Every item in this synopsis deserves more space than it was allotted.  It was
my intention to give my childhood more attention than other parts.  Most
readers are parents of babies or of young children who have cerebral palsy
and need to understand that progress evolves.
    As you read this, please keep in mind that it took over 50 years, of laughter, of tears, effort of family members and friends, professionals,  countless hurdles, and a lot of luck to realize these accomplishments. If anyone wants additional information, I can be reached at:  [email protected]

    I entered the world in 1947 by a doctor placing clamps on my head and
pulling.  I have athitoid spastic quadriplegia cerebral palsy. I talked, walked, and used my hands with difficulty.  At age three my parents took me to an orthopedic surgeon because my left leg was bowing backward. He recommended I be placed in a convalescing home for people who had polio in Boise, Idaho, 180 miles from my home in Fairfield.  Leaving me there was
naturally more emotionally difficult for my parents than for me.  I was fitted with two long leg braces and given physical, occupational, and speech therapy essentially eight hours a day.  In the evening I had many playmates who had polio.

    In those days they were not certain how contagious polio was.
Gradually, as the polio epidemic was arrested, people who had cerebral palsy
and other disabilities became inpatients and outpatients at the Elks'
Convalescent Home.
 
    The personnel went out of their way to make it a lot like home for all of us.  It was my home for most of the time from age three to six.  My ability to talk and walk really improved.  Using my hands to feed myself, to button my shirt, or to zip up my pants was still impossible; those were the days before Vel Cro.  I went home during the summer until age six when school began. In Fairfield virtually all of the kids played and rode bikes together as their mother's visited.  My bike came to me after a few years of trial and error at age eight or nine.  After being shaped and welded, reshaped and welded again into a 24" tricycle by a local farmer it served me well.  It was much like senior citizens ride today; however, because of my poor hand control it had coaster or peddle brakes not hand brakes.

    As far as I know, there was no question I would be allowed to attend the
Fairfield grade school.  Although, in those days there was no law that a
handicapped child had to be educated.  At age six and beyond I spent most of
the year at home going to school with Mom giving me therapy.  Each summer I
returned to the Elks'.

    We moved to Boise after my brother completed first grade and I fourth.  The Boise school district would not allow me to be educated in a "regular" school.  My father had a demeanor softer than butter in July; he rarely lost his temper.  After weeks of visiting with board members, I'm told he let the members feel his wrath right down to their bones after their negative vote. Consequently, my parents went to the superintendent of an adjacent district. He and the board agreed to accept me into "regular" classrooms if the school principal agreed.  The three rural towns in the district had their own grade school. The initial principal they contacted said no but the second agreed.

    My brother and I had great fun on a small farm with horses, dogs, cats,
cattle, bicycles, toy cars and trucks, and places to explore.  Mom picked me
up after school three days a week and drove me about 25 miles round trip to
therapy at the now Elks' Rehabilitation Center.

    Junior high was an easy transition because the principal was Dad's high
school basketball coach in Fairfield.  He knew my Grandparents, Aunts,
Uncles, cousins, literally all of us.  School sports began in the eighth grade and I knew I wanted to be a part of it.  As I remember, it took me a couple of weeks to find the courage to ask the football coach if I could be the manager.  He said something like "I hoped you would ask.  Yes, you may". My ambulation and stamina was more than sufficient to perform tasks required by the position.  I also was manager for basketball and baseball.  I did the same in the ninth grade.  While continuing my therapy with daily trips to the Elks'.

    I don't remember any problems entering senior high.  Perhaps people could see that I was just another kid on the inside by then.  As a sophomore and as a
junior, I chose debate class as one of my electives.  My speech was not perfect, but good enough to be a "fair" debater earning several hundred National Forensic League points.  At age 16, I was a varsity sports manager.  School was a great place to be.  Girls, sports, and debate class in that order were my priorities.  I usually did just enough schoolwork to get passing grades.  It was decided I could stop going to therapy; although, I still could not use my hands to feed myself, to button my shirt, or to zip up my pants.

    Because of these obstacles and after eight months of consultations with
several doctors, my family and I decided I should undergo brain surgery in
San Francisco, and it was scheduled for a couple of weeks prior to my senior
year. Surgery left me with no speech, no ability to walk, and no hand control.  To say we were devastated was an understatement. My parents and brother always Loved and supported me as only parents and a sibling can and I returned it.  Most of us had thoughts of suicide; however, we continued to be a Loving family.  Since the 35 years after my surgery, my parents still dread August 13th.

