Sometimes Life Surprises You…

Sometimes, thats just how it goes

The arrival of little George was awaited with great anticipation by his parents. But the pregnancy was difficult, and he was born prematurely. He spent his first days in an incubator, his tiny body struggling as many of his organs hadnt quite developed enough. There were tubes, operations, a detached retina everything thrown at him. Twice, they were allowed in to say goodbye, but somehow George pulled through.

It became clear, though, that he almost couldnt see or hear. His physical progress slowly came together he sat up, grasped at toys, eventually began to walk with something to hold onto. But mentally, there was simply no movement.

At first, his parents clung to hope together. But after a while, George’s dad quietly faded out of the picture, leaving his mum, Victoria, to fight on alone.

Victoria tracked down some rare funding, and at three and a half, George received cochlear implants. Now he could hear, at least in theory but his development still didnt budge. There were sessions with speech therapists, occupational specialists, psychologists. Victoria brought George to see me plenty of times.

I suggested, again and again: Lets try this or perhaps that? She tried everything. Nothing seemed to help. George spent most of his time quietly sitting in a playpen, spinning objects, banging them against the floor. Hed bite his hand, or something else. Occasionally hed cry out, sometimes just a constant howl, sometimes modulating it. Victoria insisted that George recognised her, called to her with a particular trill, and loved it when she rubbed his back and legs.

One day, an older psychiatrist simply said: Theres no clear diagnosis left to make. Youve ended up with a walking vegetable. Youll have to make peace with it and carry on. Either place him in a care home or look after him yourself you know what to do now. I see no point in hoping for much improvement, or in burying yourself alongside his cot.

He was the only person in Victorias life to spell it out so plainly. She placed George in a special nursery and returned to work.

A while later, she bought herself a motorcycle something shed always wanted. Now, shed spend weekends and evenings riding through the streets and out in the countryside with fellow bikers. The growl of the engine drowned out her anxious thoughts. Georges dad paid child maintenance, all of which Victoria spent on carers for weekends. George wasnt difficult to care for, once you got used to his wails.

Then, one of Victorias biker friends, Mark, said, You know, Vic, Ive really fallen for you Theres something fascinatingly tragic about you.

Come on, Ill show you, she replied.

Mark grinned broadly, thinking she was inviting him home to bed. Instead, she introduced him to George. That day, George was quite alert, howling and trilling perhaps recognising his mum, or just uncertain about a stranger.

Blimey, what the hell? Mark exclaimed.

What exactly did you expect? Victoria shot back.

Before long, they werent just riding together, but living together too. Mark never tried to approach George (theyd already agreed about that), and Victoria preferred it that way. Later, Mark said, Lets have a child of our own. Victoria snapped, And what if the next one turns out the same? Would we keep going then?

Mark fell silent for almost a year, then eventually said, No, I still want to.

Their son, James, was born. Thankfully, he was completely healthy. Mark then suggested, Perhaps now we should put George in a home? Since we have a normal son Victoria retorted, Id sooner get rid of you. Mark quickly backtracked: I was only asking

James noticed George at around nine months, when he started to crawl. Fascinated at once, he wanted to be near his brother. Mark grew anxious and angry: Dont let him get too close, its dangerous, you never know But Mark was always at work or out with his motorbike, and Victoria let them be together. When James crawled nearby, George curiously went quiet. Victoria noticed he even seemed to listen and wait for James. James would bring toys, show George how to play, fold his fingers and stack blocks with him.

One weekend, when Mark was off work feeling unwell, he saw James just starting to totter on his feet babbling something encouraging as George followed close behind. George, until then, had never left his corner of the nursery. Mark exploded, insisting, Keep my lad away from your idiot, or never take your eyes off him! Victoria silently pointed him to the door.

Mark was rattled. They made up. Victoria came to see me.

Hes a blockhead, but I love him, she said. Awful, isnt it?

Its natural, I replied. Loving your child, no matter

I meant Mark, actually, Victoria interrupted. But tell me, is George dangerous for James?

By all accounts, I said, James takes the lead in their partnership, but you always need to keep an eye out. That settled the matter for her.

At a year and a half, James taught George to stack their blocks by size. James himself already spoke in sentences, sang nursery rhymes, and did hand games like Round and round the garden. Is James a prodigy or something? Victoria asked me. Mark wants to know hes about ready to burst with pride, most of his friends kids can barely say mummy or daddy at this age.

I think its because of George, I suggested. Its rare for a child James age to have to lead someone elses development like that.

Aha! cheered Victoria. Thats just what Ill tell that blockhead with eyes.

What a household, I thought a walking vegetable, a blockhead with eyes, a biker mum, and a wunderkind. Once James was trained for the potty, he spent the better part of six months teaching his brother. Getting George to eat, drink from a cup, get dressed and undressed this became James mission, set by Victoria herself.

At three and a half, James confronted Victoria: So, whats actually wrong with George?

Well, for one, he cant see.

He can, James replied. Just not well. He can see this, but not that depends on the light, really. Best is the bulb over the mirror in the bathroom he sees loads there.

The ophthalmologist was surprised when a three-year-old came along to explain Georges eyesight, but listened closely, ordered further specialist tests, and prescribed treatment and complex spectacles.

James time at nursery did not go well. Hed be better off at school, frankly hes too clever by half, said the exasperated teacher. Thinks he knows everything better than anyone.

I was insistent that starting school early wasnt the answer: let James join clubs and keep helping with Georges development. Mark, to my surprise, agreed with my advice and told Victoria, Just stay home with them till school, no point sending him to that daft nursery. And anyway, have you noticed George hasnt wailed for a year?

Another six months, and George managed: Mum, Dad, James, give, drink, meow-meow. The boys started school at the same time. James fretted: How will he cope without me? Are the staff at that special school actually any good? Will they understand him? Even now, in year five, James does Georges homework with him before tackling his own.

George now speaks in simple sentences. He can read and use a computer. He enjoys helping cook and tidy up (James or Mum give directions), and he loves to sit on the bench in the garden, listening, watching, and sniffing the air. He knows all the neighbours and always says hello. Hes happiest making things from plasticine, and building or taking apart his construction set.

But most of all, what he loves is when the family takes their bikes out for a countryside ride George with Mum, James with Dad all yelling something into the wind together.