Conquering Obstacles (Part 53--Understanding)

It wasn't until after I received my new hip joint that I truly understood why my mother kept secrets. I found myself constantly thinking of the doctor's outlook--15 years looking through rose-colored glasses. Every ache and pain would cause me to wonder if the time had come. I despised the worrying and tried desperately to block it from my mind. But I also remembered my mother telling a doctor he was wrong when he said I would never walk again. That's the attitude I chose--the positive side of pain knowing that it would someday subside.

Eight years later the socket was replaced, and according to the doctor, that could be expected because I was still young and quite active. What he didn't expect, though, was the ball joint of the original replacement hip to last 29 years, being replaced just two years ago...a miracle in my eyes. When I learned several months ago of a hip joint "recall," I found it rather humorous, but still made a point to check with my doctor regarding my "model" type because I didn't need the stress of the unknown. Thank goodness I have a Bio-Met and not the DePuy. Whew!

In the early '90's I was visiting Sherry when she informed me that she had been diagnosed with PPS (Post-Polio Syndrome). The shock was overwhelming especially since I had never heard of it and had no idea what it entailed. I spent hundreds of hours researching to find out what could possibly happen to me and to prepare myself for the worse. I was disheartened when I read an article that stated every polio victim will eventually contract PPS.

It felt like I had been beaten within an inch of my life when it hit in 2003. Every muscle hurt, and I didn't even want to move. I had learned to deal with pain, but this was indescribable. Picture yourself making your bed in the morning and having to sit (to relieve the muscle pain in your back and legs) three or four times before finishing the task. But with the help of my neurologist, Dr. Cintron, I learned how to eventually manage the pain without the use of drugs by swimming daily if possible.

  I was fitted with a half brace to help my weakened muscles, which I wore for less than a week. It has been on the closet floor ever since. Even at my age, it's not an option. I wore braces for too many years; and if I have to suffer with a little pain by not wearing it, that's what I'll do.

Another surgery in 2005 for a knee replacement went as usual--another failure due to a staph infection. A subsequent surgery eliminated the infection but left me with a wound vac attached to my knee for the next twelve weeks. It didn't stop me from going to cheer on my favorite hockey team, the Washington Capitals, though. TC seemed more worried about the crowds kicking my crutches from under me than I did. Poor guy! I must have driven him crazy at times.

I understand the meaning of pain but have never forgotten those who suffer so much more than I ever have. Knowing that if I abuse my muscles, I will lose them, I have learned my limitations; however, it doesn't stop me from doing what I love best--traveling, riding roller coasters, and spending quality time with my family.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 52--From the Past)

While I was playing "toys" with my two little darlings one summer afternoon, the telephone rang. "Hello." There it was again--that familiar voice from the past.

It had been seventeen long years since I had last seen Vic, and fourteen years since I had talked with him; but just like old times, I felt his closeness. We spent hours that day just "catching up." He was married now and had an only child who was 12 already, which was hard for me to imagine. It didn't seem like it had been that long...as though it were yesterday. He mentioned his wife only in passing, but told me he was happy, which was the most important of all to me.

I told him stories about my children, those two little loves of my life, and their funny antics, but also shared with him how happy TC and I were together. Life was perfect with one exception: the unanswered question that had been haunting me for so many years.

"Why did you change your mind about coming to see me? You should have called."

As I listened intently, I felt a sudden change in his tone. He spoke quietly, slowly, pausing between each word, as though he were recalling a painful memory.

"I did leave home that night just as I had promised you. It was pouring rain...the roads were covered with water... I was in an automobile accident. I was thrown through the windshield and seriously injured, spending months in the hospital. I don't remember much about that night except thinking how upset you would be. And now I think about how different our lives could have been, should have been. I am so so very sorry."

I asked no more questions but quietly remarked, "It wasn't meant to be."

A week later I received a short note, along with a beautiful photograph of him and his family. He still had that gorgeous smile of his and appeared to be even happier than I had expected. I glanced at it often during the next several days and realized what I needed to do.

I kissed the photograph, placed it in an envelope, and returned it to him with no note, closing the book on this chapter of my life.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 51--The Ugly Nurse)

Unfortunately, a surgery doesn't always go as planned--and so it was with my new hip. While the nurses were moving me to a different bed in the recovery room, the new ball joint slipped out of the new socket. I don't ever recall screaming as loud as I did at that given moment. After making several attempts to slip it back into place, the doctor began screaming...at the anesthesiologist to put me under again. What a circus that must have been!

Later that evening the doctor explained to me that I would be in traction for at least the next three weeks and then would begin physical therapy if all went well. While he was still chattering away, I noticed the nurse walk into the room carrying a set of sheets. Is she seriously thinking about changing the bedding? There was no way that I felt like being juggled around, especially the day of this catastrophe.

The doc must have seen me eyeing the nurse and said to her, "That will not be necessary." But as soon as he walked out the door, she started stripping the bed. I was totally dumbfounded that she would go against what I considered "doctor's orders." When I yelled at her to stop and tried reaching for the "help" button, she blatantly told me, "Don't be such a WUSS." I don't know who was having the worse "bad hair day," me or her.

Then she created the ultimate sin--she insulted my mother, who wasn't even there to defend herself. She had been there, but was home taking care of my babies. To my dismay, TC had also stepped out of the room to speak with the doctor.

"What kind of mother do you have that wouldn't even get you vaccinated for polio?"  I won't share with my readers the response, but you can imagine how I felt at that very moment. Needless to say, the tears flowed. I don't recall her name, but I can still see the looks she gave me.

I imagine that the anesthesia had something to do with my crying, but I hadn't stopped when the respiratory therapist arrived to assist me with breathing exercises. He must have known the second he saw me that he definitely had a situation which needed to be resolved. Once he heard my tale of the nurse, he insisted that I report her to a supervisor, which I did.

For the next six weeks, she never stepped foot into my room. In fact, I didn't know if she was still on the same floor.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 50--The Pain)

I saw a specialist within the next several weeks, but never did I realize that it would take almost a year from the time my daughter was born until I would get a new hip joint. There were so many tests that had to be run on every inch of my body it seemed. The muscles, the nerves, and the bones all had to succumb to the twisting, bending, and probes of the experts who would determine my fate.

Meanwhile, the excruciating pain grew by the minute. I tried various pain killers, but they did nothing more than make me drowsy, which was not a good symptom while trying to teach. It was several months, though, before any students realized that I wasn't my usual self. Once they discovered what was wrong, they volunteered to do every task for me that they possibly could. They were the best!

During one of many appointments with my orthopedic surgeon, he explained to me that it was considered unethical by medical standards to replace a joint in someone as young as I was. (almost 30 years old) Joint replacements were somewhat new to the medical profession, and it was yet to be determined exactly how long the new hip would last. If I were to look through rose-colored glasses, it would hopefully have a lifespan of 15 years. Yikes!!

As he took me by the hand, he asked me to talk to him as though he were my husband and to tell him how bad the pain really was by giving him examples and not using a scale of 1 to 10. I thought about it for a moment.

"I know that I have an extremely high tolerance for pain, but my 16-pound daughter was walking at 8 1/2 months because it hurt too much to even lift or carry her. I cry myself to sleep every night because of the pain and wake up in the morning with tears in my eyes as though I've been crying all night."

He squeezed my hands gently while affirming, "I'll schedule the surgery for as soon as possible."

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 49--My Mother's Secret)

I loved my job; I loved my husband; I loved my life. I was living the fairy tale of my dreams. First along came a bouncing baby boy, followed by a beautiful baby girl, two new loves of my life. At the time of my children's births, my mother always asked me how I was feeling. I found that somewhat odd but didn't give it much thought at the time.

Three or four months after my daughter Janelle was born, my leg began to hurt. At first I shrugged it off as a pulled muscle; however, when it didn't subside, I thought that perhaps I had a blood clot and made an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon. After viewing the x-rays, he casually told me, "I won't touch you because I cannot help you."

He further explained that my hip joint had slipped out of the socket more than likely during childbirth and was gradually tearing its way through my muscles and nerves with every step I took. He assured me, though, that he would refer me to a surgeon who could help me. Great, just great! This is NOT fair! I have two wee ones (and one big fella) that need me.

Driving home that afternoon, I remembered my mother's question, "How are you feeling?" She knew--she knew all along that this was a possibility, didn't she? But how did she know and why didn't she forewarn me? I was upset with her even though it unquestionably wasn't her fault that this had happened.

Later that evening after explaining the situation to Terry, I telephoned my mom to give her the bad news. There was no confrontation because she admitted immediately that she knew this could happen. The doctors at the Shriner's Hospital had told her that the hip would eventually wear out of the socket, but they thought it best to leave it as it was. It could last for tens of years; in addition, I had perhaps not finished growing yet which would cause further problems and possible surgeries which they couldn't perform because I would be beyond the age of 16, the limit set by the hospital.

When I asked her why she hadn't told me this before,  she quietly responded, "Why worry when there is no reason? We only worry when the time comes. You'll be back to feeling normal soon."

I truly believed that my mother was always right and knew everything there was to know; but  in this case, not even she could predict what lied ahead for me.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 48--The Proposal?)

Oh, yes, I'm recalling the night I transformed from "a plaything into a person" right before my eyes and without even knowing it. I had no idea what that meant but assumed he was admitting that he loved me. Being on the "shy" side definitely has its downfalls.

