The 1st February 2008 was the saddest day of my life. My
beautiful son Mathew was taken from me suddenly at the tender
age of 13, just 6 weeks before his 14th birthday.
Mathew was fit and healthy with lots of energy. He played
football for his dad's team and was a coach with my team - he
was about to take his referee badge too. He played badminton
for his school and lived life to the full.
Mathew had complained of a sore throat on the Monday but still
went to school. On the Wednesday afternoon he told me he did
not feel well and was going to lie down. That night my husband
Steve found Mathew unconscious on the bathroom floor. He was
taken to hospital by ambulance although the paramedics were not
overly concerned.
Mathew told the doctors he had a pain in his chest and felt
better when he was laying down, but no tests were carried out.
Mathew was discharged later and despite almost collapsing at the
A&E doors and being taken back to A&E, still no tests were
carried out.
I
was told to make sure Mathew had plenty to drink as he had
gastro- enteritis. I spent the whole of the next day with
Mathew, watching him being sick unable to keep fluids down.
Bathing him to warm him up and mopping his brow.
Later that night Mathew seemed very fidgety and unable to get
comfortable so Steve and I took him to the hospital.
