Wednesday 3rd December

Having had two one-litre bags of saline to hydrate his body overnight, my son is now ready to begin his chemotherapy treatment plan.

It’s 11:40am, and he starts with ten minutes of Vincristine, followed by a hydrocortisone flush. Bleomycin for fifteen minutes, Mannatol for ten, finishing with six hours of Cisplatin.

He is so patient and accepting, he doesn’t moan as the clear fluids are introduced through the central line in his chest. He eats and drinks as normal.

We have two sets of visitors today: firstly his brother, girlfriend and schoolfriend. They stay for quite a while, chatting and keeping us company. Later on in the afternoon my mother and sister pop in for a couple of hours, bringing a massive basket of fruit and cards from well-wishers.

It is lovely to see everyone, but by the end of the day our son is beginning to feel extremely tired, and just wants to sleep.

Throughout the night saline is attached to the drip, ready for day two tomorrow.

It is scary to think of all the toxic fluid that is being introduced to his body, but if it means the tumours are zapped and killed off, then that is only a good thing, isn’t it?