Charlottethe doctor will explain everything, came the nurses reply.
At the surgery, they had to wait a long time. Charlottes nerves were stretched tight. Finally ushered into the consultation room, she was on edge.
Please, sit down, the doctor said quietly. Charlotte, I need you to stay calm. Theres nothing to panic about, but some extra tests are required.
Whats happened? Charlotte breathed, panic rising. Suddenly the dread shed been feeling made perfect sense.
Jamies blood results were concerning. His white blood cell count is far too high, and there are other worrying signs. We need to retest, but preferably at a specialist hospital.
Which hospital? Charlotte asked, her voice barely audible.
The County Haematology Centre, the doctor replied gently.
Charlotte barely remembered the walk home. Richard was already there, having left work early after her message.
Char, whats happened? he asked the moment she entered.
Tears ran down Charlottes cheeks, but she didnt seem to notice.
Weve been referred to the specialist centre for more tests, she whispered, every word heavy with dread.
But its just further testing, Richard tried to reassure her. It could all be fine.
I know its not, Rich. Ive felt it for days. I just couldnt put it into words beforeI sensed something terrible was coming.
She held Jamie to her chest and sobbed bitterly. The baby stirred but did not wake, oblivious to the storm brewing around him.
Acute leukaemia, the elderly consultant pronounced as he looked through Jamies new results. We need to begin treatment straight away.
Charlotte wept, unable to grasp that this was reality. Jamies chemotherapy began in her absencehe was taken to intensive care, while Charlotte was left waiting outside.
Go home and rest! the nurse pleaded. You cant see him till tomorrow anyway.
I cant, I cant leave him. What will I do at home without my son?
Charlotte and Richard had married eight years earlier. Trying for a child had taken years, with endless tests and appointments, but nothing was apparently wrong. Yet Charlotte finally became pregnant eight years into their marriagean anxious but joyful time. Richard pampered her, never letting her lift a finger, particularly after the doctor suggested hospital rest in her last month to guard against prematurity. Six months ago, shed finally given birth to their longed-for son, naming him after Richards father, whod tragically passed in a car accident several years before.
You mustnt name a baby after someone who died young, Charlotte! her grandmother had scolded on hearing the news.
Thats just superstition, Gran, Charlotte had insisted, dismissing the worries in her bliss.
Now she sat by her babys crib. Jamie had grown thinner and weaker over the past month; his cheeks were milk-pale and haunted by dark circles. Charlotte cried, not even bothering to wipe away her tears. Shed forced her way into the sterile ward after an argument with the head consultant, who insisted Jamie was at risk of infection given his fragile immune system. But Charlotte had simply broken down outside intensive care, refusing to be parted from her son. Finally, they relented and let her sit with him as he slept. She soaked in every detail, as if trying to remember every moment.
We dont do those kinds of operations here, the chief consultant told her the next day.
Where are they done, then? Charlotte asked, refusing to give in.
In London. Only a specialist team there might be able to save your son, but its very expensive.
Well find the money. Please prepare all the paperwork well need.
The medical reports were quickly sent off to a London hospital famed for treating leukaemia. Soon, word returned: they would operate, but the cost would be well over £200,000.
Char, even if we sell our home and car, we wouldnt have anything near enough, Richard said, despairing. Ive sent out appeals wherever I can, but it takes time.
We havent got months, Rich! We need to find a way, Charlotte wept.
Everyone pitched in to help: Richards and Charlottes workplaces, a local charity foundation, even the corner shops and neighbours. The council chipped in; volunteers organised collections. Only just over half the money was raised with time running outthey couldnt postpone surgery any longer.
Char, you go with Jamie, Richard said, Ill send every penny we get after you. Someone might buy the house yet!
Neighbours and friends did all they could, but reaching such sums seemed impossible in their small town.
After sorting out papers, Charlotte and Jamie flew to London. The funds they scraped together only just covered the initial treatments. Jamie began another barrage of tests, started preparation for surgeryCharlotte tried not to think about where the rest of the funds would come from, just hoping for a miracle. Jamies first birthday was only a month away.
Next door in the ward was another mum with a little boy of three, Thomas. Turns out they were actually from a town not far from Charlottes. Abigail had been lucky: theyd raised the operation money, but Thomass leukaemia was more advanced. Ongoing complications meant surgery was continuously delayed.
Dont cry, love! Abigail comforted Charlotte. Itll work out. Youll take Jamie to the circus and the zoo, just like I did with Tom last yearoh, he loved the bears, watched them for half an hour. I had no idea he was ill then. His nose suddenly started bleeding at the zooI panicked! It happened a few more times, then finally we saw the doctor. Stage three, they said. Why didnt I act sooner?
