High dose chemotherapy

Tomorrow we head back into Southampton, where we’ll be staying for at least four nights while Betsie begins her next round of high-dose chemotherapy.

These admissions are never easy. No matter how many times we’ve done this, there’s always that familiar knot of nerves before we go in—the unknowns, the long days, the emotional weight of it all. I find this part especially hard, being the only parent there. It can feel quite isolating at times, trying to be everything at once—comforter, distraction, decision-maker—while quietly managing my own worries in the background.

But if there’s one constant through all of this, it’s Betsie.

She is, quite simply, incredible. While I’m bracing myself for the days ahead, she walks onto the ward ready to make the most of it. She looks forward to seeing the other children, playing games, and throwing herself into whatever activities are going on. The ward, which could feel like such a daunting place, becomes somewhere she finds joy—and that changes everything.

We’re also so grateful for the people who make that possible. The staff, the nurses, the play specialists, and the charity workers all bring such warmth and energy. They don’t just care for the children—they lift them, support them, and create moments of light in what could otherwise be very heavy days.

As we go into this next stretch, I won’t pretend I’m not nervous. I am. But I also know, deep down, that we’ll face it the same way we always do—together. One day at a time, one small step at a time.

And with Betsie leading the way, somehow, it always feels a little bit more manageable.