Such is life
John was a long-awaited child. His parents had hoped for years, but the pregnancy proved difficult, and he arrived into the world far too soon. He spent his first weeks in an incubator. Many of his organs hadn’t fully developed. The doctors had to put him on life support. Two surgeries, a detached retina. Twice, his parents were told to come and say their goodbyes. Yet, John clung to life.
It soon became clear, however, that he could barely see or hear. Physically, with time, he began catching uphe learned to sit, to grasp his toys, and eventually shuffled around the furniture. But mentally, no progress was seen.
At first, his parents held out hope. They fought together, but as days turned into months, John’s father faded quietly from their lives, leaving his mother, Julia, battling on alone.
She sought help wherever she could, finally securing, through what amounted to a minor miracle, funding for cochlear implants for John when he was three-and-a-half. Now he could, in theory, hear everythingyet still, little changed. Sessions with specialistsspeech therapists, psychologists, and experts of all stripesfollowed one after the other. Julia brought John to see me more than once.
I would suggestwhy dont you try this, or maybe this? She always did her best. But nothing changed. Most days, John would sit quietly in the playpen, spinning whatever he could get his hands on, banging it against the floor, sometimes gnawing at his hand or something else. Sometimes hed howl, a single piercing note, sometimes with a curious melody. His mother swore that he recognised her, called to her in some erratic warble, and adored having his back and legs scratched.
Eventually, a rather elderly psychiatrist told her plainly: Well, what other diagnosis do you need at this point? Hes a walking vegetable. Make up your mind about him and get on with your life. Either you place him, or you keep looking after himas you surely know how by now. Personally, I see no point hoping for some dramatic change, or wasting your life away beside his playpen. He was the only person in Julias life to ever speak with such certainty. And so, Julia placed John in a special nursery and returned to work.
Not long afterwards, Julia fulfilled an old dream and bought herself a motorbike. She joined a group of fellow riders, thundering along country lanes and through the city. The roar of the engine drowned out her anxieties, if only for a while. Her former husband paid maintenance, all of which she invested in weekend carers for Johnhe wasn’t so hard to care for once you became accustomed to his howling.
Then, one evening, a friend from the motorcycling group, James, admitted, You know, Im a bit taken with you. Theres something tragically fascinating about you.
Come along thenIll show you, Julia replied.
James grinned, expecting an invitation to her flat, and perhaps her bed. Instead, she introduced him to John, who, at that moment, was in lively spiritshowling melodically and chattering to himself, perhaps sensing his mothers presence or the stranger in the room.
Blimey! exclaimed James.
What on earth did you expect? Julia shrugged.
With time, James and Julia began not just riding but living together. James kept his distance from Johnsomething they agreed on from the outsetand Julia didnt mind. Then, James suggested they have a child of their own. Julia snapped, And what if its another like John? Will you stick around then? James fell silent for nearly a year, before gingerly raising the subject again. No, truly. Lets try.
Their second son, Henry, came into the world healthy as could be. Soon after, James ventured, Now that we have a normal boy, should we consider putting John in a home? Julia shot back, Id sooner send you off. James instantly retreated. Just asking
Henry first discovered his brother when he was about nine months old and started to crawl. He became utterly fascinated. James fretted and fumed, Dont let him near, it isnt safeyou never know. But James was either at work or out with his bike, so Julia relented. She noticed that when Henry was close by, John didnt make a sound. It almost seemed he listened, even waited for something. Henry brought toys, showed his brother how to play, helped John fold and grasp his fingers around them.
One weekend, James fell ill and stayed home. He watched with some horror as little Henry toddled uncertainly round the room, calling out in his small voice, and John followed, as if bound by invisible threadJohn who, until then, never budged from his lonely corner. James erupteddemanding Julia keep my son away from your idiot, or watch them every second. She pointed calmly at the door.
He was rattled, but they made peace. Julia came to see me: Hes a bit of a blockhead, but I love him. Appalling, isnt it?
Its natural, I said. To love your child regardless
I meant James, not John, Julia clarified. But do you honestly think John is dangerous for Henry?
I told her, based on what Id seen, Henry was clearly the leader in their little pairbut supervision was always wise. We left it at that.
By eighteen months, Henry had taught John how to stack nesting cups by size. Meanwhile, Henry himself spoke in short sentences, sang simple tunes, and performed rhymes and games. Is he a prodigy? Julia asked me. James wants to knowhes bursting with pride, you know, all his mates kids can barely manage mummy and daddy at that age.
I think its down to John, I suggested. Its not every toddler who becomes the driving force in someone elses development.
Exactly! Julia cheered. Thats what Ill say to that blockhead of mine.
What a family, I museda walking vegetable, a wooden plank with eyes, a woman on a motorbike, and a child prodigy. Once hed mastered the potty, Henry spent nearly six months teaching John. Then Julia set the next challenge: Henry was to teach his brother to eat properly, drink from a cup, dress and undress.
At three and a half, Henry confronted the central question: So, whats wrong with John, really?
Well, for one, my love, he cant see.
He can see, Henry insisted. Just not very well. He can see this, but not that. Depends on the light. He’s at his best with the lamp above the bathroom mirrorhe sees a lot then.
The ophthalmologist was rather surprised when his explanations had to be aimed at a three-year-old, but listened closely, ran more tests, and prescribed new treatment and a pair of complex spectacles for John.
Henry positively detested nursery. He ought to be in school! snapped the teacher. He obviously knows so much more than the resthes impossible to manage.
I firmly advocated for delaying schoollet Henry attend clubs and, more importantly, keep helping John develop. Surprisingly, James agreed, telling Julia, You might as well be at home with them till school anywaytheres no point in that dreadful nursery. Honestly, have you noticed? Johns hardly howled for nearly a year now.
Six months on, John spoke his first words: Mum, Dad, Henry, give, drink, meow-meow. When the time came, both boys started school together. Henry worried endlessly, How will John cope without me? Are the teachers at his special school any good? Will they even understand him? Even now, five years on, Henry does his homework with John first, then tackles his own.
John can now speak in simple sentences. He reads, uses the computer, enjoys cooking and tidying (taking direction from Henry and Mum), and likes sitting out in the garden, watching, listening, and sniffing the breeze. He knows all the neighbours and never misses greeting them. He loves sculpting with clay and assembling and dismantling model kits.
But most of all, he adores when the entire family go riding through the countrysideJohn with Julia, Henry with James, all of them roaring out nonsense songs into the wind.
