The following article appeared in The Garfield High School Messenger on October 5, 2007.
Hi, I'm Irene Chauncey. You may see me (or look away) in the hallways. I'm the one in a wheelchair, with a tracheotomy tube in my neck and a half smile. I led a perfectly normal life until I was 12 years and four months old. Then, on July 14th, 2004, I was relay-racing at the Lakeridge pool with some friends, when I was kicked in the head and immediately a horrible headache consumed me. I walked with my mom to get ice, but within minutes I vomited twice before passing out into a coma. At that point I stopped breathing altogether. The blood in my cerebellum squished into my brainstem resulting in a brainstem stroke. I woke up two-and-a-half months later full of hope and motivation to "get back" to my life. It wasn't until later that I realized I had to forge a whole new life; in other words, that was life then, this is life now.
Nothing is forever but some things do last a lifetime; currently I feed myself directly into my stomach through a tube. The trach tube blocks my lungs from being filled up with saliva, a condition that could have fatal results. I can't list all the new conditions I live with today, but rest assured, nothing is the same as it was. The good news is that when I first woke up from my coma, I couldn't move anything, but now I'm taking piano and French lessons, fixing my own hair, typing, writing a journal, and sitting in a regular classroom chair. I've come a long way since I was unable to breathe on my own and couldn't even hold my head up. I'm making progress but obviously I'm nowhere near finished.
You know how being a teenager and starting high school can be totally hare? Well, think about what an adventure it would be showing up late, with drool hanging from your chin, sounding as if you were coming from lazing at home chugging whiskey all day. Just like you, I manage to get through life by finding enjoyment in the littleness of things such as meeting new people, hearing people say I'm better, watching a movie from Netflix once in a while, taking a break from schoolwork, and plunging food into my stomach.
I would definitely say that my worst impairment is not swallowing because it means I can't eat. Additionally, I have to admit, I look completely different, as you can see in my photograph from 2004 just before the event. Underneath all this medical junk and circumstance, I'm thankfully still myself, and the cognitive and memory parts of my brain are "pristine," according to my neurosurgeon. Over these past three years, my days consist of seeing therapists, surgeons, and dozens of doctors and nurses. Teachers and tutors visit me, shaping my distorted peer group. What I long for—just like you—is talking to peers, making friends, and sharing the news of the day instead of talking about myself all the time. I've learned a lot about life, from being a teenager as well as having all these darn impairments. One main thing I've learned is that life is weird and it sure isn't fair, but that attitude is everything and that a sense of humor can get you through a whole lot.
I'm writing this article for your benefit, as you probably wonder, "What is wrong with that girl in the wheelchair?" The answer to that question is that underneath what happened to me, I am still a spunky 15-year-old girl who loves people, talking to people, and working with people. I want you to feel comfortable when you talk to me, when we are assigned to group work, or I have to call you for homework assignments. It hurts if you ignore me or if you look past me. Recognize my limitations, but don;'t get hung up on them. I haven;'t gotten hung up on them (ha ha), and I would hat for you to be afraid of interaction with me. Whoever is reading this article, realize that "the girl in the wheelchair" was once a "normal" person just like you, and that I'm all present cognitively and socially. Believe me, I used to be just like you afraid to confront the disabled. I would act exactly the same as you do around a person hunched over in a wheelchair, drooling. I get to see both sides now, having known what it's like to have lots of friends, be on a soccer team, be asked by boys to dance, have sleepovers, and revel in food. The side I'm on now allows me to see what living is truly meant to be like: compassionate, hopeful, challenging, patient and accepting, filled with perseverance and humor.
Flipping my circumstances showed how cruel life really is, but when I flip it over again, I gain wisdom in the form of a revelation. This flippin' life reveals to me the power of character, its ability to make every painful moment matter. No doubt about it, what happened to me and my family is a terrible tragedy, however, we are determined to get better, not bitter. My mother says that what I am writing is glum and depressing, and perhaps I'm not going to attract peers via the article, but I'm hoping you read this and don't give ma any more pity. The ideal thing to do would be to accept me as a "somewhat normal" person. When life is bad, flip it over, and keep flippin' life until you find the good side because there is a good side to everything.
