It’s me, your Daddy.
We miss you.
There isn’t a day goes by that we don’t think of you, especially recently.
Mummy might not have told you, because it terrified her, but I was ill some months ago, admitted to hospital and everything. It was the same illness that took you from us, Sepsis. I got it in my leg, no thanks to the NHS, and nearly lost it, potentially even worse.
Being in that hospital brought so many bad things to the front, having to stay in the same place that we lost you. Especially for nine days! Whenever I went for a walk, especially down to the food court, I’d always find myself looking over at the restaurant where me and mummy used to have a dinner or sandwich. At one point, I stopped and just stood and stared in the direction of the NICU, where you lived.
It screwed me up when they informed me the day I was discharged that it had been Sepsis, the very thing that took you from us.
It was almost like that day we lost you.
I think at that point I hated them, I can’t explain why as such.
But everything flooded back, seeing you on that bed that last time, the staff upset, the doctors apologising. I had nightmares when we got home, couldn’t face sleeping in case I saw that again without the control of being awake.
And I hated the NHS for what they’ve done, to me, to you.
The same goddamn illness.
I hated that place, because the ward I was on was so close to yours. And then they told me it was Sepsis that I had, and I nearly lost my leg, or worse! I felt numb like the day after we lost you, barely able to speak, just wanted to get out of that place. Mummy drove me home, and my head was filled with all those images of you.
Since then, all of those feelings I had have come back to the fore. All those times I got pushed to the side because I was “just a dad”, and ignored, and organisations not wanting to help me. I hated it, and myself, and now it’s all out again.
Since then I haven’t been able to sleep properly, desperate for this illness to go do one.
And then Kelsi was ill, and blue-lighted to hospital recently. I’ve taken a week off work, and realised I really don’t want to go back. I’d rather be at home with mummy and your siblings than go back to that place, to any job involving cooking, but nobody else will have me, and we don’t have the money to do that.
I miss you.
I’m not alright.