With a long distance relationship now ongoing because I had moved 300 miles away, I tried not to get my hopes up for anything permanent. As Montana winters lurked in the near future, he came to see me every other weekend until the snow flew and the roads became dangerously wicked. I, too, would make the journey to see him whenever possible.

After three years of racking up the highway miles between us, I became restless. This relationship was going nowhere except "back and forth" between two rural towns. Obviously he was content with the way we were, but I wanted more. Don't all women want more?

He was too easy going, too laid back. In order to get what I wanted, I'd need to be more assertive and take things into my own hands. Once I had a plan, I grabbed his sister Karen and took her with me to the jewelry store. You have to know Karen to understand just how crazy the two of us were that day. We giggled, we laughed, and we picked out the perfect ring for me and her brother that day. Of course, we had no money to purchase it; besides, that was neither my intent nor my job!

The jeweler photographed the ring for me so I could show the prospective "groom" and said that he would hold the ring for ten days. If after that time the ring was still there, it would be returned to the showcase.

Later that evening, I presented the photograph to him and nonchalantly said, "I have a birthday coming, and if you'd like, you have ten days to pick this present up for me at Zale's." He never said a word, but...

...he gave me the ring for my birthday and two months later we were married. After what I consider the longest "enragement" (my pun for engagement) in history, we are still together 34 years later....the love of my life...my "true friend." I love you, TC.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 47--"The Scarlet Ibis")

While teaching a freshman literature course, I felt it was necessary to hold a brief class discussion regarding the  main topic of the short story we were about to read. By using this technique, hopefully the students would be able to empathize with the characters. I knew that on this particular day, the discussion could become either a revelation or a total failure depending on their reaction to my questions as I prepared them to read  "The Scarlet Ibis."
The Scarlet Ibis is a story of two brothers, the narrator, whose name is not given but is simply referred to as "Brother" by his younger sibling, and "Doodle". Doodle is born a very sickly child who isn't expected to live. His brother wanted someone who could run and jump and play with him, but instead he got the fragile Doodle; this makes him angry. Determined to make Doodle into the brother he wants, Brother pushes him constantly, past the point of physical endurance; he is often cruel to him, even making him touch the coffin that was originally built for him as a baby. Doodle does learn a lot from Brother, but this comes at a high price.


Eventually, at the age of six, he even learns to walk. Enlightened by this, the brother decides to teach him how to run, climb vines, swim, and even fight to prepare him for school. However, almost a year after the plan was made, and the deadline was almost up, Doodle was still far from the original plans.


One day, a big red bird appears in the garden, looking sick and tired. The boys' father identifies it as a Scarlet ibis, a tropical bird that must have been blown off course because of a recent storm. When the bird suddenly dies, Doodle, pitying the creature, decides to bury it. Afterwards, the boys go down to Horsehead Landing, a nearby swamp. On their way back to the house Brother has Doodle practice rowing. A sudden rainstorm comes, and when they reach the riverbank Doodle is tired and frightened. Brother leaves Doodle behind in the pouring rain, angry that he can't finish "training" Doodle before school starts. He soon returns for Doodle, only to find that he has died with blood flowing out of his mouth, staining his throat red. He had died like the Scarlet Ibis. Brother cries with regret for what he had done.

I opened the discussion by asking, "How do you feel when you see a handicapped person?" Their immediate reaction was to look everywhere--down at the desk, out the window, at their friends--everywhere except at me. Fortunately, one student broke the classroom silence and others followed suit. Comments poured out as well as examples of people they knew or had seen who were handicapped. "I feel sorry for them." "I just ignore them because I don't know what to say." "I'm glad it's not ME." "I wonder what happened to them." The normal 10-minute opening discussion turned into an entire class hour with just a few minutes at the end for a question and answer period. That's when a young boy raised his hand and asked me, "Aren't you embarrassed?"

"Why do you think I would feel embarrassed?"

"Well...you know, because of the way you walk."

I could feel every student's eyes glued to me while they were more than likely thinking to themselves, "He shouldn't have asked her that."

My response was, "If I were embarrassed, do you think that I would choose to spend every day of my life in front of high school students, who can be the most critical people on earth at times?" I chuckled at all the strange looks, and they chuckled, too, accompanied by an enormous sigh of relief. I did tell them the story of being one of God's "special" children," which was the smartest move I possibly had ever made. Now they could understand who I really was.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 46--The Mockery)

I settled into my new apartment and new school in a rural eastern Montana community. It was slightly larger than my previous "homestead," and I was somewhat anxious about meeting my students for the first time. Heaven only knows why I thought that my new students would be similar to my previous ones, but I had a rude awakening.

I could handle the little seventh grade girl who walked out of my study hall and mumbled a little too loudly the word "bitch" referring to me because I had just reprimanded her in class for intentionally slamming her textbooks to the floor. Quietly confronting her with "If you are going to call me names behind my back, then you best have the guts to do it to my face, so now is your opportunity," convinced me that the next time she would lower her voice. It didn't upset me because I knew that early teens were in the habit of practicing their "swearing" abilities.

What did upset me, though, was to learn that students through their own actions can subsequently hurt their classmates. I had seen several students mock the way I walk as they moved from class to class. I assumed that it would eventually no longer be funny to others and ignored their behavior. However, several months into the school year I was approached by a little eighth grade girl who was in tears. As I tried to comfort her, she explained that she was sad because an older girl (to remain nameless even though I haven't forgotten) was making fun of me and the way I walked. "You should do something!" the little girl demanded. "Perhaps it's time I should."

Several days later as I was monitoring the halls during lunch hour, I spotted the culprit demonstrating her "walking skills." Now was the time. I approached her and led her by the arm into an empty classroom. "We need to talk." Even though I kept a calm, soft voice, she looked horrified as I began, "If you are making fun of the way I walk because you are trying to hurt my feelings, it's not working. I have been made fun of, laughed at, pointed at, and mocked more in my life than you could ever imagine. And your friends don't think you're funny anymore. It's time to stop please."

I definitely hadn't intended to make her cry, but the tears began as she said, "I'm really sorry. I won't do it again." 

"Good girl, thank you."

And she didn't, at least not that I know about. Hopefully, another obstacle in my new environment had been overcome.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 45--A Plaything)

It took him three weeks to find me with no thanks to Shirley, my pool partner, whom he harassed nightly regarding my whereabouts until she finally gave in to his demands. If I had been her, I probably would have done the same.

When he called, I wasn't particularly interested in hearing what he had to say; after all, he was so verbally cruel to me the last time I actually had seen him, that nothing he could do or say would change the way I was feeling. More than likely I could and would forgive him, but even now I can't forget the hurtful words.

During the tense telephone conversation, he casually mentioned that he was injured in a farm-related accident and had just been released from the hospital. He asked if I would come home to see him. Without any hesitation, I said, "Yes, when I have a few days off, I'll be there." What was I thinking? At a most vulnerable time in my life, I open myself up for more heartache. Oh, well, it wouldn't be the first time, and more than likely, not the last.

Even though I wasn't a "list" type of individual, I actually compared the pros and cons of this very odd relationship. He always had a great time wherever he went and whatever he did; I loved listening to his jokes and stories; he was so easy-going and laid back that I had yet to see him lose his temper; my parents adored him; he liked me for who I was and definitely could be the "true friend" I had been seeking my entire life; and I loved him. Why? I had no idea.

The cons included the fact that he had no life-long goals but preferred to take each day as it came; he was shy when it came to revealing his feelings; and he wasn't the quickest at making any sort of decision.

During the entire trip to see him, I weighed again and again the pros and cons. I wondered how true the saying was that "opposites" attract. Could we eventually have a life together? I needed to know more about the last night I was with him before I could even think such thoughts. Besides, I was going to be moving from the area so that could possibly be the tie-breaker. Time would tell, but for now...

I needed some answers. After first seeing him and listening to the horrid tale of his injury, I asked him, "Why did you say those horrible things to me that night outside the Horseshoe Club?"

He wouldn't look me in the eye but quietly revealed, "That was the night you turned from a plaything into a person."

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 44--Moving On)

There were times in my life when I had regretted doing or saying certain things, but nothing compared to the regret I felt after having asked him that "question." It was as if it had turned him into an entirely different person and not for the better, which took me by total surprise. 

 He continued to stop by but the visits seemed to become further and further apart, similar to the late night phones calls before bedtime. I couldn't help but feel that he had lost interest in me, which was more or less a common pattern in my life by now.

My Tuesday nights were always spent playing in the pool league, while his league night was normally on Wednesday. We had never attended each other's competition so when he showed up one night while I was playing on league, I was slightly confused, but happy to see him. However, it would have been nice if he would have at least spoken to me, but he didn't. This continued for several weeks, and on the last night of our league season, he walked through the door with another girl, woman, lady...whatever she was.

I was so hurt and angry that I couldn't stand the sight of him. How could he do this to me in front of all my friends? But when the competition was over and he had left, I told Shirley, my partner, "I'm gone!  I am following him!" So I did...to the Horseshoe Club. As I walked through the door, our eyes met simultaneously as though he had been waiting for me. He immediately came to me, took me by the hand, and led me outside.

What ensued was not what I had expected by any means, and I will not share with my readers the most vicious comment he made to me that night. I cried harder than I had in a very long time.The next evening (Wednesday, his league night) he called to apologize and said that he'd come to visit on Thursday night if I wanted to see him. I agreed because I needed to know what was going on in his mind. Thursday night came and went, but he was a "no show." I was angry at him, but more so at myself for being such a fool. How many times was I going to let this happen to me?

