Connell Our Superhero

Connall was a bubbly, active, funny, kind, beautiful, superhero mad 4-year-old when he suddenly became unwell.

On Thursday 5th Nov 2020, Connall was vomiting and had slight shoulder pain so I took him to A&E. Doctors suspected he had a viral infection and we went home. But by the Sunday his weight had dropped significantly. We went to our local hospital again on the Sunday his bloods were deranged, he had an X-ray of his chest when the doctor noticed something that needed further investigation.

At this point he was transferred to Belfast Regional Children’s Hospital. On the Monday when we prayed they would say it’s just viral, we heard the words oncology and surgery. Hearing this alone due to covid restrictions was hard.

 

Starting treatment

By the Friday, the wee pet started aggressive chemo to attempt to shrink what we knew then was a Rhabdoid tumour (in his liver) aiming for surgery.

After a few rounds of chemo (which could be 5 days of treatment at a time) and other investigations, we then knew surgery wasn’t an option that would save Connall. With the support of our amazing consultant, we had searched for trials and new drugs to try.

In March he had a week of radiotherapy to try slow down the progress. Which thankfully it did. It gave us more time and he got to go back to school for a week, have a superhero bouncy castle party, spend time with friends and family and his baby brother.

Remembering Connall

Unfortunately, on June 14th, Connall joined the angels in the arms of his mum and dad in his superhero bedroom.

Connall will so massively be missed forever.

We will never let Connall’s memory be forgotten. We will try and live a meaningful life in his honour.

As parents watching your child go through all those treatments, procedures, scans, trying to keep them fasting, it’s unbearable. Children surprise you so much, they are so resilient but as the parent the pain is there, and you wish you could swap places.

We have realised grief will never go away but we will try and keep going every day. There are no rule books, no timeframe, grief is as individual as a fingerprint. We cannot change what has happened but we can try an decide how to live each day. One day at a time. 

 

 

One day at a time

As parents watching your child go through all those treatments, procedures, scans, trying to keep them fasting, it’s unbearable. Children surprise you so much, they are so resilient but as the parent the pain is there, and you wish you could swap places.

We have realised grief will never go away but we will try and keep going every day. There are no rule books, no timeframe, grief is as individual as a fingerprint. We cannot change what has happened but we can try an decide how to live each day.

One day at a time.