This has just crushed us even though I think deep down I knew it was coming. How on earth can God be so cruel, James is only seven and they say he has probably a few months, maybe even weeks and I knew it was bad when he was diagnosed but thought we might at least have a year or two. I think my husband knew this all along but when the doctor came I have never seen him look so sad so broken. Our life has just gone and I don’t know how I can carry on if we lose him and no one seems to know anything, whether there’s anything now that can help and I just can’t make sense of it, I am just broken.
Re: Newly diagnosed
by Rob» Mon Jun 5, 2017 11:02 am
Dear motherofdavid,
I’m so sorry that you have received this news. There are no words to make it better. After going through this with my own son, I think there is no making sense of it and it is best not to even try, at least for now.
All you can do is cherish every moment you have together—as you say yourself, you don’t know how long that will be.
I wish you and your family all the best. Please feel free to get in touch if you need to talk. I sent you a PM with my contact details and I’m here to listen any time.
Rob
Subject: Sorry
Sent: Wed Jun 7, 2017 12:05 pm
From: Nev
To: Rob
Dear Rob,
It’s probably too late now and there’s nothing I can say to you, but I just wanted to tell you again how sorry I am for what I’ve done. It was completely wrong of me and I have hurt you and countless other people.
I am trying to make amends and contacting all of the parents I have deceived. I have also been voluntarily to my local police station to give a statement about my role in all this. I realize, given the case against Dr. Sladkovsky, that I might face criminal proceedings. I will accept any punishment for what I have done and I deserve everything that’s coming to me. I am worried about my Chloe but I have spoken to my sister and she said she could look after her if I had to go away for a while.
As I said, I don’t expect forgiveness, but I do want you to know how sorry I am and if there was any way I could make it up to you, I would.
Best Wishes,
Nev
Subject: Re: Re:
Sent: Thu Jun 8, 2017 12:05 pm
From: naws09
Recipient: Rob
Hi Rob, just a quick note to say I was very happy to see you on Newly Diagnosed! I know it might not seem like such a big thing, but it has helped me so much. (That sounds terrible, I know. I don’t mean to make it about *us* when of course it’s about helping people going through an awful time, but well, I hope you know what I mean.)
If I can be philosophical for a minute, I suppose in each of us there is this need to give, to love, to share ourselves—and when we have children, we have this perfect vessel for that. A place we can put all of our love. When I lost my son, suddenly that was all gone. That love didn’t have anywhere to go anymore. I think that’s what I’m trying to do on Newly Diagnosed. Trying to help people but also trying to find a place for all my love (as selfish as I know that sounds).
Subject: Re: Re:
Sent: Thu Jun 8, 2017 12:15 pm
From: Rob
Recipient: naws09
Thank you. You expressed it perfectly. I want to write more later, but have to run out now. I’m a little confused from your last message. You said when you lost your son. Did you lose another child, as well as Lucy?
Subject: Re: Re:
Sent: Thu Jun 8, 2017 12:16 pm
From: naws09
Recipient: Rob
I wouldn’t make a very good spy.
Subject: Re: Re:
Sent: Thu Jun 8, 2017 12:16 pm
From: Rob
Recipient: naws09
What do you mean?
Subject: Re: Re:
Sent: Thu Jun 8, 2017 12:17 pm
From: naws09
Recipient: Rob
My little slip, my giveaway.
It’s me, Rob. It’s Anna.
beachy head
we were sitting in the sun having a picnic, looking down at the lighthouse and the rocks, and all you could talk about was the box, the kids takeout box from the chinese restaurant. god, that box, Jack, you were so besotted with it, wouldn’t let it out of your sight. you even slept with it in your bed, still with the grease stains and prawn-cracker crumbs until mommy insisted we wash it out. i know what you loved about it, jack. it was the pictures of the balloons, the chinese lanterns, the humming birds flying into the burning sun.
5
The hall is dark apart from a spotlight on Anna. I am standing at the back of a conference room in a smart Mayfair hotel, cloistered by thick walnut doors. The people watching are sitting, straight-backed without moving, shadows in suits and patent shoes. Only Anna’s face is visible. She is too far away, but her head is blown up on a big screen. She looks confident, austere, her hair tightly swept back off her face.
I think about the last few weeks we spent together. Drinking vodka behind drawn curtains; the smell of bleach; the washing machine on an endless cycle; Anna whispering to her mother in another room.
I listen, move a little closer to the stage. Anna is talking about “ethical accounting.” After Enron, a need for the profession to regain the public’s trust. That meant more than codifying good practices, she says, pulling up another slide. It was about bringing back the original—and now unfashionable—underpinnings of good, solid accounting.
The
