How I cope With C.P. Written in 1994 REWRITTEN IN '26

             When things seem different, it’s hard for people to accept what they don’t normally see in everyday life, especially when they don’t quite understand how to react. Take, for instance, my disability, which is Cerebral Palsy, better known as “CP”. I have had CP since birth, so it is difficult to understand what “normal” is, but my question is: does anybody?  I want to say how important my family has been to me and what a significant part it has played in my life. Every one of them would stop to rescue my ass.  Tanice, my sister, would sometimes take me to the plaza to look around. She would notice people were staring; her reaction would be to take a picture so that it would last longer. We grew up in a time when people did not think about crime the way we do today, so we would go out and be gone until dusk. We had the great privilege of inheriting property left to us by our great-grandmother, who had worked in real estate.  Let me tell you, it was so nice to grow up where we could be let outside riding bicycles and horses. Mom would know where we were most of the time because of the neighbors that were spread out throughout the country blocks who would call our mom to say that they saw one of us going some way, either by the long orange flag sticking out while waving as I went down the road, or in the field behind our property. 

     I got to know Sharon through Tanice, who went to school and happened to be a neighbor two houses behind us. Sharon had two sisters who hung around with Tanice; all would do things together. They owned horses; I always wanted to ride with my sister, Tanice, but her horse was a little too spirited. In fact, I had a walker with a built-in seat, so if I wanted to sit down, I could. While we were outside playing, I would say things like, I wonder if your horse would pull my wheelchair? Well, she came up with an idea. Tanice brought this little full-grown pony in front of the driveway and started to hook up the walker to the pony with me sitting down in the seat. Before we knew it, the pony got spooked and took off back to her fenced area. Luckily, God must have been on my side that day; I had fallen out behind the house under our bedroom window. Of course, I began crying, so Mom heard me, and then Tanice was trying to calm me down. She wanted to make sure I was alright, so she didn’t want Mom to hear what had happened. The next thing we heard was Mom asking what had happened and saying she could hear what was said. X

Ever since I can remember, children have been among the most amusing experiences I have ever had. Up until I was in fifth grade, I was in schools that had disabled students only, and I did not have to deal too much with children who were not disabled. Only when my mother would take me shopping did I notice the other children and how they would make their silly little remarks or make faces, which in return, I would have to make goofy faces back at them. Then I was moved into a school where there was one class for people with disabilities, and all the rest of the classes were filled with “normal” children. Once, I was with children who could run, jump, and play all the games that children played at that age. I began to want to be like the children that I had seen. While at recess one day, I decided to get out of my wheelchair and push it behind me so I could use it as a walker. The children would look and stare, but I didn’t care because I wanted to be like them and have fun like they were. It didn’t go over that well. Some would laugh, and others would make funny faces and try to imitate my every move, but it didn’t bother me. I just went on my way and laughed until one of the aides came and put me back in my wheelchair. But as soon as they left, I would get back up and try again. 

     A few months later, I had one of my annual doctor’s appointments, and that is when they gave me my first real walker. I thought I was hot until that day when I was walking from a class, and this boy I had a crush on offered to walk me to wherever I was going. I got excited, and I started to shake. Then my nerves got bad, which made it very difficult to speak, so by the time we got back to class, I could not even breathe, let alone talk to him. He almost had to give me CPR. 

     When I got to high school, the children were just bizarre. At this age in teenagers’ lives, they don’t care about anybody but themselves. Sometimes I felt as though I had a disease, especially with guys. The girls were not that bad; it was more the guys who gave me trouble. For example, it’s hard to get dates when you have this person who shakes every time a cute guy comes along and says “hi,” and it takes all you have not to be nervous and move around uncontrollably. But when all the focus is on not moving and trying to stay in your wheelchair, then when you try to talk, you lose it all, and the guy you were impressed by walks away.

     Another perfect example is when a girlfriend of mine knew I liked this guy who helped in homeroom, a classroom for disabled students, when they have problems with other classes or anything else that might come up.  One time, we were watching a movie, and this guy was sitting in front of my girlfriend and me. Lisa, my girlfriend, decided to tease me by telling him that I liked him. Well, Lisa wasn’t teasing; she told him right then and there. Let’s say he was a little shocked; he didn’t even look at me for two weeks. I guess he never had a girl with a disability like him before. It was so upsetting to me that I didn’t talk to her for some time. I was in this class for study hall. I did not want him to ignore me, so I asked another friend to tell him it was a joke and that I didn’t like him that way. 

     Some teachers were not quite the best at understanding either. The one that came to mind was an English teacher; the second I got into his class, he asked me to write. Of course, I replied no; the next thing I knew, I was out there. That was okay by me because the replacement teacher I had was great; I even got a “B” in the class. In fact, I had asked him, when I was out of his class, if he would help me with this term paper for the paper that you’re reading now. When things may seem off-putting at that moment, it’s a blessing in disguise. 

