However, I do not wholly agree with the title of this post, a quote I nicked off of Google. I didn't have some sort of epiphany before beginning this blog. Instead, I did realise that, whilst thinking about the past couple of years, if I'm honest with myself, I may be taking today for granted, and the reason for that is because I have never truly accepted yesterday (okay so I do sound like I've done quite a bit of meditating). So today, I will begin to accept it, and, in fact, do more than that. I have decided to speak out through the medium of writing to as many, or as few people who read my words, and maybe make a tiny difference in my life, and the life of others.
Ramble aside, I'd like to formerly introduce myself. In a matter of days, I will be a seventeen year old about to embark on her first days of sixth form. I wouldn't say I'm living an exceptionally interesting life, or doing anything out of the norm, but I suppose this is my way to break the mould. I never, I repeat, never, felt like your average child growing up. I felt very far from average. Mentally, and physically. And maybe through a combination of the two I have become the person I am today, and fought my battles the way I have because of it. We all have our battles, that's for sure. Mine I can proudly say I won. My battle was suffering with blounts disease since I was less then a year old.
Blounts. Quite unheard of. Quite rare. Not a killer, not untreatable. But, none of that means that each, and every child, like myself that has had to suffer with it isn't as impressive as the kids across the ward who survived car accidents, or cancer.
This is not just a point I'm trying to get across to you, the reader, but something I'm slowly learning for myself. During the many years when I was facing operation after operation, and being treated for my condition, I found my coping mechanism was to repeat the words my mother always told me when I faced days that were harder than others.
"There's someone out there much worse off than you."
And, by God, those are the truest words I've ever heard. So during the times when I lay awake at night in what felt like agony, and didn't want to wake my parents, who were juggling caring for a sick child, and long, tiring shifts at work, I told myself someone out there was sitting somewhere having it a lot worse than me.
Blounts is a growth disorder of the lower limbs, also known to those that are into their medical speak, as tibia vara, and causes a child's legs to become severely bowed, causing them to have, like in my case, difficulty walking. It sounds all rather simple when put in such plain words, but suffering from blounts is far from that. Each sufferer has their own experience, and those that are lucky have had it caught early enough for surgery not to have to be an option.
Why my battle with blounts was so much harder than most was because although my family could see all the signs, although they persistently returned back to our GP, they were continuously pushed away. My mother was told that she was just doing what all first time mums do which is worry too much. My legs became increasingly bowed, yet my parents were still told that it was normal, and that I'd grow out of it. When their chance to finally speak to an orthopaedic doctor came, a man who was supposed to be specialised in spotting the early signs of such a disease told my parents that again. they were worrying too much, that I would be fine, and that there was nothing that could be done for me. However, it was clear that I was not your normal one year old, and through unimaginable, and truly admirable determination, my parents took me across the world looking for answers, only to return back to England, and at the age of six, I was finally diagnosed. We had decided not to return back to London, and move out to a quieter part of the country, and maybe that move was the best we ever made because it led us to a doctor that would soon change my life.
But due to that string of no's from past doctors, people who were mean't to be looking out for my best interest, my condition had worsened, and I was now at the stage where only years of surgery would ever get me near to some sort of normality.
My consultant's words to my parents were...
"Why did you ever let it get so bad?"
And that breaks my heart. It truly does, because out of everybody they fought for me the most.They were the only two people who were there for me when I was frightened about my next operation, when I didn't want to get out of bed because the pain was too much to bear, and when I used to sit, and wonder, why this had all happened to me, why I was being punished with such a miserable life.
Over the coming years, they would be the ones to drag me out of bed, to push me to swallow back the medication I refused to take, and travel with my across the country to the only hospital which specialised in my condition.They made me believe that things in life happen for a reason. That this 'thing' would one day be over, and that I'd come out stronger because of it.
I wasn't your normal kid. I didn't spend all my early years running round the school playground, playing with friends, and participating in sport. Instead I spent those years racing after them in my wheelchair, showing them how to use the new set of crutches I'd just gotten, and letting them sign the new pink cast I'd had put on.
I rarely speak so openly about my condition, how I truly felt when I underwent those operations, and how it's changed me. I have the huge array of scars to remind me each, and every day of the struggles I faced. And like my scars, I often hide this huge part of my life, because I've always been determined never to let my condition define me, and who I am. Now, I've realised, I can't run away from my past, so why not embrace it. My past is already shaping my future, and for the better. I plan to study the full gruelling five years in med school, and become a paediatrician, specialising in orthopaedics, so I too can help someone who wasn't dealt the fairest hand in life.
So, although, I may not have lived many extraordinary years on this Earth, and I may not be the wisest of individuals, hopefully, for the weeks, months, years, to come, you will read my words, and realise that you too have a past which isn't worth hiding any more. Let it empower you, and others. Inspire yourself to do better, to be better, and through that you can inspire someone like you to do the same.
My condition does not define me. But it did make me the person I am today, and for that I am forever thankful.
