I'm not sure if this should go here.(triggering, graphic)

I too have suffered a death in my life. I have lost many friends over the years to disease, when they were way too young. But that's not why I'm here tonight.

The death I speak of is my own.

I have cerebral palsy. During my childhood, it was intensively treated with surgery and physiotherapy. Intense physiotherapy. Pedalling a stationary bike with legs that were too weak to work on their own, 10-15 km at a stretch. Daily stretching sessions with leather and steel leg braces to force my legs straight so I could stand. The special shoes caused constant blisters on my heels and ankles. Swimming, occupational therapy, even counselling; you name it, I did it from the earliest age, down to constant psych tests to test my intelligence.

Getting me on my feet was an obsession with them. It's agony to think of all this, I don't want to. But I have to face it.

Their efforts acheived results. I was able to crawl, walk with a walker down to a neighbour's fence and even drag myself downstairs to watch TV with my family. And the good times more than made up for it. My parents took me to parks, saw that I got to day camp, summer camp and even a few school outings. Floor hockey, a member of the Girl Guides (I made it to Patrol Leader). I even pulled off a school trip to Washington DC when I was too young to understand the difficulties involved, my parents saw to it that I went. (I'm glad I went. It was the summer before IT happened.)
I took it all for granted. This hurts to remember as much as the physio. I make it a point not to remember my childhood at all, because of what happened.

My knees were getting harder and harder to straighten. I went from being able to walk, to standing hanging on to the bed, (G*d this hurts), to lying down on my bed.

Finally surgery was proposed. If all went well, not only would my pain be reduced, but I would be able to straighten my braces myself. I was all for it. I was 12 and naive. I didn't remember my last surgery.

Montreal was where I went to get these things done and it all seemed so harmless; go there every six months to a year to get checked out and hear the doctor use very specific jargon around you while he put me through my paces. And the staffers were almost like family, I even ran into one of them at summer camp for several years who remembered me pretending my hospital crib was a "jail".

Last thing I remember before the big day was Thanksgiving dinner. Then I went in.
Oct 11, 1983.

The day I died. The day my world died.

I went in there expecting to be able to read a book in the recovery room. I woke up screaming from the pain. They were asking me if I could feel my feet. At that point, I didn't care. The one thought in my mind was from the Bible "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" I may have screamed this. In my agony, I tried to roll over onto my side and grab onto the sides of the bed, trying to roll over while my legs were spread apart in a plaster cast that extended at least to my hips, possibly to my chest. I believe they tried to stop me. Then I blacked out. When I next woke up, the cast was gone, the agony was gone and I was all alone.

(G*d this hurts and I don't mean physically.)

It sounds to me that you should be thankful that the cast was gone along with the agony. Just because your legs don't serve you doesn't mean that the rest of your body doesn't work. Be thankful for what you have.

I've known several people with cerebral palsy and they are all successful people (and I don't mean rich). They all have functioning lives. Some need help, some don't. Most have their down days where they are depressed and frustrated, but for the most part, they've learned to live their lives according to their own capabilities. They are by no means "dead."





<font color=blue>"Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt" --Shakespeare</font color=blue>

I'm so sorry your pain started so long ago. That it continues is just heart breaking. It's good that you have been able to write more about it.

With what you've been through in your life, you could write a whole book. Have you ever thought about doing that?

Hang on, and please keep writing to us. Emmy


"Language is a Trojan horse by which the universe gets into the mind. ." -- Hugh Kenner

September Morn, my story did not end there. The agony didn't go away when the cast did. I just didn't know it yet. If it had, I wouldn't be sitting here now, grieving after 20 years.

I can only write the story in installments, as my physical and psychological state will allow.

The constant physical pain I am under is now so bad that I now want to "go to ground for several days." And I'm sure that I don't want to get up in my chair again because if I do the pain will come back.

What follows in these installments changed my life forever and it changed the way I saw hospitals. It started in 1983. By the time they were finished with me in 1986, I would never feel safe in a hospital again. That feeling took time to grow, but grow it did.

I'm sorry you had to go through that. {{{{{{{{{{{{{hugs}}}}}}}}}}} Does writing about it help you? If it does, I would really like to hear the rest of your story as you are able to tell it.

<font color=orange>"If we are going to insist that people pull themselves up by their own bootstraps, we must ensure that they have boots."</font color=orange>

I'm sorry. I took my cue from what you said: "When I next woke up, the cast was gone, the agony was gone..." I guess I'm not understanding because one of the people I know who has cerebral palsy had the same surgery and cast put on from his hips down to his ankles and he seemed to weather it quite well. He never could walk so I'm not sure what it was done for. Seems to me it was to keep his feet from turning in.

Have you seen a counselor to learn to cope with your disabilities and the mental anguish you're going through? Your physical pain should be more than enough to have to bear without the mental pain.





<font color=blue>"Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt" --Shakespeare</font color=blue>

I am severely locked in emotionally. Writing is my only real way of safely setting those emotions free. A lot of the pain still remains, but at least someone knows I'm having a rough time.

I feel a lot of guilt over being angry at people, even on-line, at blowing up.

Everyone has on occasion posted something they regret. I know for SURE I have! I have been VERY grateful for Doc John's Edit option on many occasions. I used to visit another website and post there a lot. It did not have this option. Boy, did I get in hot water there! Yikes.

The good thing about messing up on-line is that apologizing on-line is a heck of a lot easier than apologizing in real life. Now, I have no idea if you are referring to a current problem or an old one, but either way, you can always post or PM to that person(s). Then say 10 Hail Mary's and you'll be forgiven. Did I even tell you I'm a part-time on-line priest with confessional dispensation powers? ;-)

I'm glad to have met you, HG. Take care. Emmy

"Language is a Trojan horse by which the universe gets into the mind. ." -- Hugh Kenner