Yet, fate, with its characteristic mood swings and unpredictable moves, apparently had other plans. Part of those plans was to turn me into an abomination.
Thus, on a cold mid-morning, as I entered the eighth-month of my first year of existence, I was found in bed burning with high fever and suffering from a heavily-bleeding nose. What happened after that was a complete and dark emptiness.
Several months later, I was made aware that I had contracted a then incurable but highly-contagious and highly-fatal disease that was known to afflict infants. It was called poliomyelitis, more commonly referred to as polio.
The year was 1967, a time when the anti-vaccine for the lethal disease was not yet readily available. Hence, you might say that I was an accident waiting to take place; and so, it did.
For babies of my generation then, it was a dangerous time to live because polio was notorious for making surprised and often deadly attacks. At any given time, you could be down and dead. At one point, you could be running around in total freedom; in the next, your mother could be crying over your limp and lifeless body.
Yet, I was one of those who miraculously survived this savage attack on infants. Based on stories repeatedly told to me by my late father, babies who caught the polio virus during that time were given a 50/50 chance of survival.
In my case, when I was rushed to the hospital on that fateful morning, I was said to have been given a variety of vaccines, none of them anti-polio. When these did not seem to have had any effect, I was supposedly placed inside a machine side by side other polio-stricken infants, one of our respective feet ready to go down the grave.
Those placed beside me died one after the next, until in the end, I was left all alone, scarred but surviving. Doctors were amazed at this seeming determination to live on my part. Later on, they were said to have told my late father that God has probably assigned me to a special mission that I needed to accomplish first before I can go home to Him.
After recovery, I was taken home but I could hardly remember anything. My mind remained a complete blank.
By the time I had gotten grasp of where I am, which took another several months, everything appeared normal to me. I had a shorter than normal left leg founded on a twisted left foot; apart from that, I sported a completely paralyzed right arm. Yet, these differences did not seem to matter to me. It was the appearance that I grew up with and for a kid my age, this did not look a lot different from others.
Living with the disability that polio gifted me with was never easy. Apart from making constant adjustments on how to move, I also needed to face the fact that there are things that I simply could not do. Then, there are the uncaring and at times, hypcritical stares from people who simply do not know any better.
And of course, there were the heartaches that came in torrents, particularly upon reaching adolescence, the period of your life when nothing else seemed to matter but the one you love. Getting broken once was enough, but to be broken countless times was something no sane person would readily welcome.
Despite these limitations and the many pains that these brought in, my late father decided to put me to school. He had every intention of sending me all the way to college and even through my masteral studies, both of which I was able to complete through determination and Divine intervention. For this, I am eternally grateful to my old man.
Getting a job after school became an eye-opener though. This proved to be a turning point in my life as I began to realize that I had been a sheltered child. My late dad, despite his good intentions, had unfortunately kept me insulated from how the world outside actually works. I was never taught that if people give you lemon, you had the option to make lemonades.
Still, one company took its chances on me, along with several others who shared similar physical conditions. For several years, I found a second home where I could move around without having had to endure many a condescending stare from people who had nothing better to do.
Work then took much of my time and helped me forget, albeit temporarily, what I am and what I am not. I began seeing myself as an actual part of a 'normal society', not some 'freak' trying to fit in.With friends who treated you as their equal, this was not that difficult to achieve.
Then in early February, on the feast day of Our Lady of Lourdes, fate decided to strike again, dealing me another major blow.
Everything took place in a matter of minutes. An innocent bus ride, heavy traffic, swerving, a sudden stop, a quick turn, a tragic fall.
When the smoke cleared, I was down on the pavement of a major thoroughfare, an ugly gash peering out of my left temple coupled with a left leg covered in fresh red blood, tissues, muscles and bones gravely swollen and openly exposed to the humid air.
To make the long story short, the leg was amputated for medical and health reasons. In its place, a prosthetic one was fitted. Thus, there is now a piece of me that is no longer human. In the cyberworld, I am now technically a cyborg, part human and part machine.
Technically as well, this is my second lease on life. And just like most second chances, the experience has led me to search for the reason God has led me this far on this earthly journey of mine.
I began looking back at my previous life. As I did, I found that I have been given many things that others in my situation have not been blessed with. I have been given this rare opportunity to rise above my limitations. The disability is there, but I have also been armed with the gift to prove myself worthy of existing in spite and because of this disability.
The beauty of it all is that I am not alone in this discovery. There are many others like me out in the world. People whose physical bodies have been scarred but who have chosen to use these to their advantage. These are the people who ought to be recognized. Lesser mortals living among mortals, waiting to be called so others will realize that even among the weak, the mighty hand of God is at work.
This is the mission....join me.
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