The Beginning…
On Feb. 12, 1997, nine days after
my divorce became final, I awakened in the early morning hours
with a dull ache in my lower back. Strange shooting sensations
ripped through my legs, firing like electrical outages. I had
had the flu for about week but had no idea that this seemingly
ordinary bug would put me in a wheelchair, possibly for the rest
of my life.
Within six hours, the jagged
bolts of pain had twisted their way up to my waist, permanently
relaxing every muscle along the way. The paralysis stopped just
inches short of the need for a ventilator. With this
life-altering event, I joined the journey of the rare one in
1.34 million people who go to bed with a flu-like illness and
wake up with Transverse Myelitis, the cause of my paralysis.
In the intensive care unit as I
fought the pain with a morphine drip, I said to my father, "It's
going to be OK, Dad. I just know it's going to be OK. I've been
in the wilderness before. Fact is, I've been here so many times
I have paths down here!" I managed to smile as the drugs lifted
hope above the haze of the grim reality.
Paths in the wilderness--I've
learned to seek them out as I have dealt with the difficulties
that have come my way. At the age of 20, my seventeen-year-old
brother died in a water skiing accident. In my 30's, parenting
presented its own challenges, as I became mother of four
children, two having special needs that included cerebral palsy,
epilepsy, mental retardation and autism. And then, divorce and
paralysis were added to the picture. Unwillingly, I became a
veteran of "unchosen paths."
I manage my household, my
children and my life.
And I write about it.
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