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DAY 17 – 8 November:

Michelle: Today we were met with more bad news. Conor’s liver and kidneys were taking major strain, from the meds, from the pneumonia, from the fact that his heart wasn’t functioning as it should. Added to this, the pneumonia he had contracted was a particularly nasty one, and required a very expensive drug to treat it.

Conor was to be moved to the ICU section of the CTICU as his condition was deteriorating and he required more intensive care. We had to sign a heap of paperwork requesting special permission from our medical aid to cover the drug he needed to fight his infection. They moved him to bed 13. My heart sank. I am not particularly superstitious, and neither is Mike, but we both had the same thought: ‘not bed 13’.

It felt like we were on a downward spiral, and this poor little boy of ours just couldn’t catch a break. Still I spoke softly to him, telling him how strong he was, how proud I was of him, how if it was all just too much he could let go, I would love him forever. He hung on, and so did my hope.

Michael: He is moved into an isolation room for fear of germs. A fragile body with no immune system, already under siege by the virus, fighting with everything he’s got, and now the fear of a “second wave of attack” from further infection. When does the onslaught end?

As a parent you just want to step in and help fight his battles. But being in an isolation ward now, there is even less interaction encouraged. You are merely there to be a supporter in the stands, while he is out on the playing field against the opposition.

Just him and the meds versus a tiny band of viruses you can’t even see.

The odds are stacked unfavourably.

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