Imagine . . . If you can

Intro

I've never done an intro before, however I just want to say today’s Blipfoto was inspired by a poem I read this week on Sine McDonald-Coull’s Facebook page. The poem was written by Katie Dalgoutte and I’ve used the theme “Imagine” for today’s Blipfoto. I think I’ve highlighted Katie’s work in full, while also adding some poignant lines from Sine.

Blipfoto for 28th September

September is one of my favourite months, it's not summer, but not quite winter and where I live in the West of Scotland, we often have warmish, sunny days, with crisp blue skies, just like today in fact where it's 20 degrees outside.

September 2013 has been an incredibly busy month for The Kiltwalk as by the time we take down the gazebos and marques in Angus tomorrow, it will have been our third Kiltwalk in 5 weeks!!

However, did you know September is also Childhood Cancer awareness month? I did, but perhaps I only knew as I saw the various posts made by our Kiltwalkers, on Facebook and Twitter.

The reality is you probably didn’t know because it’s still a bit of a taboo subject, swept under the carpet as the thought of children with cancer isn’t exactly palatable.

Take a look at today’s Blipfoto picture, taken on the 1st of September at the start of the Speyside Kiltwalk. It’s a great picture of Fraser and Sine Coull as they watched Oor Kiltwalkers walk down the hill towards the harbour in Buckie, and you couldn’t picture a happier looking couple.

They knew September was Child Cancer awareness month, so can you imagine what they’re thinking in this picture?

Are they looking at the latest batch of what has been hundreds and I mean hundreds of Aila’s Ambers coming down the brae and thinking don’t they look resplendent in their white hats?

Or are they thinking it’s simply another reminder of what they’ve so cruelly lost?

Whenever I’ve met Fraser and Sine I’m always greeted with a warm, genuine smile and we’re never stuck for words. In fact I’m usually getting a “row” as we say in Glasgow for forgetting my hat, or for my latest cheeky post or comment, but it’s all good. In fact the same can be said for the entire Coull and McDonald Clan as they are all similar, appear interchangeable and at times you can’t remember if you’re talking to a Coull or McDonald.

There are exceptions though as Archie, his Mum and her Mum are surely all the same person. Then there's Roddy, Sine’s Dad. I’d never had the pleasure of speaking with him until we met at Speyside and you’d have thought we’d known each other for years.

Roddy doesn’t do ‘pause’ and can tell story after story, with a chuckling laugh to go with it. The only time Roddy pauses is when he talks about Aila, who even at such a young age, clearly knew how to wrap her tiny finger round him and get what she wanted. I will treasure our conversation and stories of Aila, which at one point had two men, old enough to know better, wiping tears from their eyes. It must have been that Aberlour wind, eh Roddy?

Fraser and Sine are one of a number of parents I’ve met through The Kiltwalk in the last few years and they all share one thing in common, which is they feed of the strength of each other, because they have to.

I guess it’s because even though they get support from family, friends, nurses, doctors and charities, when they go home at night it’s their child who has cancer and I can’t begin to ‘imagine’ what that feels like.

I always think if it happened to me, I’d crumble, I’d think why my child and I’m not sure I could cope. My kids are now 24, 19 and 17, but to me Zoey’s 10, Holly’s 5 and Scott’s 3 and we’re all sitting in front of the TV of a Sunday night watching our favourite films.

Those films were Sleepless in Seattle, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, or the Wedding Singer, but the one we loved the most was Father of the Bride. You see I was, or am Steve Martin and accepting that my kids don’t need me anymore is hard, but I’m getting there.

We all had favourite parts of the film, with mine being right at the end. It took me weeks to realise that when “my bit” came on, everyone stopped watching the TV and watched me instead.

The scene was the scene where Annie, the daughter is leaving her wedding reception and it’s chaos in the house. The daughter and her new husband are saying their goodbyes and all her Dad wants is a dance with his girl and a hug goodbye.

Sadly, no matter how many times I watch that film, willing her to turn back for that hug, she doesn't and the tears roll down my cheek and that’s the bit they all wait for.

So am I crying at a soppy film? Well no, not the film but the thought and sentiment. I’m crying because I couldn’t ever imagine that happening to me, I’d be devastated.

