Not That Different: Growing up with Cerebral Palsy

By Dayne Coffey

Alex Foster is just a normal, everyday kid except for one glaring difference; he walks with a limp that causes him to stand out in a way hed prefer not to. Not That Different Growing Up with Cerebral Palsy is the story of a boy with big dreams, but his biggest dream is for people to look past the limp, drop their preconceptions of what he cant do, focus on the things he can do and see the whole boy. Every year that passes, the stigma of his cerebral palsy fades away and by the end of high school hes just Alex.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Apr 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781504381970

Dayne Coffey

Diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy at the age of two caused by a traumatic brain injury at birth, Dayne faced some of the unique challenges that growing up with a disability can bring. With his love for sports from an early age, he traded playing for an early opportunity to coach youth soccer and turned that into a career lasting over twenty years, while building lasting relationships along the way. Dayne is an avid student of the guitar and enjoyed playing in multiple bands through high school and college. For the last thirteen years, he has been a professional in Information Technology holding multiple industry certifications. He loves travel and his new hobby of photography. Currently he lives in Midwest City, OK, with his wife Paula, and his two stepchildren, Chris and Amber.

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Copyright © 2018 Dayne Coffey.

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The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

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ISBN: 978-1-5043-8196-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-8198-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-8197-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017909113

Balboa Press rev. date:   04/04/2018

CONTENTS

Chapter 1     Anxious Beginnings

Chapter 2     Friday Night Shine

Chapter 3     Do You Want to Play?

Chapter 4     One Little Victory

Chapter 5     An Appointment with Perspective

Chapter 6     Wheelchair Summer

Chapter 7     New Challenges

Chapter 8     Roll with the Challenge

Chapter 9     Conquering the Demon

Chapter 10   Steals and Feels

Chapter 11   Tearful Goodbyes

Chapter 12   Transitions

Chapter 13   Summer Nights

Chapter 14   The Suffering

Chapter 15   Strings of Salvation

Chapter 16   Two Lessons

Chapter 17   A Fresh Start

Chapter 18   Past Reflections, Future Dreams

Chapter 19   The Student Becomes the Teacher

Chapter 20   Taking Center Stage

CHAPTER 1

Anxious Beginnings

SEVEN SECONDS LEFT in the State Championship game—this unforgettable game. Seven yards left in this drive of the century for the Somerset Bombers. On this crisp December evening senior quarterback Alex Foster is showing why’s he’s been the top quarterback recruit in the state since his breakout sophomore season. He’s shattered the State Championship records for completions, yards, and touchdowns—but he’s going to need one more touchdown for Somerset to hoist that gold ball and call themselves State Champions this year.

Alex brings his team to the line. One last play to make all of Somerset’s dreams come true. Wide receiver Josh Michaels goes into motion behind Foster. The ball is snapped. Foster drops back, looking for Michaels. He’s covered in the flat. Foster avoids the pass rush and rolls out to his left as time is expiring on the clock. He sets his feet, looking into the end zone as the Fairfield defense closes in on him. He’s got a receiver now and he fires the most important pass of his high school career—the tightest spiral of the evening splices the autumn air. Michaels extends for it, falling out of bounds—

Wake up, Alex!

The referee signals—

Alex!

Alex Foster didn’t like getting up early in the mornings, and Carolyn Foster knew it. Alex slowly squirmed his way out of bed, grabbing his blanket and rubbing his eyes as he headed to the car.

Sounded like you were having a dream, his mother said gently.

Ya.

State Championship again?

Ya.

Did you win?

Don’t know. You woke me up. I’d just thrown the ball.

Sorry. Maybe you can finish it when you get to Granny’s.

Carolyn Foster already had his red duffel bag packed. Alex was a year into his daily trips to stay at his grandmother’s while Carolyn worked to take care of both of them. It was just the two of them since his father chose not to be around after his birth. He climbed into the backseat, passed out, and snoozed the entire ten minutes to his grandmother’s. Still sleepy, Alex wobbled into her house, mumbled hello to her, and headed straight for his bed.

