EXTRA CARD TO WRITE

Daughter #2 phoned in tears last night from a hospital where they'd admitted her youngest, aged 11, and diagnosed him with Type 1 diabetes. He's been feeling gradually worse, more lethargic, more moody, more under-the-weather and gradually needing more to drink for a couple of weeks, but she'd put it down to end-of-term lethargy, bugs going round school and pre-puberty hormones and was full of guilt at not having made a perfect diagnosis herself right from the start despite not being medically trained in any way. I told her - and so did the medical staff - that it's definitely not her fault. He's now off IV, is nearly stabilised, and will probably go home tomorrow, already feeling and looking much better and with lots of information for the family to absorb. I reminded her that Jess, her cousin, was diagnosed a few years ago in her mid-20s, and is doing extremely well. I sent a message to Jess after #2 and I finished talking, and she immediately texted #2 with love and reassurance and the promise of any chats with Bill in future if he wants to.

It took me straight back to when I made a tearful phone call to my Dad from hospital when Daughter #1 was rushed in with meningitis. That was about 30 years ago, and she's fine. Bill will be, too, I'm sure. He's a very sensible boy with very sensible parents and siblings who'll do all they can to help him manage it.