Bonny123: Nail on the head, Moodyblue. I think this whole case is going to force the government and Health Service to revisit the entire childhood vaccination program. There needs to be 100% clarity as to the obligations of parents. They also need to invest in a study to investigate and hopefully dispel these links/rumors that are making parents opt out of the program. Saying there is nothing to fear is one thing; showing definitively that there is nothing to fear is another.
31
The weather was unseasonably cold for June, and I pulled my jacket up around my shoulders and placed a tentative hand on my face, ensuring my sunglasses hadn’t slipped down my nose.
It wasn’t so much my choice of protection against the elements, but rather against the stares I was sure to attract at the supermarket. Every housewife and their sister in the area did their grocery shopping here. And since it was a weekday afternoon, it was practically a given that I was going to run into someone I knew.
Entering the store, I grabbed the first empty cart I saw and began navigating it toward the vegetable section, then reached into my pocket for my phone so I could access my shopping list.
It felt like I hadn’t been grocery shopping in weeks and, indeed, it had probably been longer than that. But I needed to stock up.
I looked around at the shiny, colorful displays of goodness, comparing it to the “food” I had been surviving on up to now—hospital fare wasn’t exactly fine cuisine. Coupled with the fact that I rarely paid attention to what I was putting in my mouth these days, this annoying but altogether necessary sojourn was probably good for my future health.
Something Declan had in fact pointed out to me the evening before, when he’d called over to the house to update me on progress with the case.
He had been brilliant since that night at the hospital when Rosie woke up, and since then had been instrumental in helping me get my head around some of the more practical implications of Rosie’s future while I tried to deal with the emotional side. There was no doubt that while he was first and foremost my solicitor, and remained utterly professional at all times in that regard, Declan Roe was also gradually becoming a much-needed friend.
When I went to make him the obligatory cup of tea last night, I had discovered, much to my mortification, that there was no milk, and indeed the only things in my fridge were moldy cheese, dried-up condiments and wine.
“Kate, you do know that a person cannot survive on wine and mold alone.” Declan’s tone might have been playful, but his expression was serious. And there was a look in his eye that I couldn’t quite place. Was it worry? Concern, even?
I tried to lighten the mood by arguing that maybe I had a bit of French in my ancestry—but his chiding made me realize that I needed to start paying attention to the day-to-day necessities in life, especially for when Rosie came home.
Now that her infection had cleared and she was pretty much over the worst, the next step was for her to start rehabilitation. Depending on her progress, I hoped she’d do well enough that the doctors would agree to let her come home. Though I knew she and I both had a very long road ahead, I longed for that day.
“You’re right,” I had told Declan as I took a sip of a Pinot Noir I had been saving for a special occasion (a weeknight meeting with my solicitor was as good as it got these days). “First thing tomorrow, I will go grocery shopping.”
And so here I was.
However, as I started to roam the aisles, I worked my hardest to ignore the pointed stare of a woman from Knockroe whose name I couldn’t recall, but whom I recognized as the mother of a girl in Rosie’s dance class. I wondered if my hesitation to engage in the nuances of community living had less and less to do with my daughter’s condition and more to do with the fact that I had become increasingly nervous about showing my face in public.
Not that anyone had ever said anything, but while I knew there were many in the community who supported me, I also knew there were plenty of people talking about me behind my back. And I didn’t have to employ too much imagination to know what they were saying.
Goodness knew I’d encountered enough of that online.
I grimaced as I placed a plastic bottle of orange juice in my cart, the thought reminding me that as bad as I might have had it with the odd accusation of my being “a money-grabber” or “out for blood,” Madeleine Cooper was definitely getting the worst of it.
The other day, Declan had pulled up a clip of Gemma Moore’s recent TV ambush of her onMorning Coffee.I don’t know what the journalist had against her, but one thing was for sure, I certainly didn’t want her in my camp, either.
And while I was utterly bewildered as to why Madeleine would go on national TV given the huge public reaction in relation to our case, I couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for her after watching that segment, and, even worse, when I read some of the hateful things people were saying about her online.
Yes, I, too, was angry at her, but obviously I had never set out for this horrible public shaming.
Declan insisted that I couldn’t blame myself for things like that and that Madeleine’s already public profile taken with such a controversial topic had automatically made her a very easy target. I knew he was only trying to make me feel better, but it wasn’t working.
None of this would have happened if I hadn’t taken the Coopers to court.
But then none of it would have happened if Madeleine had just kept her daughter home from school, either...
Unwilling to think about it, I gripped the handle on the cart tightly and continued pushing it forward. Glancing down at my hands, I realized my knuckles were white and urged myself to relax, to calm down.
As I took a few deep breaths in the bread aisle, I pictured my daughter’s face and tried to think positive. Fingers crossed, the worst was over: she was on the road to recovery and would be coming home soon. Not that it would solve all of our problems—if anything it would be just the beginning. But it was something to be thankful for, whatever way you looked at it.
And once Rosie finally came home and was back settled under her own roof with me taking care of her, all the other challenges that lay ahead might not seem so insurmountable.
“Kate? Is that you?” called a voice from behind me and I immediately felt myself tense up again. Dammit, of course I was going to run into someone.
Turning around, I was glad to discover that it was just Christine. Thank goodness. “Hey,” I said wearily as she pushed her cart up next to mine.
