February 12, 1975

     A year passed. Eventually. But I am here to tell you, although the years pass much more quickly as you get older, it passes really, really slow when you're thirteen years old in a cast.

     For a whole year, I was back at that hospital for a cast change every three months. Lots of x-rays. Lots of pain. Lots of embarrassment. Lots of really yucky memories. And now it was about to come to an end. Or so I thought.

     I re-entered the hospital on February 12, 1975 for the permanent removal of my cast. Part of me was ecstatic and part of me was very scared. I didn't know what to do with my feelings, so as we left home, I simply reclined in the back seat and fell sound asleep.

     We arrived and went right upstairs. I was brought to a room and as usual, Shirley was there. Oh Shirley, I do wonder where you are today? I was soon brought to the 'ol familiar cast room. This time I wasn't shimmied over to the "balance beam" table. This time they laid down plastic on my bed and I had to lie on top of it. Then a man came with "the" saw and I had to raise my arms above my head. He started under my right armpit and as I always did, I prayed that he didn't cut me. You could feel the vibration of the saw as he moved along the cast and I don't know who was more stressed in those instances, the patient or the cast cutter! He did well and as soon as both sides of the cast were cut, they simply removed the top shell. Then they had me turn to my left and shimmied the bottom cast from underneath me. The cotton stocking was still on me. Then a nurse by the name of Ann took a pair of scissors and cut it off of me. You may ask how I remember her name? I have no idea! I just do. I remember she was older and very soft-spoken and she took measures to respect my privacy, shielding my young body with sheets as best as she can. Perhaps that is why I remember her name. Privacy was NOT something that was thought of often then, but she did show compassion and concern. So I remember her. She helped me into a clean Johnny, covered me up and called for an orderly and soon I was being whisked to x-ray.

     I was taken to the same room I was brought to over a year ago, where they took the "naked" pictures. I was handed the same black blindfold and paper panties and I even remember being told I should smile. Imagine that? I mean, are you kidding me? Smile, when you're standing there naked? At 13 years old? So they got their pictures and remember thinking, "I won't ever have to do that again!'. And thank God, I never did.

     Then I had to go to "x-ray" and have those familiar 3-foot x-rays AGAIN. I was then put on a gurney. It didn't feel "real" yet, as I had experienced this same scenario (except the naked picture part) every 3 months for quite some time now. When I was brought back upstairs, Shirley came and slathered the baby oil and she would always say, "Scratch to your heart's content, but don't bleed or I'm not letting ya outta here!” She was so funny. So I scratched and my mother would yell at me, "Stop scratching! You're going to bleed!” I kept scratching. An hour or so later, I was brought to the bath. This time I was allowed to get into the tub on my own; however I soon realized that I needed help. I felt "weird". After the bath, I was brought back to my room and Shirley massaged my skin with body lotion and my mother came in with clean clothes and............a bra!! Why do mother's always think of everything?? Before my surgery, I wasn't wearing a bra. I guess now she felt I needed one. I looked down and realized............I did. Sort of anyway. I said to Shirley, "I feel funny" and she said, "What do you mean honey?" and I said, "I thought the cast was what made me feel so stiff and straight and I still feel that way now?" and she said, "Sweetie, your spine is fused. It IS stiff and straight, but before long you will get used to it and you will figure out ways to compensate". I started to cry. I cried, "Why did this have to happen to me? Why can't I be normal??” We sat on the bed and she told me that although I was feeling down, everything was going to turn out okay and I would get used to it. Then she said, "Let's go for a walk!" and off we went. Charlie was there. He ran up to me and Shirley stopped him from practically jumping on me. He asked if he could kiss my cheek, I obliged!! (I probably made him soooo happy at last!). I remember him saying, "Gosh, you stand so straight" and he saluted me!! Then came all the other "regulars" whose names I just don't recall. Except for Marco. He was such a sweet little kid from Mexico.

     As we approached my room, I heard Dr. Hardy's voice. I entered and there he was. He was larger than life and came and gave me a huge, but gentle, hug and said, "How's my girl?" and Shirley told him that I was a little "surprised" that I was so stiff but that I was already getting used to it. He said, "Aw honey, I fixed you up perfect, don't be sad! You look great!” I think I mentioned how I had always taken my old casts home for some reason and this time he asked, "Where's your cast?" and I said, "I didn't ask for it and they didn't give it" and he said, "Did you want it?" and I replied, "NO!". I was ready to move on. I remember my parents asking a lot of questions. I don't recall all that was said, but this is a synopsis of what I do remember:

1. NO horseback riding - EVER.

2. NO skiing - EVER. (The ONLY "sport" I had ever, ever even liked! Go figure!)

3. NO diving - EVER.

4. NO gymnastics of any kind - EVER.

     As we all walked out of the room after he filled out my discharge papers, he had his arm around me and I DO remember him saying, "You're cured! Go live life and have fun Valerie. You're all set. I'll see you at my office in 3 months!" and off we went. I turned and kissed Shirley good-bye and several other nurses. Shirley was crying as she kissed and hugged my mother good-bye. I then said goodbye to the kids that had gathered, as they were watching me leave. My very last memory of Newington Children's Hospital was as we were walking to the elevator, I turned back one more time, to glimpse at the place and people that had become part of my life. The very last person I saw was Charlie. He had tears streaming down his face. I waved and smiled and we walked out of the hospital. Part of me was so happy and part of me wanted to run back and never leave. I was leaving "family" that I knew I would probably never see again. And I never did.