Dont fret, Abigailits going to be alright. Well all take the children to the zoo together soon! Charlotte comforted her in return.
But, Char, I could tell Tom was offhe lost weight, got pale, barely ate, run down all the time! Why didnt I run to the doctor? Its my fault. My mother told me, too, but I wouldnt hear itI didnt want it to be true! Abigail broke down sobbing, and Charlotte, despite her own pain, could only hold her and hope her presence brought comfort.
After a few days, Thomass condition worsened. He was rushed into intensive care; Abigail was not allowed in and sat, broken, in the corridor.
Abigail, come lie down, Charlotte pleaded gently.
I cant, I have to be near. He feels me closehe knows Im outside, Abigail insisted.
He knows you love him no matter where you are. Come on, please
But Abigail remained, steadfast. One of the nurses gave her a sedative; she no longer cried, but stared dully, waitingpraying for a miracle.
That evening, Richard called. Charlotte was cradling Jamie, soaking up every precious moment.
Char, Ive managed to send just over £10,000, Richard said cautiously. Theres a young couple coming to view the houseIve dropped the price for a quick sale.
Alright, Charlotte murmured.
A piercing scream from the corridor broke her words. Her mobile slipped from her hand. Jamie woke and cried; she stroked his head until he calmed and slipped back to sleep. Gently laying him back in his crib, Charlotte hurried out. What she saw made her heart freeze. Abigail was on the floor outside the childrens ICU, on her knees, surrounded by anxious nurses. She shrieked with grief, inconsolable. Charlotte had never seen such pain.
Abigail, please, hold on, Charlotte wept, hugging her, you must keep going for Thomas!
What for? My boys gone! Its my fault! How am I meant to go on? Abigail screamed.
Charlotte stayed with her while a nurse administered another injection. They managed to help Abigail back to her room, where a weary doctor murmured:
She needs rest. Shell have plenty of time to grieve.
That night, Charlotte didnt sleep at all. She sat by Jamies cot and just watched. She wanted to commit every detail to memory, just in case.
The next day, Abigail came to find her. She no longer cried. Overnight shed aged a decade, hollowed out with sorrow. They stood for ages, just holding each other.
I want everything to go right for you, Charlotte, Abigail whispered, Youve got a chancetake it. I have to care for my boy now: funeral, the services, a headstone Afterwards She wiped her eyes. Read this once Im goneI cant say everything out loud. She handed Charlotte a sealed envelope.
Alright, Charlotte replied quietly.
After Abigail left, Charlotte felt more alone than ever. Jamie was taken for more procedures.
She opened the envelope. Shaky handwriting covered the page:
Dear Charlotte, I so desperately want Jamie to live. Let him live for Thomas, toolet him grow up, learn, play, delight in each new day, play football, go sledgingAnd please do visit the zoo for both our boysgive the big black bear our love. Theres money in the envelopeThomas wont need it now, so let it save Jamie.
Charlotte cried and cried, happiness and heartbreak minglingat last, there was enough to see Jamie through surgery, but the cost was far too great.
Rich, you mustnt sell the house! she told her husband on the phone next day. Well need somewhere to come back to!
What about the rest of the money? Richard sounded bewildered.
Weve got it. Everythings going to be alright.
He ended the call, for the first time smiling in days. Something in her voice finally gave him hope. Charlotte believed with all her heart.
The operation went ahead the day after Jamies birthday. He was now one year old. Charlotte, like Abigail before her, waited outside intensive care. But this time, the prognosis was good. In time, mothers were allowed to visit their children, and later Jamie was moved in with her. A month of isolation, then months of recovery still lay aheadbut they were minor hurdles now. The operation had succeeded. Jamie was slowly coming back to life: he started playing again, eating, and even smiling. When he first blurted something like Mum, Charlotte wept tears of joya true miracle.
Bear! Jamie pointed at the enormous black animal in its enclosure.
Say bear, not bearrrgh! Charlotte laughed, gently correcting him.
They had come to the city zoothe very one where Thomas had once watched the bears. Standing before the enclosure, Charlotte quietly said:
A bear hug from Tommy, just for you.
Jamie dashed about, giggling, eating his ice cream and riding on Richards shoulders, fascinated by every animal. His days were now full of wonder, laughter, new joys. The hospital was far behind. Only occasionally, waking in the night, would Charlotte creep to the cot and listen anxiously to Jamies even breathing. The fear would recede. Ahead of them waited a whole lifetimea life to be lived for themselves, and for the little boy who had given Jamie his second chance.
