Tommy Trouble's Journey

Hello everybody! 

My name’s Tommy… or as my fwends call me, Tommy Trouble (I didn’t choose the nickname, the nickname chose me).

Now, I wasn’t even born yet and I was already causing chaos. Yep! While I was chilling in Mammy’s belly like it was a 5-star spa, the doctors told Mammy and Daddy that my heart was doing some funky stuff and I’d need some fixin’ when I popped out.

Fast forward to 24th March this year — BOOM! I arrived! Brand new and slightly wobbly. Four days old and guess what? Already having my first operation!

Mammy and Daddy stopped talking in front of me 'cause apparently, I was “making my own plans.” Oopsie! My neck got a clot (not a fancy scarf) and I had something called Chylothorax (sounds like a dinosaur, doesn’t it?). But I was a very good boy and graduated from intensive care to HDU. ⭐

Then—drumroll please—I got to cross The Bridge to God's Country (aka Wales! ). Sure, I was born in England but let’s be real… I’m definitely playing rugby for Wales. Try stopping me!

I got to go home for a bit and had the best time with Mammy, Daddy and my sissies (yes, plural… there are TWO of them and they’re both bonkers). I started turning into a proper cheeky monkey—so much fun, even Benny boy loved me.

But then… back to Bristol! I had to go see the clever doctors to check if I’d grown big enough for my next super-duper heart operation. And guess what? I DID! Apparently, whatever Mammy’s been feeding me is doing the job (maybe it’s her secret stash of biscuits?).

But then my heart went a bit wild — like I'd just seen a million cuddly toys at once. It started racing like I'd had ten cups of coffee (don't worry, I haven’t… yet). Even my famous ice bucket challenge didn’t slow it down.

Everyone got all wibbly-wobbly worried and Mammy drove up the M4 like she was Colin McRae

Next thing I know—new gadget time! I got a pacemaker! Mammy told my sissy it’s like a remote control for my heart but NOT the TV one, so she’s NOT allowed to press buttons or try to turn me off (not even during Cory Carson).

Now I’m on some super strong bug-busting medicine, and the doctors say we might be here a long time. Mammy, Daddy, and me are staying far from home. Daddy can’t go to work ‘cause he won’t leave us (he says I’m his “tiny boss”), and even though the nice nurses helped find us a room at Ronald McDonald House, sissy says it’s still “too flipping spensive” (except she didn’t say flipping… Mammy made that face).

So I asked my Nanna to help us ask you lovely people: if you can help, no matter how teeny-weeny or super-duper big, it would mean loads to us. Mammy and Daddy could worry less, and I can focus on doing what babies do best: being cute, cheeky, and making mischief, oh and getting better.

Thank you for reading my babble! Hopefully we won't be here too long love you all from

Tommy Trouble

P.S. I’m still not allowed the TV remote. Rude.