I am now my 30 years in the future person. At 61, I’ve achieved much of what I wished for at 31 with certainly far more than I could have ever imagined at 14. But, there have been great losses. One of which was giving Adrian anything similar to a “normal,” healthy childhood. I bear that burden alone. Leslie also shares in this except she doesn’t take responsibility for anything done wrong. She’s not introspective nor given to self reflection. Also, we only see each other on accident with brief meaningless exchanges. In her presence, I am constantly on the watch for indirect meanness.
The long term effect on Adrian of the chaotic and destabilizing house alternating lifestyle became a conversation with Adrian and I. Eight years ago, she began dating David. David was hovering at 50 to her 24. He was in rehabilitation housing for cocaine addiction. She lives in Portland now after graduating from Portland State University.
Rahne and I were visiting, shopping with Adrian and David in northeast Portland. We were joking around doing sarcastic commentary and laughing. Adrian must have been telling an odd, funny story about Leslie. Laughing, she says, “Getting together with Leslie. What were you thinking?”
I laughed, relieved to have the conversation in the open. Inside, I was thinking, yes, just what the hell was I thinking? Outside, I said, “That’s the problem, Ad. I wasn’t thinking.” I thought and added, “Even when my mother was the only one that liked Leslie, I didn’t take that as a clue.”
Adrian has known about my mother’s abuse since she was four and hasn’t seen my mother since she was two. She nodded, “Yeah, that really should have been a sign!” We laughed more. It had a bitter ring to me.
Adrian kidded me lots about that for several years. I took it good-naturedly. I believe it’s her right to hold me accountable for my decisions in parenting. Eventually, I thought of a reasonable comeback to lessen the sting. “You know, it’s true I made a very poor decision picking Leslie to have a child with. But once I did that, I went about finding the best damn person on the planet to be your third mom in Rahne.”
Adrian didn’t even pause, “That’s absolutely true. You did. Good job.”
* * * * * * *
(1989)
I continued to have intermittent problems with walking interspersed with needing crutches. At times when I placed the crutches and swung my body through them, I feared both legs would land in a giant hole. I would be swallowed up. It was another morning when I woke up and couldn’t move either leg. Really?!
It was the most damnable thing. I could feel my skin to touch it. When I sent a message for my legs to move, I got no response. What now? There weren’t many options. I waited. Finally, I maneuvered myself to the floor and scooted my butt backwards dragging my legs to get to the bathroom and finally the living room couch.
I said to Rahne, “I guess we have to rent a wheelchair. Would you go get one?”
“Yes. And, then we’ll need to go to urgent care.”
“Naturally.” I didn’t have a lot of faith in western medicine. (I still don’t.)
Rahne came back with a rented wheelchair. “It cost $10 a week or $30 dollars a month.”
“What did you do?”
“I wasn’t sure what to do. I rented it for a week. We can convert it to monthly if we need to.”
“God, I hope not.”
* * * * * * *
We unloaded and rolled into urgent care at Group Health, waiting room C. I was using a damn wheelchair. I was light with long arms. It wasn’t difficult for me to propel myself. But, I was angry, hating the world and not expecting much from an urgent care doctor. After the wait, I was questioned and poked. I experienced my first neurological examination. Something both Rahne and I can now do in our sleep.
“We don’t know what’s wrong. You’ll have to make an appointment with your regular doctor.”
“Do you have any ideas? Anything to watch out for?”
“If you lose control of your bladder or bowels, you should come in right away. That could indicate a serious spinal injury.”
I thought, and this doesn’t? All I said was, “Ah, good to know.” I was angry. Where were all the caring concerned specialists I’d seen in stories when a person is suddenly in a wheelchair? Where were the rehab people? The people that helped one get back on their feet. Where the hell were the alarm bells announcing that SOMETHING IS VERY WRONG?
“Call your family medicine doctor tomorrow and make an appointment.” That didn’t seem very alarm belling to me. Although internally, everything was alarm belling.