Our final gift

Lennon’s funeral is something we have spoken about since Lennon was a baby.

When we should of been taking our newborn baby home, and enjoying those first few days of being new parents, we were sitting staring at our tiny baby in his incubator covered in wires and tubes and wondering how long he would survive for.

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Christmas Eve – the first time we held Lennon.

Over the years our thoughts and ideas changed. Songs we thought we would use were replaced, the image in my mind of his coffin got bigger, the colour alternated and the outfit he would wear changed.

I always tried to push the thoughts of Lennon’s funeral to the back of my mind. I can’t do that anymore.

I can’t avoid those thoughts – I need to turn them into reality.

I can just about get out of bed in the mornings. Putting one foot in front of the other is zapping my energy. Ordering balloons and helium today took up everything I had left for the day and felt like a mammoth task.

I always hoped I would be strong enough to stand up and speak – I am not. But Ian is, and I know he will do both Lennon and I proud.

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Enjoying the sun in Coram Fields after an appointment at Great Ormond St Hospital.

I have one more task to fulfil for my little soldier, maybe the second biggest gift of all from me to him (giving birth to him being the biggest). I hope we can give him the send off he truly deserves. I want people to remember my tough, stubborn, smiling, cheeky, mischievous little boy and to share their favourite stories and memories of him.

And for everyone to be honoured and proud that they played a part in Lennon’s amazing journey through life.

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Ian, Lennon, Isla and Florence – Summer 2016. Our last family holiday.

Previous blog post – The days after

The days after

It’s been a really tough week.

Flowers and cards arrive everyday. Wedding invite replies arrive (we have postponed our wedding) the phone keeps ringing, and life carries on around me.
It’s unbelievably tough to go from doing everything for someone to them suddenly not being there.
The house is so empty, and there is nothing to do. I get up, move from my bed to the sofa or I lie in Lennon’s bed. Thank god for Lennon being at Keech, Ian and the girls.

On Tuesday we returned to Addenbrookes to collect Lennon’s death certificate. Because Lennon arrived at Addenbrookes, went to theatre and died all within 12 hours, his death had to be reviewed by a coroner. This meant that it was going to be quicker and less hassle for us to register his death in Cambridgeshire. It was difficult to go back. The only times we had ever been to Addenbrookes was when Lennon was in PICU. Plus we had last left there only a few hours after Lennon had died.
As expected, the causes of Lennon’s death were septic shock, bowel necrosis and Volvulus.
Holding your child’s death certificate in your hands is a surreal feeling. To be honest though, every minute since we left home on that Tuesday night has been surreal. Almost like a dream, like I’m watching myself.

We visited the Funeral Directors to arrange Lennon’s funeral. We decided on a plain white casket for Lennon and cremation. The service will be held at a crematorium and we will celebrate Lennon’s life afterwards – share stories and send balloons to the sky.
We also discussed with the girls what they would like to put inside the casket with Lennon for his final journey and Isla has decided that she would like to keep Lennon’s precious ‘cuddles cat’ to look after for him.

We have been in and out of Keech all week to spend time with Lennon. I find this comforting – I’m happier when I’m close to him.
We had asked if they could take some professional black and white photos of Lennon in his page boy outfit with his favourite toys.
They are beautiful pictures, Lennon looks so smart and peaceful. They also took some shots without his face in, with the thought that we could add them to our wedding album when we finally get married and he could still be a part of our wedding album.
The girls at Keech also took hand and foot moulds and fingerprint moulds. They have made hand and foot prints on canvas, and even made canvases that we can add the girls hand and feet prints onto, alongside Lennon’s.
I want as many memories as possible. I don’t want to forget a single little thing about my little soldier – that is now my biggest fear. Forgetting.

Our beloved community nurse came round for the last time. This was hard for me. The people that came into our home and our lives to help us, became my friends. The time and energy I put into caring for Lennon meant that I rarely saw my friends, therefore nurses, doctors and carers became my friends.
Nic had been a part of our lives since Lennon was a baby, she had seen the girls grow up. She had witnessed Lennon’s changes and improvements over the years. I loved sharing Lennon’s achievements with her, and I felt her pride in him.
She had become a pro at taking blood from a fast moving target – She had narrowly avoided pricking herself when accessing Lennon’s port in the last few weeks!
She had helped get us to Florida and heavily contributed to a hefty medical file that travelled everywhere with Lennon. She taught me CPR and how to take blood, helped with bowel washouts, and filled my bin up with medical waste!
But above all, she listened to me and my worries, calmed me down when I panicked, and talked me round when I sobbed down the phone.
She knew Lennon so well, and she knew that the Lennon on paper was not the ‘real life’ Lennon.
She spent almost 3 hours with us, talking over that day and the last 10 years. I didn’t want her leave.


