The Start

 

            I am having a difficult time deciding where to begin. I think I will start at the beginning of my odyssey with dystonia. I don’t remember this because I had no idea anything was wrong. This was related to me by my mother.

I had just turned five when my life changed forever

            I was running a high fever that year before Christmas. We were living in what we call “the old house.” It was old, drafty, and cold. The only warm place in the house was a hall off the kitchen. I slept on a sofa in the hall. After my fever broke, I told Mom I had to use the bathroom. She uncovered me, and I walked to the bathroom. Little did I know that Mom was watching and likely thinking she saw wrong, or was dreaming, or having a nightmare most likely. You see, I walked on my left toe.

            Maybe this means nothing to you, but my mother had seen this before. Her son, now fifteen, had started walking on his left toe five years ago. He was using crutches to walk now.

            When I came back to the couch and was still walking on my left toe, I know mom was praying something like the following: Not again, please God! Let there be an explanation for it. Don’t let this happen to my little girl too. Please God!

            I was oblivious and likely chatted away, after all I was feeling better. Mom covered me, got me warm, and then she played with my toes. She was looking for anything that might explain the unexplainable. But there was nothing on my toes, not even a blister. I feel sure she continued praying that day.

            When dad came home, he likely had me walk for him and he looked at my feet for something. There wasn’t anything to find, however.

            This was the start.