I had initially decided not to return to work in Yellowstone that summer, but early the next morning, I made a call to my former boss asking him if there happened to be an opening for me. (Most employees apply in January or February and it was now the end of May.)

"Can you start work tomorrow morning?" he asked.

"I'll be there bright and early."

My anger drove me that day to quickly pack my household belongings, which I took to my parents house to store for the summer. I certainly didn't need to burden them with my problems, but I asked them to say nothing to anyone regarding my whereabouts. They agreed. I also contacted several of my friends that he knew, and explained to them what had happened, and asked them NOT to tell him where I was should he ever ask about me.

I returned to gather the rest of my belongings and then head for the park. Locking the door behind me, I quietly said farewell to this chapter of my life for I knew that I would never return.

To be continue...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 43--The Answer)

For the following nine months he would become a temporary fixture in my life. We'd go for "shorter" drives in the country which I loved. As I had no sense of direction once off the main highways, he tried to teach me about sections of land and how not to get lost which I had done on more than one occasion.

We also managed to spend time with each other's family. I understood why he had such a great sense of humor once I met his parents and siblings, who were fun-loving folk unlike I had ever met before. As for my parents, they appeared to adore him, especially my father who would chat for hours and take him into the garage to tinker. Both our families were so opposite and yet so much alike in their own special way.

It was almost a year to the day he first came into my life, and I had yet to ask the question. While watching "The Untouchables" one night, the time seemed right.

"Could I please ask you a question?" I began.

"Yep, just don't make it too hard."

"Why is it that you've never asked what happened to me...why I am the way I am? Aren't you the least bit curious?"

"No, not really."

Wow! That was totally an unexpected response, and I wasn't exactly sure what that meant or what to say next when he continued.

"But if it would make you feel better to tell me, then I'm listening."

As I briefly shared a few tidbits of my life, I watched him intently and saw absolutely no reaction from him. This meant either one of two things:

He liked me for who I was and my disability made no different to him... or

He didn't care because he wouldn't be sticking around for long.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 42--The Joy Ride)

Why didn't I ask him what made him remember me? That would have been the perfect opportunity to discover what people see in me; but it's like so many times before, I never think to ask the right questions until it's too late. I made up my mind that the next time I saw him, I'd ask; except that he, too, seemed to have disappeared.

Once again I spent a fun-filled summer with my friends living and working in Yellowstone National Park. I was mesmerized the park's beauty and wished I could live there all year long, although I also loved teaching and was looking forward to spending the upcoming school year with my students.

It was two days before school started, and I was busy unpacking my belongings and settling into my home when I heard a knock at the door. I couldn't imagine who would be here so early in the day, but as I reached for the doorknob, I heard his voice. He was back after six months.

"Let's go for a ride," he joyfully remarked.

"Well, I'm rather busy moving."

"It can wait...let's go."

I grabbed a sweater and we were off cruising down the highway. "Where are we going?" I inquired. This was a rather strange series of events, and I was more than totally clueless.

"Let's go to the park."

"What park?"

"Yellowstone...it'll be a great ride."

"You aren't serious, are you?"

"Yep!"

I'm thinking to myself that this will be a 350+ mile joy ride. I'll wait to ask him the question that had been lingering in my thoughts since we first left. There would be plenty of time later...350 miles worth of time to be exact.

He kept me in stitches all the way to the park and home again with jokes, stories from his past, and trivial nonsense that I thoroughly found interesting. I never laughed so hard, though, when he mentioned how "shy" he was. Shy? This fella is anything but shy! Anyone who would yell at a perfect stranger across a pool table is NOT shy!

Sharing a goodnight kiss on my front steps, I remembered the "question" that I was going to ask him, but this was not the right moment...next time...

...hoping that he wouldn't wait another six months before returning.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 41--The "Jerk")

"HEY, TEACH!  Don't Miss it!"

I didn't, but rather than celebrating with my teammates, I was concentrating mostly on the "jerk" who yelled at me. Why did he call me "Teach"? I couldn't keep myself from staring at him thinking that by chance I had seen him before or perhaps even met him and just didn't recall. No, he was too scruffy looking and reminded me so much of the first time Ron talked to me that I would have remembered him.

Scoping out the men's teams, I was looking for someone that I might know, someone that would have told this fella, whoever he was, that I was a teacher. I recognized none of them. Case closed...

...until I walked out the door and found him following me to my car. "Hey, Teach, could you give me a ride home?"

Who was this guy? "Hmmm...I don't think so. I'm not headed back to Billings. You'll have to find another ride home."

"I live close to you; and I could really use a ride, or are you going to make me walk?"

It was the middle of February with the temperature hovering around zero. With the amount of beer he appeared to have consumed, he could possibly freeze to death, so I said, "Get in." I certainly wasn't in the habit of picking up strangers, but he seemed harmless enough.

Thirty-five miles later, he spotted his boss' truck at the small-town bar and said he'd catch a ride from there. He was gone, but not before he had explained to me that he called me "Teach" because he had seen me at the high school basketball and volleyball games. That made me wonder.

Do people remember me not because of who I am but rather because of the way I am? I wish I had the answer...Why didn't I ask him that?

Perhaps because I didn't want hear the answer.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 40--Pool)

With my inability to participate in any sport that involved running or strenuous physical activity, I chose to learn how to play pool while in college. I spent hundreds of hours practicing because if I were to do this, I wanted to be the best I could possibly be. Sherry, my friend who wore full-length leg braces, became my partner in crime.

 

Every weekend night the two of us found ourselves hitting the local establishments searching out the pool tables. With most tables being used, we would have to "challenge" the winner in order to play. Our strategy was to allow our male opponents to win at least the first game, perhaps the second, depending on our mood and how good they actually were.

 

Our main purpose of playing was to win and to hold the table in order to shoot pool for free while the challengers fed their quarters into the table. Sometimes we would play for a drink, but never would we play for money. More often than not, our opponents would try to distract us by chatting and asking rather personal questions. Sherry was absolutely the best when it came to shutting down the invasion of privacy.  When asked about her braces, she had a vast number of responses, but my all-time favorite was, "I used to be a professional downhill skier until I hit a tree." That normally would leave our opponents somewhat speechless.

 

While dealing with my personal problems, I found solace by joining a women's pool league in Billings. It wasn't long before my team partner Shirley and I were ranked at the top of the league for the highest percentage of wins. Year after year we held that position and became the "target."

 

Even after starting my teaching career, I continued to play on the league, living less than an hour from Billings. Normally the men's and women's leagues did not play at the same establishment at the same time, but one night, both teams were playing in Molt, Montana, about 10 miles outside the city.

 

My team was in an extremely close match, and Shirley and I were playing the last game which would determine the winner. As I concentrated and lined up my "do or die" eight-ball shot, I heard someone literally yell, "HEY TEACH! Don't miss it!"

 

Moving nothing but my eyes, I glanced upward to see what "jerk" was trying to distract me. He, too, was in the midst of leaning over the table preparing to make a shot, and I thought to myself, "I'm going to punch his lights out if I miss this eight-ball."

 

To be continued...

 

 

Conquering Obstacles (Part 39--The Broom)

Nine months had passed, and I decided it was time to get back on track, which meant returning to college and receiving my degree in December, a year and a half later. There was no big celebration, no announcements, no college pictures, and no formal graduation ceremony. But for me, it didn't matter. It would have put me in front of hundreds of people who would remember the young lady staring at the floor hoping not to trip going up the stairs and awkwardly walking across the stage to receive her diploma. It was another blessing in disguise.

I hadn't dated at all in the past two years, not even while living in Yellowstone National Park during the summers. I just had no desire to be a part of that scene. Chances were slim to none that I would ever find that "true" friend I had been searching for off and on these past years. It would only lead to heartache.

I considered myself fortunate to find a teaching position (in January) in a rural school not far from Billings. The high school was comprised of 35 students; and I taught business courses as well as a sophomore English class, which included a section on public speaking. I personally enjoyed my "speech" course in college, especially since I had the "Take me or leave me--I am who I am." attitude on life.

I felt more comfortable in front of the classroom than I had initially anticipated. There were no stares, glares, points, or giggles from my students. They appeared to accept me for who I was and asked no questions. Most of their attention was drawn to Kip, the new sophomore boy in school. He had come from the Yellowstone Boys Ranch (a home for incorrigible, troubled boys) to live with a foster family who would hopefully adopt him.

One particular day in speech class, the students were to give an impromptu speech on a topic they would draw from a box. They would only have 30 seconds to organize their thoughts before giving the presentation. When it was Kip's turn, he drew his topic, glanced quickly at it, and headed straight to the podium. His topic--a broom.  His presentation went something like this:

Having a broom is like having a very best friend. It comes in all sizes and shapes--tall, short, square, round, or just in between. It comes in all different colors--white, brown, black, yellow, red. Like a friend, it's always close by. When you've made a gigantic mess of things, it will be there to help you pick up the pieces. A broom is like having a very best friend.

