Looking back on your life pre-children it can sometimes seem like you are squinting at somebody else’s life. Now my days are spent in the garden, writing, juicing, cooking, playing and painting. Serious matters are how high to construct the lego tower without it toppling over or whether the biscuits are going to burn. Nights are spent thumbing through books on cancer, autism, gardening, nutrition and homeschooling. So much so that it seems all I do is read and at a snail’s pace start putting things into practice. This is all a far cry from what life once was. Gone are the suits and high heels, the stress of adhering to a schedule and a caseload, the evenings out, the clinking of glasses and abandoned merriment. Gone are my days spent in property law. Gone are the squabbles over a property’s rights of way and getting the client the house on time at the right price. How meaningless it all seems now. At worst someone was going to get sued. Now someone could die.
These days Charlie and I are together all the time and although I think myself very lucky that I can spend it all with him, some of my time is also spent trying to calm down a temper that would rival Vesuvius. Some days it doesn’t work and we rage together or I find myself taking time out at the bottom of the garden looking at the clouds, waiting for the firestorm to pass. I think about my old life now and find myself feeling a little like James from The Snowman by Raymond Briggs. Melted remnants of a snowman in front of him, scarf in his hand he asks himself if it was real or a dream. Ironically I sometimes pick up a pair of heels when I’m out shopping and put them back and think the same. In truth I’m quite content doodling away on my scrap of paper planning our veg patch. Strawberries, tomatoes, lettuce, potatoes and herbs. Although life with Charlie can sometimes be hard in that we don’t venture out much, as new places and people are difficult for him to deal with, he is so good in many other ways. He puts up with the juices and the green tea I give him and is bending towards the foods I’m trying to incorporate into his diet. He even puts up with his supplement regime recommended by our nutritionist which changes each time testing is carried out. A new piece of kit which both Charlie and I are excited about is the Resonant Light Machine. He thinks its pink neon light is cool, I think its fascinating. Read more here http://www.bobbyshealthyshop.co.uk/Resonant-Light.php if you’re curious.
Test results have come back showing Charlie’s gut is swarming with bad bacteria unsurprisingly and there’s not much sign of any good bacteria. So the bad must come out and the good must be put back in. Working on the premise that the gut is the second brain and is an area always affected in autistics this might well explain the worsening behaviour. Also its been flagged up that Charlie is unable to methylate his B-vitamins as they are showing to be extremely low. Again this may have an effect on his anxiety and behaviour. I love learning more about Charlie’s body and how it affects his mind and how in turn, people view him to be very ‘autistic’ when much of what I see is simply an imbalance.
Most of March has been spent in hospital as Charlie was fighting an infection in his Central Line. This plastic wire that has been imbedded in his chest since last May, that he has had all of his chemo, anaesthetics, blood products, food and antibiotics through, this thing that has meant his life could be saved, has now been taken out. I didn’t expect it to be such a big deal to me but it was. I found it terribly emotional. It’s removal is like the cutting of the cord. Like being re-born. A new birthday for Braveheart. He has a new beginning ahead of him and Spring is here. Out to the veg plot at dawn and dusk. Sowing the seeds, then planting can begin. It’s a little like Charlie’s recovery. I like the symbolism of it. Gentle encouragement in early evening bike rides at Granny’s Bay trying to get him walking again, good healthy food and corrective supplements to put his body back in balance. And I hope that come that first harvest, Charlie will be growing and ripening into the boy I know he can be.