Therapy

I have turned over a new leaf. For the last 5 months, I have been going to physical therapy, to try to become more comfortable on my walker and crutches.

When I first met my therapist, she asked me how I was getting around my house. I told her that I crawled through the house, since it was a lot faster and more convenient, since I am afraid of falling.

After hearing my answer, she told me that I needed to start walking around the house, otherwise, what we would be doing in therapy wouldn't do me any good. I told her that I had no problem with using the walker in the house, and that day I started to walk around the house, with minimal crawling.

During my early therapy sessions, we started with me laying on the mat doing several leg exercises. Then, we worked on the parallel bars. My therapist had me walk frontwards, backwards, and sideways. She also had me step on a wooden board, this exercise was done in case I ever had to walk up and down steps. The sessions ended with us walking down the hall to the lobby.

As time went on, the exercises were only done at home, and our work on the parallel bars ended. Walking around the hall, and sometimes outside became the main focus of therapy.

When I began to feel more comfortable on my walker, I began to think of working on becoming more comfortable on my crutches, which I hadn't used in a very long time. I mentioned this to my therapist, and she told me to bring the crutches to my next session.

We started slow with the crutches, at first my therapist just had me stand on them to see how they felt, then we walked a short stretch of the hall.

As we were walking down the hall one day, my therapist let go of the gait belt and I walked on the crutches without any support. It was an incredible feeling.

This month was my last month of therapy. The last couple weeks, my therapist had me walk the halls twice without holding the belt, to make sure I was comfortable enough to do it at home.


I have done so well with therapy, it's been amazing. I loved hearing other therapists tell me how much better my walking was now than when I first started. It's amazing what happens when you go from doing nothing, to doing something.


This past Friday was my last therapy session, and I ended it on a very good note, by walking around the hall 2 times.

I am so thankful to have gone through this experience. To know that I can be comfortable while walking is an amazing feeling..

A League of Our Own

I thought of this blog the other day while staying with my sister. I was sitting at the kitchen table talking to her step-son. He was talking about how excited he was about starting football practice soon. Then he said, "It must have sucked for you that you never got to play any sports". I then told him that I had played baseball for a couple of years, on a league for kids with various disabilities.The league was started by my occupational therapist, Mary Hager, and her husband in 1990 or 1991. She was working with me at the school one day, and was talking about the league and she asked me if I would like to join. I was completely excited about the opportunity to try something I never thought possible. I remember going and watching my brother play baseball and basketball, and both my sister's were cheerleaders and majorettes. I had such a good time watching them in these activities, but it never occurred to me that I would ever be able to participate in any sort of sport. Anyway, I told Mary that I would love to participate in the league, and I went home and told my parents about it and they were excited as well. A week before the first game, my sister's had a majorette festival, and on the way home my Father was talking about how Eric had played baseball and basketball...and Emily and Leslee were majorettes. After he finished I said, "It's my turn now." He seemed so happy that I had said that, because he told me that I had such a great attitude about things. Playing baseball was so much fun, I remember that some of the kids would try to hit the ball by having someone pitch to them, instead of hitting it off the tee. I wished that I could've tried it, but it was much easier for me to use the tee. Whenever I was in the outfield I would drive my family nuts, because if the ball wasn't coming my way, I would play in the dirt...lol. The adults would always tell us they didn't keep score, because in tee ball the score wasn't important, and that we should just have fun...each team kept score in private, but it didn't matter to me what the score was or anything like that...just feeling like a player was wonderful. I played in the league for about 3 years, because after you reached a certain age, you couldn't play anymore..kind of like Menudo. Anyway, at the end of each season, we would have our final game on the baseball field next to ours, because it had lights and everything. We even had an announcer who would introduce us when it was our turn at bat....it made me feel so great whenever my name was called, like I was the only one on the field. I hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Again, thanks for reading.

Fight Club??

