Farewell To The Bristol Trail

Three days spent sheep spotting and I managed to see 19 Shaun’s out of a possible 70. My Sheep Spotter App tells me that I’ve walked 23 Kilometres in the process.

Not very impressive?

“Could have done better.” I hear you say?

I disagree, this trip to Bristol was never intended to be a race, or a “Who can see the most Shaun’s?” competition.

It was about having a relaxing holiday with my two girls and about remembering Leah.

I feel that I’ve achieved both.

I’ve cried and I’ve laughed.

On our first morning, we had breakfast in the Courtyard of Wesley’s New Room – or “breakfast with John Wesley” as I referred to it on my Facebook page.

I returned there later on my own. I entered the peaceful chapel, climbed the steps that lead to the place set aside for quiet prayer and there I sat and reflected.

I remembered how I had sat in that same place in August 2013, with my heart breaking, because my daughter was so sick and I didn’t know how to cope. God had met with me there. I write about this here.

My heart is broken now, only in a different kind of a way. I sat and read the same verses from Philippians 4:6-7 that I had read then. I felt the same hot salty tears flow down my cheeks.

I read from the prayers that were taped to the table beside the Bible. I was glad that there is a prayer especially for the bereaved. It is a comforting prayer.

On Wednesday I had breakfast with K who lives in Bristol. Her friendship meant so much to Leah and I during our time here. It was so lovely to have this time with her.

During this rendezvous, I bumped into the Dad of a young man who had been second next door to Leah in the Transplant Unit in 2013. I had not been in contact with them since leaving Bristol. As soon as I spoke to him, his face told me the news that I didn’t want to hear – his lovely boy had died just before Leah on the 23rd December 2013. This was a very emotional moment.

Thursday morning I had another breakfast date – an extra special one. Valerie’s teenage son Jonathan had a bone marrow transplant in Bristol in the Summer of 2008. Like Leah, he loved Jesus. Like Leah, Jonathan went to live with his Heavenly Father just a few short months after returning home to Northern Ireland, following his bone marrow transplant.

Like me, Valerie is the mother of four children. She doesn’t live near me, but a mutual friend introduced us after Leah died. Like me, Valerie loves Bristol.

Amazingly, when I told Valerie my dates for visiting Bristol, we discovered that our visits would overlap!
I don’t actually believe in random coincidences – as Leah told us after she was diagnosed “Mummy, we have to see the bigger picture”. There was definitely a “bigger picture” going on here.

Valerie and I sat in the warm sunshine and compared our journeys, remembered our children, and talked about the God who gives us the strength to go on.

Then, because it’s Bristol, there had to be a Shaun.

The rest of the day was spent with my girls, enjoying the Bristol sunshine and doing some sheep spotting.

No trip to Bristol is complete without a visit to ZaZa Bazaar to eat. Their food is A-M-A-Z-I-N-G! They are a buffet style “all-you-can-eat” restaurant serving food from all over the world. Rachel’s school friend Sally joined us for this one.

Now we’re off to London for a few days, to stay with my sister.

Safe in my Father’s House

Leah was an avid reader. Her earliest favourite books were a series by Usborne Books, where she had to locate a tiny duck hiding on every page. Leah loved ducks.

Other favourites that soon followed, were the Spot Books and Kipper Books. Each page was soon memorised – by both of us.

Then Leah discovered the beautiful Maisy Mouse Books by Lucy Cousins. She fell in love with these too.

After this it was Enid Blyton – by the bagful. Leah’s shelves became laden with Enid Blyton Books. I wonder if there’s even one Enid Blyton title that Leah didn’t read.

I remember many years ago, the Annual Book Fair came to her Primary School and Leah asked me for money to buy “Happy Christmas Maisy“. In my naivety, I gave her £5 to take into school the next day. A rather forlorn looking Leah returned home from school with the £5 and a note from the teacher to say that she hadn’t enough money to buy the book that she wanted.

As a parent of four children, living on a low income, with a house already full of books, the idea of spending more than £5 on yet another book seemed ridiculous to me. But Leah was desperate to become the owner of this lovely Maisy book, with it’s sparkly pages. Leah loved glitter and sparkle.

