The path
When things were first starting to go crazy with Charlie's health I would question my ability to stay on "the path". I would tell myself to "work the program" and "do what the therapists tell you". I knew I had good mothering instincts, I just wasn't prepared for all the feeding and nutrition concerns that came with being developmentally delayed. While everything I was learning was new, I knew I could do the work. I told myself to "work the program and stay on the path."
As Charlie began to make gains in weight and feeding, we began to focus on his extreme lack of gross motor skills. At 3.5 years old, Charlie can "bunny hop" crawl. He can also use a gait trainer to walk, although he cannot use it independently. For a long time, I simply tried to get Charlie to turn his head. He suffered from extreme torticollis and wore a cranial helmet for seven months. When we went in for images, he was so floppy and hypotonic that it required six staff members to hold him upright for the 360 degree digital images. As I drove home from the clinic, I questioned my ability to stay this path. The banding would require us to make bimonthly trips to Skokie from Buffalo Grove. While it was a distance of only 13 miles, it was approximately a 3 hour round trip due to commuter traffic. We did this for seven months, every other week. We went through two cranial bands, as Charlie's case of plagiocephaly was considered extreme. By the end, his ear was repositioned along with is eye socket and jaw realigned.
I guess I have always been on the path in one way or another. I remember skipping class at DMACC one afternoon. I was home alone and had decided to finish my book. As I lay on the couch I heard the sound of metal upon metal and screams. I jumped from the couch sprinting to the front door. Yanking the door open, I watched as a semi screeched its jake brake running into a station wagon. The semi was dragging a young boy. The car was driven by a 16 year old boy. He was a Dunkard. He had his three younger siblings with him. I ran back to the kitchen, picked up the phone, dialed 911 and asked for an ambulance. Immediately, I hung up and ran back to the highway that runs in front of my parents' home. The station wagon exploded, the boy lay mangled on the concrete and the semi some 200 feet away. His siblings were exiting what remained of the dissected vehicle. The semi, traveling too fast, had t-boned the vehicle. I ran up and down the highway stopping traffic while we waited for the ambulance. The driver, the Dunkard, went to the kitchen to use the phone, calling his parents.
I knew it was bad by the way the impact had sounded. I had never heard something so loud before. From the moment I heard it I went to a different place, almost outside of myself. I am normally a very energetic person, to state it politely. Yet, in an emergency, and I've been in a few, I get scary calm. I become this other person. As I directed traffic, the EMS arrived on the scene. Neighbors arrived helping to direct traffic, allowing me to take the EMS to the driver in my parent's kitchen.
They landed a helicopter on the highway that afternoon. Thank goodness he, along with everyone else, survived. They returned at Christmas time with a basket of fruit. They thanked my mom, not knowing it had been me.
I guess in life, I have always been on this sort of path. Helping people, taking charge, responding to an emergency, that is sort of my jam. I am like the "Statue of Liberty" asking for your broken, tired and hungry. I will fix them, feed them and give them love. Yeah, I've been burned, taken advantage of. Yet, most times, when you walk the path, choosing kindness and helping others, you get rewarded.
As Charlie began to make gains in weight and feeding, we began to focus on his extreme lack of gross motor skills. At 3.5 years old, Charlie can "bunny hop" crawl. He can also use a gait trainer to walk, although he cannot use it independently. For a long time, I simply tried to get Charlie to turn his head. He suffered from extreme torticollis and wore a cranial helmet for seven months. When we went in for images, he was so floppy and hypotonic that it required six staff members to hold him upright for the 360 degree digital images. As I drove home from the clinic, I questioned my ability to stay this path. The banding would require us to make bimonthly trips to Skokie from Buffalo Grove. While it was a distance of only 13 miles, it was approximately a 3 hour round trip due to commuter traffic. We did this for seven months, every other week. We went through two cranial bands, as Charlie's case of plagiocephaly was considered extreme. By the end, his ear was repositioned along with is eye socket and jaw realigned.
I guess I have always been on the path in one way or another. I remember skipping class at DMACC one afternoon. I was home alone and had decided to finish my book. As I lay on the couch I heard the sound of metal upon metal and screams. I jumped from the couch sprinting to the front door. Yanking the door open, I watched as a semi screeched its jake brake running into a station wagon. The semi was dragging a young boy. The car was driven by a 16 year old boy. He was a Dunkard. He had his three younger siblings with him. I ran back to the kitchen, picked up the phone, dialed 911 and asked for an ambulance. Immediately, I hung up and ran back to the highway that runs in front of my parents' home. The station wagon exploded, the boy lay mangled on the concrete and the semi some 200 feet away. His siblings were exiting what remained of the dissected vehicle. The semi, traveling too fast, had t-boned the vehicle. I ran up and down the highway stopping traffic while we waited for the ambulance. The driver, the Dunkard, went to the kitchen to use the phone, calling his parents.
I knew it was bad by the way the impact had sounded. I had never heard something so loud before. From the moment I heard it I went to a different place, almost outside of myself. I am normally a very energetic person, to state it politely. Yet, in an emergency, and I've been in a few, I get scary calm. I become this other person. As I directed traffic, the EMS arrived on the scene. Neighbors arrived helping to direct traffic, allowing me to take the EMS to the driver in my parent's kitchen.
They landed a helicopter on the highway that afternoon. Thank goodness he, along with everyone else, survived. They returned at Christmas time with a basket of fruit. They thanked my mom, not knowing it had been me.
I guess in life, I have always been on this sort of path. Helping people, taking charge, responding to an emergency, that is sort of my jam. I am like the "Statue of Liberty" asking for your broken, tired and hungry. I will fix them, feed them and give them love. Yeah, I've been burned, taken advantage of. Yet, most times, when you walk the path, choosing kindness and helping others, you get rewarded.
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