This story takes place back when I was around the age of 5...when I got into my first, and only fight. I went to a school that took care of the needs of the disabled, and the classroom was equipped with 2 sets of parallel bars for the kids to walk on...when it was playtime, or anytime we weren't doing class work. They were so fun to walk on, I always thought that if I let go, that I would be able to walk on my own after..I also felt that way anytime I walked in the pool. Anyway, this one day I'm walking on the bars minding my own business, when all of a sudden I get knocked down. I couldn't believe it...this kid named Stefan Marshall is on top of me, lightly punching and yelling at me...to this day I have no idea why he did it. While he continues his assault, I keep trying to get him off me or try to hit him back. Thank goodness I have long arms, because during my struggle I see a toy fire truck near me..I get a grip on it, and I hit him in the face with it. At that moment the blood starts coming out, and he starts to cry...I am pretty sure I did too, because we both got in trouble and they called our parents..not exactly Brad Pitt and Edward Norton, but fun to share nonetheless.

Caught Off Guard

There have been several occasions when my disability has caught people off guard. Here are the occasions, in no particular order. The first, deals with a phone call I get from some gentleman from a branch of the military. He introduces himself, and says that he would like to meet with me the next day in the counselor's office at school, to discuss a possible career for me in the service. I wait patiently for him to stop talking so that I can bring up the fact of my condition...so he finishes his speech, and I say, "I appreciate your call, but I am disabled." I expected him to hang up, but he goes right on, as if he didn't hear what I had just said. He continues by saying, "That's alright, you just drop by the counselor's office tomorrow, and we'll discuss some things." I hang up and look at my Mother, and say that he must have been desperate for recruits. Mom asked me if I told him of my condition, and I said yes, but that he just kept going and going...like the Energizer bunny. The next time this happened was with a UPS man...I am the only one home, and was expecting something in the mail. So the doorbell rings, and I answer it, and the man looks confused...because you see, I crawl around my house, so obviously I'm on my knees. I see his reaction, and almost start to laugh, because I'm sure this looked way too odd for him. I open the door to take the package, and sign for it...and he says, "Oh, you're on your knees"...and I think to myself, "No shit, Sherlock." The last time this happened is quite possibly the funniest, and the most embarrassing. I was visiting my sister and her husband in South Carolina, and they lived on a military base. We were coming home from eating or something, and we had to show ID to get through the gate...so the guard checks my sister and her husband, and then he looks in the back where I'm sitting, and he says..."Sir, I'm afraid you're going to have to step out of the vehicle." My brother-in-law said.."Uhh, he can't walk, he's disabled"... The look on the guards face went from total joy, because he had a good joke going....to a look of total embarrassment. He kept apologizing to us....I hope he didn't feel like crap the rest of the day!!

In the Hospital

I had been making trips to Shriners Hospital on and off since 1984. The doctor mentioned several times, that I may need surgery "someday." That someday came in the Spring of 1988.
My family and I made the journey to Kentucky, where the hospital was located. The surgery that I was having was called a tendon transfer. Not sure what the exact medical term is, since I'm not a doctor...lol. Anyway, the surgery took place during spring break, so that I wouldn't miss alot of school.
The day of my surgery came, and I remember a nurse came in to prep me. I remember feeling like Tarzan, because of the thing she tied onto me that covered Mr. Happy. She then wheeled my bed out in the hall, and then gave me a shot in the leg. Then my mother came and was talking with me, and I asked her if she could help me get more comfortable. When I raised my head up, the dizziness hit me. Mom told me to lay back down.
Shortly after, came the people who would be taking me to the operating room. It seemed to take forever for us to get there. Once we got there, they transferred me to the operating table...which was VERY cold. Then they put they put the mask over my nose and mouth, and I was out like a light.
When I woke up, it felt like someone had bound my legs like a mummy. I told them to "get me out of here." After awhile I got used to it, and everything was fine...until the spasms kicked in. I also remember having an IV. Dad kept telling me that the more I ate, the sooner I could have the IV removed. So when lunch came, I ate every bit of it...and said goodbye to the IV.
We went home a few days later. I have to tell you, it was a blast riding in the car, on my back. While I was home, my dad and I would go out and walk in the driveway. Walking was awkward, because there was a bar connecting the casts.
We went back to Kentucky a short while later, to have the casts taken off. When they took each leg out, they bent each leg. I cannot tell how painful this was. They then stood me up and asked me to walk on a walker. This was also torture.
After we came home, my dad kept trying to get me to walk on my crutches again. I told him I couldn't because of the pain. He and my mother then made the decision to send me back to the hospital for physical therapy. Their only problem was that they would have to leave me there alone, because my dad had to work, and mom had to take care of the kids.
Back to Kentucky we go. Dad left a couple days later, but before he left he told me that he left a bunch of change at the nurse's station. One night I asked if I could call home. The nurse said, "No." I was crushed. I guess she sensed it, because a few minutes later she told me that it would be fine for me to call home.
A couple days later it was finally time for my therapy session. I laid down on the mat, and cried shortly after the therapist started working on me. The pain was unbearable, but this was the only solution. When he finished, he said that he would see me again next week to see how much progress there was.
So the day came to see the therapist again. He and another therapist stood me up, and asked me to walk on the parallel bars. It was amazing, there was no pain at all.
Just like that my stay in Kentucky was over.