Nic – we wouldn’t of got through this without your support, we wouldn’t of had all those years of no hospital stays without you. I can never thank you enough, and I will never forget what you have done for us all.

On Thursday afternoon Lennon’s casket arrived at Keech.
I broke down as soon as we walked into the room. My baby boy in a white coffin. It seems so much more ‘real’ now. The words inscribed on the lid made me sob. The way the girls have placed his toys and Mickey blanket on top and the love that has gone into making the room look so special is touching.
Ian and I sat with him and noticed how long his coffin was. He had grown so much taller in the last few months.

I feel so numb. The pain in my chest is still there, and the sorrow and sadness feels deeper every day.
I look forward to bedtime as I know for that one second when I wake, its like all this never happened and Lennon is still here.
Getting through every day feels like a battle, and when the day has ended, it is just another day without Lennon. He has left such a huge gapping hole in our lives, that I can never envisage being even partly filled.
I miss his baby soft skin, his thick hair with the coarse patch at the back, his clicking and quacking. I even miss the bruises on my legs, which have already faded to nothing.
I sit and watch videos and look through photos, in the effort to keep him alive in my head. And I wonder how will life carry on without Lennon??

Previous blog post – Tributes to Lennon

Tributes to Lennon

A lovely tribute for our little soldier in The Hertfordshire Mercury ❤️

http://m.hertfordshiremercury.co.uk/inspirational-walkern-deaf-blind-boy-lennon-ruffles-dies-aged-10/story-30475059-detail/story.html

Another lovely tribute to Lennon from The Comet 🌟

http://www.thecomet.net/news/walkern-family-pays-heartfelt-tributes-to-their-brave-little-lennon-1-5142542

Tribute to Lennon in The Watford Observer ❤️

http://www.watfordobserver.co.uk/news/15480123.___Amazing__thrill_seeker____and_Nascot_Lawn_child_has_died/?ref=rss

Previous blog post – Goodbye

Goodbye

Tuesday 1st August 2017, Lennon, Isla and Florence spent their first day at CHIPS summer playscheme. The girls there were amazing and happy to have Lennon there after his newly formed ileostomy.
He had a lovely day, playing with his sisters, walking around in his walking frame and playing at the sink and in the sensory room.
He came home and watched his favourite yo gabba gabba on the television whilst holding my hand and slapping my arm.

In the evening, Sian our continuing care nurse arrived. We bathed Lennon, did a full bag and dressings change. Lennon loved his baths – he often crawled or lead us to the bath. He was also known to climb into the bath when it was empty and lie in it! He loved to just stand at the taps and put his hands and face under the running water.
Lennon always was a true water baby.


The Reverend came to talk to Ian and I about our wedding, and Lennon played on his floor mat happily with his ocean drum and Argos catalogue until bedtime at 8.30pm.
Isla and I got into bed with him and he was so happy. Massive smiles and real belly laughing. It was so lovely, and in hindsight we realised he was saying goodbye to Isla – the sister he was totalled besotted with.

At 9pm we went into Lennon’s bed and he had disconnected his milk from his jejunostomy tube. This wasn’t an unusual occurance. We had to wash and change him and change his bed sheets which inevitably woke him up. Lennon hated being woken up (just like his mummy!)
At 10.15pm we checked on Lennon, he was not happy and we thought he was still grumpy from being woken up. After 20 minutes he began seizing. We gave him rescue meds, which had no effect so we rang for an ambulance. We were blue lighted into Lister resus with a full crash team waiting for us.

They managed to stop the seizures with some IV Lorazepam but Lennon remained unconscious.
He quickly deteriorated overnight until 9am Wednesday morning when our amazing team at Lister made the decision to crash call and put Lennon on full life support. CATS arrived and quickly intubated Lennon. Not long after being intubated, his heart stopped beating and the doctors performed CPR for 2 minutes. Lennon stopped breathing many times in the early years. More times than I can remember. But his heart had never stopped beating before then.

We left Lister and made our way to PICU Addenbrookes on full life support and maxed out on blood pressure meds. His kidney had completed failed and they suspected that Lennon had a mechanical bowel obstruction.

