A week later we received a letter from her school, Our Lady of Perpetual Motion, which said the following:
“We do not appear to have received a letter concerning Kaede’s absence on the Wed 3/10/12. WE would be grateful if you could complete the tear-off slip below, stating the reason for absence, and return it to school as soon as possible. If no absence slip is received by the school then, unfortunately, the absence will be registered as unauthorised.”
Well they wanted a letter and a letter they got:
Further to your letter dated 10 October 2012 querying
Kaede’s absence from school on 3 October 2012 and further absence of a letter
explaining said absence.
On the day in question my Wife made the heinous error of
actually informing Miss ****** in a verbal face to face type fashion that Kaede
would indeed be absent on that day and the reasons for that absence. Unfortunately I was not at the morning drop-off
as I had stayed behind to look after Kaede.
If I had of been present I would have patiently explained to my wife
that she should have stood outside the school office and rung the school phone
number to report Kaede’s absence. Of
course, it now seems that that also would have been erroneous as a letter is
now required for a single days absence.
Firstly I apologise for the lack of a hand written letter
but unfortunately my calligraphy skills leave a lot to be desired. In fact they have oft been likened to the
trail a diarrheatic spider leaves as he crawls towards a toilet.
The reasons for Kaede’s absence from school on 3 October
2012 can be simply explained but I feel that, due to my previously mentioned
administrative error, you deserve a full explanation for said absence. I hope the following will be indeed that.
Kaede was born on 23 February 2005, it was rather a cold and
wet day, and in fact at one point we actually had snow. This prompted, a rather rash one as it turned
out, a suggestion by myself that we should give her the middle name of Yukionna
– which means ‘snow fairy’ in Japanese.
Despite the copious amounts of gas and air, pethidine and adrenaline
running through my Wife’s system, she still had the good sense to verbally slap
me down for the idiot I was obviously being.
To this day Kaede remains middle name free.
Five days later we brought Kaede home for the first time, it
was a joyous day for all of us. Well I
say all of us, Kaede cried a lot and when she did smile I actually think it was
wind, although I didn’t tell her mother that, sometimes it’s best not to
shatter illusions too early.
The first six months were hectic, of course they were, but
we struggled on through with the dangled promise of a night of uninterrupted
sleep on the horizon – that day never came.
From aged six months Kaede would cough throughout the night, waking
first herself and then us up. As is the
want of anxious parents, we took Kaede to our local GP and we were prescribed
the first of many liquid paracetamol prescriptions. After a further six months I was actually
convinced that she drank more paracetamol than milk, although I’m sure that’s
an exaggeration on my part.
From aged 12 to 24 months we saw a plethora of Doctors (I
once read that the collective for a bunch of Doctors was a Quack of Doctors but
I remain unconvinced as to the veracity of that), all of whom had a different
explanation as to her ill-health. Six
different explanations with only one thing in common – the problem was not of
their speciality. Kaede became the
equivalent of a human pass-the-parcel with your reward being a hacking two year
old.
It was at aged two that fate and the NHS finally shone on
us. Upon witnessing my Wife’s near-on
physical breakdown in the surgery reception, a kindly old Doctor finally
recommended a specialist in chest and lungs and arranged an appointment. We attended this appointment with not much
hope in our hearts, after all we had had the health carrot dangled in front of
us before. Like doubting-Thomas’s we
trudged into the room only to find the light at the end of the tunnel. Kaede had a form of acid reflux that began
with G and had too many vowels in it.
The acid had been creeping up from her stomach as she slept and like an
unwelcome traveller in a disused car park, started to camp out in Kaede’s
lungs. With the help of one pill, taken
thrice daily for two weeks, she was all but cured. She had to remain on antibiotics for a solid
two years, but eventually all was good and she started to sleep through the
night.
All this leads to the night of 2 October 2012, an evening
that started as normal but soon went to hell in a hand-cart. At approximately 20.17 I heard a slight cough
emanating from Kaede’s bedroom. It was
only a slight cough and your average parent probably would not have heard
it. We are not average parents however
and despite the slightly high volume of the TV (we were watching Boardwalk
Empire and it can be a little loud in places) we sat up like a pair of
hyperactive meerkats. I placed my hand
on my Wife’s arm to calm her, reduced the volume on the TV and cocked an ear
towards the front room door.
There it was again, definitely a cough and definitely Kaede.
I trudged up the stairs with some reluctance it must be
said, fearing the worst but trying to remain optimistic, it may have been a
dust-bunny or something. I sat outside
Kaede’s door playing Angry Birds on my iPhone to pass the time (with the volume
off of course) and waited to see how bad it would get. The cough persisted and started to get louder
and chestier. I started to fear that her
old illness was back, although the chances were that it was because she had been running around
the garden without a coat on despite being told to put one on four times.
We administered the standard duo of cough mixture and paracetamol
suspension and crossed our fingers. By
22.00 the coughing still hadn’t stopped, it wasn’t at an alarming level but
just enough to keep her awake. She slept
with my wife in the family bed that night, with myself decamping to the sofa
bed we have downstairs (a sofa bed that was bought with exactly these
situations in mind).
Both my Wife and Kaede had a sleepless night that night
(which may explain my Wife’s mistake in actually telling the teacher face to
face what the problem was with Kaede) and we decided that Kaede should stay at
home that day and try to catch up on some sleep. Her cough seemed to have improved and we felt
that a day of rest and maybe some educational television, such as the Discovery
or History Channel, would do her the world of good. This was indeed the case and she steadily
improved throughout the day.
My Wife and I had a rather frank discussion that night and
we decided that unless we had a repeat of the previous night, Kaede could
return to school the following day. A
quick perusal of your attendance records will show you that Kaede did, in fact,
attend school the next day as we did not have a repeat performance of the
previous nights coughing.
I hope this letter is sufficient for your records, in fact
it may be a good idea to carefully glue it to the front of her file, thereby
saving me the trouble of explaining what we call ‘The Sleepless Coughing Years’
again. If you have any further questions
or if there is anything else you need explained regarding this unfortunate
situation, please, please, do not hesitate to write to me and ask. I have also decided to carry a pad of Post-it
notes with me at all times, this way I can write the reasons for any future
absences on them and hand the note straight to you.
Jamie Harding,
Parent of Kaede Harding.
Well one of them, she has two.
The other being my wife Patricia Harding.
Parent of Kaede Harding.
Well one of them, she has two.
The other being my wife Patricia Harding.
