THE END OF HIGH SCHOOL & THE BEGINNING OF THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY CHILDHOOD

Chapter 14

I returned to high school in January. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t get to pick up where everyone else was; I had to catch up in all the other classes. Luckily, I caught on to everything quickly, so I could get to where I needed to be in all my other classes without too much effort. My tutor from the hospital, Mr. O’Krancy, issued a mark for the work we did together in the first semester. He was very generous with my marks, which took away some of the pressure for the rest of the year. I also returned to teaching piano after school, which was great because I was earning money again.

I took driver’s education classes in the spring at the high school and got 100% on my driver's test. I was happy with that and asked my dad when I could get a car. He had bought a car for everyone else, so I figured it was only fair for me to get one too.

Life at home didn’t get much better after the surgery. My dad found out that Dr. Cawsey had put me on birth control while I was in the hospital and was furious. In my dad’s opinion, birth control was only necessary if you were married and trying not to get pregnant. To use it otherwise was a license to sleep around, and only sluts did that. I tried to explain that it was to help with the crazy bleeding every month, but dad was having none of that. I told him to call Dr. Cawsey, and he would explain, but dad said Dr. Cawsey had already tried. As usual, his mind was made up, and there was no changing it.

I was always pretty good in school and got good grades, but by the time I got to high school, I just didn’t care as much as I did before. If I came home with a 95 on a test, the response was always, “why didn’t you get 100?” Eventually, I just quit trying. It didn’t matter anyway.

There were two teachers in my grade 12 year that never questioned any of us about our behavior, although I’m pretty sure they could clearly see most of us were high. One was our science teacher Mr. Lascue, and the other was Mrs. Wheatley, one of our English teachers.

Mrs. Wheatley’s room was in the portables, which gave us an excuse to go outside for a hoot between classes. One of the boys in my science and English classes always had weed, and he always shared.

One day, we were studying MacBeth, my favorite Shakespearean play, and Mrs. Wheatley called on me to explain a particular soliloquy. I thought I was answering intelligently in my high state, but many of my classmates had started giggling, and even Mrs. Wheatley was smiling. I ended my long-winded analysis with, “he didn’t get done what he had to do done.” Sandy was laughing so hard she fell out of her seat, making her laugh even more! I’ve never forgotten that day; every time I recall this memory, it makes me laugh!

In June, I was given a typing award for being able to type the most words per minute. I was happy to get it, but I think several classmates wondered how I could type so fast, considering I had only been back to school for six months. I wonder if they didn’t know I played piano which gave me finger strength and helped me type quickly.

For graduation, one of the physiotherapists, who I can picture in my mind but for some crazy reason I cannot recall her name, from Wascana Hospital, came to the house and gave me a dress. She had worn this dress herself for a special occasion and wanted me to have something special for the big day. She and my mom worked together to alter the dress to fit me perfectly. It was an incredibly generous thing to do, and I was extremely grateful.

My date for grad was Grant. Grant was a few years older than me and the only guy I knew willing to go to grad with me. He was from a well-known Regina Beach family, whom I hung out with during my summer stays.

Between January and June, I had brought up going to university with my parents, but for some reason that to this day I can’t even begin to figure out, my dad did everything he could to dissuade me from enrolling. Instead, he promoted my teaching gig at The Academy, telling me I could work my way up the proverbial ladder and have a good solid career there. I wanted to be a lawyer, but I wanted to please my dad more, so I signed on full-time at The Academy.

By December, the pain in my hips returned. I had made it one year post-op.

I couldn’t figure out why my hips were ‘dislocating’ again, so I went to see Lorna at Wascana to see if she had any insight. She watched me walk and did a couple of strength tests, but she could see nothing obvious going on. She suggested I get some x-rays done. I told her I was done with Dr. Kim, so I’d have to go back to Dr. Cawsey and get him to refer me back to Dr. Froggatt. After meeting and speaking with several other orthopedes during my stay at Wascana, I felt Dr. Froggatt was the only one I would trust.

I asked Lorna to show me how to tensor my hips, hoping that would be enough to give me stability and hold everything in place. I had earned respect during my time in Wascana, so Lorna obliged.

It took several months to get in to see Dr. Froggatt. In the meantime, I began going to the gym with Donna, a fellow piano teacher with whom I also went to high school. We signed up to a ladies-only gym and went late in the morning every day before going to work. I didn’t know what was going on with my hips, but in my brain, I wondered if getting the muscles surrounding the bones a lot stronger would be enough to keep my hips from giving out.

By late spring, I finally had my appointment with Dr. Froggatt. I’ll never forget it. I met him in the outpatient clinic at the Pasqua Hospital because that was the fastest way to get in to see him. He had x-rays taken, and then he met with me.

I was taken aback because he remembered me. I knew my condition was rare, but I didn’t really understand how rare, and that because it was so rare, that was why he remembered me.

Dr. Froggatt placed the x-ray films on the viewers, sighed, looked me straight in the eyes, and told me the surgeries had done nothing. My mind instantly began racing.

“What happened to the bone grafts?” I asked.

“What bone grafts?” he replied.

“The bone grafts that Dr. Kim put on the side of my hips,” I said with a little too much emotion.

“There are no bone grafts.”

“Did they disintegrate?”

“There never were any bone grafts.”

“What do you mean there never were any bone grafts? What the hell did he do then?”

“I don’t know.”

I sat there stunned for a moment, furious that everything I went through was for nothing. We argued for a few more minutes about the bone grafts until the truth finally sunk in. Dr. Kim hadn’t taken any bone from anywhere else in my body, so there were no grafts. What he had done was broke a part of my pelvis, and pinned it back together, hoping the repair and overgrowth would create an acetabular shelf. We either misunderstood Dr. Kim’s explanation or the explanation he gave my parents and me wasn’t exactly what was going to be done in surgery. Either way, you couldn’t undo it now.

“So it was all for nothing,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Now what? What do I do now?” I asked

“Wait. Wait until the pain becomes too much to bear, and hopefully, by then, someone will know what to do. There are medical advancements all the time.” He said.

I knew it was the truth, but it was a truth that I didn’t want to accept.

Dr. Froggatt asked me if I needed pain medication, but I told him I could manage for now. He told me his office would be in touch for a follow-up appointment.

I had had enough of doctors and surgeries and hospitals, so I was happy to wait until the pain became unbearable. I could take a lot of pain, so I figured I wouldn’t be back to see Dr. Froggatt for quite a while. I made it several years before I couldn’t take it any longer.