My Story - Part Three

I could have graduated in January 1983 because I had enough credits but I chose to stay in school. I am glad that I did stay in school because I experienced another proud moment in my life. In late February or early March 1983, I received a letter saying that I had become eligible for the National Honor Society. I applied for membership. I was sitting in my first hour class one March morning. It was my hour to be teacher’s helper for my Latin teacher. I had done it the previous semester as well. Someone came by with an envelope for me. One of the class members received a letter too. Towards the end of the hour, I opened the envelope up. I had been accepted into the National Honor Society. I was in shock because I just casually mentioned it. LOL. By the end of that day, I was so excited. A week or so later I went through the induction ceremony. It is a very special moment in my life that I will never forget.

On Tues., May 24, 1983, my youngest brother and I graduated from high school. My youngest brother and I were in the same grade. I had my first nasal reconstruction in the fall when I was suppose to start kindergarten. My mom thought it would be good for us to be in the same grade. She did it so we could support one another. As far as I know, my brother was never harassed about my appearance. I can count on one hand the number of people who bothered me the most throughout my school years. They never teased me about my appearance though. And two or three of them came to respect me. In reality, I think more people give me a hard time about going to KU than they did about anything else. :-) I am often called a traitor because I lived in Missouri and went to school in Kansas.

Four days after my brother and I graduated from high school, my oldest brother married his high school sweetheart. They had started dating in the summer of 1978. I can remember coming home from Colorado in July 1978 and meeting my future sister-in-law at a city park.

In August 1983, I moved to the campus of the University of Kansas in Lawrence. The transition from home to college wasn’t too difficult. I moved into a co-ed dorm where I began to make new friends. I only did one roommate switch my entire time at KU. That was my first year. I ended up hating my roommate by year's end and would spend mega time away from her. I never really cared for any of my roommates except for the roommate I had my junior year. She and I did a lot of things together before she left school not too long after the second semester began. She was depressed. She attempted suicide one weekend while I was home in the fall of 1985. It was difficult because I felt like I let her down by not being there. She was seeking counseling at the time. I always felt that people thought I should have done something more. Fortunately, after she left school, I did not have to deal with a roommate for the remainder of the year. The following year I was so sick of dorm life. I came home nearly every weekend that year. I knew that I was coming back home and having more surgery the following fall.

By the end of 1983, my paternal grandfather began to fail rapidly. He had undergone open-heart surgery in December 1975. While I was in the hospital in the fall of 1978, my grandfather had a stroke. He blacked out. He was rushed to the hospital. My mom had to divide her time between two hospitals then. In February 1984, my grandfather went into a nursing home. His short-term memory was gone. He couldn’t remember our names by the time he entered the nursing home. My grandfather stopped walking alone when he went into the nursing home. When the family would visit (which was frequently), the family would walk with him. During his stay in the home, my grandfather was abused by one of the nurses’ aides. In early 1986, my grandfather developed a decubitus ulcer (bedsore). The doctor failed to treat it. The night before Easter, my grandfather was rushed to a nearby hospital because he was dehydrated. We were not sure if my grandfather was going to make it or not. He spent five days in the hospital. At one point, he was taken to surgery so the surgeon could debride (cut away) the dead tissue in and around the decubitus ulcer. He went back to the nursing home and ended up back in the hospital less than a week later. He was dehydrated and had an infection. None of the family thought he would make it. When he was released from the hospital more than two weeks later, my grandfather was moved to another nursing home. He lived until September 2, 1986. He died due as a result of the decubitus ulcer. He never knew that he would have another grandson.

In 1984, my mom’s brother separated from his wife and later that year they divorced. After his divorce had been settled, he met a woman who was a teacher at the time. My family and I met Judy in the summer of 1985. All of us instantly liked her. In September 1985, they were married in a small church ceremony in Topeka. In either late June or early July of the following summer, my parents, maternal grandmother, and I met my mom’s brother and sister-in-law for dinner. During the dinner, they asked us what they think that they should do with one of the spare bedrooms in their four-bedroom house. I suggested a guest room. That is when they told us that they were expecting a baby. We were sooo excited for them. This would be my mom’s brother first child. He and his first wife did not have any children.

