I walked around the kitchen trying to focus on something to do. I emptied the dishwasher, trying not to make noise. It was probably the wrong job to start with as a plate knocked against another.

Philip was upstairs in bed and he was in terrible pain. It was so easy when they were small, you could just bundle them into the car and into A&E. He had been to the doctor and was on painkillers and medication for some kind of obstruction in his gut. The doctor expected it to clear up.

My mothering instincts told me that the problem was not going away easily and that his condition needed investigating. But Mammy can only make suggestions and up to that point my interference had fallen on deaf ears. I thought that it would be nice to be wrong but I’d a bad feeling about Philip’s condition.

I saw the way his brother Colm looked at him as he lay stretched out on the couch in absolute agony. He offered to take him to A&E there and then. I was quick to volunteer my assistance but Philip declined, saying he would go back to the doctor in the morning as planned. It was a long night for him. As I busied myself around the kitchen trying not to worry, I heard Philip shuffling around upstairs, getting ready to go to the doctor. A colleague of his collected him. I felt pretty helpless.

Mothering is supposed to get easier as they get older. I’m supposed to have stopped mothering, but sure that’s easier said than done. So, I waited for the inevitable text.

“I’m gone to the Mercy hospital.” – At least he was now in the right place.

SECRET INGREDIENT

It was a Wednesday so I was at home. My plan had been to make Julie’s wedding cake. Baking is therapeutic in itself for any of us that like cooking. I’d the fruit soaking for two tiers of the cake from the night before. Julie is happy to have traditional fruit cakes for her wedding. That would keep me busy while they were working out what was wrong with Philip.

I was alone with my thoughts as all the lads were away at various things. The weather didn’t help the situation. The rain was bucketing down outside. So, while I grated lemon rind, broke eggs, scooped flour and mixed spices, my emotions were all over the place. A few tears escaped and fell plop into the cake mixture. I hadn’t realised that I’d been crying. Silly mother.

I was excited about making Julie and David’s wedding cake and my thoughts drifted back to when I made my own cake and all the ones in between. Once the first cake was in the oven, I got word that Philip was having a scan. Four hours later, it was out of the oven and looking perfectly flat and smelling beautifully. Tears must be the secret ingredient.

I began round two. When you’re so used to making cakes, it is easy to become robotic. It was exactly the same mixture so would be exactly four hours in the oven again.

Then I got word from Philip that he would be having surgery in the morning. I decided to get the second cake into the oven before I went in to see him. But, alas, the surgery was brought forward and he was already gone to theatre. The diagnosis was an abscess in his gut. Meanwhile, it was time to take out the second cake. I opened the oven to expect the same flat and beautiful cake. What greeted me was a black top. I had burned it. I was absolutely disgusted.

When I checked the temperature, I saw that I’d set it too high as if I’d been putting in scones. I nearly cried again, only this time the tears wouldn’t be magic. The cake will be eaten but just not for the wedding.

Then Julie rang to say she’d be on RTÉ One with Ryan Tubridy the following morning due to her talk at the Women and Agriculture Conference last month.

PHONE HOPPING

Poor Philip had a very rough night. The fact that his sister was being interviewed on the radio was not on his radar. I went in to see Philip before school. He was miserable. So, there I was again, torn between staying with Philip for a while or rushing to the car to listen to Julie.

They joke at home that Philip is my favourite child. He likes to write it on my phone and computer and things. I tell them that my favourite is whoever needs me the most at that given moment.

So, I saw Philip and then was lucky enough to hear most of Julie’s interview until I had to go into school. When she was done I could hear my phone hopping in my bag. Julie had done an amazing interview. One friend sent a text which said: “Julie has done more for people with disabilities in 20 minutes than has been done in 20 years.”

It was followed by many more, including a close friend, who said that she had given him a great lift that morning. So my point is this: allow Julie to give you a lift. If you are struggling with anything, take strength from Julie’s attitude. Listen back to her interview with Ryan at about 9.15am on Thursday morning last (19-11-2015).

Philip is out now and on the mend. I’m back making wedding cakes and I hope that we can all have our health over the next six weeks as David and Julie’s wedding approaches.