Chris Lytle, stroke at 5 years
I am firm believer that disability is all in ones head. At the time of writing this letter I am 27 years old and I can safely say that after 22 years, disability is more social then anything else.
(I am the one with white hat on, with my brother.)
The story of my stroke occurred in 1983 when I was five years old. In 1983 there was nothing for strokes (especially those experienced by kids) in terms of medical intervention, so mine came and went, making me 'born again' into the world of disability. I was playing at a friend's house making a fort out of cheap plastic blocks and blanket when I started feeling a little woozy. I had a strange headache but I didn't think it was bad enough to warrant any real worry, so I decided to lie down for a second before rejoining my friends. I lay down, and got back my breath, and when I tried to stand up I hit the floor. I really couldn't move and I remember everything being very clear and focused in head, but when I tried to speak or move or communicate, slurs and gurgles replaced my words. It is funny but I remember being most annoyed at the fact that the ambulance driver cut off my then favorite shirt with a pair of mean looking utility scissors. It had a picture of a motor cross biker in mid jump pulling some kind of early eighties trick, and it was covered in glitter. For those of you who remember the eighties, it was a damn fashionable piece of clothing.
The next thing I knew I was being wheeled into the emergency room at Sick Children's Hospital (I guess I should have told you I am Canadian and living in Toronto) and being greeted by five or six doctors looking over me with bright flashlights, Masks and Visors.
I think I passed out at that point but remember waking up with my left arms tapped to a large wooden board with a couple of drips, IV's and monitors either hooked up or main-lining my arm. It was at that point that I recall trying to figure out what had happened, and most of all, why I couldn't move my right arm or leg, speak or really do anything.
The slow 'rehabilitation' began and I quickly became very adept at complaining and feeling sorry for myself. This passed quickly because constantly ringing for the nurse and periodically peeing my bed became way better past times. The doctors thought that I couldn't digest solid food so for every meal I drank fruit punch out of a small plastic cup and this diet lasted about a month. I bet someone could sell that as the next best diet craze besides eating a course of militant strength laxatives that will make you lose 30 pounds in 18 seconds. As I had suspected, there was about as much medical wisdom in that decision as there is in my left toenail. At the end of my stay in the hospital I had spaghetti and 'meat' balls for my last meal. I now consider badly cooked spaghetti to be victory food. Every now and then I will go into a Seven Eleven shop and buy a can of chef boyardee and huff it down in an alleyway.
Flash forward to now a couple of decades after the event and I don't really even think about it. After such a long time you become comfortable in your skin. This can happen quickly, but it is all about how comfortable you feel. The fact is that I have never longed for an able body and I think it is ridiculous to believe that able bodied people are the pinnacle of human existence. I have never romanced the idea that I was half a human being because of my disability, and the only thing that can make you think that way is intolerance for difference. Just like a cut a stroke can leave a significant scar, but instead of trying to cover it up I let mine show. Is it that I am uncomfortable being seen with a disability or is that people are uncomfortable seeing disability in their midst?
I am almost done my masters degree in Critical Disability Studies at York University in Toronto, and I have a degree in social anthropology that deals heavily with social identity, and that is where I get my stances from. Right now I am working with international development groups on a UN Convention to make things better for all people with disabilities. Aside from that I am finding life very groovy...
Thank you for allowing me to tell my story
P.S Please feel free to get in touch with me if you like. Oh yeah, I am a big fan of grime as well as an ex jungle head, so use that for starters.
Thanks to Chris for sending in his profile. Anyone else who would like to share their story can send it along with a photograph (if you're not shy!)
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