The Clean Slate

Okay,  in order to go forward we must needs go back a little. 

Explanation:  I was on the roof because in Italy that was the backyard.  Laundry was hung on the roof, dogs and all pets lived on the roof.  I should state that it was, actually, our dog who pushed me off the edge.  It was also our dog who let Mom know where I was, she saw his chain dangling over the edge and that is how she found me. 

So here I am, a clean slate.  The only memory I have from this is pain - not the pain you might be thinking.  I don't recall the pain from my injuries - but I move forward too soon.  After I was retrieved from the roof and woke up in the Italian hospital, the Air Force - due to the severity of my condition - commandeered a civilian flight and had me flown to Wiesbaden, Germany.  The plane had to fly below a certain altitude because I had a blood clot behind or in one of my ears.  Above a certain altitude and the clot breaks free and lodges where it can do more damage.  So, below some certain altitude I am flown to Germany. 

Here I spent a long period with my legs in traction and casts on my arms.  I was in traction so long that I actually developed an ulcer on the side of my leg, the scar from which you can still see today. My parents took turns staying with me in the hospital, while back in Italy the other parent took care of the family with help from our military and village friends.  It was during this time that I remember the pain.  Back then the best pain reliever was Morphine and I got plenty of it - until the day I asked for it.  The doctor said that when a five year old asks for a shot, it is time to say no.  Of all the pain I could have remembered this one was the worst.  I can definitely empathize with anyone suffering withdrawals from any kind of drug.  The pain wracks your whole body and you see/hear some funky stuff - kind of like dawn of the dead- you are alive and awake, but you aren't and you can't sleep either.  You are caught in an in-between world that exists only for you.

After traction came the body cast.  From my shoulders to my toes and both arms all immobilized by plaster.  The itching was unbearable - it was truly a difficult time for my entire family.  I was allowed to return to Italy in the body cast and I spent the time in the arms of those who loved me.  I know it was as difficult for them as it was for me.  Can you imagine the whining of a five year old with an itch that can't be scratched?  I also remember my family having to put my "potty bowl" underneath me whenever I had to go.  As I recall, it was red.  I remember how it felt being on it.  I remember how it felt when someone (either one of my parents or one of my two oldest brothers) lifted me using the bar that was in place between my legs to stabilize the cast.  I think about it now and get a lurch in my stomach at the memory of it. 

I couldn't tell you how long I was in the cast - forever maybe?  I can tell you that when I went back to Germany and had it removed all of my skin was brown and crackly dry - I thought the itching was bad before!  What followed the removal was a long time in rehab.  The hospital had these stainless steel, deep whirlpools that I used to have to sit in because that was the only way I could bend my legs without pain.  I would sit in one and look down through the bubbles and see my legs moving and be surprised that I could do it. I also remember sitting in bathtubs of warm water to re-hydrate my poor skin. 

By the time I left Weisbaden for the last time I was able to walk with crutches - barely.  On my return to Italy I was miserable.  It had been cold in Germany so I was wearing red wool tights, but Italy was fairly warm.  I was standing propped against my bed, covered in my beloved "Ballerina" bead spread.  It was so pretty with pink and blue ballerina's all over it - I had it for a long time, even after it was wearing thin.  So, here I was propped against my bed in my room, at home,finally.  I realize I need to go to the bathroom.  I called for my Mother to help me - she was busy - she called back to get my crutches and go on my own - the only problem was they were on one side of the room and I was on the other.  Do you have any idea how itchy wool tights can be when you wet yourself?  I imagine you don't since most tights today are not real wool.  I stood there, and wet myself, and cried.  When Mom was able to come to me I know she felt bad because she didn't realize I couldn't reach my crutches.  She got me cleaned up and that is last memory I have of my recovery time.

Fast forward a little while, and we are on a plane headed for the United States.  I am wearing a silky (polyester) skirt set in navy blue and red print.  I loved that outfit, I still remember how the skirt swung around my legs.  I remember my white socks and black mary-janes.  I have a doll with me and she is hanging up-side down with her feet lodged in the handle on the back of the seat in front of me and I am brushing her long, silky hair.  My parents and brothers are in the seats around me and none of us knows of the surprise waiting for us when we land in New York.  A surprise that would change all of our lives forever. 

Beautiful Bloggable Me