The reason for my ramble is that when I meet the likes of Fraser and Aine, I just can’t imagine how they cope. I can’t imagine having all the precious things a parent looks forward to doing with their child, ripped away from them. I want to ask, but I never want to hear the painful answer, so I laugh and I joke and I listen.

That’s why when I saw Sine’s post of Katie’s poem I knew I had to write this story as the reality is every bit as bad as I’d imagined. This is the poem.

Imagine...

Imagine being told your child is seriously ill.
Imagine crying until you think there's nothing left.
Imagine feeling like you've been punched in the stomach and wandering the corridors, as if your life was on pause for days on end, not able to comprehend what is happening.

Imagine signing a consent form knowing that death is an option.
Imagine having to hand over your child to surgeons for endless hours and waiting...
Imagine having to watch as your once active child isn't even able to open their eyes for a week.
Imagine the terror...

Imagine the pain of having to leave your baby in the Care of strangers and not be able to sleep by their side.

Imagine standing by as your baby's body is pumped full of poison.
Imagine holding your baby while someone holds a mask over their face as they struggle in fright.
Imagine holding your baby countless times while someone sticks needles in them while they scream.
Imagine the guilt...

Imagine being told the percentage chance that your child might survive or leave you.
Imagine holding back the tears when your other child is carried away from
you screaming "mummy" not understanding why you won't come home.

Imagine watching as within two days your child loses all their hair.
Imagine losing all your independence and identity and just becoming someone’s Mummy.
Imagine not being able to leave the house for fear of infection.
Imagine not being able to make any plans apart from hospital visits.

Imagine being stuck in isolation and not see anything but four walls for days on end.
Imagine learning a whole new vocabulary of words which is all you talk about anymore.
Imagine good friends being too uncomfortable to see you or speak to you anymore.

Imagine the loneliness...

Imagine perfect strangers passing comment about your child
But with the emptiness ...

Imagine the kindness of strangers who don't know you
Imagine the incredible support from people you've never met but know how it feels.

Imagine how special each cuddle is that you feel the need to memorise it.
Imagine the magic of each smile knowing that this smile was lost for weeks and now it's back

Imagine how fragile and precious life feels

Imagine if I had known the symptoms,
Imagine if all GPs knew the symptoms,
Imagine if you felt you had the power to help others, not be in the same position...

Imagine ... Don't pity, don't sympathise, just spread awareness and Just imagine because it could be you ..... .

End of poem

It was powerful a powerful, emotional read and contacted Sine to say so. She of course agreed and then said, but there’s something missing, which is . . .

Imagine you & your child going through all this and not getting the ending you've prayed for.... imagine living your whole life without your baby.

If like me, you now have a lump in your throat then imagine if you’d just found out your daughter had cancer, because that’s what has happened to one of our Kiltwalkers from Speyside.

That walker appears on one of our iconic Kiltwalk photographs, which we’ve used in our 2013 marketing.

So imagine being that Kiltwalker, at hospital with your daughter, full of worry and the see that Kiltwalk poster, with you on it staring back at you in the hospital elevator. Can you imagine how they must have felt at that precise moment?

I don’t think any of us can imagine any of the above, so put it to the back of our mind.

However Kiltwalkers here’s what we can imagine.

Imagine how hard it’s going to be to walk 26 miles on Sunday and can you imagine how hard it will be to keep going when the blisters are popping or the bloods seeping because you’re wearing those new walking shoes.

Imagine walking 5 Kiltwalks in a year like Elaine, John, Mike, Scott, Joyce or Gordon.

Imagine raising a million pounds for Scotland’s children, because that's what you've all done.

Imagine doing it all again next year, because until we rid the world and Oor Scotland of childhood cancer, disease, poverty, sexual or violent abuse, homelessness and starvation we can’t afford to sit back and imagine.

That’s Kiltwalkers wear their bands with pride, that’s why they bore their families and friends with our Kiltwalk cause and that’s why we’ll all be back next year, with our family, pals and Kiltwalk friends in our thousands, to continue to raise money for Scotlands’s Children, cause that's what Kiltwalkers do.

Who ever thought walking 26 miles go be so much fun and so rewarding.