Coming to watch the footy?’ I asked my 19-year-old daughter Molly. ‘No Mum,’ she yawned. I frowned. A die-hard West Coast Eagles fan, Molly usually jumped at a trip to the footy. Now getting her off the couch was a struggle.
I knew teens were moody, and she was working odd hours as a delivery driver. But my usually bright, sparky daughter was permanently exhausted.
It was a killer lurking in our home
She’d had two prangs in the car over the last couple of months.
