As I've said before, I was born in the Edmonton General Hospital in 1971.
Following a month spent in an incubator, I returned with my parents to Northern Alberta towns like Bonnyville, Falher, and McLennan.
From what I remember, those were pretty good times.
I went to daycare.
Rode in my first Ford LTD.
Had my first Grape Crush. And no it doesn't taste the same 42 years later. Darn corn syrup.
Got a dog named Tippi. Loved him to bits, and the feeling was mutual. A rather spirited and adventurous canine who thought he could outrun cars on the highway. He couldn't. So I learned a life lesson.
Also got myself a sister around that time, when we lived in McLennan. Loved her to bits and still do. Although she is also spirited and adventurous, she so far has not tried to outrun cars on the highway, so she is still here. For which I am forever grateful.
But the other thing that I got in McLennan was my cerebral palsy diagnosis, at about the age of four. As I grew, my parents were somewhat puzzled and worried that I wasn't doing any of the things that babies normally do, like grabbing at Mom's hair in the crib or even making the first steps to crawl.
So the CP diagnosis was a bit of a relief for my parents. Very basically, in my case it meant that my logic circuits, for lack of a better term, were damaged by the four minutes of oxygen loss at birth that caused the cerebral palsy, in addition to the physical impairments that require me to use a wheelchair
And that meant that I had to move from McLennan to Edmonton, so I could attend the Glenrose School Hospital. At that time in the mid-1970s the school was tops in Alberta for combining the Edmonton public school curriculum with individualized therapy programs. So off I went to the Glenrose at the age of five.
But that meant that I had to leave my parents at that age and move to Edmonton. That was hard on all of us. It was also hard for my Aunt Betty and Uncle Marcel, who lived in the suburb of Sherwood Park and agreed to take me in. This was quite something for them to agree to, as they already had my two-year-old cousin Brigitte in their family. And my cousin Diane would be born later in the year. And they did their best to care for me even though this included dealing with my bouts of extreme sadness when I missed my parents, who did manage to come see me for weekends about three times in the year and a half I was there. But the partings were always very painful, and I would often act out my frustrations by yelling at Brigitte, or by leaving messes in very inappropriate places. But they were very patient with me, for which I am very grateful. With them I also remember good times such as my first couple of trips to the A&W drive thru in Sherwood Park and to McDonald's. And because they were very watchful over my health, I also remember my first trips to the dentist. My parents did move back to the city after that year and a half, and naturally I was ecstatic. And there were more good times to be had when Aunt Betty and Uncle Marcel moved their family to Kelowna about five years later (my spirited and rambunctious cousin Nicole joined the brood by then). There were wonderful and picturesque Christmas celebrations, one trip to the Big White mountain, and in two summers, many trips to the beach.
Many years have passed, and my cousins have all grown up, married, have children, and have had lives and careers in all kinds of exciting and far-flung places. In the summer of 2012, my dad, my sister, her husband and I made a weekend trip to Kelowna to celebrate my grandmother's 95th birthday. It was a great chance to catch up and reflect on old times. It got me thinking, but in the whirlwind of the weekend I didn't get the chance to take Aunt Betty and Uncle Marcel and tell them something.
So I will do it now.
Thank you Aunt Betty, for being very patient with me back then and not giving up on me in spite of all my crying and messes. I love you.
Thank you Uncle Marcel, for always showing me your joie de vivre even though looking after me was very much uncharted territory for you and Aunt Betty. I love you.
Thank you cousin Brigitte, for enduring my childhood torture. As I look back, I see that you could see that I was hurting because you had a kind soul then and you still do. I am very very proud of all you have done to help those who need it in this world, and I love you.
Thank you cousin Diane, for being the first baby I ever held when your parents brought you home. I don't think I dropped you because you turned out great! I have always appreciated your ready smiles over the years, and I love you.
Thank you cousin Nicole, for still being spirited and rambunctious, and for still very much marching to the beat of your own drum. I know you won't mind me remembering the time when we all went to see Superman 3 during one of the summer visits. About five minutes before the movie started, you shouted (at four years old) "We're gonna see PORKY'S!!!" Couldn't blame you, as the ads for Porky's 2: The Next Day were all over TV. I am very proud of you for all the good you have done in your life, and I love you.
Thank you Grandma Simone, for always pushing me to do better and for always wanting the best for me. I didn't quite understand why then, but I do now. I love you
And finally, thank you Mom and Dad, for making the hard and painful decision you did back then. I am a much better person because of it. And whatever may come in my life from this point on, I will be able to handle it. That is a great gift. So again, thank you, and I love you.
I love you all!
Your Partner In Life
