A Brave Little Lion: A Day in Hospital and a Heart Full of Gratitude

There are days in life that test your nerves more than others — and not for your own sake, but for someone you love. For me, one of those days came recently, when my son had to go into hospital for a minor operation. Nothing major, thankfully, but if you’re a parent, you’ll know that “minor” doesn’t always feel that way when it’s your child being wheeled into surgery.

The day started early — very early. We were up before sunrise, and before anything else, he had to stop eating. That’s no small thing for my lad — he absolutely loves his food. Missing breakfast alone felt like a challenge, but he took it on the chin, no complaints, just quiet courage.

Once we arrived at the hospital, the usual formalities kicked in — name, age, date of birth, address — the sort of questions that make it all feel a bit more real. Then came the waiting, the pre-op checks, and that slow countdown until it was time to go.

Originally, he’d asked his mum to go into the anaesthetic room with him, but when the moment arrived, he turned to me with a change of heart. “Mum worries too much,” he said, “so can you take me to theatre?”

It was said with a calmness beyond his years, and in that moment, I was immensely proud. He walked into that theatre with his head held high, and when the time came, he didn’t even flinch as the cannula went in. A few deep breaths of the “magic gas,” a gentle squeeze of the syringe, and just like that, he drifted off to sleep. My brave little lion.

And then it was over to the incredible team of doctors and nurses to do what they do best. While his mum and I sat waiting in the recovery room — pretending to be calm — they worked their magic with quiet precision.

An hour and a half later, the double doors opened and there he was, a bit groggy, a little pale, but back with us and already on the road to recovery. Within a few hours, he was alert, cracking jokes, and (unsurprisingly) starving. Once his appetite kicked in, he devoured his hospital meal like a champ — the first sign that all was well again.

After passing all his post-op checks, we were given the green light to go home. One warm shower later, followed by some paracetamol and ibuprofen, and he was fast asleep in his bed — healing, resting, and hopefully dreaming of anything but hospital

Through the entire day, one thing stood out clearly — the care, professionalism, and genuine compassion shown by every single member of the NHS team we encountered. From the nurses who took the time to explain things gently, to the surgical team who brought reassurance and confidence when we needed it most — we’re so lucky to have them.

It’s easy to take these moments for granted, especially when everything goes well, but I know how many moving parts are involved behind the scenes. To every NHS worker who had a hand in looking after my son that day — thank you. You made a difficult experience bearable, and for that, we are truly grateful.

We’re now firmly on the road to recovery. There may be a bit of soreness and a few quiet days ahead, but the worst is behind us. And through it all, my son showed more courage and grace than I could have ever asked for.

There’s no medal for bravery after a day like that — but if there was, he’d deserve one made of pure gold.