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Hannah’s Choice: A daughter's love for life. The mother who let her make the hardest decision of all.
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‘I hope so, Han.’
A couple of days later we were taken to the X-ray unit, where Hannah lay on a bed as Dr Wright smeared gel onto her chest before pushing a probe across it. Working around the central line coming out of her chest, he guided it until a picture appeared on the monitor beside Hannah’s bed. Before now the scans had only contained blurry outlines and shadows but this one was giving us a far more concrete image of what was happening inside Hannah’s body. Andrew stood close to me as we watched her heart expanding and contracting, the blood rushing in and out of it in waves of blue and red across the screen.
Pressing buttons as he moved the probe across Hannah’s chest, Dr Wright freeze-framed images to take detailed measurements. Lines and shapes, trapezoids and rectangles appeared on the images to give an exact assessment of Hannah’s heart rate and function. Numbers popped up on the screen and I stared at them, willing the figures to give us good news, praying that it wouldn’t be bad.
When the scan was over the doctors went away to talk before calling Andrew and me back to see them. Their faces were serious as we sat down.
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