Here was a troubled young man who was trying to put his life back together and giving us a life lesson on friendship. Kip taught me that day that I should not give up my search for a "true" friend. He might be very close, perhaps just around the corner.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 38--Death)

Everyone copes with a death of a loved one differently; as for me, I avoid funerals unless it's absolutely necessary that I attend. Don't try to comfort me because it makes me cry all the harder. The worst possible thing someone could say to me is, "He's in a better place now." I understand that, but my question is "How can a healthy, vibrant 23-year old be in a better place. This is supposed to be the prime of his life."

With that said, I am keeping this blog brief. Ron and I spent most waking, non-working hours together until Christmas break when I returned home for the holidays. Because it meant we would be away from one another for three long weeks, Ron decided to fly to Billings the day after Christmas to spend New Year's with me and my family.

I was about to leave for the airport because his flight would be arriving shortly. The call came from his mother; Ron had been hit by a speeding car at the airport and had died instantly. No one is supposed to die before they even board the plane. Shattered and destroyed is what I had become at that very moment.

My parents offered to fly me back to school immediately, but I told them, "I'm done. I'm not ever going back." And I didn't.

With the holidays behind me and nothing but tears inside me, my parents tried their best to comfort me. They encouraged me to transfer back to Eastern Montana College to complete my junior year. But I didn't.

At this point in my life, I didn't want to do anything. It was just so unfair. Life was so unfair. My two loves were gone. Hadn't I endured enough pain...first the physical pain and now the emotional pain.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 37--Late Night Call)

An almost whisper of a "Hello" instantly brought the tears. It had been three years since I had heard Vic's voice, as I recalled immediately that he had not answered a single letter of mine. I couldn't imagine why he would be calling now.

With the initial "Hellos" and "How are you?"s out of the way, I began with the unanswered questions I had been carrying with me all this time. "Why didn't you ever answer any of my letters?" "Why didn't you call?" "Did you think that I would forget about you?" "Didn't you even care? or maybe you just found yourself another girlfriend and threw me to the wind without even telling me."

For the next hour he told his tale of what actually had happened since he left me. He had written hundreds of times and received nothing from me in return. He thought I was the one who no longer cared for him. I don't remember exactly how he discovered the scheme, but his mother had intentionally sabotaged our relationship by withholding my letters to him and failing to mail his to me. Her not particularly liking me proved my "6th Sense" was accurate once again; I found her actions utterly loathsome beyond belief.

My heart skipped a beat or two when he asked if he could come visit me. Without a moment's hesitation, I pleaded, "Yes, yes, yes...please do." He would be leaving as soon as we said our good nights and would arrive sometime the following evening, but would call when he was was nearing Cheney.

Watching the sunrise through my dorm window, I thought only of how it would be when we were together again. Would we still feel the same about each other? or Would we find the magic of love had disappeared? Why is it when you want time to travel faster than the speed of lightning, it stands so solemnly still. Evening couldn't come fast enough for me as I waited by the phone for the call.

The call never came that evening...or the next...or the next. It would be 17 years later before I learned the truth about that night.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 36--The Hello)

Ron asked me to meet him at the library later that afternoon because he needed to get some sleep. It was 8 a.m. and he looked as though he had just crawled out of bed. I couldn't have been more wrong. He was actually a student by day and a musician and disc jockey by night; and he definitely was more eye appealing after he returned later that day.

For the next week we worked diligently on the project though it was sometimes difficult. He was more of a babbler than I was (that's hard to believe, isn't it?); and I was so curious to know all about him. He was born and raised in Spokane, had played in a band since he was 16, had been a DJ since he turned 18, and had never really had a girlfriend because they were "time-consuming" according to him.

After finishing our project and closing down the library late one night, he walked me back to the dorm. While heading to the elevator he spied the baby grand piano in the student lounge, grabbed me by the hand, and literally dragged me into the room. Sitting down at the piano, he asked, "Do you play?" I looked at him and with the straightest face I said, "Monopoly."

I was in awe as he proceeded to pound out song after song; in fact, it turned into a night of "Name That Tune." It was obvious that Three Dog Night was his favorite group. "One is the loneliest number that..." He couldn't really carry a tune, so I did most of the singing...and I think he was quite impressed if I do say so myself.

I couldn't imagine his never having a girlfriend. He was wholesome, sincere, polite, humorous...and after meeting his parents, I knew why he was so genuine. They treated me as though they had known me for years and made me feel like part of the family.

He usually worked two or three nights a week DJ'ing and one night a week doing a "gig" with his band, but spent most other nights with me (and sometimes Janice, my Wacky Weed friend mentioned in a previous blog). Most of our little "date" nights consisted of listening to music at his place, playing "Name That Tune" at the dorm, or attending concerts and gigs in Spokane or on campus.

What I loved the most about him was how comfortable he made me feel about myself. There were times when I was able to forget about the obstacles and struggles of my past. I felt "special" but in an entirely new way. As we stood outside the door of my dorm room, having just returned from a "Paul Revere and the Raiders" concert in Spokane, I thought to myself, "I could love him for the rest of my life." Everything was unbelievably perfect for that one moment.

Once inside my room, I took a shower, chatted with Susan my roommate for a bit, and was more than ready for a date with the "sandman." What seemed like only minutes later, I was awakened by a ringing of the telephone. I glanced at the clock...2:30 a.m. Late night calls usually carried with them bad news.

Drowsily I answered the telephone, "Hello...?"

An almost whisper of a "hello" instantly brought me to tears.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 34--The Awakening)

When my cousin Bill returned from his tour in Vietnam, he and Rita threw a huge party for all of his friends. Among them was a fellow named Lyle who I recognized as one of my classmates from high school. Within seconds he was sitting beside me striking up a conversation about who knows what. I was only half-listening and would  just give him an occasional nod because I was more interested in who was walking through the door.

I stopped in my tracks! "What did you just say?"

"Oh, so you were listening to me. I said that I was in class that day that Ken slapped you."

"That was totally embarrassing."

"Did he ever tell you why he did it?"

"Like I would have ever talked to HIM. Why? Do you know something I don't know?"

"I know WHY."

"Oh, do share."

"Because he liked you, and you wouldn't give him the time of day. I don't ever remember you even talking to him, and I think it made him mad. You were so stuck up in high school."

"What are you talking about? I wasn't stuck up."

"Are you kidding? I could have been lying dead in the hallway, and you would have either stepped over me or walked around me. Everyone liked you...even me, but you were in your own little world."

I couldn't believe what Lyle was telling me. This guy is just plain weird. Me? Stuck up? I doubt that. "Well, I liked you, too, but I don't get it. It doesn't make any sense; besides that, I was just SHY, not stuck up. Why didn't you ever talk to me?"

He laughed so hard then as though that was the funniest thing he had ever heard. "You were shy? Now that's just not the case. If you were shy, you wouldn't have raised your hand all the time to answer questions in class; and I didn't talk to you because I didn't want to be rejected. I wasn't THAT dumb."

That made us both giggle, "Well, thanks for sharing, but I think you're wrong." My new attitude regarding friends must be working, though, because he's talking to me now, and I'm not rejecting him.

However, the entire conversation struck a nerve. Here is this poor fella admitting that he liked me in high school but I totally ignored him. If he's right, then that means my "6th Sense" was doing me more harm than good. It was turning people away from me, people who could have become my good friends, perhaps even "true" friends.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 35--The Beaus)

With Lyle's revelation regarding my "stuck up" attitude, I decided to quit the search for a "true" friend and just take things as they came. My college classes were going well, and I seemed to have more friends than ever before. Most didn't ask me personal questions which was a huge relief. I must admit, though, I wasn't always the best judge of character.

I had a crush on one guy in particular, and it took him quite awhile to ask me out to a movie. We saw "Easy Rider," and afterward I got a peck on the cheek. I thought that was rather odd, but then again, we were just friends. We stayed friends even after I transferred to Eastern Washington State University. He wrote often, but in his last letter to me, he indicated he was "gay" and would be moving to Tempe, AZ. That explained the peck on the cheek. I must have been one naive girl not to have known.

Steve was a few years older than I was, and obviously head over heels for me because he gave me a diamond ring after dating for only two weeks. When my parents met him, I could feel that they didn't particularly like him. They always seemed to know what was right for me; so one day while I was shopping in downtown Billings, it occurred to me that I didn't particularly like him either. I took off the ring and threw it into a snowbank. When I looked back on that moment, I wished that I had taken it to the pawn shop. I was then and still am much too impulsive for my own good.

I was living and working in Yellowstone National Park during my summers and had what I called "fun" boyfriends because we all knew that when the end of the season came, so did the relationships. They positively widened my horizons, though, because they were from all over the country--Huntington Beach, CA, Huntsville, AL, New York City, etc. They gave me the urge to travel which I have never lost. (as I write this blog from a hotel room.)

When I tranferred to EWSU, I didn't realize that the student body ratio was ten males for every female. I remember sitting in an English Communications class that consisted of 34 males and 1 female....that would be ME! Most girls would have drooled to be in a class like that one, but I was feeling outrageously uncomfortable. The male teacher would tell jokes and talk to the fellas in class as though I weren't there. After catching my look, he'd say, "Oh, we have a lady in the room. I'm sorry."

So was I! I had been in class for two weeks and no one had yet talked to me. I was going to give these fellas one more class period to acknowledge me (even a HI would have been acceptable); and if they didn't, I was dropping the class.