Heading home....

 Well, the day came for my discharge and I was headed home. I don't recall what day I was discharged or how many days I was home before I resumed attending school, but I do recall my mother telling me that I had to get someone to "carry" my books and I would be able to get a pass which allowed me to leave class early and travel through the hallways without the chance of anyone bumping into me. Now keep in mind that I was in the all too familiar body cast. I don't actually recall a lot of kids being mean to my face but I did get a lot of stare's and a lot of kids talking to each other while covering up their mouths so that I wouldn't hear. I never did hear much, but when you know kids are talking about you, it almost doesn't matter exactly what it is they are saying, just that they are talking about you.


The friend, the only friend I really had any longer, was the one I chose to be my "book carrier". When I asked her, she was thrilled, as this allowed her to leave classes early too! Her name was Janet Christy. I first met Janet when we were in Girl Scouts together and always remained friendly, even though her family was more affluent than mine. Janet lived in Avondale and she was so pretty. Blonde with long legs and a smile that could win you over in a second. On top of that, Janet was a smart girl. If you recall, Janet came to visit me a couple of times while I was in the hospital.

I remember my mother insisting that I write thank-you notes to all of the people that had sent me flowers, cards and gifts and so my mother and I enlisted the help of my sister Michele. She was to help write some thank you cards with me and sign them "Valerie" because I had so many to write. But.....Michele inadvertently signed her own name to all of them! We were "exposed" - I didn't write all of them myself. The "secret" is out! Ha! Ha!

I also remember that Dr. Hardy strongly encouraged me to participate in physical therapy and in particular, swimming. I fought this notion with everything in me and I won! However, with all due respect to my mother, I don't think she made the right decision. Yet, as a mother myself, I actually understand why she didn't push me. I am certain that she felt that I had had enough!! Enough pain, enough surgeries, enough of it all and I don't think I needed to push too hard to convince her that I wanted no more of it. I do think I would have been much better for it though. School ended and the summer vacation began. I didn't do much all summer. I had no desire to go out with that cast, plus I was HOT!! It was heavy and it was hot. I think I spent the majority of the summer watching TV in front of fan!! It was brutal.

Toward the end of the summer vacation, I received a call from Janet Christy that she and her parents had decided that she was going to attend ”The Williams School" in New London, CT. The Williams School is a co-educational private college prep school. I was heart-broken. My only friend was leaving me. So sad. In the end, I never really saw a lot of Janet Christy after that. I would see her on occasion down in Watch Hill or at a function here or there. We were never really friendly again and sadly Janet passed away quite a few years ago when she succumbed to breast cancer. If I recall correctly, she was living up North, New Hampshire or Vermont I think and she left behind her husband and 2 or 3 small children. My heart was heavy when I learned of her death. She was good to me when I needed a friend and I will never forget her. Godspeed Janet.

The next school year began and I felt a little better just starting my second year of junior high. I think I just left class early myself now, I had no "book carrier" and this year started relatively smoothly. I continued to go to Newington Children's Hospital every 3 months for a cast change, enduring the same experience with the plaster of Paris and saws as I previously stated. However these times, I would arrive at the hospital (or did I say this already?) and I would be brought down to the cast room, they would saw it off and I would be allowed to lay flat on a bed. I would be wheeled up to a room where I would be joined by my parents. A nurse would come in and squirt baby oil all over me and I was allowed to scratch and feel my skin on a soft mattress. To this day, sometimes when I get into bed at night, I stop and marvel and the wonderful feeling of lying on a soft bed and relish in how comfortable it really is on our bodies. After several hours of just scratching (I would be soooo itchy from the dead skin and I would be scratching it right off of me) and feeling myself settling into the mattress, the nurses would take me for a bath. Once again, I was hoisted by this apparatus that would lift me into the air and into the tub. It felt sinfully wonderful. To this day, I say it is the little things in life that make us happy. I loved when they would rub my skin with a facecloth. I would be dried off and then the nurse would slather body cream on me and I was always sad when it was time, once again, to be wheeled back to have another cast put on. Sometimes, it seemed like it would never end. But it did. Eventually.

Right before the new school year began, I went back for a new cast and...........this time they stopped the cast at my collar bone. No more cast under my chin or behind my head. I felt like I would wear a shirt without it being so obvious. They even cut a small "V" in the front, so when I would wear a button-down shirt, I felt more normal. Hmmm..........normal. I guess I am lying. I didn't feel "normal" at all, but it was a little more close to normal than I had been in a really long time. And now when my sister Ursula would wash my hair, we didn't have to worry about getting the cast wet!!! Thank God for small miracles! Isn't it amazing the little things that can make us so happy?? I think that was when I really understood the concept of being grateful for the little things - it was then that I learned that things can always be worse. Worse was having the cast come under my chin and halfway up my head. Better was having it at my collarbone with a "V". I like "better" than "worse", so always remember, things can always be worse!! Right?