Tattoos and Scars

I got the title of this entry from an album by the country music duo, Montgomery Gentry. I like the title, because I have both tattoos and scars on my body.
I obtained my first scars in July, 1981. I had what they call a heel cord lengthening. The doctor performed the surgery, because when I would walk, my heels wouldn't touch the ground completely.
My next pair of scars came in 1988. I wrote about this experience in a previous entry, because it was the longest and most uncomfortable time I'd ever spent in cast.
In 1991, I returned to the doctor who had performed my first surgery. While in his office, he asked me to walk for him. I stood with my crutches, and walked a few steps. He noticed that my left leg turned inward at the knee. He said that he could fix it somewhat, by putting a metal plate on my hip to straighten the bone. The surgery was performed on March 6, 1991.
My next surgery was performed on March 28, 1994. I had another heel cord lenthening, because of a growth spurt. I was told at the time, that I may need to have this procedure done again in the future.
The moment of truth came on April 16, 2003. I had a slightly rough time after I came home. Every morning I would wake up at the same time, because of horrible spasms. It was the worst pain ever.
Now it's time to tell you about my two experiences with tattoo needles. The first tattoo was done on April 3, 2004. I was spending the day at my sister's house, and while we were watching a movie, I blurted out that I wanted a tattoo. I quickly said I was joking, but my sister knew I was serious. So, about an hour or so later, we headed for the tattoo parlor that she had been to on several occasions. I had the cartoon character Tazz tattooed on my upper right arm.
My second tattoo was done while I was visiting my other sister, in South Carolina. Her then-husband and I made the short trip to Charlotte, North Carolina, on June 26, 2004. I had the WV logo put on my upper left arm. It was done in honor of my home state.
After all it's the best state ever!!...

Who's at Fault?

I had a great childhood. Although some would say it wasn't a very typical one. While my siblings were out playing with their friends, I stayed inside with my mother, and watched countless hours of television. For me, the television was my playground. Sounds kind of silly, I'm sure, but it's true.
Now, don't get me wrong, I could have gone out and played with my siblings, and other kids in the neighborhood, but there aren't alot of games for a person on crutches to play.
During my early years, my parents provided a loving home for me and my siblings. And after I was diagnosed with cerebral palsy at the age of two, they began to search for the best medical treatment for me.
While doing so, they also had to deal with people close to them saying that how they were handling my situation wasn't good enough. That if I was in the care of another relative, I would be walking already.
A few years ago, another person told them that if they had consulted the right doctors, that I could have started walking while I was still little.
It was so easy for these people to say these things, everybody thought they had the answer. But the statements they made just caused my parents to second guess themselves.
I was talking with my mother recently, and this subject came up somehow, and she said, "It's no one else's fault, but mine."
She said that maybe if she hadn't smoked while she was pregnant, that maybe I wouldn't be disabled. But, the only reason I have this condition is due to lack of oxygen, which had occurred while my mother was having contractions, which she had no control over.
I will tell all of you reading this, that I am responsible for my not walking while I was younger. There is a reason why I haven't tried as hard as I should have.
The reason is because I am terribly afraid of falling. I don't know how to explain this to people, because it seems strange to people. Except my parents, and siblings.
I will say that no one is really to blame for my condition. It was given to me by God, and it's because of that, that I consider this condition quite a blessing.

