Over the course of the next week, while I try to honor my mom and keep my grief in check at the pending annivesary date of her death, I will share with you the miracle I grew up with.
The picture above is my mom--with my oldest child when she was about 3. Keep the picture in mind as I try to share her with you.
My mom was born in New York--to my grandmother--who was a shop keeper and my grandfater--who was a piano tuner and played 7 instruments--even though he was blind. I never knew the man. He died the year I was born and was divorced from my grandmother by that point because he was an abusive SOB--my mothers words, not mine--but I digress.
She was born perfectly normal. At around 2, she was given a little sister. At around 4, they moved back to Indiana. At the age of 7, she got sick with something...I don't recall anymore..strep throat or something...and missed a few days of school. Feeling better, she went back..that evening after jumping rope in the house, she told her mom it was the last time she'd ever jump rope--she was right.
She came down with influenza meningitis. She was in the hospital for almost a year--due to the high fever from the meningitis she was a quadrapalegic--c5-7. Basically she had no movement from the armpits down. When they finally sent her home, they sent her home to die.
She didn't-obviously. But she did end up in a wheel chair. She also ended up in a special school for the handicapped. I always thought it sounded like a lot of fun. She got a good education, and graduated at 18. After graduation she ended up in the hospital with staph infection--because not only did she have no movement from the armpits down--she had no feeling. She had a pressure sore go bad. At 19, in order to save her life, they amputated her right leg above the hip. They again, sent her home to die...she again defied the odds--that ended up being one of the themes of her life.
More tomorrow---i'm already teary eyed.
hugs and blessings