Born Different − 14 January, 2008
I was born different. I was born with a congenital hip deformity called Coxa Vara. Back in the early ‘70’s there was no Americans with Disabilities Act, so my parents made sure I had every possible advantage. They pushed and pushed and pushed – never once allowing me to live different. There was NEVER any mention of me being handicapped or disabled in any way, and aside from hospital and spika cast stints I lead a pretty normal life.
I rode horses, I swam, I participated in whatever activities I was interested in and some I was not (like the dreaded piano lessons – had I been allowed to pick an instrument to play perhaps I would’ve been more musically-inclined).
Because the world was not a friendly place to those who were disadvantaged in any way, my parents worked hard to make sure I was smarter and tougher and faster than my peers. They felt that I couldn’t rely on my body for future employment, so I needed to have the best education and make sure my brains could make up for the lack of physical ability.
So, I went to an all-girls Catholic Boarding School for high school – technically, I was out of the nest at age 14 – then to a progressive college in Maine to earn my Bachelor’s. I have since gone back to school for my MBA.
I won’t complain about my health history. I started having major orthopedic surgical procedures at age 4. I was in and out of the hospital most of my childhood. To me, it was normal, and not to sound trite, but it made the person I am today. I doubt very seriously that I would have the same strength and compassion if not for my unique upbringing.
I think my only “wish,” if you will, is that I would like to know what it is like to be pain-free. As far as I can remember, I have never had a day without pain. Granted there are good days and bad days, but never a pain-free day. The only time I am not in pain is when I am unconscious. I take drugs for the pain, but they do not remove it completely – they only take the edge off and make it easier to cope.
So, if I could, I would like to experience a pain-free day. Of course, it might make the pain all the worse, knowing what it is like without pain… sometimes it’s better not knowing what you are missing.
As an adult, I do pretty much everything I want to. On my bad days, or days I am planning an outing – mall, supermarket, theme park – I have my Service Dog. I also keep a cane on hand at all times, just in case. I have good drugs and leg braces, too, and wonderful friends who help me out when I need it. Really, the dog has made the biggest difference for me. He takes over for a lot of the physical work it takes to get around – supporting weight, providing forward momentum, picking things up for me, making sure I don’t hurt myself on stairs or curbs – and he makes being in public a lot easier.
People don’t see my limp when I am out with my Service Dog. They see the dog (and even ask me if I am training him – I guess I don’t look too bad off!) not the disability.
My parents still have a hard time talking about my handicap. In fact, they have yet to admit I even have any handicaps – they seem to refuse to face the facts, or perhaps by ignoring it, it is not real. They are always uncomfortable when I bring my Service Dog somewhere public – afraid I will somehow get in trouble for using a Service Dog – because there is obviously nothing wrong with me.
So I consider myself unique. Different, yes, but aren’t we all a little “different?” That variety is what makes this world such an amazing place.
