Such Is Life
Wed been waiting for little George for a long while. But the pregnancy was difficult, and he was born prematurely. He spent weeks in an incubatorso many of his organs were underdeveloped. He needed a ventilator. Two surgeries followed. Retinal detachment.
We were called in twice to say our final goodbyes. But George pulled through.
Yet in time we realised he could barely see or hear. His physical development improved graduallyhe managed to sit up, grasped at toys, and eventually walked along the furniture. But his mental development lagged behind.
At first, both his mother, Alice, and I held onto hope. We fought for him together, but eventually, I faded into the background, and Alice carried on alone.
She managed to find some funding, and at three and a half, George was fitted with implants to restore some hearing. He seemed to hear, but still wasnt developing as wed hoped. She tried everythingsessions with speech therapists, psychologists, all sorts of specialists. Alice came to see me often for advice.
Id say, Lets try this, or that, or maybe this Alice was willing to do anything, but nothing changed. George spent most of his days quietly sitting in the playpen, spinning some object or another. Hed bang it on the floor, chew his hand, or something else nearby. Sometimes hed wail in one flat note. Sometimes it had a strange rhythm. Alice said George knew herhed make a peculiar chirping sound for her and loved when she scratched his back and feet.
Eventually, an elderly psychiatrist told her bluntly: Whats the use of more diagnoses? Hes a walking vegetable. Decide: either place him in care, or keep caring for him yourselfyou know how by now. Theres no sense clinging to false hope or sacrificing your whole life. No progress will come. He was the only person who spoke plainly to Alice.
So, she arranged for George to go to a special nursery and went back to work.
Some time later, she bought herself a motorbikea wish shed held for years. Shed ride through Londons streets and into the countryside with mates, and the roar of the engine helped her forget her worries and sorrows. I, as his father, paid child support, which Alice used entirely to hire weekend carers for Georgehe wasnt hard to look after once you got used to his howling. Then, one of her biker friends, Tom, confessed, You know, Im really into you. Theres something tragic but fascinating about you.
Alice replied, Come on, Ill show you. Tom grinned, thinking shed invited him home for something else. She took him to see George. The boy was lively, wailing and burblingmaybe he recognised Alice, or was unsettled by a stranger.
Blimey! Tom exclaimed.
What were you expecting? Alice shot back.
Soon after that, Tom and Alice werent just ridingthey were living together. Tom kept his distance from George (theyd agreed ahead of time), and Alice was fine with that. Later, Tom suggested, Lets have a baby. Alice snapped, And what if we have another like George? Will you cope? Tom never raised the subject again for almost a year. Then, he asked once more, No, lets do it anyway.
And so Nicholas arrived. Healthy as could be. Tom, after a while, suggested, Should we put George in a home now that we have a normal son? Alice shot back, Id rather put you in a home. Tom immediately backed down: I was just asking
Nicholas discovered his older brother when he was about nine months old and crawling. He was instantly fascinated. Tom worried and protested, Dont let the boy near him! It could be dangerous! But Tom was often out working or off on his bike, so Alice let Nicholas crawl around George. Interestingly, when Nicholas was nearby, George never wailed. Alice even thought he listened for him and waited. Nicholas would bring him toys, show him how to play, folding Georges fingers himself.
One weekend, Tom was home sick. He saw Nicholas, still wobbly on his feet, toddling through the flat, chattering away with George trailing behindwhen before, George had never left his corner. Tom got angry, started a row, and demanded, Keep my boy away from your idiot, or else watch them like a hawk. Alice silently pointed to the door.
He got the message. They made up. Alice came to see me:
Hes a bit of a plank, but I love him, she confessed. Awful, isnt it?
I think its perfectly natural, I said, misunderstanding.
No, I was talking about Tom, she clarified. But what about Georgeis he really dangerous for Nick?
I assured her, from everything I could tell, Nicholas was firmly in charge, but they still needed to keep an eye out. We agreed.
By eighteen months, Nicholas had taught George how to stack rings in order. Nicholas, meanwhile, spoke in sentences, sang simple songs, and loved to play nursery gameslike the blackbird brews porridge. Is he some sort of child prodigy? Alice asked me. Tom reckons I should find outhes fit to burst with pride. His mates kids can barely say mum or dad at this age.
I think its because of George, I said. Not every toddler gets the chance to drive another childs growth.
Aha! Alice brightened. Thats what Ill tell that lump of wood.
What a family, I thoughta walking vegetable, a plank of wood, a biker mum, and a tiny prodigy. After being potty trained himself, Nicholas spent six months helping his brother learn to use it. Teaching George to eat, drink from a cup, put on and take off clothesAlice set those tasks for Nicholas herself.
At three and a half, Nicholas finally asked, Whats wrong with George, anyway?
Well, to start, he cant see.
He can see, Nicholas argued. Just not well. He sees this much, but not that. And it depends on the light. He sees best under the bathroom light above the mirror.
The ophthalmologist was startled when a three-year-old came along to explain Georges vision, but listened closely and sent George for more tests. As a result, George got treatment and complex spectacles.
Nicholas absolutely hated nursery. He ought to be in school, really! Hes an insufferable know-it-all, the nursery teacher snapped. He thinks he knows better than everyone else.
I put my foot downno starting school early. Let Nicholas go to clubs and help George develop. Tom, surprisingly, agreed and suggested, Stay home with them till school, why bother with that daft nursery? He added, Youve noticed George hasnt wailed for nearly a year now?
Six months later, George said, Mum, Dad, Nick, give, drink, meow-meow. The boys started school together. Nicholas worried, What will he do without me? Are the teachers good at that special school? Will they understand him? Even now, in Year Five, Nicholas does Georges homework with him first, then his own.
George speaks in simple sentences. He can read and use a computer. He enjoys cooking and tidying up (under Nick or Alices direction), and likes sitting in the garden on the bench, watching, listening, taking in the scents. He knows all the neighbours and greets them cheerfully. He loves working with modelling clay and assembling and deconstructing kits.
But most of all, George lives for those moments when the whole family rides their motorbikes down the country laneshe with Alice, and Nicholas with Tom, shouting nonsense to the wind as they go.
What have I learned from it all? Love doesnt take the shape you expectsometimes it roars down country lanes, sometimes it sits quietly in the corner. But in the end, it moves you forward, and thats enough.