To my surprise, the scruffy looking, dishwater blonde sitting next to me actually spoke to me... again and again and again...until the teacher had to ask him to refrain from talking. After class he asked me to be his partner in a magazine research project we had been assigned.... thus the beginning of a magnificent friendship.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 33--The Sunshine House)

I was determined to forget my past and start a fresh, exciting life as I enrolled at Eastern Montana College that fall. My newly acquired attitude would show that I no longer cared what people thought of me. I was going to be happy, and no one was going to stand in my way. I would talk to anyone and everyone despite what my "6th Sense" might tell me. I would study diligently to become the best teacher ever and  devise a plan to avoid taking any physical education courses. (I still hated those with a passion. Some things just never change!)
Within weeks I had a multitude of acquaintances and friends that included hippies, jocks (athletes), nerds, groupies, party-goers, computer geeks, "flower power" folk, and everyone in between. I particularly liked Sherry, not because she was wearing full-length leg braces and using hand crutches, but because she had the most fantastic giggle and sense of humor of anyone I had ever met in my life. I knew immediately that this girl was a true lover of life!

She was studying to become an occupational therapist and would often "babysit" at the Sunshine House, a home for mentally disadvantaged adults of all ages. She would talk about the residents for hours on end and had invited me to sit with her one night. I jumped at the opportunity because I thought it would be interesting and perhaps I could actually help in some odd way.

There were only six residents living in the home at the time, but that particular night Denise was celebrating her 16th birthday and had invited people from a neighboring group home to her party. Sherry and I were definitely going to be quite busy to say the least. I mingled and chatted with each of the residents as the invited guests began arriving. There seemed to be so many people here, and I was having difficulty remembering everyone's name, but I tried my best.

Denise's party was an absolute success! I felt such a sense of accomplishment and was telling Sherry about it when my past suddenly leaped out in front of me.

I happened to be wearing a somewhat large black onyx ring that evening. One of the birthday guests slowly approached me, took my hand into hers, touched the stone, and began rubbing it ever so gently as though it were the most precious gem in the world. As I gazed into her gleaming eyes glued to the ring, I felt as though I had met her before.

When I asked her if she liked my ring, she responded, "Very, very, beautiful." She had just managed to melt my heart. As I removed the ring from my finger and placed it on hers, I gave her a hug and whispered, "It's yours. I would like you to have it."

"REALLY?"

 "Yes, really, but could you tell me your name, please?"

"Me Sandra"

Yes, it was the Sandra from my childhood years, the Sandra I loved to play with, the Sandra who only came home for the holidays. If only adults could see the world as toddlers like Sandra and I did way back then...loving us for who we are, not judging us for being different, and remembering that we are "God's special children."

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 32--Vanished)

That "slap" in the face had more of an affect on me than I had initially thought. With the braces gone, I felt that the physical struggles had now become mental. So many unanswered questions were haunting me. Why would he slap me? Had I done something wrong to him? What would make someone do that? Was I wrong about my "6th Sense? Years later the truth would be told, but in the meantime...

...Vic and I attended both the West High and Senior High proms, and oh yes!! I did get my first pair of white patent leather shoes for the occasion. Neither Jacque nor the "boy" Ken attended the prom which was a huge weight off my shoulders because I feared what might have or could have happened.

As far as I was concerned, Graduation Day couldn't come soon enough for me. These were supposed to be the best days of my life, and I truly wish they had been. The obstacles and struggles in high school were so different than they were in elementary school. I have yet to attend a high school class reunion and never will...that says it all.

To make matters even worse, Vic's mother and father decided to move to Oregon. I failed to tell my readers that Vic was a year younger than I was; and with his family now planning to leave the area, he wanted to live with his older married sister in Bozeman to finish high school. Naturally his mother said NO. I was a true believer that "Love conquers all" and promised to write every day, which I did. Months went by; and I checked the mail regularly, but no letters ever arrived--not one. It was as if he vanished into thin air and was never a significant part of my life.

Oh yes, my Cousin Bill and Rita were married following high school graduation. Shortly afterward, Bill was drafted and headed for Vietnam which caused a great deal of heartache and problems for the both of them. We found ourselves all in the same boat and just prayed we wouldn't drown.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 31--The Slap)

From that night forward, we became closer than ever. Jacque still tried to gain Vic's attention, but when ignoring her didn't do the trick, he literally yelled at her in the school lunchroom one day to "GET A LIFE!" That seemed to discourage her from any future plans of persuasion that she might have been brewing.

Vic and I spent our time together going to the drive-in movies (without Bill and Rita), taking long expeditions through the countryside, or just listening to the rain beat down on the car roof while parked along the Rims. I thought that my life couldn't be any more perfect than this.

As for school, I studied diligently but wasn't involved in many activities. I did, however, have a "REAL" job working in the office two hours a day for which I was paid $50 a month. It was important for me to become independent because I felt that my parents had given me more than I ever deserved. I was feeling so good about myself until the unthinkable occurred.

I was a senior when it happened. I had what they called a "split lunch" period. I would go to class for half an hour, have lunch for the next half hour, and then return for the remainder of my class, which in this case, happened to be civics. My instructor was Mr. Cox, a state legislator at the time. I loved this class and was eager to return. There were a few students in class already as I walked through the door that afternoon. While making my way to my assigned seat, the boy who sat in front of me placed his legs on the chair across the aisle, blocking my way.

"Excuse me, please."

I can to this day still see the glare on his face as he slowly removed his feet, stood up before me, and slapped me across the face as hard as he could (at least it seemed that way), and said, "I've always wanted to do that to you!"  As I sat at my desk, I could hear the gasps and whispers from my classmates; but I was so stunned, I had no idea what to do at that moment.

It was so hard to hold back the tears--I couldn't do it. After Mr. Cox arrived, I grabbed my books and walked out, knowing that he would be right behind me. I ignored his calling after me. I didn't want to have to explain to him what had just happened, and I certainly didn't want him to see me cry.

When I told the Dean of Girls about the incident, her response was, "Why would he do that?" I blurted out, "I think you're asking the WRONG person! How would I know? I don't even know him!" All I knew was his name...Ken Ketterling...because it seemed he was forever sitting in front of me because of the "seating alphabetically" rule among the teachers. She had no idea how to handle the situation so she turned it over to the Dean of Boys, Mr. Kosich. After telling him my story, he said that he would take care of it, whatever that meant. As far as I was concerned, they had better find me a different class because I refused to go back.

When I told my parents what had happened, they were furious to say the least. This was all so new to them that they had no idea how to comfort me. Around 8:00 that evening, the telephone rang. My mother told me it was the "boy" and he wanted to talk to me. "Absolutely NOT! Why would I even want to do that?" But she insisted.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you," was all he said, and I hung up without saying a word. What would I have said? "Oh, it's okay?"

The next morning before school started, I barged my way to the front of the line of boys waiting to see Mr. Kosich. He didn't have a chance to say anything before my rampage... "That's it? A fake I'm sorry? That's your way of taking care of it? He STRUCK me! He humiliated me in front of the entire class! and WHY? Did he tell you WHY he did that? or did you even ASK him? You need to DO something!"

Even though Mr. Kosich gave the "boy" a 3-day school suspension, for some unknown reason, it didn't make me feel any better about myself.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 30--The Bond)

When I returned to Vic's, he was obviously curious as to where I had gone and what I had done, but I really wasn't in the mood to "share." It was between Jacque and me, not him, even though he was the reason for the encounter.

It was only then that he told me about her telephone calls; her wanting to eat lunch with him at school; her constantly following him around all day like a lost puppy; her waiting at his locker between classes; her asking for a ride home so she wouldn't have to ride the bus; and her wanting to spend more time with him to talk about me, of course, because she was my best friend.

I don't know whatever possessed me to say it but at that very moment I told him, "If you want her, then have her."  I was in tears by then feeling the loneliest I had felt in a very long time.

Wrapping his arms around me, kissing away my tears, he whispered for the very first time, "I love you."

Was this going to be the bond that would hold us together forever? We still had another year of high school and only time would tell.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 29--The Confrontation)

As I sat outside in my car, the tears became free flowing. Surprisingly, I felt no anger toward Jacque, only a numbness. Vic lived in my old neighborhood, so as I slowly drove the streets with no destination in sight, I thought about all the years Jacque and I had been friends, all the struggles we had shared, all the sleepovers, all the giggles, one good time after another. And now it had come to this.

Hadn't Vic said, "She calls all the time."?  Why would she do that? Why wasn't seeing him at school enough for her? After all, what could she possibly have to say to him? I couldn't believe that this was happening to me. She lived about a mile away; and as I drove that dark, lonely street, I thought about what I would say to her or what she had to say to me. At this point, though, I really didn't care what she had to say. This was going to be MY turn.

Her mother answered the door and led me into the bedroom where I found Jacque talking on the telephone. The minute she saw me, she hung up. For a brief second, I wondered if she was talking to Vic again, but it didn't matter anymore. Immediately she said, "I'm so sorry," but I didn't give her the opportunity to say much more than that.

I sat down beside her, and took her hand into mine. "All these years I thought you were my "true" friend because we shared so much. I didn't think I would ever say this, but I actually feel sorry for you. You always wanted to be like me, didn't you? That's why you liked coming to my house and doing my chores, trying to be part of MY family. You wanted everything I had hoping that you would become the somewhat "normal" one as I have . But it doesn't work that way."

She tried several times to interrupt me, but I wouldn't allow it.

