I was born in 1983, I was born in the not so great state of Nebraska. Sorry if you’re from Nebraska and love this state, I’m sure I will get into the reasons why I don’t call Nebraska my home anymore. I’m from the part of the state that the majority live in, the southeast corner.
As a young kid who has never been anywhere else than Nebraska, I didn’t understand why this state was so….shitty, I didn’t know why until I was much older. I shouldn’t say much older, it makes me sound like I’m 60 years old or something.
My parents took my sister and I on vacation a lot, they were good parents; but I was a kid, as far as I was concerned Nebraska was the best place ever because it’s where I lived, but until you have something to compare it to, you just don’t know.
My parents lived in California in the late 70’s while my pops was in the Marines. They graduated in 1974 from a very small school, in a very small town in Missouri. At that time, as I understand from secondhand information, the town they grew up in had a population of 500. Their graduating class consisted of 17 people. 17 people, my graduating class was a lot higher than that, that’s hard for me to fathom.
My mom had a mom, that’s without saying. She had a physical disability. My mom has two sisters and had one brother. Part of our disability has the word hereditary in it. That being said my grandma gave her disability to one of her daughters and her only son.
Our disability affects everyone differently, my mom played basketball in high school and from what I understand was a very physically active child. The way I understand it she did not show any signs until she was 18 years old.
My uncle on the other hand, I don’t know his full story, I didn’t see him that often when I was a kid. The few times I did see him he was walking with those crutches, the ones you strap to you wrists. The ones like those that the kid from the TV show Breaking Bad had.
At a later age, I realized my disability reflects that of my uncle more so than my mom.
In November of 1983 I was introduced to the world. Two years later in 1985 my sister was born. As far as we know she does not have the same disability as I do. I do not know if I have to say this but my father did not have my disability.
Around the year of 2000, give or take a year or two; after we moved to the state of Washington we, along with the two sisters of my mom, went to a doctors appointment to get our blood drawn. Even my dad, sister, and both aunts got their blood drawn. This was done to compare and contrast DNA patterns to attempt to find the gene that causes our disability.
To this day there is no cure for my disability, all we can do is stretch; and I suck at that, I know I need to I just don’t. Anyways, the doctor that was doing the study out of Michigan called my mom at some point in the future and they claim they found the gene that causes said disability.
My point of that, I’m not trying to jump twenty some years in the future, but my whole point of that was to say that apparently my sister carries the same gene. But she is 29 years old, she is very active and jogs a lot. I don’t think she has it, but I guess I’d be wrong.
I took my first step at the tender age of eleven months, if I could talk at that age I guess I would have said, “fuck this, I’m not doing this again.” And I didn’t, from what I hear I was able to stand if I was holding onto furniture, but I did not attempt to walk for sometime.
I didn’t walk upright until I was three years old. I must have figured out how to catch myself every time I fall. Apparently I was a very happy kid , I was a lot more mobile when I was a kid. I ran, I jumped, I didn’t seem to let my disability slow me down; I’m sure it did, but I was a kid, I didn’t know.
Later in life I was told that I was almost not born because of the worry about giving me Hereditary Spastic Paraplegia. As hard as that was to hear, I could understand that later in life. I’m a parent of a kid, he is now eleven years old and lives in another state, and I’m sure I’ll get into that too.
My point is…coming from the perspective of someone who has a physical disability it is hard to raise a kid, yet alone one who has the same disability.
I’m at my limit for the day, and most people don’t like to read long posts anyways; so there you go. Part 2 coming soon, unless I get caught up answering a question you might have, I got another section, maybe a few.