A hug from dad.

It might be that I was just so weak.

It might’ve been the crazy amount of drugs that followed.

It could just be my mind trying to spare me from the truth of it all.

But whatever the reason, much of what happened in the months after remains pretty cloudy.

So I’ve decided to retell this part of my experience a little differently:

In moments, memories, and milestones.

And this first memory – the hardest one for me to write – comes from the morning after.

But before we get to that moment, here’s where things stood:

The diagnosis: leukaemia. The docs were pretty certain of that.

But what kind of leukaemia were we dealing with?

That would be confirmed a few days later, once I had a bone marrow biopsy. (Something to look forward to!)

Mind you, I was still trying to get my head around what leukaemia even was - let alone the fact there seemed to be a gazillion different types, each with their own pros, cons, acronyms, and worst-case scenarios.

As for going back to Northern Ireland? That was firmly off the table. Things were far more serious than any of us could’ve imagined. Which meant my mum – exhausted, panicked, and doing her very best to keep me from a total breakdown – had to do the last thing she probably wanted to: Call my dad.

Tell him we weren’t coming home.

That I was now on a haematology ward.

And, just to round things off nicely, the doctors were 99.9% sure his daughter had blood cancer.

But call him she did.

And so, beneath the darkness and weight of the night, my dad and brother set off from Ballymena to Cairnryan on the last ferry of the day – a sailing more familiar to lorry drivers than to anyone else – before driving onwards and reaching Glasgow in the early hours of Saturday morning.

With all of us now in the same city, we were together again – ready (or not) to step into a world none of us had prepared for.

But why does that moment stay with me?

Because when my dad – a man who always carried himself as strong, steady, and emotionally bulletproof – broke down in tears at the sight of me in that hospital bed; when he held me as tightly as he could, like he might never let go… I truly realised the weight of the situation.

This was the first time things really became clear.

The only positive? Now I had my dad with me too.