Raising a Choice Spirit

Disabilities are hard on kids, especially when they are young. They want to fit in. They want to feel included and have friends like everybody else. I would know. When I was younger, I was one of those kids. Quite frankly, now that I'm an adult, it still gets to me after all this time.

I was born two months early and had to be put on oxygen. Whenever my family members wanted to hold me, that oxygen tank was right there. It was like my constant companion as a baby. I was on oxygen for about a month which my parents believe damaged my eyes. Because of that, I have had glasses ever since I was three years old.

Forgive me. If you have to tilt your head to see these pictures, I'm terribly sorry. My computer wouldn't let me rotate my pictures around, but they are still there so enjoy! :)

Grandpa and Grandma Foster with little old me. I was so small, those clothes I'm wearing are from a cabbage patch doll.

This was the ambulance that I rode in.

I suffer from short-term memory loss (seriously, it's true). My mom noticed I had it when she would give me chores to do and I would have to go to her and ask her what I was supposed to do again.

From kindergarten up until my senior year of high school, school has been difficult for me. I wasn't the best student. I didn't get the best grades. Most of the kids in my class were worried about what they wanted to do after high school and what college they were going to get into while I was busy being worried if I was even graduating high school.

It was hard to make friends because of my memory loss. There was a group of girls that just hated me. They would make fun of me and stare at me almost to say, "What the heck is wrong with you?" I tried really hard to put a smile on my face and be nice to them, but they didn't want anything to do with me. So, I quit worrying about it and focused on the friends I did have. 

In sixth grade, two of the girls in that group thought it would be funny to steal the checklist I took to school every day. My checklist had my schedule with directions on how to get to each class. I was mortified because I didn't know where I was supposed to go. So, I stayed in the office with the secretaries of the school all day long, bawling my eyes out and feeling so embarrassed because I didn't have my schedule memorized yet. Thankfully, the secretaries in the office were my very good friends. They were happy to spend the whole day with them.

Throughout the school years, I would meet with the school psychologist, Mr. Graham. He would test me on my memory. I only remember a few tests that he would give me that would give him an idea of how my memory is. These tests included me having to repeat back words to Mr. Graham in a specific order, looking at a picture with objects in it and looking at the picture again and placing the objects where they were in the picture before, and making pictures with blocks.

I coped with my memory loss the best I knew how growing up. I would be called names by the kids in school. Even a high school teacher made fun of me. I was put down a lot, but I had a good group of friends that helped me be a better person and not listen to those who put me down just because I have short-term memory loss.

Everything was going fine. I learned how to cope with my memory loss. I had accepted it and tried to work harder to remember better. I had friends who were always there for me. It seemed like everything was going great, until the unthinkable happened. On October 25, 2003, I was asleep in my room. My mom heard a Thump! and went to go check on my sisters in the other room. She didn't even think to go in my room first because she knew that I was a very sound sleeper. To this day, I stay in one spot in my bed the entire night. So, she went into my sister's room and checked on my two sisters. Then, she went into my room. She saw me on the floor having a full blown grandma seizure which made me fall out of my bed.

My parents called 9-1-1 and the ambulance rushed me over to Primary Children's Medical Center in Utah. When I woke up in the hospital, I noticed IVs were attached to my arms. A nurse came in and asked me if I remember anything that had happened. I told her I didn't remember a thing. She said that I had a seizure in the middle of the night. Then, the doctor came in. A CAT scan and an MRI were done on my brain. The doctor said that I had a tumor and it needed to be taken out.

That light spot is where my tumor was.

This was my scar after my surgery. To this day, it is still one of my favorite pictures. I don't know why, but it is. Maybe it's because it's all bloody and gross. ;)

I got a black eye from the surgery. That was kind of fun. I used to joke around that my dad and I got in a fight and he punched me in the eye. My dad finally said, "Don't tell people that. They will think I really did abuse you."

My mom, me, Aunt Catherine, Aunt Lucy, and Grandma Richardson- I love Grandma's "thumbs-up"! I did it! :)

I want children with any source of disability or who feel different from everyone else to know that they are never alone. There are always good people who want to help them along the journey of education and throughout their lives. I know sometimes that they feel insecure because they are "different" from everybody else whether it be their friends, colleagues, or even family members. However, they must never feel that they are alone. They have so many people surrounding them who want to help. All they have to do is ask. :)