Long live the fighters

My son has just finished 36 weeks of chemotherapy. This is on top of the 6 weeks of radiotherapy, 2 weeks of interim chemotherapy, a 5 week stay in hospital, one 12-hour brain surgery, and two emergency brain surgeries, that came before.

It has been 14 months of the hardest most relentless minutes, hours, days and nights. An endurance challenge like no other. A million marathons rolled into one. An emotional rollercoaster, and we’re still on it. Thank god we’re still on it (although a gentle skirt-wafting carousel might be nice in future).

I am exhausted. And I am just his mum. The events of the last year seemingly incomprehensible but I know they happened. So many of them. One day, I will process it all. But right now I feel mentally, physically and emotionally tired, immensely proud and incredibly thankful my beautiful, awe-inspiring, incredible son has made it through all the challenges he’s faced to fight back from hearing the words “you have a brain tumour”.

He is my hero.

At 22 years old he shows indomitable spirit, the strength of a warrior – my Alexander the Great, a determination to see it through, and positivity that makes the rest of us seem pitiful.

Freddie George Giles, I gave birth to greatness.

It seems fitting that Giles means young goat, the master of the mountain and in Fred’s case undoubtedly G.O.A.T. (read Greatest Of All Time, to those unfamiliar).

He’s impressed me with his strength, attitude, gratitude, reflection and perspective of life since this unbelievable journey began. What I’ve witness is truly unbelievable.

Of course the journey is not over. We now have to wait. Fred has to deal with the consequences of, and recover from, his treatment. How long this will take is unknown. Biggest of all we have to wait for the outcome of all he’s endured – the summary, the what happens next; MRI scans ahead, and all the anxiety they bring.

But today, I will breathe, and be positive. Because there’s lots to be positive about.

As Fred said when we were driving home from hospital earlier, “people should just be happy…you have to look after your relationships as they are what matter, enjoy your life because you don’t know when you won’t be able to anymore, be resilient and strive for all that you want out of this life. No excuses.”

Fred’s little (age 19 and 6ft 5) brother, Logan, spent Fred’s last night of chemotherapy in hospital with him, sleeping by his big brother’s bedside. To know my two sons are there for each other through the greatest challenges of life, have grown up to be the best of friends, and show each other their unconditional love, is I am sure, what every mother hopes for. It brings me so much joy being their mum.

They’ve been through so much, seen and felt so much more than your average young adult. There can be no arguing that the death of their dad and Fred’s diagnosis are incredibly cruel things to happen but what they demonstrate is good can come from bad. Beauty is born from the hardest conditions and light rises from the dark.

Keep rising. Keep shining. Keep striving.

As we returned from hospital, we listened to this…

Home again ❤️

Tonight, my family is reunited, our champion has returned, and I am happy.

Long live the fighters.

One incredibly proud mum x