Wednesday, May 26, 2004
Back When I Was Young and Fancy-free
I have yet to talk about what actually happened to me during and after surgery, but I feel that I want to go back in time before returning to the ugly present.
I was brought up in a home where disability was the norm.
When I was around four years old, my mother had to stop working due to her arthritis. I remember vaguely when she got a cane. I was not happy having to walk around with a mom on a cane. But I got used to it. Better that way since it was just mom and me, my father having dropped out of the picture shortly after my birth.
Forty-eight years ago, life was not as scary as it is today for children. I always walked to school alone, rode my bike around the neighbourhood, hung out with friends, etc. Fortunately, I didn't need my mother's supervision because she could barely leave the house on her own. I think she always needed someone to help her get down the front steps and she couldn't drive so she was really housebound.
I did most of the housekeeping--vacuuming, dusting, laundry--but my mother could still cook. So, like many professional women of my generation, my home cooking skills are rather basic!
Growing up, I didn't quite realize how different things were for us. We didn't have much money, in fact we were on what was euphemistically called "mother's allowance"--a step above welfare. I recently found out that it doesn't exist anymore. Now, if you're not a welfare bum, you're on disability. Any way you cut it, nowadays people on social assistance are dirt poor. I guess we were lucky. Forty odd years ago, you could still pay your bills, the rent and eat on what the government gave you.
I loved my mother and really appreciated all the moral support and love she gave me. Her disability was secondary. It was the backdrop to my growing up but it was not top of the mind. I was fine. I could go out, run, dance and have fun with my friends. So what if I had to empty her bedpan because she couldn't get to the bathroom?
I was brought up in a home where disability was the norm.
When I was around four years old, my mother had to stop working due to her arthritis. I remember vaguely when she got a cane. I was not happy having to walk around with a mom on a cane. But I got used to it. Better that way since it was just mom and me, my father having dropped out of the picture shortly after my birth.
Forty-eight years ago, life was not as scary as it is today for children. I always walked to school alone, rode my bike around the neighbourhood, hung out with friends, etc. Fortunately, I didn't need my mother's supervision because she could barely leave the house on her own. I think she always needed someone to help her get down the front steps and she couldn't drive so she was really housebound.
I did most of the housekeeping--vacuuming, dusting, laundry--but my mother could still cook. So, like many professional women of my generation, my home cooking skills are rather basic!
Growing up, I didn't quite realize how different things were for us. We didn't have much money, in fact we were on what was euphemistically called "mother's allowance"--a step above welfare. I recently found out that it doesn't exist anymore. Now, if you're not a welfare bum, you're on disability. Any way you cut it, nowadays people on social assistance are dirt poor. I guess we were lucky. Forty odd years ago, you could still pay your bills, the rent and eat on what the government gave you.
I loved my mother and really appreciated all the moral support and love she gave me. Her disability was secondary. It was the backdrop to my growing up but it was not top of the mind. I was fine. I could go out, run, dance and have fun with my friends. So what if I had to empty her bedpan because she couldn't get to the bathroom?
