I’m taking Raphi to Addenbrookes hospital today. It’s where Juliette was rushed by ambulance an hour after we were told she’d tested positive for leukaemia. She was just three, perfect, and full of life. Propped up on pillows in the back of the ambulance she eyed the saline drip in her hand with curiosity, but not fear. The nurse told Juliette she looked like a queen on her throne, which made her giggle. I sat next to my little girl, a screaming headache from the effort to keep smiling, longing for her to sleep so I could cry.
Then, Raphi was a 12 week-old foetus. Now he’s a nine year old with allergies, and Addenbrookes in Cambridge is one of the best places to deal with these. But this will be the first time I’ve been back. I thought I’d be OK, but I’m not.