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Publish my child’s story in a magazine or newspaper
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Tell my child’s story: My little boy learned to walk in his new legs
We recently helped Terri Lewsley share her heartwarming story about her son, Taylor, learning to walk on his new prosthetic legs.
After losing his limbs to meningitis as a baby, Terri was overwhelmed at how quickly three-year-old Taylor took his first unaided steps.
We arranged for Taylor’s story to be sent out on our news wire – which means it was sent directly to all of the national newspapers – and for it to also appear in two weekly women’s magazines – Best Magazine and Real People magazine.
Recent client: Taylor’s story
Peaking over the cot, my heart just melted.
âHeâs so perfect,â I said, stroking my little boy’s rosy cheeks. I couldnât believe my son, Taylor, was nearly eight months old.
âHeâs growing up so fast, isnât he?â my mum, Kate, smiled, over my shoulder. I leaned in closer and gave him a big kiss, just in time to catch his tiny, toothy grin.
Taylor had always been such a happy, cheeky little boy. It certainly was a surprise to find out at the age 22 that I was pregnant with him. Everything went swimmingly until he was due. Suddenly he stopped moving so doctors needed to induce me.
Luckily, everything was fine, it was just Taylor keeping me on my toes.
The next evening, I woke-up to the sounds of him stirring from down the hall. Bleary-eyed, I wondered to his bedroom to find out what was wrong. âMummyâs here,â I cooed, leaning his cot to pick him.
Giving him a cuddle, I instantly noticed that something wasn’t right. He had a raging temperature and his skin was burning to the touch. Suddenly, Taylor vomited all over himself, and the shock sent him squealing again.
Skin was burning
âOn no, it’s OK, you’re OK ,â I soothed, slightly panicking as I remembered I lost the thermometer.
Trying to stay calm, I nipped next door to borrow one from our neighbour, and called 111 as soon as I realised his temperature was off the charts.
âDon’t worry Miss Lewsley, weâll send an ambulance to be safe,â said the operator in a calming tone.
I nervously sat next to Taylorâs hospital bed in A&E as doctors gave him the once over.
âIs he OK, what happened?â my mum said, pulling back the hospital curtain. âHeâs seems fine,â I said, still not quite convinced he was. âJust gave us a bit of a shock, didnât you?â the nurse smiled towards Taylor.
He’d already perked-up, flashing a cheeky grin back at her. The doctor ran a few tests and decided it was safe for us to take him home, so we headed back to my mum’s for the evening.
âI’m still worried mum,” I said. âIt feels like heâs looking through me, not at me, like heâs not himself.â
âCome here,â gestured mum, taking Taylor from my clutches. âHow about I watch Taylor and you get some food in yourself?â
Watching mum bounce Taylor on her knee, I took a bite of my sandwich, and deep down, I knew something didnât feel right. Suddenly, Taylor was sick, but this time he didn’t cry, he just fell silent.
Blue lines spread across his face
âIs he OK?â I said, jumping up from my dinner plate. I looked on in horror as thin blue lines spread across his cheeks â he looked like a slice of Stilton cheese. âQuick! Call an ambulance,â mum screamed.
As Taylor was rushed to intensive care, my head was spinning, it all happened so fast. Mum and I were taken to the visitorâs room, where a doctor entered with a solemn look on his face. âTaylorâs got meningitis W, which is a particularly aggressive strain,â he explained. âWeâve had to put him in a coma to give him a fighting chance.â
âWhat?â I managed to whimper, before mum and I both burst into floods of tears. It felt as though my mum role had been ripped from me, all I could do was wait, and hope my little boy pulled through. The next few hours were crucial. We prepared for the worst, inviting all of our friends and family around to the ward to say their goodbyes – we even got Taylor christened.
Despite the warning, my little boy kept on fighting, and he spent the next 17 days in a coma. âIâm sorry but the sepsis Taylor has contracted means weâll need to amputate his right leg,â explained the doctor. I cradled his face in my hands, gave him a kiss, and he was carted off to surgery.
Meningitis W
âHeâs alive, and thatâs the main thing,â I said to mum. He was put back into a coma for another week, and the following week, he needed all fingers and thumbs, as well as his remaining toes, removed.
Some days felt like we were taking one-step forward and two steps back. âYouâre still my little superhero,â I said, reading him his favourite book while sat on the ward. Finally, in November 2015, seven months after he was first admitted, Taylor was released from hospital.
âWelcome home,â I gleamed, clutching him in my arms as we walked through the front door. Over the next year, we started to get back on track. I left my job as an inventory clerk to take care of Taylor full-time.
He was given a prosthetic leg and a splint to support his remaining one. He had learnt to stand, climb stairs, heâd even managed to ride a four-wheel bike. Taylor also had reconstructive surgery on his hands and doctors managed to use his knuckles to fashion a finger and thumb pincer.
âIs he getting used to picking things up?â mum asked, sipping her cup of tea. âYeah, heâs doing well,â I said. âIâm a little concerned about his right leg though, it doesnât look like itâs growing.â Mumâs face mirrored mine with concern.
Mummy, whereâs my leg gone
We took Taylor into hospital for a check-up in January 2017. âIt appears the sepsis has damaged the growth plates in his knee,â the doctor explained, pointing at the Taylorâs X-Ray. Over the next few months, Taylor continued to struggle on his leg, I could see my little boy was in pain. Doctorâs made the decision to amputate his other leg in September.
After the operation, I sat by his side, and clutched his little hand in mine. His eye began to squint and then finally opened.
âMummy,â he groaned. âItâs OK sweetie, Iâm here,â I said.
âMummy, whereâs my leg gone?â he cried.
I wished so badly in that moment, that I could swap places with him. âI love you, itâll be OK,â I said, trying to hold back the tears.
The nurse came in and helped me change his nappy, I couldnât bring myself to look at his leg. When he lost his first leg, he was too young to understand what was happening. But this time, he knew what was going on, and it made it so much harder.
A week later, Taylor was back to our home Derbyshire and it didnât take long for my little superhero to bounce back. He was still struggling to use his legs. âTheyâre rubbish,â he yelled in defiance, climbing the stairs on his stumps.
Struggling to use his legs
That Christmas, Taylor had both of his legs cast for a new set of prosthetics. âGuess what?â I smiled at him, handing him a big box wrapped in colourful paper. âThe man making your legs has made them extra special.â
He tore into the package to reveal a pair of bright red prosthetic legs, emblazoned with his favourite superhero. âSpiderman!â he squealed as his face lit up.
It was still tricky to get him practicing in them. Toddlers do love a tantrum. âI canât do it,â heâd say repeatedly. But Tuesdays and Thursdays were âprosthetic daysâ for Taylor at nursery.
I was out shopping with mum when I felt a buzz from my pocket. It was Taylorâs teacher Ruth, she’d sent me a video of Taylor trying out his new legs. âYou can do it, well done, you’re doing it!â she said, calling him over with arms open.
I held my breath as Taylor released his fingers from the cupboard and started walking unaided. A smile beamed across my face and I burst into tears.
âWhy are you crying in the middle of the shop?â mum exclaimed. âCome look, heâs amazing!â I cried, holding the phone towards her proudly. Ruth said heâd be watching the other children walking and wanted to join in.
Now Taylorâs a happy, lively three-year-old boy, who has dreams of joining a wheelchair rugby team. Although we’re still taking it each day at a time, Iâm so proud of him. Heâs growing stronger and faster each day, just like the superhero he is.
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