This is the first post in a series I am calling "If I Knew Then What I Know Now." In this series I will be exploring aspects of growing up with a disabilty and speaking from the perspective of my younger self. Future topics will include education (Special or Regular) medical interventions, and others as they come up.
I am 4. I am sitting in a whirlpool tub eating a drippy pear. There are people around me talking about me but I don't care. The water is warm and feels good on my cold and painful legs. I recently spent some scary time in the hospital. There was a very mean lady who didn't seem to care when I cried. I know I am at a place where sometimes they make me do things that are very hard. I know that if I even just try to do what the grown-ups want, I get a fun treat.I use the coolest hot pink forearm crutches to do laps around the rehab department. This is physical therapy.
I am 9, in third grade. Like all third graders, I am learning cursive. For me to be anywhere near successful at handwriting I need hand-over-hand assistance from G. G. is my classroom aide. She does things for me like stretch me on a rug while the other kids are at gym. She is also the source of the four most hated words to me right now. "Use two hands, Emma." I try, I try so hard. My hand doesn't cooperate. This feels like a failure to me. I must hear "Use two hands, Emma" 30 times a day. I can't use two hands, please stop making me try! I know the hope is that by using my hand more I will get more functional use out of it, but really it will be useless in the end. Time would be better spent teaching me one-handed methods for things. I will soon become a one-handed wonder. This is Occupational Therapy.
I am 13. I have just had surgery that requires me to use a power wheelchair full time. It sucks. A lot. It sucks that the farthest I can walk now is about 10 feet between a set of parallel bars. I need help to understand my new vantage point. I understand that I probably will never walk the same again. PT becomes about helping me adjust to my new world. I know that things will be a lot easier once I except that this is the way things are. I need help to do that.Please see that. Please.
I am 15. I go to a boarding school for kids with disabilities. The therapy there is amazing. I spend an hour a week in a heated pool doing PT. I ride a bike. I walk on a treadmill. I get stretched every single day (twice a day.) I get Reike massagges once and the contracture in my left elbow disappears, I learn how to use a ruler to guide my eye when doing math problems. Using that method, I finally get a perfect score on a math test. I am so happy to be here. I know that there are things I will need to do that will mean I will need to leave, but as far as therapies go, I couldn't ask for more.
I am 17. I return to my old stand by therapy routines. I begin making circuits in my walker around the library at school every day at lunch. I am finding it harder and harder to walk. I fall and crack my tailbone. I decide finally that functional walking is not a realistic goal. I feel defeated. I still walk in PT. But I finally accept that I am not a walker anymore.
I am 26. Just out of the hospital. Barely strong enough to sit up. I go to PT again. This time my goal is to be able to stand without exhausting myself. I think a lot of how much things have changed. I struggle mightily to achieve baseline function. I eventually meet that goal after a lot of work.
Overall I think all of my therapeutic experiences had a combined positive impact on my life and level of function. Some experiences were painful or depressing, but I am deeply grateful for each.
No comments:
Post a Comment