"And now you want my boyfriend? Do you really think that will make you happy? Because all I know is that you have just lost possibly the best friend you will ever have had. If he is that important to you, then go for it. But you're going to have to win his heart...and you will lose. Why? Because you have always had everything just handed over to you, but not this time."

"I don't ever want to see you or hear from you again." I gave her a hug and walked out of her life forever.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 28--The Boyfriend)

The blind date turned out to be much more than I had anticipated. The phrase "tall, dark, and handsome" didn't begin to describe Victor (Vic). He was all of that and a thousand times more. He was 6'2, lean and well-built, and had the most eye-catching smile. He seemed to be rather shy, though, which was fine with me because that meant he wouldn't be playing "20 Questions."

We saw each other often but it was nothing compared to today's ritual of "dating." My parents wouldn't allow me to see him during the school week, and I could only go out one weekend night at least until I turned 16. Actually I preferred that because this whole scene was so new to me. My parents never talked about him much, but I had the impression that they liked him.

His family was a different story. His father was a truck driver so it was awhile before I met him, but I liked him. He was a typical dad. As for Vic's mother, the first time I met her, my 6th sense came roaring to the front line. This woman obviously did NOT like me for some reason. I could feel it--the tension every time I walked through their front door.

Because Vic had a much younger brother, he would frequently babysit on the weekends. If that were the case, we would just hang out at his place to watch TV or listen to music.

One such Saturday night, Vic was making us some popcorn (the Jiffy kind that you had to continually shake on the stove or it would burn) when the telephone rang. He asked me to answer it.

"Hello, Smith residence." CLICK! A hang-up call. I didn't find that too strange. Someone must have just dialed the wrong number. But shortly after that, it rang again.

"Hello, Smith residence." CLICK!

The third time it rang, Vic answered. "Hello...yes...no...yes" and so the conversation went for several minutes. At first he avoided looking at me while chatting, but then rolled his eyes in disgust. "I have to go now. See you at school. Bye."

I've always been the curious type and had to know who was calling him and why they hung up when I answered the first several times.

"It was Jacque. She calls here all the time," he muttered.

"Say that again, please."

"It was Jacque."

I could feel the tears welling inside as I kissed him goodbye, grabbed my jacket, and walked out the door. "I'll be back soon."

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 27--Date Night)

My mother's sister Betty had an only child, my cousin Bill who was just nine months older than I was. We spent a great deal of our childhoods together even though we lived across town from one another. I remember playing cowboys and Indians, (he always got the toy gun because he said girls don't know how to shoot), building our forts with Lincoln logs, and playing Monopoly for hours on end when we got a little older. We went to the movies every Saturday morning and often attended baseball games because he lived just a block from Cobb Field, home of the Billings Mustangs.

To my dismay, the time came when he was more interested in girls than playing games, especially since I had been away from home so long. He was now attending West High School (along with all my other childhood friends), and that's where he met his girlfriend. Rita was unlike anyone I had ever met before. The first time Bill brought her to meet my parents and me, I found it somewhat humorous. Instead of sitting on the sofa, she sat on Bill's lap, wrapped her arms around him, and proceeded to tell us that she would be marrying him someday. Good Grief!! I think they had only been dating for two weeks!

I laughed so hard--not at Rita--but at my parents' reaction. They were very conservative in their ways, and I could just imagine what was going through their minds right about then. My dad kept making peculiar facial expressions while my mother just kept a smile pasted on her face; it was obvious that they were feeling quite uncomfortable at that moment. My father was usually so outspoken, and I was surprised he didn't give Bill his two cents worth of advice. He must have been in shock and speechless!

The following week Bill telephoned me because he needed a favor. He wanted me to go on a double date with him, Rita, and a friend of his from school. Wow! After meeting Rita, I didn't think my parents would ever allow such a thing, but they did. Oh No!! I didn't particularly have any interest in boys even though all the girls I knew were dating off and on. I just thought, "Who would want to date ME?" and never really cared one way or the other...

...until then. What have I gotten myself into by telling Bill "Yes"? What is this friend of his going to think? I wonder if Bill told him EVERYTHING about me? or am I going to spend the entire evening answering question after question? This could be bad!

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 26--My Car)

Who would have ever thought that my first car would be such a huge obstacle to conquer? Certainly not my father who purchased it for me, even though he knew it would still be somewhat difficult to drive despite the fact my braces were now gone. He was definitely aware that I was somewhat uncoordinated to say the least, and this challenge brought tears of laughter from both of us.

Like a good dad should, he took me out to practice driving while I was an eighth grader to prepare me for Driver's Education Class. I sailed through that course with flying colors like most young teenagers who are so eager to get behind the wheel. With a learner's permit in hand, I would beg my mother to let me drive if we had errands to do. She adamantly refused! She would never, and I mean NEVER, ride along when my dad would take me out driving. It became such a joke among us that we would continually tease her about it. She must have thought it wasn't her job as a mother, or she just wanted to see another day!

My dad surprised me with my first "new" car. He paid big dollars for it--$333 to be exact. I was elated and obviously didn't know much about cars. It was a small, boxy-looking 1963 "RAMBLER." I found this photo of one, so just picture it being cream colored and in "VERY USED" condition. That would have been my car!

What he didn't tell me was that it was not an "automatic" like not only their car, but the Driver's Education car as well. This car was a "stick shift."

I had never even seen a stick shift car, and had no idea what a "clutch" was. This was going to be by far the most interesting challenge I had encountered. We drove around the block about a dozen times while my dad showed me how to "shift" and explained how the clutch worked. I wasn't understanding a single word he said, but I loved this car.

Then it was MY turn to drive. I killed that car engine time and time again without even moving out of the driveway. He laughed so hard and kept telling me, "More gas...less clutch!" I'm thinking to myself, "what the sam hill does THAT mean? It was all Greek to me!" After at least a thousand attempts, I had finally made it to the street before the engine died once again.

Wait! I get it! It's just a matter of timing. Unfortunately, "getting" it and actually "doing" it were two different things. Every night after my dad got home from work, we'd go out driving. I was learning slowly but surely. The engine would die at every STOP sign (I needed to work on that one), and while I was chug... chug... chugging down the street, my father's favorite words were "More gas...less clutch!"

Several weeks later as I pulled my Rambler into the driveway, my father yelled, "YOU DID IT!"

Yeah for me! and thanks for being so patient, Dad!  Another obstacle overcome!

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 25--Goodbye Oxfords)

Upon returning to school both "crutchless" and "braceless," I immediately saw a drastic change in my classmates' (mainly girls) attitude toward me. They were outwardly happy for me and let me know every chance they had, even those who had never given me a second look in the previous months. I graciously accepted the "cheers," but on the inside I was angry. They were undoubtedly the most ignorant people I knew. Ridding myself of crutches and braces didn't change who I WAS. I'm still the same person, but they never took the time to get to know me. The girls in my class were superficial and shallow. Could they become my "true" friend? Not in my lifetime!

There was also a second change that occurred. While walking the hallway between classes, I never greeted anyone because I was just too busy checking out everyone's shoes. Mom told me on the trip home that I could have a new pair of shoes--a pair of what I called "REAL" shoes.

I didn't want just any pair, though. When I mentioned patent leather shoes to her, she informed me that I needed to be more practical--that patent leather shoes were for special occasions. She reminded me of a fact that I have yet to share with my readers. Polio had left me with one foot slightly smaller than the other and required "mismate" shoes (one of each size), which would be orthopedic shoes; or my parents would have to purchase two pairs of shoes which would be even more expensive.

Nevertheless, my mom knew I had waited so long for this moment that she gave in "just a little." I picked out a pair of somewhat shiny black tie-up orthopedic "dress shoes" which were to be worn to church. At least they didn't look like Oxfords! Why I remember how much they cost, I have no idea, but it was $104 in 1965. It was more than the grocery bill for an entire month.

She also purchased for me a pair of penny loafers which were in style at the time and exactly what I was hoping I could get. I loved those shoes, but more than that, I loved the two new, shiny pennies my father gave me to slip into the waiting empty penny slots. Oh! and how I loved my parents! They were the best!

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 24--Thankful)

Day after day, I now carried out my plan to chat with those who I felt would be comfortable around me. It seemed to be working as the number of glares and stares became fewer and fewer and the number of classmates who greeted me daily became greater and greater.

I was somewhat thankful when my mother decided it was time for me to ride the bus to school. It gave me the opportunity to meet other students from my new neighborhood. Of course, when I was maneuvering down the aisle of the bus, there were always those few who would stretch out their legs or slide to the aisle so that I wasn't able to sit next to them. My sixth sense just reminded me to put them on the "ignore" list. The majority of them were very nice, though, and eventually became good acquaintances or friends.

Jacque (my "true" friend from grade school and junior high) and I still did our sleepovers, but not nearly as often. I loved them, though, because she was attending West High School and would spend the entire evening just catching me up on all the gossip about my former classmates. I honestly did want to keep in touch with all of them, but it was really hard at the moment, especially now that I had a "clunker" on my left leg. I just didn't want to have to explain it; and besides that, it would be gone very soon.

February was here before I knew it; and for the final time I rode the train with my mom to Spokane. I didn't pay much attention to the doctor visiting with my mother because I was concentrating on the nurse who was removing my brace and replacing it with a brand new pair of Oxfords. I'm thinking to myself, "THOSE will be heading to the back of my closet. Patent leathers here I come!"

