I came home last night to do some washing, check the post and basically have a bit of a break. Doing this splits me in two; on the one hand I absolutely needed to be away from the hospital to take a breath and get some perspective. On the other hand is guilt; what if something happens and I'm not there?
The lovely Andy drove me down to Dorset, whilst his lovely wife Fiona stayed in London and went to see my Jake. We had a meal with my family and then all trouped down to Poole Quay for the fireworks. We laughed and drank in equal measure and I can certainly feel the effects of the alcohol this morning. I just wish the effects of the laughter would linger in the same way as being home without him is tough.
Aside from a hangover, what coming home has given me is fresh resolve. As the consultant keeps reminding us, Jake has a devastating brain injury and we are less than two weeks in. I have felt myself over the last few days giving in to the worst possible outcome and this isn't good enough. One thing I know about Jake with absolute certainty is that he is a fighter (some might say a determined and stubborn bugger). He is the person I love most with every part of who I am and I am not giving up on him yet.
So keep praying, wishing, hoping and crossing your fingers because Jake's fight isn't over yet.
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