?Sepsis, Mottled Skin, Nosebleeds, Temperature Spike, Oxygen Mask.

Maya’s Weekend Update:

Friday 5th – Sunday 7th December 2025

This weekend began with such promise. Maya was calm, settled and content with her Daddy by her side. On Friday, Daddy’s best friend Lee spent the day with them, bringing warmth and familiar laughter into our hospital room. Maya’s teacher, the ever-kind Sue C, also visited to support her wellbeing.

The OT tried sitting Maya in the tilted chair, but her exhausted little body just wasn’t up for mobilising. Back to bed she went — rest is healing too.

I even managed a rare few hours away from the hospital — precious “me-time” to refill my cup.

But of course… in true hospital life fashion, while I was gone Maya spiked a temperature and began shivering with rigours.

I reassured Terry not to worry — she was in safe hands with the nurses and doctors right beside her.

A huge delivery of Christmas cards arrived from Postpals Charity. What was once the least Christmassy room on Lion Ward has transformed beautifully. Daddy has hung snowy window stickers, festive ornaments and strings holding up every precious card sent to our warrior girl.

Saturday 6th — A Day for Rest

After such an intense week of medical ups and downs, Saturday was deliberately quiet. Maya’s nurse kindly encouraged Terry and me to step out for a couple of hours… to breathe, to swim, to remember we are still human.

We ordered takeaway because hospital food is becoming a monotonous routine. Small comforts matter.

Son #1 Jerome and his lovely girlfriend Sophie arrived to visit, which always sparks joy for Maya.

But heartbreakingly, the moment Daddy left to return to Kent, Maya began sobbing — shoulders shaking, tears flowing. Her eyes so puffy from crying.

Later, when Jerome and Sophie said goodbye, it happened again.

And though it hurts to witness her distress, her emotional responses are a sign — somewhere deep inside, her brain is healing. She knows who she loves. She misses them.

That is hope. 🤍

Sunday 7th — Calm Turns to Crisis

Another quiet morning: bed bath, passive limb exercises… conserving energy.

Then Son #3 Enzo and girlfriend Katelyn came to visit.

Everything was peaceful — until around 4:30pm, when Maya suddenly had two nosebleeds. Blood appeared in her mouth, throat, and NG tube.

Her nappy was soaked. Her nurse and HCA were both on break. Another nurse helped me, but during the change Maya’s oxygen levels plummeted to 81%.

Just then — as fate would have it — a nurse passing by on her way to break saw the monitor alarming and rushed in. She held the oxygen mask while we sorted Maya’s position and breathing.

Moments later, her temperature spiked to 38°C, her skin turned mottled — a frightening sign of sepsis. She was placed on a full 15L oxygen mask. A doctor was called urgently.

Bloods. Blood gases. Platelets checked due to active bleeding.

And the tears returned as soon as the kids left to catch their train home. She feels their absence. Despite sleepiness and minimal responsiveness, she knows when her people are near. And when they go.

A chest X-ray arrived — Maya’s 12th since her admission on 28th October. Five weeks and five days in hospital, battling the relentless aftermath of CAR-T cell therapy.

Thankfully, the X-ray looks okay. Some crackles from the nosebleed. Blood aspirated from her NG tube — she’s swallowing blood too.

Because that’s how fragile things are…

A calm moment can turn into chaos within seconds.

She could bleed.

She could desaturate.

She could spike a temperature.

Any time. Any day.

And although she should have 1:1 nursing, that hasn’t happened since Monday 1st December — despite my request being escalated. Perhaps it’s now time to contact PALS (Patient Advisory Liaison Service).

The World Outside & The World We Live In

Outside these hospital walls, London sparkles with Christmas lights.

Online, everyone is decorating trees and hanging stockings.

It hurts that Maya doesn’t get that this year.

It hurts that we don’t, either.

But then… directly opposite us…

A family is watching their 10-month-old baby slowly slip away.

Their agony is beyond words.

“Why can’t they help him go peacefully when they know he is dying?” the Mum sobbed into my shoulder.

Her grief is louder than any Christmas music could ever be. 💔

I held her tightly.

Told her I was sorry.

And I meant every word.

Loving More Than One Child at a Time

My other children are hurting too. They miss normal life.

They miss me.

But they are trying so hard to stay strong.

Lola needs attention — and I am so grateful for Terry, grandparents, and friends who are stepping in when I can’t be in two places at once.

I want to help other families here too — especially the single mums and newly-diagnosed children navigating all of this alone — but some days, I have nothing left to give. I must refill my empty cup before I can pour into others.

Looking Ahead: Hope & Healing

This week is a big one.

Maya is scheduled for:

🧠 MRI head, trunk, spine and abdomen

🧪 Lumbar puncture

🩸 Bone marrow biopsy

—all under general anaesthetic on 11th December. Coordinating all specialties is no small challenge. We need every scrap of strength and every bit of luck.

💚 How You Can Help 💚

If you’ve read this far — thank you.

Your support matters more than you know.

Please let our experiences:

✨ remind you to be grateful for ordinary days

✨ help you find resilience when life feels too hard

✨ inspire you to love your people fiercely

Your emotional support keeps us going.

Your financial support helps us survive the pressures that childhood cancer brings.

🩷To those that have asked: 💜

PayPal to dellanie_nash@yahoo.co.uk (as a gift)

Santander

Dellanie Nash

Sort code 09-01-36

Account 4957 9984

Reference: Maya’s Journey

Together, we will keep fighting.

Together, we hold hope.

For Maya.

Always for Maya.

Here at the Lion Ward GOSH 🦁