    We began physical, speech, and occupational therapy again, at the Elks' and
at home, but the result was not as dramatic as it was when I was younger.
There were improvements but not in the area of speech.  From 17 to 23 I went
from being completely bedridden to shuffling around the house on my feet.
Most of the time I was in a wheelchair, which I could not propel.  That was
the period I was elected to the board of United Cerebral Palsy of Idaho.
My brother was away at college, and I wanted to leave home, too. My parents
were my prisoners and I theirs.  My parents and I traveled the Northwest
United States and Southwest Canada, searching for inner peace and a home for
me.  We saw some spectacular country, but found no emotionally and mentally satisfying group home for me.  After two years of on-and-off searching we
returned to Boise, and with a great deal of help started a "home" for
emotionally stable, mentally capable, physically challenged adults.  I moved
in at age 24, and a year later my parents were comfortable retiring to the
Canadian West Coast where my mother grew up.

    The "home" Idaho Association for Physically Handicapped Adults (IAPHA) had few guidelines.  Even though we stayed out late sometimes as most adults do we were responsible citizens of the community, and we were courteous to one another and our caregivers.  A couple of us had "real world" jobs.  One of us earned his Bachelor of Arts degree, moved to Texas, got a Masters degree, and worked in another Idaho town.  Several of us took advantage of the
opportunity to study for and acquire our high school General Equivalency
Diploma.  We had oil painting classes.  I was elected to the UCPI executive
board.  A few of us rounded up personal caregivers to go on two or three day
camping trips.  I had a faithful dog that slept outside of my window.  IAPHA
really was our home.  After attending UCPI's summer camp for several years, I
volunteered to be camp director for 1972.

    In '73 I declined and attended as a camper.  I met a volunteer caregiver from
an Air Force Base who was assisting a woman with cp.  After camp, the
volunteer drove from the base to Boise every weekend to see me for the six
months before we were married.  My wife, dog, and I moved just off of the
base giving my wife a 10-minute drive to work.  Upon her discharge we moved
to the Boise area and I worked for UCPI as a camp coordinator while my wife
began studying at Boise State University.  UCPI's director and I expanded the
camping program that summer and in the fall I attended the University.  I
typed my term papers and tests with a stick in my mouth on a portable
electric typewriter and my wife edited my term papers.  In my senior year I
discovered the University's mainframe computer for typing term papers and
taking tests.  Although, our degrees were from different departments and my
wife worked part-time; we worked it out to graduate at the same ceremony.
While in school and by choice, we began exploring adoption as our method of
acquiring a family.

    She went to work for the Social Security Administration (SSA) immediately.
Upon graduation Boise State hired me to teach other students who were
disabled how to type their term papers on the University's computer.  Three
years later my wife resigned, we picked up our Filipino daughter, and I began
a career with SSA--all within three months; 16 months later our Filipino son
arrived.  Our daughter graduated from high school and our son enters his
sophomore year in 2000.

    My cerebral palsy with no speech is a very severe disability.  I use an
alphabet board that resembles most keyboards and a PC for communication.
Within my PC at home and my PC at work is a device giving me telephone access to the world through the National Relay Center for individuals who have hearing or speech impairments.  My power wheelchair does a good job of
getting me around the off-roads of the Northwest the streets of Boise, and
the hallways at work.  I use a battery powered feeding device at mealtime.
It won't handle bowls, but there are creative ways around that such as adding
many crackers to soups too thick to drink through a straw.  My mother
designed and sews my pants with an elastic waist allowing me to pull them up
and down which bypasses the need for zippers.

    My wife and I are probably even more in Love with one another than we were 26 years ago, although, we have less time together.  The main reason for those feelings is that we maintain a genuine respect for one another in every way. She, our children, and I cherish and care for one another as only spouses and children of a person who can do nothing to maintain himself or his
environment can.  We are a family and we know we are a family.  I owe more
than can be repaid to my immediate family, my parents, and my brother.  My
pace and their pace are difficult to meld, and as we age, it becomes more
difficult.  I have always been a cheery person, and that fact immensely helps
me get up each morning.

    My life working for the Social Security Administration (SSA) is a story unto
itself.  It, too, has taken perseverance of many people at all levels including my wife who showers, dresses, feeds me breakfast, and more.  I use public transportation's adapted wheelchair buses to get to and from work and
sometimes around town, although, we have a ramp on our mini van.  The SSA
office is in a secure building.  The top of my desk was built in a large "U"
that rises and lowers at my touch of a button, and the desk is open
underneath so my wheelchair can turn around without hitting a pedestal.  I
use a mini keyboard that keeps stretching my neck to touch keys with my
headstick to a minimum.  All of the doors I encounter through the day are
automatic yet secure, and I have my own button.  I work mainly for and with
people in management positions and they are often promoted or retiring
creating a position for someone who has never worked with someone as
physically challenged as I.  Every one of them has learned to communicate
with me.

This story written and submitted by Steven.