We arrived at Addenbrookes and as soon as Lennon was stable and they had switched over all the machines they took him down to CT. The scan showed his bowel was twisted and compromised but they couldn’t tell how much had died. We all made the decision for him to go to theatre, despite not knowing if he would survive surgery as he was on maximum support with nowhere to go – we had to give him that one last chance.
They opened him up and took his bowel and stomach out. The surgeons said there was way too much bowel that had died and they were surprised that he was still alive and fighting after what they saw. They stitched him up and kept him alive whilst Ian and I tried to prepare to say goodbye to our precious boy.

We desperately wanted to get Lennon to our Children’s Hospice, Keech. The girls at Keech, absolutely adore Lennon and I always hoped that the end would be there or at home and not in intensive care. The doctors kept telling us that he wasn’t stable enough to travel and we would risk losing him on the journey. A risk neither of us was willing to take.

At 2.30am on Thursday morning the blood pressure meds weren’t enough and they were pumping him with more and fluid just to keep him alive. So at 3am we made the decision not to prolong the inevitable any longer. Lennon had gone, I think he left us before we left Lister. The intensive care consultant who has been with us the whole time since we arrived (even scrubbing up and going into theatre with Lennon) took the breathing tube out and Lennon passed away instantly. Peaceful and dignified.

We got to spend the next 3 hours saying our goodbyes. It wasn’t long enough. But all the time in the world wouldn’t of been enough. I lay on the bed next to him placed his arms around me and held him tight. All the time trying to put my warmth back into his little body.

We were in a side room and the whole experience was very peaceful and calm.
We had 2 nurses with us. 1 who had looked after Lennon when he was a baby on Bluebell Ward, Lister. And the other who had done a nursing placement at Lennon’s school. It was fate and we will be eternally grateful that he had people who knew his journey caring for him in his last hours. They took out all his lines, cut locks of his hair and made hand and foot prints.

He was moved to his beloved Keech Hospice that afternoon. And will hopefully remain there until his funeral.

The girls there are going down to the Meadow suite all the time and taking really good care of him. Spending time with him and talking to him. They dressed him in his page boy outfit – he looked so smart and my heart shattered again knowing that he will no longer walk me down the aisle when we get married.

We are lucky that Lennon spent time at Keech over the last 8 years and had built up relationships with everyone there and 2 of our continuing care nurses who looked after Lennon at home now work there.
It feels so comforting to be there, close to Lennon – like a great big hug. The Keech girls are also taking care of us, making sure we eat and drink, helping us with funeral plans and making sure we are as involved as we want to be.


Words cannot begin to describe the pain we are feeling, it hurts to breathe. Every morning I wake up for the first second, I forget that Lennon isn’t here anymore and then it hits me like a bus. It feels like I’m loosing him all over again.
The thought of spending the rest of ours lives without Lennon seems unbelievable. He was such a huge part of our family and for the last 10 and half years my whole life has revolved around Lennon. I gave up everything for my little soldier – my career, going out with friends, money, holidays. And I don’t regret that at all. I would live the last 10 years over and over again if I could.

We are so incredibly proud of our little soldier. The odds were always stacked so highly against him right from the minute he was born, yet with every single step of his journey he fought so hard to stay alive. Some times were more difficult for him, but he always bounced back. He was like a cat with 9 lives!

We will treasure every single second of the last 10 and half years and all the amazing memories we were able to make with Lennon in our lives.

Life will never be the same, the light in our life has gone out.

“If there’s ever a tomorrow when we’re not together.. there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we are apart.. I’ll always be with you.”
Winnie the Pooh.

Previous blog post – For my son, and his friends

For my son, and his friends.

Lennon stayed at Nascot Lawn last weekend. It was a well needed break for me and Ian, but also for our daughters and for Lennon.

Lennon loves his little holidays at Nascot Lawn – most of all because he hates me being in his face all the time! We had been together from him arriving home from school on Friday night until I dropped him off at Nascot on the following Friday afternoon. And he doesn’t even get a break from me in the night as I am up every other hour attending to his medical needs. He can’t go his room to get away from me like his sisters do, he can’t go out to play with friends or spend a day at his grandparents. He couldn’t even go to his school summer play-scheme without me.

On the 45 minute journey there, about 5 minutes from Nascot Lawn, Lennon realises where he is going and he gets super excited! Lots of arm flapping.
When we get inside the staff greet him like a king, and his beaming smile says it all.
These girls know my son so well. They are the only people other than me that bath him, change his jejunostomy dressing and his ileostomy bag. They can tell when his blood sugars will drop and they don’t panic when his stomach drains bright green bile.
Lennon doesn’t talk or sign. But the staff know when he is in pain, when he is tired, when he wants to go out for a walk or play in the sensory room.