     I got so many other reactions from different kinds of people. For instance, when I’m at the Valley Plaza, I get some of the funniest glances. I recall this girl by me with a strange look on her face; it was as if she had seen an alien from outer space, all the while still walking to wherever she was going. People, young and old, would look and comment on how I would do things, as if I took too long to get my money out to pay for something. Sometimes, when people get impatient, I have even more time to withdraw my money. That’s what gets their pants or dress in an uproar. Also, there have been times when people have approached me for no apparent reason. My favorite one was when I was buying a Christmas present for an ex-boyfriend, and the gentleman offered to pay for the gift just because he wanted to. 

     I may have been coping with my disability, but it wasn’t until I went to Bakersfield College that I had accepted my disability. B.C. was something new and different than what I was accustomed to in high school or elementary school. At first, I was a little hesitant to go on, but I knew that if I didn’t, I would be sitting around the house doing absolutely nothing but watching soaps all day. Not that I don’t watch them anyway, but at least that’s not all that I do. I have learned so much, not just from classes that I have taken, but from people who were in the boat as I am. I was amazed at how many people went to B.C. who had disabilities of some kind or another. I started meeting new people who had the same issues as I did, and I felt good knowing I wasn’t alone. I also got to know some of the people who worked at the college, and that is when I felt more comfortable with my disability. Joyce Kirst, an instructor for the High Tech Center, gave me my first job. After working there for a few semesters, she entered me in a contest with a brand-new IBM home computer as the prize. When I won, I had to make a speech in front of twenty or more people. My first thought was, Joyce, you had to be kidding. I had never made that kind of speech in my life. I practiced what I was going to say for a week. Finally, when I made it, I could not stop; people probably would never shut up. At least I did get over my shyness, even though people probably would have liked to have seen me a little shyer. 

I began to open up to a whole new area in my life. At the weekends, I started staying at a girlfriend’s house, and some of my other friends took us to my first bar, and, to say the least, I was astonished by the way people acted. When we first went in, they were saying, “Why would they come? They come to this bar or something similar. When a few hours had passed, and everybody had time to get a few drinks down their throats, it started to get exciting. While we were sitting at our table, people would dance up to us and ask if we wanted to dance with them. At first, I was thinking how it would be so funny to see someone in a wheelchair who was a little bit drunk, trying to dance. But one of my friends said to me, “Kim, we can dance just like anyone else. If you don’t like me, that’s their problem, not ours. We have just as much right to have fun as anybody else in this bar does. From that night on, I didn’t feel as different from the people who were in the bar. 

 I had my first steady boyfriend in my second year at Bakersfield College. He was a character, a man who showed people with disabilities that they do not have to sit at home staring at a wall. Every weekend, you would see him either at a party or at a local dance club. If he weren’t at a party or a bar, he would be out on Chester Avenue cruising with all the teenagers, blasting his stereo. You could see him coming a mile away. People would stop and stare at what was coming down the street. He wasn’t afraid of anything; he got a kick out of people coming up to him and asking about the stereo that he had put in his wheelchair. One time, he told me that a police officer stopped him for having his stereo too loud while he was going down the street. There were a couple of times when I, as a girlfriend, would go with him. Well, let’s say I didn’t like to be noticed; I was more of the background type, and I watched. 

     I have learned a lot from other people’s reactions to me; some were good, and others were bad. For instance, if I’m not able to drive, I take either Get-A-Lift or the city bus. I never had an issue with it until this one Saturday, when a friend and her husband wanted me to come to see their apartment. I got ready that morning and got on the city bus. I wasn’t too sure where they lived because I wasn’t too familiar with the south side of Bakersfield, so when I got downtown, I wasn’t too sure what bus to take. Once I figured out the route, I was on my way. When I arrived at their apartment, to my surprise, they were not even home. By that time, I was not too happy; I was upset and frustrated that I went all the way over for nothing. I wasn’t sure what time the bus was going to be coming back around, so I went back to the spot I had gotten off. I was angry and hot, of course; with those combinations, my body moved out of control, even more so when I was nervous. When I saw the bus coming, I tried to get ready to board so it would be easier to roll my chair onto the lift.  When the bus stopped, the Driver asked me if I wanted to get on. What was going through my mind was, dah, why would I be sitting here? So, of course, I was there to catch the bus. 

     I know I have my own seat, and serenely, I wasn’t out there sunbathing.  When he stopped speaking, I wanted to ask him if he was going to the plaza. But he had trouble understanding me. So, another rider told him he thought I had asked if he was going to the plaza; he looked at me, and I said, “Yes.” While I was trying to get on the bus, the handle on my control box came off my wheelchair. Of course, I had trouble putting the damn thing back on. When I finally got myself situated, I could hear people talking about how I should not be by myself. This woman sitting across from me kept asking whether I knew where I was going and where I lived. While the driver was strapping in, he was mumbling under his breath so that I could escape from a mental hospital. I just rolled my eyes and shook my head. For some reason, he felt the need to call the dispatch to ask what he should do. Of course, they had to come out to see what was happening. All the people on the bus had to wait until they came out to talk to the driver. Once they all talked, the guy who came out came in to ask me if I knew where I was going. I said yes. He turned to the driver and said, "You can go."  I had plans afterward to meet my boyfriend at the time at the plaza. By the time I saw John, I was so upset that I looked like a lobster and felt like a crab. As we talked, he helped calm me down.