The usual morning routine was going to change dramatically for Alex in just a couple of hours. It was the first day of school—a new school, at that. The precocious five-year-old had been trying to squeeze the last bit of summer freedom out of the last few days in an attempt to make it last as long as possible. Running around outside for as long as he could stand the August heat, or as much as his grandmother thought he could. Typical six–year-old, mostly.

Round two of someone yelling at him to Get up! before he was ready to come around. It was his grandmother’s turn this time. A little more awake, Alex sat up in bed. His first thought was, Today’s the day. Ugh, I don’t want to go. He was anything but excited for it.

Hopping out of bed, he headed to the living room. Breakfast was already waiting. He gobbled down a tasty bowl of Apple Jacks as he watched some morning cartoons. The first morning of a custom that would be repeated a thousand times over the next six years.

He headed back to the bedroom to get dressed for school. Jeans and a football jersey were a favorite of Alex’s. He sat in front of the mirror as he put his shoes on. First the left, a weathered brown high-top with the hardest sole and thinnest laces. He laced it up, finishing with a double knot at the top.

Next, the one he really despised. He worked to get the right one on. It was a daily struggle. With his left hand he wiggled the bottom around his heel until it finally slipped on. This one had one significant difference to it, however.

Extending up from the outside was a metal rod that ended with a brown and white padded brace that buckled around his upper calf. It was supposed to help straighten his leg and foot. Maybe it did—Alex didn’t really know. All he knew was that it wasn’t comfortable. It was ugly. No one he was about to go to school with probably had to wear one. He knew they would notice too. Everyone noticed.

Are you ready? his grandmother barked.

Ya. I guess, he reluctantly answered, pulling his pant leg down over his brace.

You’re going to have fun, Alex. You’ll see. His grandmother had such a reassuring voice.

What if all the other kids stare?

They won’t. But if they do, so what. They’ll get over it. He climbed into the car and gazed out of the window as they drove the short trip to school.

Alex got out of his grandmother’s car. This was it. The moment he’d been dreading for weeks had finally arrived. The parking lot was busy with cars and a few buses as they made their way through the morning routine. Parents were dropping their children off, kissing them goodbye, and sending them on their way. Alex looked around to see all the commotion. As he took it all in, thoughts raced through his head. Standing there, he looked like nearly every other kid his age. He believed that he looked like them. The question was, would they?

It’s going to be great, Alex. You’ll see. You’re a first-grader now, his grandmother said. Now go on. I’ll be right here when you get out.

He looked back one last time, reluctantly nodding in feigned approval. This was the last he would see of that reassuring smile for seven hours. A lifetime, he thought. Looking to the left he saw the school sign. In bright red letters it read, Brentwood Elementary – Home of the Roadrunners.

Glancing to the right, he saw a playground just outside of where his class would be. It was full of colorful equipment. He wondered if that would be where he would go for his recess, a time that would soon become one of his favorite parts of school.

He looked down at his feet. His jeans covered up most of the brace he wore on his right leg, but they didn’t mask that ugly brown shoe it was attached to. Why do I have to wear these? he thought. They were uncomfortable, and probably weren’t making a difference anyway. Why couldn’t he wear shoes like the other kids? They looked better and probably made them run faster too, he thought. But no, the doctor said he had to wear these, every day.

Alex wasn’t a big fan of doctors. Diagnosed with cerebral palsy at the age of two, he had seen plenty of them. They were always twisting his leg, turning his foot and studying the ways they could help him lead a more normal life. They were frequently talking in big words, mostly to his mother. Sometimes it felt like he wasn’t even in the room. They would talk of what they could do to him, but never really talked about what they could do for him.

While he may not have always understood what all the words meant, he knew one thing: They were usually talking about the next surgery, the next way they were going to cut on him. By the time he was five, Alex knew all too well what that meant. And by now, he’d already had three surgeries. They were still talking more. He knew that it was going to mean days in the hospital, six weeks in a cast, and no walking. Maybe a few months after that, he might be back to his normal self. No baseball in the backyard. No basketball at the playground. Forget doing much that summer.

As he started up the sidewalk of the school toward the door he noticed the looks, those all too familiar looks that always came his way when he walked by. The look said, There’s something different about him. They were right. It was also a look of not knowing, sometimes not understanding.