I’m not sure if Leah got the book then, or later as a Christmas gift, all I remember is how much the book was treasured and loved.

Nevertheless, “Maisy Mouse” is certainly not something that I’ve given much thought to in recent years – until yesterday.

I was heading up to Bristol Children’s Hospital, for a prearranged meeting, with some of the staff who had taken such good care of Leah and I during the 14 weeks that we spent here in 2013.

The Hospital has it’s very own Shaun the Sheep, standing outside on the pavement.

To my amazement, I discovered that this Shaun is called “Maisy and Friends” and has been designed by Lucy Cousins. I felt so emotional when I saw it.

Even though Leah had long since grown out of those Maisy books, I know that she would have loved it. I felt both happy and sad when I saw it.

When I stepped into the hospital lift to begin my ascent to the 6th floor, I was delighted to once again hear the voiceover of Wallace telling Gromit which floor we were on, every time the lift stopped. Despite the fact that Leah and I spent 14 weeks here, we never tired of this enjoyable distraction every time we travelled in the relevant lift.

Once I entered the waiting area for Oncology Day Beds my emotions became overwhelming. There was another family waiting there and I didn’t want them to see me crying. They looked like newbies. I didn’t want to upset them and steal their hope. I looked around and spied the water cooler, so I busied myself with consuming cups of water.

Then our lovely TYA (teenage and young adult) cancer nurse specialist arrived and hugged me tight, quickly followed by the two amazing consultants who cared for Leah. We spent some time together. I gave them the fifteens that I had made for them in memory of Leah. Thankfully, the fifteens had survived the journey from Ireland unscathed. They remembered how Leah used to make these sweet treats for them when we were in Bristol. You can find the recipe here.

Then I had time to chat with some of the lovely nurses on Day Beds. More hugs and then it was time to go again. They were all very generous with their time. This grieving mummy appreciated that so very much.

There was one more place that I still needed to visit, but it was going to be very emotional.  I needed the cover of darkness for this one.

At 10pm I left the girls in our hotel room and I walked once more in the direction of Bristol Children’s Hospital.

This time however, I walked on by, up St Michael’s Hill, in the direction of Sam’s House. Such a very familiar route.

In the safety of the darkness, my tears flowed. I wasn’t planning a visit to Sam’s House – I’m not ready for that yet. I certainly wouldn’t want to upset the families who are staying there, holding onto hope for their ill children.

I walked slowly past. I could see through the glass door, down the hall, to the room that belonged to Leah and I, for the duration of our stay.

My destination was just beyond Sam’s House, in the Royal Fort Gardens. Leah was immunocompromised and couldn’t go anywhere there was lots of people. She and I had enjoyed regular walks in the beautiful Royal Fort Gardens, in the evenings, when it was quiet.

We would sit on a bench and talk. She used to make me stay very still, so that she could see how near the grey squirrels would come. I write about some of the good times we had here.

There was no squirrels last night, only a very hungry looking city fox. Leah would have enjoyed that too.

I remained there a long time, in the stillness, remembering.

To help soothe my broken heart, I played ‘Abide With Me‘ by Matt Redman/Matt Maher on continuos repeat on my phone, while I sat alone in the darkness.

Yet, I wasn’t alone.

My Heavenly Father, who knows the end from the beginning, was there with me.

The words of this song gradually seeped into my soul, as I sat and wept and yearned for my second-born child.

Abide With Me

“I have a home, eternal home

But for now I walk this broken world

You walked it first, You know our pain

But You show hope can rise again up from the grave

Abide with me, Abide with me

Don’t let me fall, and don’t let go

Walk with me and never leave

Ever close, God abide with me

There in the night, Gethsemane

Before the cross, before the nails

Overwhelmed, alone You prayed

You met us in our suffering and bore our shame

Oh love that will not ever let me go

Love that will not ever let me go

You never let me go

Love that will not ever let me go

Oh You never let us go

And up ahead, eternity

We’ll weep no more, we’ll sing for joy, abide with me”

Eventually I took comfort from the fact that Leah is safe – safe in my Father’s house.

