Chapter 9 - Memories of Max

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As we moved through the treatment I found myself getting closer and closer to Max. At times we seemed to be telepathic. My parental scanner became very finely tuned. There were times at home when I thought I could hear him calling at night and would rush downstairs to his bedside. "I was just about to call you Daddy". This was not his or my imagination. It happened once when Sara was awake.

"What's wrong, he didn't call?"

I had heard something. It was very strange. When I got to Max's room he was quietly calling for me. I was only actually conscious of the sounds as I approached his bedroom door

About six months after he started treatment Max spent his first night away from us and stayed with a friend. When I went to pick him up the next morning he ran into my arms saying how much he'd missed me. Later he told me how he had cried in his dreams and prayed that I would come to him during the night.

I, too, had become agitated at his absence, and desperately needed to cuddle him when he got back. We were both becoming utterly dependent on each other.

This interdependency worried me. It was good because my support seemed to help Max fight his illness, but I felt I would be so defenceless if he died. I felt that this was the only way I could help and yet I could see the damage his death would cause. It was a trade off. You give total love in the hope of saving your son's life, but at the risk of destroying yourself if he dies.

One night when I had stayed up late, sitting in the kitchen, Max walked in silently and just stood in front of me.

"Are you OK?"

He nodded.

"Have you had another nightmare"

He shook his head.

I asked him some other questions and he just shook or nodded his head. At no point did he speak which disturbed me.

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