PTSD.

My PTSD has been rearing its ugly head quite a bit recently. It's pretty much been full on for the last week or so.I'm very susceptible to triggers, whether it be a song, a newspaper article, a place that I drive past or something I see on TV or hear on the radio. For example, I am simply unable to listen to Another One Bites the Dust by Queen, ERA or Pirates of the Caribbean soundtracks, all of which were some of my boy's favourite sounds. We played ERA for him in his hospital room. He used to go to sleep to this every night for years.

This is really hard to write about.

I've recently stumbled upon several articles about meningitis. The very appearance of that word is horrible.

These triggers make me think about the night before N was taken to hospital. We didn't know he was sick at the time, but with the benefit of hindsight it's obvious. He was simply incapable of doing his maths homework. I actually got quite angry with him, said something that I will regret for the rest of my days and left the room. I later put him to bed, and as he had always had difficulty getting to sleep, stayed with him for our nightly cuddle. When I got up to leave he said that I could stay and that he'd make more space for me. I didn't stay... I'm balling my eyes out here. Need a break.

Of course I relive these moments constantly. I relive getting the phone call from my wife telling me to come immediately. My first sighting of N in the hospital as his bed was wheeled past us on the way to the ambulance to be transfered to Rennes. His final words and him telling us that it hurt. The hours and hours we spent in his room talking to him, helping to try and get his temperature down, trying to get him to do 'pee pee'. His heart failure and the cries from one of the Doctors for help. Being ushered away from his room and waiting for the inevitable. Haunted. I'm haunted by these day after day, year after year. They simply have not become any easier to deal with, you just get used to them. These memories sit with me always, sometimes more vividly than others. They will be with me until my dying day. They are ruining my life; have ruined my life.

I had so much more to say, but this has been incredibly hard to write.  I'm going to stop now. Incredibly sad. Je t'aime Son. To the moon and back...

Hard yards.

I'm currently going through a rough patch. It started last night at bedtime and has carried over to today. Everyday I process my grief for my son in different ways. I'll be honest and say that I have a wee cry everyday. Today has been particularly tough. I'm rerunning so many things in my head. Primarily I'm having a hard time dealing with the fact that I got angry with my son on the night before he was hospitalised. He was having difficulty concentrating on his Maths homework and I said something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. We found out later that lack of concentration is a symtom of meningitis. He was already sick. I apologised later when I tucked him up in bed. He asked me to stay for a cuddle, and I did, but I should've stayed longer. Another regret that I will take to the grave.

I also rerun so many moments from the hospital. N saying hello to his Maman, Papa and brother; his last words. The moment that his heart stopped and the shouts for help from the doctors.

Fuck it. I miss him so much. It is an unbearable pain today. I can't go on living like this.