As David says in the Bible after the death of his child “I will go to him, but he will not return to me.” 2 Samuel 12:23

I walked once more around the unlit but familiar path, then headed out past Sam’s House again, back down St. Michael’s Hill, past the Children’s Hospital and back to the hotel.

The girls were still awake and I had a nice bit of time with them, before we all settled down for the night.

Returning to Bristol

Download Sheep Spotter App ~ done

Flight checkin online ~ done

Hotel checkin online ~ done

Passports in handbag ~ done

Packing ~ half done

Tomorrow my two daughters and I are flying to Bristol to do the Shaun The Sheep Trail in memory of Leah.

When Leah was in Bristol having her bone marrow transplant in 2013 there were eighty 6 foot high Gromit sculptures dotted around the town.

Leah managed a sneaky trip off the ward to see a small number of them before they were all gathered up and auctioned off in aid of Bristol Children’s Hospital.

L-R Miriam, Rachel, myself and Leah

Before we left Bristol they had announced that they would be doing it all again in 2015, but this time using Shaun the Sheep sculptures.

Leah and I talked about it and agreed that we would just have to return for this event. She looked forward to coming back as a tourist rather than as a patient.

Much of Leah’s time in Bristol was spent in isolation, feeling very unwell. My outgoing, fun loving daughter found this very hard going.

We even discussed with her sisters about this plan to return in 2015 and see Shaun the Sheep. They were definitely up for it too.

So, after Leah died, we talked about it and decided to go ahead with the plans, as part of our way of remembering her.

Now that it’s here I’m both excited and terrified.

Excited at the prospect of returning to the City where Leah and I spent 14 weeks and laid down some very precious memories. Leah wasn’t acutely ill all of that time, often times we traced the rainbows through the rain.

Terrified that it will all be too much for me emotionally.

Excited at the prospect of having a holiday with my two lovely daughters in a City that I absolutely fell in love with, despite the tragic reason that took me there in the first place.

At times in recent weeks I have asked myself “Vicky, why are you doing this? Why are you returning to Bristol?”

I have known since Leah died that I would return there for a visit, but I can’t quite explain why. It just feels right. Bristol was such an important part of our journey.

When I was with my counsellor a few days ago I asked her “Why am I doing this?” she’s very good, she always helps me, she replied “You know that you’re doing the right thing, but some things only make sense when you’ve done them and can look back at them.” I thought that was quite a good answer.

As with some other things that I’ve done since Leah died, which have been emotionally very difficult, I feel like we are honouring Leah’s memory and continuing her legacy within our family.

Sometimes you just have to go with your gut feeling, trust the process and hope and pray that everything works out.

I came across this F-E-A-R acronym recently and I like it:

Whom Shall I Fear?

When I had finished my general nurse training in Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital in Drogheda in the ’80s, I went on to train as a mental health nurse in a very progressive psychiatric hospital in England.

At the end of that training, there was an opportunity to apply for a three month paid secondment in the hospital psychology department working as a junior therapist under supervision.

I had already had a student placement in the psychology department and I had loved it. The psychologists were a mixed bunch. Brian was a total behaviourist. Paul was completely psychoanalytical. Chan was eclectic. There was also a sex therapist and some others who I don’t remember as clearly.  I recall using CBT though.

I submitted a written application and then I was interviewed. To my absolute amazement and sheer delight, I was the successful candidate. As far as I can recall, my time was divided between all the psychologists and they each gave me at least one client to work with.

I remember working quite a bit with clients with fears and phobias, such as agoraphobia. I had to design and implement programs to help them overcome their fears. Some of my work involved visiting clients in their own homes and traveling with them on public transport, or even accompanying them on outings in their own car. I remember one lady driving anti-clockwise around a very busy roundabout when I was in the front passenger seat. This was a very anxious moment for me as well as for her.

