Has it really been over a week?

On Wednesday 26th October my Jake was knocked off his bike on the way into work. He wasn't wearing a helmet.

The last 8 days have been a kind of tourture; if Jake had suffered any other injury we would by now at least know what the future holds. But Jake's is a severe brain injury and nobody, not even the extraordinary neuro surgeons, know what will happen next.

Every day my beautiful man is prodded and pinched so they can measure his reactions and try to create enough of a picture to decide what to do next. This means that we are all fixated on every breath, flutter of eyes lashes, flexing of hands and toes, desperately trying to make some sense and force some hope.

But the hope goes up and down. What seems like good news one day becomes bad news the next day or even hour when things are static or slip back. Small changes create a rush of hope and excitement that lifts your heart but then inevitably, something that you notice or is said grabs you just beneath your ribs and pulls you sharply back down to terror.

I am not on this journey alone and friends and family are holding me together both physically and virtually and who knows, maybe today hope will go up.