Even at five years old, he had known that look. He’d seen it countless times before. It wasn’t just limited to young children who didn’t know any differently either. Adults were just as capable of firing that look off too. It made Alex feel like there was something wrong with him. Why else would they stare for so long? I’m not that different, he thought. Why do they always stare?

As he walked through the front doors, a girl came up to him. Hello, she said. She was dressed in a pretty green dress with white flowers on it. Her pigtails were long enough to reach past her shoulders. She wore blue-framed glasses that magnified her bright blue eyes.

Hi, Alex replied. He kept his head down, hoping she wouldn’t see his shoes.

What’s your name? she asked.

Alex. What’s yours?

I’m Addison. Are you in first grade too?

Yes.

What teacher do you have?

Mrs. Taylor.

Me, too! Addison smiled and Alex felt a little better.

They continued down the hallway. Walking along together, it was only a short distance to his new class. The sign on the wall by the door read MRS. TAYLOR. They walked in together and found seats.

It was incredibly warm in the room. Even if the summer was winding down in Oklahoma, the daytime temperatures could easily stay in the nineties for the first few weeks of school. There were no air conditioners in the classrooms. The windows were open and fans were blowing, but they offered little relief from the heat. Though the kids were allowed to wear shorts, Alex didn’t like to. It would put on full display something he really didn’t want anyone to ever see.

He checked his notebooks and paper. He had been given a red box to keep his pencils, pens, and other school supplies in. Being a fan of the color red, this made him happy. He carefully placed them in the storage area under his desk. Patiently, he waited for the start of class.

Good morning, class, Mrs. Taylor said, as she walked into the classroom, closing the door behind her.

Good morning, Mrs. Taylor, replied the students.

We’re going to start the day by saying the Pledge of Allegiance. Mrs. Taylor explained. Alex had never said the Pledge of Allegiance before, but he quickly memorized it. Alex always had an extremely sharp memory, especially when it came to details.

The rest of the morning was filled with assigning the students the textbooks they would use for the year. But it wasn’t long into the day that Alex and the rest of the class went to what was also to be a daily rite, P.E. and Music. Alex’s class went to P.E. first while the other first-grade class went to Music. They would spend 30 minutes in each class before returning to their classroom.

Being a gigantic sports fan, Alex would become especially impressed with Gym class. He was born into a family of athletes, and though he had yet to play an organized sport, he lived to be outside or inside playing every sport he could.

His mother was also a huge sports fan, and she made sure she passed that love down to Alex. She would take him to baseball games, hockey games and basketball games. It was their time. She even took him to see her favorite college football team the Oklahoma Sooners. Even though that game was a rout, Alex made her stay for the entire game because he wanted to see it all.

He would watch any game that was on TV. He couldn’t get enough. He would sit with his grandfather on Sunday afternoons after church watching their favorite football team, the Dallas Cowboys. Alex could tell you all the players’ names, their jersey numbers, their positions. He could tell you who the coach was. He could even tell you who the announcers were.

When he was younger his grandmother had recorded a cassette tape of him doing a play-by-play of a Dallas Cowboys— Green Bay Packers game. He was telling his grandfather everything that was going on. At that time in his life, sports were everything to Alex.

Gym class was taught by Mr. Black. He was the coach of the football and basketball teams at Brentwood. He was a little scary to the younger kids when you didn’t know him. For Alex, that was indeed the case. He wondered what Gym would be like and how the other kids would treat him once they figured out he couldn’t run as fast as they could. He wondered if Mr. Black would even let him participate.

Sitting in class no one could really see the difference in Alex. He looked the same, spoke the same, and could do anything the other kids could do, often better. But out there on the gym floor, it was all on display. There was no hiding it. And there was no running from it.

Mr. Black divided the class into lines to run some sprints. While standing in line to run sprints, he saw Addison in the same line.

Hi, Alex.

Hi, Addison.

So, what’s wrong with your leg? Why do you run like that? she asked. It hadn’t taken long for her to ask the question Alex had been waiting for.

I have cerebral palsy.

A look of confusion replaced her smile. Cerebral palsy? What’s that?

My muscles on my right side don’t work as well as the ones on my left side.

Oh. Does it hurt?

No.

Well, that’s good. It’s our turn to run. Let’s go! Addison raced away. Alex took