We thought we’d lose our girl, but look at her now
Bianca Collins, 33
As I glanced out of the front window, I saw a little blur whoosh past.
My daughter Aliannah, then 6, was racing up and down our quiet street on her bike.
Legs pumping, leaning low over the handlebars, a huge toothy grin on her face.
‘Having fun?’ I asked, when she came in for her tea, bright red and out of puff.
It was November 2021 and Ali was always on the move.
She loved whizzing around our street on her bike and was the fastest runner in her class at school.
Constantly rushing around with her older sisters Sophie, then 14, Chelsea, 12, and Shae-Lea, 10.
But that December, I noticed she was very pale.
Didn’t quite seem herself.
‘My tummy hurts, Mummy,’ she moaned.
Putting my hand to her forehead, I frowned. She was burning up. Taking her temperature, the thermometer read over 40C.
‘Come on, bub. Let’s see the doctor,’ I soothed, bundling her into the car.
Diagnosed with a viral infection, the GP advised paracetamol and rest.
But later that day, Ali took a turn for the worse.
Purple blotches appeared and covered her body.
Panicked, her dad Daniel, then 25, and I rushed her to hospital.
Watching her limbs blacken, we prayed for a miracle
‘Ali has meningococcal disease,’ a doctor there confirmed. Meningitis. Confused, I thought back to the jabs our girl had as a baby.
‘I think she’s vaccinated against that?’ I said.
But the Wstrain she had wasn’t covered by the infant immunisations at the time.
‘It’s life-threatening,’ the doctor warned.
Daniel and I could only watch helplessly as our poorly girl was placed in an induced coma and pumped full of antibiotics.
But that didn’t stop her organs from failing.
‘This is a nightmare,’ I sobbed to Daniel as Ali’s little feet and hands started turning black.
Docs explained that she had developed meningococcal sepsis. Blood poisoning.
Starved of blood and oxygen, the tissue on her feet and hands were dying.
‘Her infected limbs will kill her. Her only hope is amputation,’ the doctor said.
Given just 1% chance of survival, my mind raced. They’d need to amputate her legs below the knee.
All I could think of was Ali tearing down our street on her bike.
Running around the house with her older sisters. Racing her school friends. Was all that really over? But losing her would be too much to bear.
Docs still had to wait until the infection was under control before they could amputate.
Watching Ali’s limbs blacken as we prayed for a miracle was torture.
While her sisters were with their grandpar