Another lady had a fear of spiders and I was helping to do a desensitisation programme with her. I was supposed to accompany her to a local zoo and let her see me hold some kind of large spider, possibly a tarantula, but I chickened out!!! I wasn’t very helpful to her – was I?!

Seriously though, what I did learn, as I helped several people overcome their fears and phobias, is that severe anxiety/emotional distress is self limiting.

When triggered, the difficult, unpleasant feelings will increase dramatically and will feel incredibly uncomfortable.

However, those difficult feelings will eventually peak and then they will begin to subside again.

Little did I know that one day I would be using that knowledge to talk myself through difficult situations, in the same way as I once accompanied agoraphobic clients around Croydon.

Not because I’ve become agoraphobic, but because after such a major trauma as the illness and death of a child, so many places trigger such strong emotional reactions, that I now need to be my own therapist so as to prevent myself from having no-go areas in my life.

I think that the first time that I became aware of myself doing this, was last year when I was at our local hospital for another reason and I spontaneously went back to the Sperrin Oncology/Haematology Outpatients Department on my own and sat for 10 minutes opposite the seat where I once sat with Leah. I write about this here.

The next time was a bigger challenge. It was the week of Leah’s one year anniversary. I was in Belfast. I entered the foyer  of Belfast City Hospital, went to the cafe on the ground floor and ordered a cup of steaming hot cinnamon milk, which had been my staple diet while Leah was dying. I then went and sat in the nearby eating area, where I had sat on many occasions during Leah’s final two and a half weeks.

My heart was beating very fast, my vision was blurred, blood vessels were pounding in my ears. I silently prayed for help and reminded myself of what I used to tell my clients in Croydon all those years ago – these difficult feelings are self-limiting, they will peak, but then they will start to subside.

Sure enough, within about 10 minutes I was starting to feel calmer.

I know that it will be easier the next time.

I also had to put it into practice at work recently. A mandatory annual training update was scheduled to take place in the South Wing of our local hospital. I work in the community, so my inservice training is normally community based – not this time unfortunately.

The South Wing houses the Sperrin Oncology/Haematology Ward where Leah had two admissions, as well as housing some other departments.

Just parking in the nearby carpark is often enough to have me in tears, never mind walking through the doors AND down the very familiar corridors. By the time I had found a seat in the training room, everything within me was screaming “get out of here, go home, you can’t do this”.

One of my work colleagues asked me something and I looked at her blankly, unable to focus on her words or their meaning.

Inwardly I just kept praying for help and reminding myself of what I knew – the difficult feelings would peak, then they would subside. Admittedly, by the time that had happened, I was so exhausted, that I struggled to concentrate, but at least I showed up.

It will be easier the next time!

Back in the office a few days later, someone asked me something related to what had been discussed at the training. I looked at her blankly and said “Was I there when that was discussed?” Then we both burst out laughing! You have to have a sense of humour too!

Don’t worry, this is training that I attend on a regular basis, I will have other opportunities to update my skills and knowledge.

I have shared the above experiences in the hope that my story might be of help to somebody else, struggling with similar issues, for whatever reason.

Next month I’ve a short trip to Bristol planned, along with my two daughters, to do the Shaun the Sheep Trail in Leah’s memory. The Shaun in the City project was announced while Leah and I were in Bristol in 2013. Leah and I discussed our plans to come back for it and we promised to bring her younger sister Miriam. Leah looked forward to coming back as a tourist instead of as a patient.

Even booking the tickets for this was very emotional. Everything we do will be emotionally loaded and will trigger so many memories – Belfast International Airport, Bristol Airport, my planned visit to Bristol Children’s Hospital, retracing our steps in so many different ways.

However, I just know that it’s the right thing to do, it’s all part of the remembering.

As I write this, a song by Chris Tomlin keeps playing in my head.

It’s called Whom Shall I Fear (God Of The Angel Armies)

I know who goes before me
I know who stands behind
The God of angel armies
Is always by my side

The one who reigns forever
He is a friend of mine
The God of angel armies
Is always by my side

My strength is in Your name
For You alone can save
You will deliver me
Yours is the victory

Whom shall I fear
Whom shall I fear