It has been a long couple of years; we started with miscarriage in 2008 then bounced into epilepsy in 2010, we then quickly advanced to hip dysplasia in 2011 and we come to the close of 2012 with our new friend, Diabetes.
It is enough to make one turn to drink.
But have we considered the true victim here? the one who is suffering the most?
The middle child, the one who seems destined to be completely healthy whose only chronic condition is a permanently snotty nose. His last three half terms have been spent in hospital playrooms, his sisters seem destined to have holidays away at the care of the NHS and he is firmly hacked off by it all.
I catch him at times examining his person for signs of fault and I see his exasperated sigh when he realises he is still bloody perfect bar a rather bumpy head. How frustrating for a little boy who seems to quite desire a couple of nights on a bed with buttons and a TV that can be accessed without moving from his pillows.
But yesterday was the final straw, we returned home from the school run, spilling into the house, dropping books, shoes and pens in our path. His big sister, the twin they pulled out first, managed to barge her way into the home first and relish the joy of collecting the post from the mat where it lay.
‘One for mum, one for Dad, and oh’ she said with a grin bigger than Blackpool ‘three presents for me and some cards.’
The despair was deafening, as the wail of the healthy, the boy who didn’t get rushed to A&E with impossibly high blood sugars,
‘It’s not fair,’ he cried stamping his feet and then he proceeding to list, in great detail, presents his baby sister had received whilst in spica and presents his big sister was getting now for being incredibly brave.
‘It’s so not fair,’ he repeated ‘there is a lot to be said for being disabled in this house.’
With a flourish he slammed the door to his room and sat and played with the Moshlings his lovely kind, knackered mummy bought him for being such a good lad.
It is hard to be healthy sometimes….
God bless that boy!