The farewell was much sadder this time as I made one final tour of the hospital, knowing that I would never return. Even though I had displayed my "ornery" attitude at times while a patient, I was so thankful for everything the staff had done for me. They had definitely changed my life for the better and for that I will always be grateful.

I learned two valuable lessons in life during the past nine months:

I need to learn patience regarding God's plan for me.

No matter how hard life becomes, I will be thankful because there are many people whose lives are much harder than my own.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 23--6th Sense)

The following Wednesday I was dismissed from the hospital. It was a sad farewell, not because of the other children, but because the nurses and doctors had been my lifeline for the past six months. I'll return in three months to hopefully rid myself of this brace. However, with all of the disappointments I have had, I'll believe it when I see it.

After driving all night, we finally arrived at our new home which was filled with relatives preparing a holiday dinner even in the wee hours of the night. It was the best homecoming anyone could have ever had, but I have to admit that most of my thoughts were now on school. I am dreading that first day so much...

...and for a good reason I soon discovered. It was a nightmare! As my mother was registering me, I keep peering out the door into the hallway to see if I recognized anyone. Not one person! The Dean of Girls was telling us that the school had approximately 2200 students and there were 650 in the sophomore class. I didn't care to know how many unfriendly kids were here. I just wanted to know how I was supposed to motivate three flights of stairs on crutches (which I was told to use for the next three months) because there was no elevator in this school. That's what I wanted to know!! She explained that my teachers would allow me to leave class 5 minutes prior to the bell and that someone would be carrying my books for me. (I don't think backpacks were even invented way back then.)

By the time she finished issuing me a locker, the first class had already begun. Here I go!...trailing behind the Dean of Girls who was carrying my books. She told me that the instructors were expecting me and that a classroom seat had already been assigned. Everyone was waiting for me. Oh Great!!!

Hour after hour, class after class nothing changed. I was seated alphabetically among the students, the girls stared and never attempted to talk to me, and the boys JUMPED at the chance to carry my books. I'm sure it wasn't because of me, but because they wanted to leave early. I have to admit, though, that they were at least friendly while walking with me to my next class.

Hadn't anyone taught these students that to stare...to glare...to intentionally avoid...to point...and to make faces at the new student in school was inappropriate behavior. Oh well! It reminded me so much of grade school, but these were high schoolers and they should have learned by now how to respect ALL of their classmates, not just a select few.

After the first week, I had found five former friends,--three from my junior high school and two from my confirmation class. I would be happy with five friends, but it would be nice to have a few more. I need to be more assertive; the worst they could do would be to "snub" me. It's not like that hadn't happened before.

As I recalled my classmates in each course, I mentally made a checklist of who I thought could be a good friend of mine, and that's when I came to the realization that I had developed what some would call a "6th Sense." I might have had it for years and just never gave it much thought. But I did now.

Whenever I found myself in a large group of people, whether students or adults, I somehow always knew which ones felt uncomfortable around me, which ones would more than likely turn and walk away if I approached them, and which ones would actually speak to me.

Yes, I had a sixth sense, and now I needed to use it to my advantage.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 22--No Way!)

I'm just so happy that my parents weren't there that Tuesday and the following days. It was hard enough motivating with one cast, let alone two. They certainly didn't need to see me struggle; I'm sure they had struggles of their own that were more important than mine. But seeing them for those few days gave me hope and a much more positive attitude. It was definitely the medicine I needed.

Every morning now my bed was pushed to the schoolroom where I would work independently on my studies. My teacher, Mrs. Patterson, spent most of her time with the younger children, which I could definitely understand. The only other person with me behind the room divider was Roy, a freshman. He was the chatterer and obviously not "into" school, unlike myself. Every once in awhile the teacher would appear and give him the big "SHHH" while we chuckled under our breath.

Once the left cast was removed, I had to have physical therapy, which was the worst part of the day for me. Trying to walk on a newly operated foot with crutches while wearing a full-length cast was way too much work. After several weeks, the doctor told me that I was going to be measured for a new brace on my left foot. "WHAT?" This could NOT be part of God's plan for me! I was here to get rid of it, not to get a new one! and on the other leg?  Forget it! He tried to soothe my anger by explaining it was only temporary. It would help me learn to walk again with the cast. Great! A new pair of Oxfords! I can't imagine why I ever believed him, but I did.

Maybe I needed to focus on the good things happening here. The nurses had given us girls a record player for our room along with a stack of records of popular songs so we could jive to the music. The hospital now had a color TV which was the first time I had ever seen one. Wow! and I could even participate in those wheelchair races up and down the halls. Yeah for me! There were always groups of people who would tour the hospital and stop by to visit us children. Not to sound ungrateful, but we unquestionably preferred the local high school football players over the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

I now had been here almost six months, the cast were gone, and I was ready to get outside. It had been so long since I had actually felt the warmth of the sun and the wind in my face. It was time...just get this brace off. And to my surprise, the Friday morning doctors round brought good news. It WAS time for me to go home.

"What about the brace?" I inquired. Once again, I heard the same words, "It's only temporary, but you need to wear it day and night for at least the next three months. We'll give you some exercises to do in the meantime."

The tears flowed uncontrollably...."No way!  No way!"

Every time my life turned the corner, there always seemed to be another obstacle to conquer.

To be continue...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 21--Come Tuesday)

Yeah!  It's Friday! I'm not sure what time my parents would be arriving, but I wasn't taking any chances. I was ready bright and early, wearing my favorite pink and white dress from the wardrobe closet. There was nothing that could ruin this special day for me....

...until five doctors walked in to do their routine Friday rounds. I thought that they'd check the cast on my right leg and move along, but they had news for me--I was scheduled for surgery this coming Tuesday. What are they talking about? I didn't need any more help. I should be going home soon. They were going to transplant some tendons on my left foot, which I had always considered my "good" foot. Unreal--totally unreal!! They informed me that I would wear the right cast for 12 weeks and the left one for only 6 weeks. That was good news according to them. They also knew that my parents were coming and had agreed to not tell them about the surgery until it was absolutely necessary.

I can still see my parents walking through the door after dinner that Friday. It was only the second time I had ever seen my father cry. The other time was when my grandfather was killed. But I knew these were happy tears. I was determined NOT to tell them about Tuesday. We spent the next two days talking about anything and everything, including my new bedroom that was waiting for me, and school, which I was now absolutely dreading.

The time went by so fast, and before the doctor had a chance to visit with my parents, my mom told me that she knew I was having another surgery on Tuesday. When they first arrived, they had heard the nurses talking about the surgery schedule...and my name being mentioned. Naturally, they felt horrible they couldn't stay longer, but I told them...

"...It's okay if you're not here. It's not pretty, and besides that, I'm a 'big girl' now and can handle anything."

My mom was right...."God has made me a stronger person."

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 20--Happy Birthday! and The Best Call EVER!)

My 15th birthday wasn't exactly "good" considering that I was in the Shrine Hospital for Children six hundred miles from home, I hadn't seen my parents in six weeks and didn't know when I would see them again, and I wasn't able to talk with them on the telephone. However, I had the BEST party ever!!  As my 35 "inmates" and I entered the Sun room, my eyes immediately spotted my birthday cake, a 3-tiered white with pink polka dots cake. We all laughed so hard!! "Why?" you might ask. Because my favorite dress from the communal clothes closet was white with pink polka dots! Oh, and the music was blaring! All of our favorite tunes from the Monkees to the Beatles played throughout the afternoon. The nursing staff and the doctors on call that day danced and partied their hearts out for us...just as they did on EVERY child's birthday. They definitely knew how to throw a party!

A month later it was finally my turn! I was excited to be done with this and get back home where I belonged even though I was actually having a great time here. As the nurse explained the procedure to me, I just kept shaking my head, Yes...Yes. I already knew what would happen because I had my tonsils removed the year before. Or perhaps I was trying to portray the "courageous" side of me even though I was very apprehensive.

The staff here had a ritual that seemed so peculiar to me. On Tuesdays a child who were scheduled for surgery would be placed on a gurney and moved to the elevator door. The nurses on duty and as many children as possible would gather at the door; and as the gurney was pushed into the elevator to head downstairs to the operating room, everyone would clap, cheer, and yell out well wishes such as "Hurry Back!" "See you soon!" "It doesn't hurt!" When it was my turn, I realized that it wasn't peculiar at all, but their way of saying, "We love you, and will be here for you when you get back." What an awesome ritual!

According to the doctors, the surgery went well. I wasn't sure I believed that, though, because they kept surprising me the following week with moves I wasn't expecting. They cut the bottom of the cast off, pulled and twisted on my foot as I listened to my bones popping. This couldn't be good! They plastered my foot and again beamed at their success. Oh well, I hope they knew what they were doing. This full length cast looked and felt rather awkward, especially when it started turning colors around my ankle. The doctor assured me everything was fine and that it was just a little blood. YUCK!!

I haven't mentioned my family since this ordeal began, but my father kept his promise and sent me a newspaper every day. I was receiving tons of letters and writing just as many. Aunt Clara and Uncle Barney had been coming to visit me every Sunday afternoon following church. I found Aunt Clara quite a unique person, unlike anyone I had ever known. She wore the most beautiful dresses and  was always wearing a fancy wide-brimmed hat.

 My mother, too, was making those calls to the hospital several times a week to see how I was doing. On the Thursday before Labor Day, the nurse told me that my mom had called and that they would be coming to see me...the next day! I was soooooooo excited and started crying uncontrollably. It had been 3 months since I had seen them.

