I insisted on going to college, leaving New York and going to Georgia. I was the master of escape- I told everyone in my dorm that I had broken my left foot and it never healed properly. I pretened I had done it skiing. People seemed to be very accepting of this, although a few of my closer friends knew I was lying and hiding something. I was just tired of being disabled, tired of everyone knowing all my secrets. I lied outright. Emory University certainly encouraged this; there were no accommodations for the disabled and the deans seemed to make light of my situation. There was no accomodations or help or assistance. I was given the option to stay and just struggle through the situation or drop out of college altogether when faced with inaccesible buildings and no parking.Guess which I chose?
My denial plan did not work for long, as my left foot began to collapse and the bones began to shatter within a few weeks of starting college, so I started to limp heavily again. I also dealt with several seriously infected wounds and the resulting blood infections from the disgusting living conditions that exist in Emory's dorm. Four months into my first semester at Emory, the four year old cut on my right foot got infected down to the bone and I was rushed to the hospital with a bone infection. My parents were down in a matter of hours, drovestraight from New York. They knew I was going to have to leave college, and they were coming to be by my side as I faced serious illness. They knew at that point what might happen because of the bone infection- they listened to the doctor's warnings after the skin graft failed. I am their only child, and I have the Spina Bifida on top of that, so you can see why they are so damn protective of me. Why I am so closely connected to them, and why we have such a dependent relationship on each other even though I am past the age where I should be well out of their houses and lives and into my own.
But I need them, and they need me.
The several consulting orthopedics and infectious disease specialists wanted to amputate much of that foot bone to prevent the infection from spreading into the rest of my body. Bone infections are much like tumors- if not removed immediately, they spread.They planned on amputating my big toe area on my right foot, but because it was my "good" foot, my normal foot, I couldn't even conceive of that. I said no, and time was running out. The infection could start to spread up my leg. So we insisted, my family and I, that we get second, third, and even fourth opinions. And we saw many, many doctors, until one walked in and changed my life. His name was Dr. Kalish.
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