This is the final chapter of my adventure as a nine year-old with hearing loss, in the hospital for a few weeks to remove a tumor from above my ankle. I shared a room with three other kids, identical twins Donny and Ronny, and Joey. A fellow named Bob manned the nurse's station. He had no legs. My confidence had been shattered earlier that year from an incident at school.
You can read the prior stories here: (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)
My Living Proof
Was it fate? Predetermined? Did the Gods and Demons hold all the cards?
When I first arrived at the hospital, the twins were very active; wheelies up and down the hallways, motoring their wheelchairs all over the second floor with reckless abandon. Full of enthusiasm, they crashed into the orderlies carrying waste, buzzed around nurses on watch, and plowed between doctors making their rounds. The twins seemed to be on their own, possibly orphans. I don’t recall any parents visiting them.
I was too young to understand what ailed twins, Ronny and Donny. They were both paralyzed, unable to walk. They were teens, in good physical shape, which leads me to believe they lost the ability to walk from the onset of an illness, such as some form of acute flaccid paralysis.
Whether or not the polio virus was the cause of their condition, I do not know. I do remember The March of Dimes program to eradicate polio, but at that time the virus was not successfully isolated, and there is doubt still today that the polio virus alone caused the childhood paralysis scare of the twentieth century. I am also puzzled that the doctors expected results less than a week after the operation.
* * *
Except for Bob’s nurse station, the twins seemed to own the joint. It was Bob who explained to me that the twins were having an operation on their spine, and if successful, they might be able to walk again.
And I was becoming more comfortable with Bob. As a nine year-old, it was difficult for me to imagine a life minus both legs; a life Bob lived. At first I couldn’t look at his stumps, but the more he chatted with me, the less afraid I became. Afraid? Yeah, because I would need to return time and again for checkups, fearful that the tumor removed from above my ankle could return. It would be an understatement to say that Bob was a normal person. He was special in ways I could not yet understand.
* * *
Donny went under the knife first, then Ronny on the following day. The wheelchairs were left in ‘park’ for the time being, as they were both bedridden after their operations.
After several days, a group of doctors entered our room to examine Donny. It was early morning as I silently watched from my bed. Joey was in the bed next to me. He reached over to squeeze ahold of my hand as we both watched the scene across the room unfold
They asked Donny questions, moved his legs a bit, then asked more questions. While one doctor distracted Donny with talk, another doctor pulled a safety pin from his pocket and poked Donny’s bare foot. There was no response. Donny just kept right on conversing with the other doctor. He never felt a thing.
All the white coats huddled up at the foot of Donny’s bed in what looked like a group hug. Tension filled the air. One of the white coats broke rank to explain to Donny, the operation proved unsuccessful.
All hell broke loose! Bedpans, clocks and radios, all airborne!
Donny screamed, “No, No, No!!!” Tears of disappointment streaked his cheeks. He was freaking. Who wouldn’t be?
At the same time, his twin Ronny jumped halfway out of his bed, yelling, “Donny! Donny! Stop! It’s gonna work out. Don’t panic! Don’t give up! Don’t ever give up!”
The doctors caught Ronny from falling to the floor, then wrestled him back into his bed. Damn! That kid was gonna crawl to his twin brother one way or another, so the docs pushed their beds together.
For me, it was like being suspended in time, seated on my bed grasping Joey’s hand, frozen stiff in a mind grip, tears and shocking disbelief. Was there no God? Did the Demons win?
Next day, the same doctors came to examine Ronny. The results were negative. More screaming, more crying. It didn’t scare me this time. I was just so moved by it all. Was anyone upstairs keeping watch over the twins? Where was their Reverend Van?
A few days later, the twins were eased back into their wheels. It wasn’t long before the orderlies, nurses and doctors were dodging wheelchairs, again. And I could hear the twins laughter as they motored down the hallway and into our room.
I was stunned, to say the least.
They were determined more than ever to carry on their journey.
Call it resilience. Call it perseverance. For me it was... impact!
They might never walk again, yet they were smiling, joking and teasing everyone. I will never forget them. I thank them for showing me the way, the light. And I will always wonder how they made out in life.
As for me, I was free of the so-called double ankle and returned for checkups every so often for the rest of my childhood. I beat this one, but it didn’t matter. What I gained during that hospital experience was invaluable for a kid with a disability, a hearing loss.
During the worst of times, no matter how bad things get, those words hollered by Ronny on that fateful morning come back to remind me: “Don’t give up! Don’t ever give up!”
Fate wasn’t so much up to the Gods and Demons. They don’t hold all the cards. No.
The light, it comes from within. And that’s the card I get to play.
Donny and Ronny… Joey and Bob, they were my heroes.
Scratch that...make it..…
SUPERHEROES!!!
