I am lucky that I when I look back I remember conversations and experiences as if they happened yesterday, which is why the Diary works. My father walking behind me when we went out for walks telling me to stop dragging my leg and to pick my foot up.
All our walks seemed to be conducted in this way. It amazes me how I managed to brush the whole thing off with just a shrug and a comment, but that wasn’t without its difficulties. I remember getting angry at the injustice of it all, but none of my physical or emotional issues were without its difficulties.
I also remember having to wear inappropriate shoes like open toed sandals, flip flops, wedges that I constantly walked out of because I couldn’t hold on to my shoe, having no working muscle in my foot or leg, let alone trying to walk normally. I used to walk toe-heal, instead of heal toe. I couldn’t make head or tale of it back then, but I do now.
When I look back I still can’t believe an original diagnosis was made for me at just under 3 years old, but the diagnosis I didn’t know about, has since changed, because I have two limbs affected, not one.
That my father was aware, because he took me to my mandatory hospital checks every February. That he also took me to the Athletic Institute in May every year for 12 years, for more check ups, when I was finally discharged at the age of 15.
Unfortunately, even through these times my disability was never mentioned, never spoken about. Nothing was ever questioned and the questions I tried to ask, went unanswered.