Tuesday, 21 June 2011

Why Cameron is No Ordinary Kid - Part 25

Michael and I had settled into our new routine of him arriving in the morning with breakfast and leaving after dinner. Our days were pretty busy between doctors, nurses, testing, specialists and visitors.

We had lots of doctors coming and going from our room. We were a bit of a novelty so we had a steady stream of trainee doctors visiting which was fine, I realize doctors need to learn, however it became exhausting telling our story over and over again.

Every time a new face stood at our door I would have to tell our story from before Cameron became unwell through until this new person was standing in our room. I'd also be quizzed on Cameron's pregnancy and birth. I got sick of telling our story, I began to dream a dream that I still dream today ......... I truly wish Cameron's medical file had a cover page with our story described  briefly so I don't have to keep retelling it every time there is a shift change or new specialist or therapist.

We were becoming very comfortable with Cameron's paediatrician. He had been with us from the moment we had walked through the doors of the hospital and he had been instrumental in saving Cameron's life. He cared about all of us, not just Cameron. He could see the pain we were carrying and he could see the love we had for our beautiful son. He always asked how we were coping and got to know us personally. He was different to the other doctors.

We were very comfortable having discussions with Cameron's doctor so it didn't seem odd the day he asked us to sit down and have a chat with him. We left Cameron asleep as usual in his cot while a room full of visitors were sitting around the room chatting. We walked across the corridor to the Nurse Managers office and sat down with him.

I only remember one sentence of that conversation. It burned itself into my brain. Because of the type of man he was I know he would have been incredibly tactful and caring in his approach but this was the conversation he had not wanted to have with us, I can not imagine how horrible it must have been for him to prepare for what he had to say.

"I want you to know that I have seen patients worse than Cameron  improve and recover but I don't think this is going to happen."

I have never forgotten that sentence but I have also never forgotten what happened next. I didn't really have time to absorb what the doctor had said because within seconds there was a yell from our room. It was the type of yell that made nurses run and us jump out of our seats and dash back to our room. We all hit the room at the same time and then became confused, nobody was panicking.

Everyone was grinning and crying and they were excited. Cameron had opened his eyes.

I had been opening the blind each morning and pulling it down each night to maintain our daily routine. My Mum had been standing there contemplating Cameron's situation and felt the light might be too strong for Cameron so she pulled down the blind. As soon as the blind cut the light Cameron opened his eyes. The yell had been a group yell of excitement.


  1. Wow! That must have been the most amazing moment for you. I've always said that doctors don't know everything so we must never give up hoping. Cameron's clearly a fighter :)

  2. Our miracle boy! You have made me cry again!!

  3. Over the years I have noticed that when Cameron's life is hanging in the balance and people are giving up hope he lets us know that he's coming back.