Lennon has lived such a restricted life compared to other children. He doesn’t have much for himself, and his overnight stays at Nascot Lawn are his only independence away from his family – Why should Lennon loose all of this?? If he could talk he would be devastated. And I know that he would want me to fight to Save Nascot Lawn, for him, and for his friends ❤️

https://www.change.org/p/save-nhs-nascot-lawn-children-s-respite-services?recruiter=224336991&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=copylink&utm_campaign=share_petition

Previous blog post – Save NHS Nascot Lawn

Save NHS Nascot Lawn

Nascot Lawn is a respite centre in Watford and currently provides respite to the most medically complex children in Hertfordshire. As parents we have been informed that Herts 3 valleys CCG have ceased funding with Nascot Lawn set to close on 31st October 2017.

As you can imagine we are devastated. There is no other option for overnight/ weekend respite for our Children in county, due to the complexity of care they require. This decision will be the breaking point for most families who are already hanging on by a short thread – including my own.
Lennon has recently been discharged from Great Ormond St after he finally underwent surgery for an ileostomy after his colon completely failed and he become dangerously unwell from malnourishment. My continuing care package does not meet Lennon’s ever growing needs and we were relying on our allocated nights at Nascot Lawn to enable Lennon to stay at home with us. Without the support of Nascot Lawn we may be forced to put Lennon into care as we will not be able cope.

As a Carer providing 24 hour high dependency, round the clock care to my son I get paid 37pence per hour. Most nights are waking nights, or spent getting up every other hour.
I have been told If we put lennon into care it would cost on average of £750 per day! (Mainly because his medical care is so complex)

I’m a nurse for 24 hours a day 7 days a week, would that be allowed in any hospital??!
Even when my my son is in hospital I am still providing him with all the medical care he needs, I don’t get a break as I’m not allowed to leave him alone on the ward in the care of the nursing team as he is too complex. Yet I have no nursing or medical degree or training.

I am responsible for a severely Autistic child who cannot walk, self harms, has no sense of danger and understands nothing. A gastrostomy, a jejunostomy, an ileostomy, a 24hour feed, making up extra fluids, a ton of medications including controlled drugs and injections, strict fluid input and output measuring and charting, seizure management, restraining and suctioning, and deciding what is a medical emergency and what isn’t. Ordering in and managing supplies from 6 different companies. I have to remember appointments, deal with professionals, fill out untold amount of forms, attend meetings.
I also have to be my child’s eyes, ears and communication aid. He communicates through me.
I have to be on the top of my game always. I cannot take my eye of the ball ever, not for one second. How can I do that safely with no overnight respite care out of the house? No weekends off. Tiredness causes accidents, sometimes fatal accidents.

I have 2 other children who also deserve my time, and to have weekends where they get to live a ‘normal’ life – go to the cinema, bowling, swimming and out for dinner. All of which we cannot do with Lennon.
We cannot take Lennon on holiday – he sleeps in a 6ft high padded cot as he has no sense of danger and throws himself head first out of a normal bed. So we used our Nascot Lawn nights to take our other children on much needed holidays. Without Nascot Lawn they will go with out holidays – how do I explain all of this to them?!

Our house is effectively a high dependency unit and In all honesty I don’t think our family will be able to cope without Nascot Lawn, and an worried about my families future.

We started a campaign to Save NHS Nascot Lawn 6 weeks ago, and so far we have had a lot of media coverage, and attended a lot of meetings! The only step forward we have made so far is getting Hertfordshire County Council to agree to fund Nascot Lawn until all 77 children have been reassessed by health and social care and given an alternative provision.

But we are desperate for a solution to this – we need Nascot Lawn to stay open indefinitely. Not just for our children, but the children and families who will need it in the future.
It is simply not fair on our children – who are some of the most needy and deserving children in the county. Or on the Parents, who like us have given up their whole lives (careers, jobs, friends, holidays) to care for their children.

We have a Facebook page
https://m.facebook.com/savenhsnascotlawnchildrensrespiteservices/

A twitter account
@SaveNHSNascot

And a petition with currently over 14,000 signatures
https://www.change.org/p/save-nhs-nascot-lawn-children-s-respite-services?recruiter=224336991&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=copylink&utm_campaign=share_petition

Previous blog post – MDT

MDT.

Heartbroken for my little soldier. We had an MDT (multi team meeting) Great Ormond St yesterday. Obviously I know Lennon inside out, and I am an expert in every single diagnosis he has and his complex medical. But it still has hit me really hard. 
He is under 16 of the specialist teams there, and although they didn’t all attend, the room was full with some people standing. The outcome of the meeting was that they will put him on the surgery list for an ileostomy, to bypass the defunct colon. This will mean he will have 3 stomas all constantly hooked up to something (feed and drainage) and in the mean time they are going to try Botox in the muscles at the end of his colon and put a balloon in his bottom to test the muscles. 