It was then that I told the nurse to get me a doctor. She became concerned and asked, "Are you okay? What's wrong? Are you hurting anywhere?" I begged her, "Just get me a doctor, please." She flew out of that ward, and within minutes, my doctor appeared, a worried look in his eyes.

I blurted out, "You need to cover that blood on my cast!  My mom and dad are coming! and my mom will faint if she sees that blood!  Hurry!"

He burst out laughing at me and said, "Yes, Ma'am!"

To be continued....

Conquering Obstacles (Part 19--Grrrrr!!!)

I am so upset and so angry now that I could just scream! Maybe then someone would listen to me!

I have been here for two months now and not one thing has changed. I haven't even had a surgery. This is such a waste of time! and I miss my mom and dad!

Oh, every Wednesday is dentist day, so I did make a trip to see him the first week I was here. He said he found a small cavity and proceeded to fix it; but after giving me Novocaine, he didn't wait long enough for it to take effect. So I had a dozen more shots, well--maybe two or three--enough to make my jaw numb for what seemed like days. That dentist is an A-1 loser!

The four new roommates that I had are now gone, either with or without casts. That's where I should be--GONE! Even the new girls have had their surgeries. I don't get it!! I'm thinking that I should be home by now.

Every Friday all five doctors make their rounds and tell the children whether or not they are going to surgery the following Tuesday. When they get to me, I eagerly ask them, "Is it my turn yet?" And each week they give the same response, "Soon. We need to be patient." Finally, on their most recent round, I replied, "I AM the patient! I don't even know why I'm here if you aren't going to do something." (I'm hoping they don't report my behavior to my parents.)  But...still nothing...not this coming week.

The food is good, and the nursing staff is nice to everyone. As for the entertainment, they seem to have everything here that a child could want. Except me! I want a wheelchair so I can join in the races up and down the hallways like the other kids. This simply is NOT fair!

Grrrrrrrr!!!!

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 18--Leaving Home)

I have no idea why I actually chose to leave home at age 14, but early the following morning, I told my mother, "Yes, I'm going." She nodded her head and said, "I'm happy for you."

I don't recall much of the next five weeks except that I was somewhat alienated from my classmates because I was working independently now to finish my schoolwork ahead of schedule. Of course, they all asked me why I was doing it, so I just told them I was going on "vacation" which wasn't a total lie. I just wasn't able to tell them because I probably would have spent those five weeks crying my eyes out. It was hard enough leaving my mom and dad.

Before I knew it, my father was hugging me goodbye as my mom and I prepared to board the train. He promised to send me a newspaper every day because he knew how much I enjoyed reading it. That was just so sweet of him. I told him, "That's cool, and I promise not to be gone too long."

Another train ride, another hotel stay, another taxi ride, and another walk into the hospital--the only difference was that this time I was carrying a small bag that included a new address book that my mom had given to me, which I had filled with addresses of friends and relatives, a book that I had taken to read on the train, and the clothes on my back. I definitely had mixed feelings--the fear of the unknown and the anxiety of having my mom leave me.

Following a short consultation with one of the doctors, a nurse showed us the way to my "home away from home," a huge room that I would share with four other teenage girls. She introduced me to them, showed me my "space," and then led my mom and me to the hugest closet I had ever seen in my entire life. It was filled with what seemed like hundreds of dresses and drawers filled with undergarments. Wow! This might not be so bad after all! I love clothes! I did notice, though, that there were NO shoes lining the closet floor.

Once I had changed my clothes, we were given the grand tour of the hospital including a sun room, playroom, schoolroom, entertainment room, and TV room to name a few. Back in my own room, mom helped me settle in and chatted with me and the other girls who were so curious to know all about me. After all, we would be living together for who knows how long.

When visiting hours came to an end, my mother gave me a super hug, kissed me several times, tried wiping away my tears...and walked quietly away, turning once to blow me a final kiss.

I was heart-broken. Why did I ever say Yes?

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 17--Wrong Answers!)

I  had so many questions and so few answers with so little time to make what would perhaps be the biggest decision of my life; and it was quite apparent that my mom and dad were not going to give any direction. Unfortunately, they had made that perfectly clear.

When I arrived home from school the next day, though, my mom informed me that Mr. Smith had received the same letter that we had and that he would be coming to visit with us once again. He would be able to give me the answers I had been searching for throughout the night.

Even though I made a list, he was definitely more prepared than I was. He brought with him some basic rules that were to be followed:

1) I was to bring no personal belongings to the hospital except an address book, a pen, and stationery. If I brought anything else, it would be sent home with my parents, along with the clothing I wore to the hospital.

2) I could have as many visitors as I wanted, but they were to follow the very strict visiting hours posted. (Like I would be getting any visitors!)

3) I would not be allowed to talk to my parents on the telephone. However, they could call as often as they liked to check on me or relay messages through the nursing staff, and the nurses would in return tell me about the call. But we could write letters as often as we liked.

4) Packages received would be opened by the staff, and they would determine whether or not I could have the contents. (Stationery would be a safe gift to send.) Perishable items were to be shared with the other four girls in my ward. If flowers were received, they would be placed throughout the children's wing of the hospital.

WHAT? I just didn't get it!  This is going to be much harder than I thought it would be!

He knew that I was upset by the rules and explained to me that all children were to be treated equally; and if one child received hundreds of gifts while others received none, it could cause problems among them as well as hurt feelings. Their goal was to protect us the best they could.

Regarding school, a classroom was available. The hospital would contact my home school and together they would determine which courses I would be taking. The school would send the textbooks, but they needed to be approved by the Spokane School District because an instructor from that district would be issuing the grades, not the hospital.

For the most part, Mr. Smith gave all the wrong answers to my questions. How could I possibly go knowing that I couldn't even talk to my mom and dad on the phone?

THIS IS INSANE!!

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 16--Questions???)

As I lay awake in bed that night, the questions rambled through my mind.

Am I truly happy the way I am? If that means wearing Oxfords for the rest of my life, then I would say NO. If it means not having as many people stare and point at me, then I would say Yes. My classmates are much nicer to me now than ever before. I think they have accepted me for who I am. That definitely makes me happy.

BUT...my parents are building a new home and will be moving across town this summer. The majority of my classmates will be going to West High School while I will be attending Senior High School. This means starting all over making new friends, so will I be happy the way I am? Probably not because it's going to be tough enough as it is to make friends.

I wonder how long I'll be away from home if I decide to go? I've spent  two weeks with my grandparents in Wyoming during the summers for the last few years. I didn't get homesick. Then there were the weeks at church camp, and I was okay with being away. I'm sure this is going to be more than just two weeks, though.

Wow! I'd be gone on my 15th birthday. That is definitely something I would miss. I wonder if they celebrate birthdays in the hospital?

Will I be back before school starts? I remember when Jacque came to school in the middle of the first grade. I think that would be hard to handle. Everyone has their friends made by then, and being older, I would think it would be even harder to make friends.

What if I'm gone the entire school year? I'd probably have to repeat my sophomore year which would be a total disaster!!  Hmmm...I wonder if the hospital patients even go to school...very good question!

Will this be my one and only chance to change my life? The Shrine Hospital only helps children up to the age of 16, which means that if I choose not to go, I will have thrown away this opportunity. But there could be others, couldn't there?

But then I hear my mother's words once again, "There are no promises." That's quite a negative thought coming from my mother considering she's usually so positive about everything, but perhaps she's preparing me for the worst.

What to do?  What to do?   Is this or is this not part of God's plan for me? 

So many questions and so few answers.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 15--The Letter)

When we returned from our trip to Spokane, it was as though it had never happened. Other than "How was your trip?" neither of my parents talked about it, and I somehow thought that it probably wasn't a good idea to mention it myself. My mom's comment "There were no promises" stuck in my mind; and for the next several weeks that's all I thought about.

Walking through the door one afternoon, I saw both my parents sitting in the dining room, a letter lying on the table between them. Seeing the return address, I knew that it was from the hospital. "Did you read it, Mom? What does it say? Tell me. Is it good news?" As she handed me the letter, I knew that they had already opened it. There was total silence as I read the letter not only once, but twice.

"Mom! This is super news! They have accepted me as a patient! and it says I need to be there on June 1."

"It's wonderful news, but your father and I need to talk to you about it." I'm thinking to myself, "There's nothing to talk about. I can go. I have no idea what the problem is. This is what all of us have been waiting for," and then she continued.

"You need to understand a few things. First, we don't know long you will be away from home. It could be months. You also need to realize that we won't be able to travel to Spokane to see you because your dad has to work and I need to be here with your brother and sister. You'll need to finish your schoolwork early because you will be missing the last two weeks of school."

"That's not a problem, Mom. What's wrong?"

Then she dropped the bomb! "Your father and I want you to be the one to decide whether or not you go. The final decision is yours."

"You are joking, aren't you?"

"No, We're not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do. We don't know what its like to be you. Maybe you're perfectly happy with the way things are. We don't want you to be unhappy living away from home for heaven knows how long. And we all need to remember that 'there are no promises.' We need to contact Mr. Smith by Friday so that will give you a few days to think about it."

I muttered, "I'm 14 years old. I'm just a kid. You have to tell me what to do. This is not fair!" as I walked away from the table and headed to my bedroom where I would spend most of the night thinking about what had just happened.


To be continued...