My Neighbour Totoro
You may never have heard about the classic kid’s movie My Neighbour Totoro. It’s a brilliant and deeply surreal Japanese animation about a size changing rabbit type thingy and a Cat bus. I’m not really selling it but it’s quite something….
...it’s also the movie my boys put on over and over again the day my ex-husband left us.
None of us saw it coming, I’m not even sure my ex saw it coming. It was a Sunday morning and he was gone by 10.30am and that was very much that. The three of us spent the entire day under duvets on our sofa cuddling, eating biscuits, crying and waiting for the sky to get dark and the day to finally die.
I could say it was the worst day of my life but it wasn’t, not by a long shot but it was the worst day my boys had ever had especially for my little one, my sweet little Louis. Louis is Max’s little brother. He’s now 12 going on 42 and that is (I think anyway) because Louis had to grow up too fast.
When Max was at his worst, about 6 years old and Louis 4, I’d got them both super cute red and white striped PJs. They looked like old fashioned illustrations for hard backed children’s books, gorgeous.
The First Time...
The first time Max had a seizure the ambulance men cut his overpriced stripy PJs in half to attach heart monitor stickers. Top tip here dear friends, the sticky residue from heart monitor stickers is really hard to get off a grumpy little boy’s tummy…tonnes of moisturiser works a treat…You’re very welcome.
As the ambulance men hooked up all of their kit, Louis stood at the front door in the dark. It was so cold. It always is when Max has seizures. I’m not sure why but all the doors are left open, I never remember to close them. I also never remember to pack Max’s shoes but that’s another story. By the time Louis was 5 he knew how to operate the oxygen and suction machines. He reminds me to give Max his meds. He also takes the brunt of Max’s postictal rages.
For years I’ve left him with friends sometimes for weeks on end to take Max to appointments, assessments and treatments. He bounces from friend to friend, spare room to spare room. He was such a lonely little boy, I’m not sure much has changed.
Now Max is in Transition, Louis gets to go on the back burner once again. He needs me more than ever but I’m still metaphorically making him stand in the dark in those stripy pyjamas.
When people talk about young carers it sounds like such a small thing. A young carer is someone whose life is significantly impacted by a disabled family member. What it actually means to me is that I stole from him. I made him grow up too fast. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to him. It frightens me but I don’t think I can fix it.