Life is a Blessing

I recently put a headline on my profile. It says, "In God's eyes we're all the same, someday we'll all have perfect wings."
The quote comes from a country song called, Don't Laugh at Me, and ever since I first heard that part of the song, I've never forgotten it. I think how wonderful it is to know that God loves me no matter what I am. He blessed with cerebral palsy for a reason.
I may not know what the reason is, but I know I was given this condition for a purpose.
I remember two times when I was made fun for being handicapped.
I didn't actually hear what was said, but I heard about them from my twin sister, because it always bothered her when someone said anything about me.
She told me one day at school that some guy had said something about me, and that she would see to it that he apologize. Later that day while we were heading home from school, she told me that she talked with this guy's girlfriend, and the girlfriend promised to have him apologize to me.
The next day, while I was eating lunch, the girl and her boyfriend come over to me. She tells him to apologize. His response to her request is, "I ain't apologizing for stuff I didn't say."
I didn't know whether to laugh or not, because to me it was funny watching her drag him by the arm to where I was sitting.
I didn't get an apology from him, but I got one from his girlfriend. It was a nice thing for her to do, but I didn't really need an apology from anyone.
The second time happened a few months later. My sister informed me about it while we were heading to school one morning. Like the first time, I don't know the exact details.
Unlike the first time, this guy didn't get away with it by having his girlfriend apologize. This guy got his butt kicked.
After it happened, everyone involved got called into the principal's office. During my sister's visit, the principal told her, "We don't practice organized crime here at Andrew Jackson."
The following week, I was called back to her office, and sitting there with her was the guy who'd gotten beat up.
She told us to communicate how we were feeling because of this whole ordeal. He burst into tears as he apologized to me. I accepted his apology, because I knew he meant it.
A few months after this, the guy hurt his ankle, and had to use crutches. I felt bad for him, because I'm sure those wooden crutches are a pain in the ass.
These two events never got me down, because I didn't allow them to.
I also knew that I had five people at home who never let this condition get in the way of their love for me.
So, if I ever feel down about my condition, I think of the five people who love me most in the world.
I also think of God, for without him, I wouldn't be here to begin with.
I meant what I said at the beginning, that my life is a blessing from God.
And I'm going to live it to the fullest until it's time for me to get my…..perfect wings.

Hero?

I am a huge fan of doing surveys on this site. I also enjoy reading other people's answers, because reading what they think is quite interesting.
Below is an answer my mother posted on a recent survey about the third person on her friend list, which happens to be me….lol.

Q: Do you love this person?
A: As with all my children, I love him with all my heart and soul. He inspires me in ways he can't understand. When I think of a hero, I think of him. He's taken a really shitty hand dealt him and made the most of his life thus far. He finds ways to brighten my mood when I'm down. He always thinks of others. He's just the most inspirational person I know and I'm proud to be his mother.

When I read her response, especially the hero part, I was surprised. Not because I doubted how my mother feels about me, but, because it always seemed to me that children should think of their parents as heroes, not the other way around.
I have always thought of my mother and father as the ultimate heroes. They raised four kids, gave them everything they could ever want. They showered us with love and praise when we accomplished something special.
They made my childhood such a great experience, although I know it was difficult dealing with a disabled child. They never made me feel like I had to feel "different" from other kids, my condition wasn't a huge deal. It was, but they never treated it that way, and I think I followed their example.
I wouldn't trade my life for anything in this world. I know that may sound crazy to you, but when I think of the fact that the doctor's were saying my chances for survival weren't very good, I have to take comfort in the fact that God wasn't ready for me yet.
He gave me to the greatest parents who ever lived. There aren't enough words to express how much I love and respect them.
My life has been quite an adventure, and I am thankful that they've been there since day one, loving me every step of the way.
Mom, as proud as you are to be my mother, I am prouder to be your son!