Yet Another Update

OK, you win, I'll post another update. But then it's definitely time to get this blog back on track.

Tom had a further operation to seat the left side of the cerebellum more naturally in its compartment. This had an immediate effect and we've seen a slow but steady improvement since the op. Unless he gets tired, he'll now do the hand squeeze thing whenever we ask, and he's also added nose and eyebrow wiggles, thumbs-up and smile attempts to his repertoire.

The biggest step came on Wednesday when Eva asked Tom to wrinkle his nose, the resulting grimace made us laugh, and Tom responded with something that looked very like a smile.

Slow, slow progress, but it's all in the right direction.

How's the Boy Coming Along?

Tom in typical Christmas pose - The wasted drunk to his left is elder brother Adam

Sorry for the long silence. I particularly wanted to avoid turning this blog into a stream of news about Tom. The kind thoughts and cards I've received from you all have been magnificent, but I need to be careful not to wallow in it all. We're not the only people with problems, and many are far, far worse than ours. So I'm putting in this update purely to respond to the scores of you who've asked for news of Tom, not as more "poor me" stuff.

The return to consciousness hasn't been the eye-flicker, hand twitch and "I'm really thirsty" episode we've all seen on TV. The transition has been all but undetectable. But I think we have to agree that Tom is now conscious. He has difficulty getting control of his eyes, but once he's stopped them rolling around independently he can focus on our faces within a limited field of view. He'll also respond about 50% of the time to a request to squeeze our hands, and some questions are answered with very slight nods or shakes of the head.

Physically he's progressing well and he's now out of Critical Care.

We don't know at this stage how complete his recovery will be, but 100% is still a possibility.

Thank you again for all the wishes, hopes and prayers. You're a splendid bunch.

The Other Side of the NHS - And a Small Confession

Just looking at Rosie's comment below it struck me that I've been too one-sided in my criticism of the NHS. As she says, the parts of it that involve personal commitment are quite exceptional. We're seeing this part right now. The Neuro Critical Care Unit at the Birmingham Queen Elizabeth Hospital is full of dedicated, patient and caring people who also happen to be superbly trained. Professor Cruickshank's team of consultants - and particularly the Prof himself - are painstaking about giving us clear, understandable information, and the attention and respect Tom's receiving are faultless.

It occurs to me that I need to come clean about Tom's age. Eva and I have been touched and greatly comforted by the daily flow of good wishes, prayers and healing energy that comes in via this blog. I can't thank you enough for that. But then Eva pointed out that you may be under the impression that he's a little boy.

So now I feel a fraud.

Tom's 24. He's foul-mouthed and irreverent, and therefore incredibly funny. He's also one of the sweetest-natured guys you'll ever meet. He lives half a mile away with his partner Laura. One thing I'm looking forward to is the return of a series of sounds that always make us laugh: A car drives up outside. The kitchen door opens. The fridge door opens. We hear rummaging. The fridge door closes. The kitchen door closes. That would be Tom popping in to see us then.

(In fairness, once the comedic effect has settled, he comes and sits in the living room with us until he's digested whatever he's stolen).

Tom's still unconscious, but responding now to requests to squeeze our hands, nod or shake his head. The strongest response so far came when Laura mentioned Jessica Alba. Tom's eyes opened noticeably. Laura commented that she should be offended that JA was granted more reaction than she was, but under the circumstances she'd let him off - as long as she could be involved too. Tom's eyes came fully open, he turned his head and squeezed Laura's hand. We both got the distinct of Joey in Friends nodding and muttering "Coo-ool!"

That's my boy, and he's on his way back.

Update

This blog was always intended to amuse rather than to attempt any sort of profundity, but the response from so many of you regarding Tom's operation has been so remarkable and moving that I feel I owe you an update.

Tom's improving slowly following an operation that turned out to be significantly less straightforward than expected. Put baldly, it looked as if we were going to lose him.

We didn't.

Following the repeated delays of the NHS, the decision was taken to follow the route of private treatment. My unbelievable brother made this possible and, as a result, almost certainly saved Tom's life. The operation was scheduled for Sunday morning under Professor Garth Cruickshank. He discovered an abnormal blood supply to the tumour and made immediate arrangements for transfer to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Birmingham.

Attempts to embolise the tumour were only partially successful, but Prof C's judgement was that it had to be removed, at the risk of a fatal bleed, as leaving it in place was a significantly greater risk. Tom left for surgery at 9.00am. At 9.30pm a visibly exhausted Professor explained that the operation was complete, the tumour excised, and that the next 24 hours would be critical.

We're past that now; Tom's stable and no longer critical. He's still unconscious at the moment, but we're assured that this is normal. In the next few days we should see him back.

I'm sorry about the length of this post, and the fact that it hasn't made you laugh. But the messages of goodwill, healing and prayer that have been coming in from you guys has been unbelievable.

We apologise for the temporary fault in our sense of humour. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

Thank you all.

Ulp...

It's not often I'm left not knowing to say. Today's blog won't be particularly coherent and it may become uncomfortably sentimental, so be warned...

You know that horrible old cliché: "A stranger is just a friend I haven't met yet". It's trite, it's banal,

And it's true.

Caroline, Robyn, Maranta, and so many others of you who've sent your thoughts to Tom, you've finally succeeded in taking my words away. If ever we needed confirmation that the Internet is more than just an information resource for paedophiles, an insult forum for brain-donors on YouTube and a route to market for V1agr@ and C1al1s, it's staring us in the face.

The world isn't going to hell in a handcart after all. There are good people all around the world with the energy, the compassion and the power to pull us all back from the brink. People who are your friends even though you may never meet.

Thank you guys. You give me hope for our stupid little species.

Thank You Robyn

I've just received a response from Robyn (alias Zimble) to my anger at NHS waste and callous administrative cuts. It made me cry.

Take a look at her blog on http://beattiebabble.blogspot.com/ and look for Sunday, 18 November 2007. Robyn's eloquence and literacy always make her comments worth reading, but it's her honesty and openness that make it so moving.

Robyn, thank you from the other side of the world. Never doubt what you do.

Health & Safety Costs Lives

If this wasn't criminal it would be funny

As I write this my youngest son's in hospital awaiting surgery for a brain tumour. This follows weeks of bullying doctors to agree that unsupportable, disabling head pain merits something more effective than paracetamol. But our beleagured National Health Service can't afford to use its MRI scanners to save patients' lives.

Fortunately though there's plenty of money to pay consultants to create the ludicrous, pointless crap in the poster above. We can't afford to treat patients, but we can afford to educate them in the difference between an accidental fall, an anticipated physiological fall and an unanticipated physiological fall. Click on the image and read the text. I promise you this is real.

Money - your money if you live in the UK - is being spent on "Desk Awareness Training" to make sure that the NHS's overmanned administration departments don't get backache, while trained, dedicated and outnumbered nurses work in unforgiveable conditions for insulting wages.

All the signs indicate that Tom will make a full recovery, and I thank God for that. But the people we pay to keep us safe have failed in their duty and endangered my son's life. And for that they have to be exposed.