Chapter 1 A Vegetable? Or a Wild Life? The first story I remember hearing--and I heard it over and over throughout my life--was the one about the woman from an organization for crippled children who showed up at my mom''s door. The message was dire: She made a declaration about my future. "This child will be a vegetable for the rest of her life." That prediction was the beginning of my roller-coaster life with cerebral palsy (CP). As it turned out, I didn''t become a vegetable, but instead, I continue to live a full, productive, and sometimes, wild life.Of course, after that mystery woman''s dead wrong prediction, my grandma, Nana Millie, was always sure to not donate money to that organization. And Mom, she then on, she never cared much for the Oregon social workers. As for me, I surpassed the vegetable prediction and everyone else''s expectations, so I''m quite pleased.
Something Is Wrong Mom had turned 20 a month before my sister and I were born on September 1964 in Portland, Oregon. We were about three months premature and our skin was unusually dark at birth due to a lack of oxygen. Traci weighed 3.6 pounds and I weighed 3.3 pounds. The doctors gave us 72 hours to live. In those days, care for premature babies was a new field in medicine and the doctors were unsure of what to expect in our situation. After we passed the first critical period in those first three days and we were still alive, the doctors kept us in incubators for six weeks before Mom was allowed to bring us home.
My mom and dad had been in high school together but were never really sweethearts. However, Mom graduated in June 1962, and shortly after high school, they married. Within the first year, my older sister, Tami, was born in 1963. About one-and-a-half years later, my sister and I came along. My dad was at the hospital when we were born, but soon after, they divorced, and he moved to California. He told my mom he wasn''t ready for "daddyhood." In truth, I don''t think either one of my young parents was ready for parenting. So, Dad left and Mom became a single divorced mother of three young daughters, and one of us--me--would soon be considered "vegetable material.
At times, Mom held more than one job to support us. To put it mildly, she had her hands full, but fortunately, her parents, Nana and Bapa, lived nearby and were an enormous help. Besides, big sister Tami loved taking care of "her babies." Mom said Tami was so happy to have two new babies to take care of! Years later, Mom told me that at first, the doctors thought my twin, Traci, was the unhealthiest of the two of us. But over time, it became obvious that I wasn''t meeting developmental milestones similar to Traci. My mom noticed I wasn''t sitting up like Traci, I would just tip over. When Nana bathed me, I stiffened up. Something was wrong and Mom took me for further medical examinations.
When I was about nine months old, the doctors diagnosed me with cerebral palsy. They told Mom and Nana that I should be put in a home for children with physical disabilities. According to Mom, the doctor said, "Your baby has cerebral palsy." Then he matter-of-factly added, "She won''t amount to much." Little else was said that day in the doctor''s office. Mom took me home, stunned by the news. She cried most of the way, alone and uncertain what to do. Many years later, she admitted to me that on the ride home from the doctor''s appointment, she thought about driving into the side of a bridge! In that moment, it all felt too overwhelming for her, especially because she knew nothing about CP.
When I think of that, I imagine my young mother mustering up some kind of amazing courage to just stay on the road, keep driving home, and somehow trust that she would find a way. Crooked Legs My family didn''t know what CP was at the time and didn''t know what to expect. They weren''t sure if I would be just a drooler, or if I would talk, or walk, or what. The good part about this lack of information about CP is that my mom and grandparents didn''t hover over me, or coddle me; as I grew, they expected me to do many things for myself. In time, my family learned CP is a disability that resulted from damage to the gray matter of the brain. This can happen before, during, or shortly after birth. CP is different for everyone. It is outwardly manifested by muscular incoordination and/or speech disturbances.
From the beginning, my main challenges were my legs and walking. I never had speech impediments, although I bet some people wish I did, since I''ve heard many complaints for what comes out of my mouth! I tend to speak my mind loudly and clearly--especially if I''m passionate about something. More on that, later. After consulting with several doctors, Mom took me to another specialist when I was about nine months old. He talked with my mom about the first steps needed to straighten my legs. In the middle of the office visit, a nurse took me from my mother and left the room. A short time later, she brought me back and I had plaster leg casts up to my waist. When Mom saw me in those leg casts, she cried, shocked at the sight of her small baby in such a huge cast.
This would be the first of many procedures and surgeries to correct my legs so I could crawl and eventually, walk. First, I Crawl Sometime during my toddler years, Nana taught me to crawl, which was a big deal since I was not meeting my "milestones." The story I heard about learning to crawl was that one day Mom came home from work and Nana announced that I could crawl. She proceeded to show my mom how I crawled across the living room. Nana put me down on the floor and manually moved my limbs in a crawling motion, so I would understand the feeling. Once I got the movement down, then she enticed me with things I wanted. I had to crawl toward her while she waved the desired object in front of me. Nana said teaching me to crawl didn''t take long.
For years, crawling was my main mode of transport when I was home, even as late as the sixth grade when I was able to walk with quad canes. When I crawled, I could quickly zoom all over the house. My earliest memory is when I was about three, learning to use little wooden crutches with brown leather armbands to help me walk. I had to slip my hands down through brown leather straps to grab the handles and slowly take steps. The whole experience was uncomfortable. There is a newspaper photo of me at four years old standing with those crutches as Oregon''s Easter Seals Poster Girl of 1969. Apparently, I was selected due to my potential for entering a regular public school later in life. I had to wear a football helmet when I was outside because I was always falling down, cracking my head open, and getting stitches.
Imagine a young kid on crutches wearing a football helmet. Awful to even think about. Already, I was so aware of people staring at me when I walked, using my crutches, and then when I started wearing a football helmet, the stares were off the chart. My memory tells me either the football-helmet-phase was short lived, thankfully, or I was in some serious denial in order to get through that awkward phase. Be "Normal" Fortunately, Mom didn''t listen to the doctors-- she kept me. Over the years, everyone would be surprised that I survived and thrived. "I had no idea how strong and smart you would become," Mom admitted years later, recounting that time. During those first years, Mom raised us with lots of help from my two favorite people in the world, my maternal grandparents.
Throughout my childhood, we moved around a lot, but Nana and Bapa were always there for us. They were a tremendous support to Mom, and a deep source of love and support for their grandkids. With 20/20 hindsight, I really do believe most of my successes happened because I had a family that treated me "normally.