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Love is the best medicine!

Callum had been the strong one, but now he needed his twin's help...


Published by: Laura Hinton
Published on: 9 February2012

My six-year-old twins Callum and Alex were identical, yet they were complete opposites. As I watched them playing with Lego, their personalities shone through.
‘Mummy, look at this!' Callum screeched, pointing at a tower of building blocks. He was definitely the most outgoing.
Alex was quieter, happy to just stand back and watch.
Still, despite their differences, they were the best of friends and barely spent a moment apart.
All my kids were close. The boys shared a room with their brothers Daniel, 16, and Luke, 10. Lauren, 19, got her own space.
Yet behind all the smiles, me and my hubby Paul, 43, were worried sick about Callum. We were about to go to the hospital
for the results of his CT scan.
Eight months before, I'd been folding some laundry when Callum had stopped what he was doing and stared straight ahead. It was as if he was in some kind of trance.
‘Callum...?' I'd gasped, waving my hands in front of his face. His eyes had been blank for 10 seconds. Then, finally, he'd blinked. I'd just told him he'd fallen asleep, not wanting to scare him.
It had happened again a few days later. Our GP thought he might have epilepsy, so he'd given him medication. But the absences had just got worse.
‘Mum!' Alex would call out. ‘Callum's having a moment again!' Soon, his whole body was tensing up. He'd wriggle his fingers and twitch his eyes.
Callum had been so pleased when he'd had the tests done.
‘I'm so lucky,' he'd giggled. ‘I get a whole day off school!'
Poor mite had no idea how worried me and his dad were.
We arrived at the hospital for the results. ‘Mr and Mrs Harker,' a nurse said. ‘You might want to leave Callum in the playroom while we have a chat.'
‘We've found a large mass on your son's brain,' the consultant told us.
‘We believe it's a tumour.
‘We can't tell yet if it's cancerous,' he added. ‘But we'll need to operate and remove it.'
The tears came then. ‘We'll get him through this,' Paul told me. We had no other choice. We'd have to pull together, as a family.
First, we had to tell Callum. ‘You've got something in your head,' I explained. ‘It shouldn't be there, so the doctors are going to take it out.'
He stared blankly for a second, then nodded and smiled. ‘Okay, Mummy.' The other children had questions.
‘All we know is that the tumour's the size of a plum,' I said.
But then I noticed Alex. He had the saddest look on his face. He hadn't spoken a word - typical of him to stay in the background.
He was going to be hardest hit. Callum was his other half, most mornings I'd find the pair of them in one of their beds, playing with their Lego or Action Men.
After school, they'd be straight on their bikes.
Callum being away would be like Alex having a limb removed.
Finally, April 13 arrived - the date of the operation. Callum would be having a craniotomy - a procedure where they'd cut out as much of the tumour as they could.
Seven nervous hours later, they'd finished. He was put on
a ventilator overnight.
When we saw Callum next morning, I was shocked. His face was swollen, and a big scar snaked across his head. Finally, he spluttered awake. ‘Alex?' he mumbled.
‘You'll see him soon,' I smiled.
Callum was up soon enough. A couple of days later, we brought him home. Nobody helped Callum more than Alex.
‘Do you fancy a drink?' he constantly asked him. ‘Anything
I can get you?'
Alex had to be the confident one now. His twin needed him.
Just 24 hours later, Callum's wound started leaking. The scar was infected. He had to be put under so they could clean it out.
There was good news though, as our consultant finally confirmed the tumour was benign.
Yet Callum still needed a further three ops, had shunts put in and fluid drained. He was so miserable. He needed something to cheer him up, fast. I had an idea...
As we walked into the room and Callum saw who I'd brought along... ‘Alex!' he grinned.
Straight away, they were on the PlayStation together. Next, they'd pulled out a pack of cards. ‘You must be Callum's happy medicine,' I chuckled, ruffling Alex's hair.
‘I can't believe it,' Paul said.‘There's such a change!'
Callum had come alive again! It had been Alex's turn to look after him. Before too long, Callum was making progress. A month later, he'd battled through five operations and came home.
Callum's still on epilepsy medication and needs regular brain scans, but for now he's doing well.
He's back to being the more confident one. But I see Alex watching his brother carefully and I know that if he was needed to be again, he'd be the strong one. It was Alex's marvellous medicine that saved Callum before...
Alison Harker, 44, Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk