Waking from a restless sleep, my son, Daniel, then 2, gagged, and I quickly held out a cardboard bucket for him.
‘My poor boy,’ I soothed, rubbing his back.
Once he was done being sick, he sunk back onto his bed, exhausted.
‘Shall we have a look out the window?’ I asked.
Daniel gave a small nod, and I carried him over to peer at the streets below.
His room at Great Ormond Street Hospital was above the entrance, which sparkled with gold Christmas lights.
In the distance, you could see London in the midst of festive celebrations.
‘Doesn't it look pretty?’ I said, as Daniel