The one big plus is that they think once the lower GI problems have been sorted, his upper GI problems will likely improve, which could result in him having feed back into his stomach! 

His movements have dramatically increased over the last few weeks (it takes me almost an hour to get him washed and dressed in the mornings and evenings) since I been performing the bowel washouts on him, which we are sure is causing the weight loss. The Neuro said it is because his gut is causing him constant pain. She also thinks he has a rare Neuro motility disorder and will perform a lumber puncture to check 😢 


Suddenly the last 10 years have hit me head on. We have always agreed to do anything at home just to stay out of hospital and attempt to give Lennon the best quality of life possible. To extent where now we effectively run an HDU from our home. I’m starting to think that we have taken on too much and it’s breaking my heart 💔 but what else can we do?? I won’t ever give up on my little boy, it’s not an option. But some things do need to change. We need A LOT more help than what we are currently getting, and I need more emotional support as currently I’m only getting that from Ian, and he is just as exhausted as me! 

I’m hoping that we don’t have to wait too long for the Botox, and that it is the magic cure that Lennon’s colon needs. And I am so grateful that Lennon has an amazing medical team, at our local and at Great Ormond St. And that they always take my views and knowledge of Lennon on board when they are making decisions. 

Previous blog post – Decisions

Paddling, frantically! 

Feeling like a swan at the moment – looking ok on top of the water but frantically paddling away underneath, trying to keep moving forward. Im still processing the fact that Lennon’s colon has failed and trying to keep him going until GOS decide what to do with him, and then we get a letter from the neurologist diagnosing Autism, dystonia and choreoathetosis. Oh and she wants him to have a lumbar puncture to check for neurotransmitters 😔 

Dystonic foot

Jeez, does this boy not have enough going on?! My brain feels fried. 

I’m physically and emotionally drained. I honestly feel like I am responsible for keeping my son alive, and that’s a huge responsibility. I can’t just ‘clock off’ because I’m not coping and struggling. Usually when I feel like this I change something to improve the situation. But this is out of my hands, I can’t change anything. I am providing such a high level of care at the moment – yes he should really be in hospital, but that’s not practical or what’s best for him. We have 2 other children who need their mummy at home, not to mention that being in hospital is a logistical nightmare and requires a lot of help from a lot of other people. Whilst I’m sat in small hospital room still providing 24 hour care for my son because I’m the only one who knows how. I can’t even leave him to go to the toilet! 

Lennon needs to be at home and going to school, he needs to have a some quality of life. He needs his family around him and for life to remain as normal as possible for as long as possible. He has no idea of what is going on his little body. He has no idea that his colon has failed and the implications of that – I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing?? 

I will keep swimming, like I have for the last 10 years, because there is no alternative. 

Mummy Love 💙

Previous blog post – Keep on going

Keep on going

We returned to Great Ormond St on Thursday, originally to see a neurologist regarding Lennon’s recent seizures. But our nurse had seen the pictures from the contrast study the week before and discussed him with the doctors. They all agreed that he needed a phosphate wash out and a review with his gastro motility consultant. It turned into a really long day. The washout was awful, and proved what the contrasts photos showed – that Lennon’s colon has completely failed 😔 they said it is huge, full of air and fluid and can’t empty by itself as a result. At least we now know why he had been deteriorating so quickly. 


So the outcome is we have to perform bowel washouts on Lennon at home twice a week until all his consultants at GOSH can meet up to decide what’s best for Lennon now. ( good luck with that, at the last count he had 15 🙈) 

I must admit I am NOT looking forward to clearing out my sons bowel myself. This is something no mother should have to do to their child. 

And If all of that wasn’t enough to process, we went into the neuro appointment and came out with yet another diagnosis – a movement disorder! She is also going to chase all the genetic study results and put him on the 100k study. And refer him back to the Metabolic team as their tests have improved over the years and may now show something not seen before( I’ve always believed has a metabolic condition) 

My brain was absolutely frazzled by the time we arrived home and I am devastated for my little soldier ❤️ 

It so tough when he was doing so well this time last year, he was probably the wellest he has ever been. 


He was last on TPN 6 years ago, and his bowel has done so well since then. We always knew it wouldn’t last and would struggle at some point, but that doesn’t make it any easier to digest 😔 

Previous blog post – The seizure rollercoaster