Before waking up this morning, I dreamed I moved back to my childhood
hometown of Anadarko. The steps to the
Post Office were still high. The sign with Kermit the Frog was not around. I do
not know where I lived at in the dream. I was able to attend a church service
at the First Christian Church and reunite with faithful members who have
attended for over thirty years. I became reunited with my beloved kindergarten
teacher and met her family. I did not really wish to wake up from this dream.
Since being born in the county of Grady, I have seen reports on the
news where crime is spiraling out of control. A small boy made news attention
when he pretended to use a gun in his class. My guess is the old wholesome fun
games of Cops and Robbers and Cowboys and Indians is a thing of the past. My birth
place has experienced its fair share of crimes. I have not experienced dreams
of returning to Chickasha. This may seem peculiar to some people.
I have my reasons. One of the main reasons I have not wished to
return to Chickasha is the simple fact I experienced life in the hospital as a
baby without a physical disability. This scares me and why not? From December
28, 1979, to March of 1980, I was able to experience the freedoms and civil
liberties every baby shared. If I returned
to this secret garden, the gate would be locked. I would never be able to
unlock the gate. I could not unlock a secret garden that never grew with me
into the adult years. I am unable to see life from the perspective of a
non-disabled woman. I am able to see life through the perspective of a woman
living with a physical disability. Perhaps I do not want to see the hospital I was
born in because I may wind up leaving bitter and angry. Then my husband would
have to comfort me and I would need to have one-on-one counseling.
I don’t want to see the original place my history began. I am
afraid of feeling disappointed that I let God down for not remaining in his
image. God does not have a physical disability. Women carry babies out of
hospitals each day. Some of these babies do have physical disabilities while
others do not. I was lucky to have been born a baby who showed no signs of a
physical disability. The hospital I was born in – Grady Memorial Hospital –
symbolizes this to me. The hospital has no imperfections as far as I am
concerned. This hospital produced a healthy active baby who exceeded a medical
doctor’s prediction that I would not amount to a hill of beans. This hospital
is the place my non-disabled side resides in. I am never able to get this side
back.
I do not need to be insane and create memorial for my non-disabled
side. Being born inside of a memorial hospital is good enough for me. I came
into this world as a non-disabled baby. Since I was too young to remember the
feelings associated, I am unable to reflect back and write about the
experience. Perhaps if I had been lied to and told I was born disabled, I may
not have struggled so much. If reality had been denied to me, I probably would
have never had a need to mourn the loss of the non-disabled self. I would have
probably never experienced self-pity or doubts about my abilities. I would have
romanticized everything. The concept of reality, pain, oppression, and
suffering would have no place in my world.
As comforting as this may seem, I do not believe this glazed donut of
a world would have made me the woman sitting here today. As I look at my
Weatherbug, to read the temperature, I am able to feel extremely blessed. Two years
ago tomorrow, I discovered a small blood clot growing in my right leg. That’s
right. On January 23, 2011, I was admitted to the Emergency Room along with the
hospital. Previously, I had decided if another blood clot entered my body, I would
die. The side effects of Warfarin Sodium were too much for me to handle. I wanted
to divorce myself from the pain and misery of being a woman battling with blood
clots. Stories in the media forbid me to have self-pity.
Serena Williams, a famous tennis star, suffered from a Pulminary
Embolism, or PE. This means she had a blood clot in her lung. Williams claimed
to have had several blood clots in her lungs. The recovery process almost took
a year, and this is normal. Sometimes the process can last more than one year. There
is no time limit on recovery. Williams wanted to return to tennis.
Hungarian actress Zta Zt Gabor experienced blood clots during this
time as well. Her faithful elderly husband sat by her side through everything. Mrs.
Gabor had to have a leg amputated as a result of a blood clot. The couple
decided to adopt a child. The Hilton family laughed at this idea. Why not adopt
a child? There are several children in our foster care system – both young and
older – who can use the love of elderly parents. If God could let Sara give birth
to Isaac at the age of ninety-nine, then anything is possible!
http://www.cnn.com/2012/07/11/showbiz/gabor-conservatorship/index.html
Experiencing life as a woman with a physical disability is not
easy. Before I found writing as an outlet, if I spoke up about my hardships, I was
accused of having self-pity. So, I began to close up and repress my feelings. This
is one place I never want to return. Same with Grady Memorial Hospital in
Chickasha. I have risen above the non-disabled role I was born into. That role
has never met me with grace. I never had the chance to mold that role into
greatness. I am not defined by that role nor am I defined by my physical
disability.
The great female writer Maxine Neely Davenport gave me the best advice,
which is to write over subjects I know. What I know this morning is something
made of greatness. Our world is great. Everything we are given should be
cherished. Every research we do should be shared. Money is the root of all
evil. Holding grudges is for children. Children playing good ol’ wholesome games
is not wrong. Panicking will get a person nowhere. Taking responsibility means
admitting fault and then changing. Being expressive and assertive are not bad
for women if done in considerate manners.
Education saved my life. I am able to have a better understanding of
our world. Instead of overreacting to people’s words and inappropriate comments
on subjects, I am able to take comfort knowing there are alternatives to
situations. For example, our internet databases are filled with resources that
can benefit every person. I like to use facts in arguments supporting my
defenses. If I can not find something, then I can ask for opinions on how a situation
can be solved. Usually my gut instinct is right. I must be self-reliant in some
cases and depend on what I have learned from this world. Being educated on
subjects provides people with better futures.
When I reflect on the city of Anadarko during the early 1980s, I am
able to do so with the eyes of a little girl. The steps to the Post Office are
probably easier to climb for me. The house I grew up in is probably remodeled
or the fence has been torn down. The sweet lady from next door has probably
passed on from this world. The school I began my days of education in is still actively
running. I began school at Sunset Elementary School. When I look at beautiful sunsets
on the horizons in the evenings, I feel good inside. Perhaps another child who
attends Sunset Elementary is reading the same book on Noah’s Ark and looking up
at the same colorful rainbow in the sky. At least I would like to think so.
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