I need to back up a bit… Right after my mom’s brother and sister-in-law’s wedding, my oldest brother and sister-in-law announced that they were expecting their first child in May of 1986. They did not find out the sex of the baby until the birth. Ashley entered the world on Monday, May 19, 1986, at 11:03 AM. She weighed 8 lbs. 6 oz. I can’t remember how long she was. I remember going to the hospital at 12:30 AM and sitting in a hallway from 1:00 AM until my brother came out of the delivery room. About 11:45 AM, my dad and I started walking towards the nurses’ station. We met my brother coming down the hall. She told us the baby was a girl and she was going to be a golfer. I remember a nurse carrying Ashley down the hall. Ashley was less than an hour old. We followed the nurse and baby to the window of the nursery and watched the nurse clean Ashley up.

In August 1986, I headed back to KU for my senior year. Like I said, I spent moist of my weekends at home. For one thing, I enjoyed being with Ashley. Being an aunt was brand new to me. Another thing, I knew I was facing more surgery the following fall.

During the spring semester of 1987, I began my battle with the School of Social Welfare. I had entered the social work program in the fall of 1985. I had told the director of the undergraduate program that I needed to finish y degree requirements before the fall of 1987 because I would be having more surgery. It was decided that I go for a summer practicum. I wanted to work with people who were elderly living in nursing homes because of my grandfather. During spring break in March 1987, I went for an interview. But I didn’t get the placement. It was late April 1987 before the school came up with another placement for me. And it was a placement that was not suited for me at all. The director of field practicum told both my mom and I to take it or leave it. That it was all that the school was going to offer me for the summer. I had no choice but to take it. I spoke with the woman who would be my field instructor as well as the woman who would be my direct supervisor. I accepted the placement even know I knew it was not the right placement for me. Not too long into the placement, what I call emotional abuse started. One of her first negative comments to me was: I think that your teachers let you slip by in school. That comment hurt. The direct supervisor didn’t like my clothes (I was just a college student living off my parents at the time so I had no money for clothes). She wore $80 dresses to work and drove a Mercedes-Benz. How ironic since she worked with people who were on very fixed incomes. She didn’t like the way I wore my hair. She didn’t like the fact I wore no makeup (and still don’t to this day). During the practicum, the woman went on vacation to Europe. During that time, I had to work directly under the field instructor. One day I asked her why she never looked at me when she talked to me. She told me that my face looked terrible. I was devastated because of the years of reconstructive surgery that I had gone thru to get to the point where I was at the time. I swear the only time that woman looked me in the face was when she told me that I was not going to pass the practicum. I ended up walking out at the end of that day never to return. Then I had a client unknowingly insult me by recommending a surgeon in Arkansas. The school assumed it was totally my fault. The faculty didn’t want to hear it. The person who was my field liaison put me off for three weeks. In 1989, I found a non-profit organization who would advocate on my behalf to allow me to do my practicum there. In the fall of 1989, the school allowed me to do my field practicum again. This time I passed with no problems.

During spring break 1987, I went down to the local blood bank. It was strongly recommended that I have an HIV test done because of the transfusions over the years. I sweated out the results for three or four days. I am happy to say that the test was negative. (In January 2000, I went thru a paramedical examination for life insurance. The company requires that labwork, including a test for HIV, be completed. Again, the test for HIV test came out negative.) After I received a negative HIV test, Maggie, Dr. McCoy’s nurse, strongly recommended that I bank my own blood for any surgery (except in the case of emergency surgery) requiring a blood transfusion. For my surgery in October 1987, I donated three units to myself. This is pretty big for someone who hated needles. After doing that, I can tolerate needlesticks a lot more. But I still don’t like finger sticks.