“Got a phone call from my partner saying my two-year-old son had found a box of sleeping pills in a friend’s bag and eaten them all (57). The hospital was literally across the road so I told her to take him and the empty box directly to the hospital. Across the road remember.

Took 45 mins for me to get to the hospital. She had not arrived. Rushed to the apartment to find her watching TV. I grabbed my son and the box and took him to the hospital. ( Pain : realisation his mother didn't give a shit )

Turned out that one of those pills can put an adult out for eight-hours straight. The doctor explained that they dissolve in the mouth rapidly and that is where most of the absorption takes place. But my son was as bright as a button and very curious about the things going on.

He further explained that what works on adults, may not work at all on children. Also that drugs are not tested on children so we have no true idea what might happen.

So they took some blood samples, hooked him up to a monitor and I was told to wait 24 hours. Brain damage, kidney failure, liver failure, internal haemorrhage…you name it, all passed through my head. And it was all like a truck heading toward this bright, curious kid that had no idea of the monster stalking him. And there I was, unable to do a thing to stop it, impotent. Never in my life had I felt so utterly useless.

Not a sentimental person by nature but if you had told me that jumping off the roof would have saved him I would have asked you to show me the stairs. Seriously, I was shocked at myself at just how easy that option seemed to me if offered.

Kept him awake for as long as I could, it was already late for him. The idea that these could be our last moments together were not going to leave me. He dropped off suddenly as overtired toddlers are inclined to do while I fought the army of monsters that were occupying my mind.

At one point, a doctor and support-staff burst in to the room and all descended on my son. False alarm, his heart-monitor had become detached and what they had seen from the monitor was a dying child. They were on the ball, I give them that.

If my heart didn't slow down, I was going to need help myself.

His mother did pay a brief visit. Checked him over and walked out. It was cursory, to save face but no real interest. I knew then that we were finished as a couple.

An eternity passed and I got so very old. He slept, laughed a little in his sleep, fidgeted from time to time (which for me, was always a precursor to an emergency).

Around 7am, he awoke, eyes wide open and said: ‘Papa, j’ai faim!’ (‘Daddy, I’m hungry’). Can’t say I’ve ever heard anything so beautiful.

He was finally released, fed and quite buoyed up by his adventure.

Back home, his mother greeted him with with enthusiasm but there was an edge that told me that it was all an act. Turns out she had had a lover for a while and was clearly besotted.

Might have forgiven that save allowing herself to despise even her child. Her lover was welcome to her. Seventeen years later and my son still with me. She never bothered to visit, ever.

BTW: Those child-proof pill-boxes. They are not. He got it open in seconds.”