So we are set for William’s biopsy. This entails an overnight stay (possibly two if he has any post-biopsy bleeding) and a general anaesthetic to make sure he stays absolutely still. Because a local anaesthetic and a five year old do not go together in such circumstances.

The hospital is a good distance away from here which means I will have to stay with him overnight with Edward sleeping in the sling. At least I would stay, with Edward sleeping in the sling if I were allowed to. However Health and Safety at the hospital has dictated I cannot, so Matthew will have to be on night duty which means shuffling the children back and forth to the hospital to swap over. Not a problem at our local hospital when William was there last month – although that still required military planning as any trip with four children does – but when the hospital in question is ninety minutes away this will be a pain.

William is teary and apprehensive but we have talked through (in very vague terms) what is going to happen, leaving out any reference to being put to sleep (too like our dog’s last trip to the vet) or needles being put inside his body and into an internal organ. I have told him he will feel all warm and sleepy and he is such a cosy, sucky baby that he will probably want to go to sleep because, as he likes to tell me all the time, he loves the sleepy middle of the night so much. I have told him that while he is lying on his back for the six hours afterwards (which surely must be the hardest thing for any five year old to endure), I will stroke his hair and we will watch something he will love (High School Musical 3 on DVD – HSM1 is his all time favourite movie and he hasn’t seen this new one yet). Also we have cards and presents from friends and family, and he knows this. Suddenly hospital doesn’t seem so bad. And he gets me all to himself (not counting the demanding baby in the corner) for a couple of days.

He is trying hard to be strong even though he feels so low. He never complains even though I can see what a toll this is taking on him. He draws me endless pictures and cards for his ‘Happy Mummy’ and thinks up stories to make me laugh. In turn, when he climbs into my bed when he feels sick I hold him all through the night. I cuddle his swollen body and smell his hair that smells of boy and medicine.