Lean on me
Carla Feno’s boys have had a lot to deal with in their young lives, but thankfully, they have each other…
Luca (right), has always been protective of his little brother
Leaning over my little boy’s shoulder, I looked at his dinner plate. ‘Eat your mash please, Rocco, or there’s no ice cream,’ I said. Rocco said nothing, but his big brother, Luca, turned to me, his face determined. ‘Don’t tell my baby brother off, Mummy!’ he said furiously. ‘I don’t like it!’
Luca was spirited, to say the least, yet I couldn’t help but smile.
Luca was only four years old then, but he was incredibly protective of Rocco, then three. After Rocco was born in 2015, we’d noticed that he wasn’t developing as we would have expected. As time went on, he didn’t speak and didn’t interact well with other people. Tests eventually showed he had special needs, and we were told he likely had non-verbal autism.
At first, I was desperately worried about how he’d cope. But Luca, who was just 13 months older, stepped into the role of big brother as if it had been made for him. He was so loving and kind to Rocco.
Luca soon worked out that Rocco couldn’t talk, and so he did all his chatting for him. Rocco began communicating with the world – through Luca.
‘Can I have a biscuit?’ Luca would ask. And then, he’d put on a funny voice, which is how he imagined Rocco might sound, and say: ‘And can I have a biscuit too please?’ It was adorable. He was protective too – I wasn’t even allowed to tell Rocco off without him pulling me up.
Rocco would make loud noises in public and sometimes struggled with crowds and new situations.
But Luca would always hold his hand – as would I – to help make him feel safe.
Luca knew that Rocco loved chicken nuggets, so at mealtimes, he’d sneak an extra nugget for Rocco off his own plate. For a little boy, he was so selfless, with a heart of gold.
Every night, before bed, he’d sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star for Rocco, and kiss his cheek.
Then, just over a year ago, Luca’s teacher mentioned seeing a slight squint in his right eye. Then he began to lose his balance.
We went to the GP and he
sent us straight to hospital. I was terrified, but when we arrived at A&E, they told us to book him in for an eye test which found nothing.
The following week – in June 2019 – we went on holiday to Spain. Luca was his usual happy, imaginative self, but he was sick a couple of times. I noticed he stumbled and tripped a lot too.
So, the day we came home, I took him back to hospital, to put my mind at rest. This time though, after I described his symptoms, he was sent for a scan. I was really worried and called the boys’ dad, Brendan, to meet us at the hospital. We weren’t together but were still good friends.
When the scan results came back, the consultant joined us in the room. ‘I’m sorry, we’ve found a tumour on Luca’s brain,’ he said. The room spun around me, I felt nauseous with shock.
‘How can this be happening?’
Brendan asked, mirroring my sentiments exactly. Luca was only four – he looked so healthy, so full of life.
That same day, Luca was transferred to the Royal Manchester Children’s Hospital. My sister, Maria, 41, came to support me, while Brendan looked after Rocco.
We were told Luca would die without surgery. It was the most terrifying time of my life. I choked back tears, knowing I had to stay strong for my son. Four days on, Luca underwent six hours of surgery. Doctors removed 95 per cent of the tumour, but my brave boy couldn’t move his left side. Biopsy results came back confirming our worst fear – it was medulloblastoma – a type of childhood
‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned’ ‘Life can throw you a curveball, but just take one day at a time.’
cancerous tumour.
I struggled to stay calm, but Luca was so resilient and smiley – we just told him the hospital needed to get rid of some germs.
‘Can I see Rocco?’ he asked, after his surgery. I hesitated because Rocco hated hospitals. He’d had so many tests and appointments himself, he’d become wary.
He would scream and cling to the doorway. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to persuade him to come into a hospital. But when I asked if he would like to see Luca, and showed him a photo, his eyes lit up.
In the hospital car park, I expected him to have a meltdown. But Rocco gritted his teeth and bravely walked inside. And when he spotted Luca, he ran to his bedside and threw his arms around him. He had no words. But his smile was enough.
And Luca was thrilled, he brightened up with his little brother by his side.
The next day, Rocco visited again, this time bringing a Happy Meal for Luca. It was so touching to see. He was looking after Luca; the way Luca had always looked after him.
As Luca recovered from surgery, with physio to help ease the paralysis, we were told he’d need to travel to Germany, for proton beam therapy. We decided it was better for Rocco and his routine to stay at home with his dad but it was awful for the boys, being separated.
We FaceTimed every day, and Luca would sing Twinkle, Twinkle over the phone for Rocco. ‘I miss you,’ he’d say to the screen.
Six weeks after the therapy ended, Luca began a nine-month course of chemotherapy in the UK. And again, Rocco was his favourite visitor in hospital. Despite losing his hair, the treatment didn’t make him sick.
The chemo finally finished in June this year and we now hope he can look forward to a healthy future. We’re planning to visit Disney World, Florida, in 2021 as a treat for everything he’s been through. Both boys are Disney-mad, and adore Toy Story, so it would be a dream come true for them.
Now Luca is home, and he and Rocco are together again. It’s lovely to see; they really rely on each other. Rocco’s due to start at a specialist school in September, so he and Luca will be separated during the day. But nothing will come between their impossibly strong bond.
Now I’m 40, I’m so proud of my boys – I hope they will look after each other for ever.
‘Nothing will come between their impossibly strong bond’