LETTERS OF KINDNESS

Katie Boike Carver, 34, found that strangers helped her family in their darkest hour

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Cradling my toddler, Niko, then three, in my arms, I felt his forehead, which was hot and clammy. 'It was only a matter of time,' I sighed to my husband, Timo, then 35. It was February 2023 and our eldest, Nina, then five, had been off school with a tummy bug so we were expecting Niko to come down with it too. 'Brave boy,' I told him later, as he lay on the sofa watching Paw Patrol. But days later, Niko hadn't improved: his temperature was still high. The doctor suspected an ear infection, but antibiotics didn't help and after another week of Niko being poorly I noticed that his skin had turned a funny colour.

Taking a photo of him on my phone, I sent it to my mum, Sandra, then 64. 'His skin looks grey,' I panicked.

'He doesn't look well at all,' she agreed. Timo went off to his chef job and took Nina with him. Meanwhile, I drove Niko to A&E at Queen's Hospital, Romford. After a seven-hour wait, a consultant gave Niko a blood test and came to see me soon after. I knew from his serious expression that it wasn't good news. 'His red blood cells are dangerously low and he needs an urgent blood transfusion,' he explained. Shock rippled through my body - I'd expected something like a chest infection, not this. But things got worse. 'I'm afraid it looks as though Niko has leukaemia,' the consultant said a bit later. Perched on the end of Niko's bed, I started to cry. 'Is he going to die?' I sobbed. 'There's a long road ahead, but it is one of the most treatable cancers,' he reassured me.

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