—A Teenagers Secret—
Growing up with Spina Bifida was difficult.
Heck, the teen years are hard for everyone.
People do judge a book by its cover, even if they don’t mean to do it.
For one, I could walk.
When people saw this young teenage boy walking, running, and playing, they didn’t think he had Spina Bifida.
I did walk with a limp. Although, sometimes, the limp wasn’t as bad as on other days.
My brothers told their friends about me.
A few other people figured it out on their own.
I didn’t tell anyone, though. I kept it my secret.
I never felt like I fit into the “Spina Bifida” world.
And, no, I’ve never felt like I fit into any “normal” world.
One Summer, I met a friend named “Tommy.” (I’ve changed the names)
Tommy and I hit it off that Summer.
I was a younger teenager, and I would only be home in Alabama for a short time that Summer.
At night, Tommy and I would play tennis on the tennis courts.
Yep. I once played tennis.
My late brother Tony also played. He was much better and faster than me.
Tommy and I were an excellent match-up when playing tennis.
One night, Tommy asked me to come over to his house. I accepted.
When we arrived, Tommy introduced me to his whole family.
He introduced me to his Mother, Father, and his older brother, “John.”
John was in a wheelchair. I later asked Tommy what was wrong with his brother, John.
“He was born with Spina Bifida.”
I immediately felt terrible.
I didn’t think it was fitting that I could walk while John was in a wheelchair.
I had not told Tommy about my Spina Bifida, and I sure wasn’t going to tell him now.
Tommy spoke so highly of his older brother, John. You could tell he was Tommy’s hero.
In John’s bedroom hung all types of Rock and Roll memorabilia.
I believe he had a Gold or Platinum Record that the Rock Band Skid Row had given to John.
He also had drumsticks, guitar pics, and other Rock gear that Rock bands had given to John. In addition, he had met many Rock bands in person.
I felt bad when I was in the presence of John. As I said, I didn’t feel it was right for me to walk around while he was in a wheelchair.
It got even worse, though. I found that I couldn’t look John in the eyes.
My friendship with Tommy began to slip.
It eventually tapered off.
Later on, around the age of 19, when I was in college, I saw Tommy and asked how his brother was doing.
“He passed away. His Kidneys quit working.”
“I’m so sorry, Tommy. I’m so…” I began feeling sick.
I held my stomach because it started hurting.
“How old was he?”
“25.”
“I’m sorry. I,… I,… am sorry…”
“It’s okay. John had a great life. We’re all Christians, and we know we will see him again. It’s okay.”
I left, got into my Camaro, and put in my Skid Row CD.
I turned the radio up and cried as I drove back home that night.
As I said earlier, I’ve never felt that I fit into the “Spina Bifida” world.
And, no, I’ve never felt that I fit into a “normal” world either.
As I drove home that night, I did wish I had told them of my Spina Bifida.
I wished I had known John better.
I was just a stupid kid, though.
And, the teen years are hard for everyone.
