Introduction Part 1

Hello. You have reached the blog of Heather Kantz. I am a 31 year old woman with Spastic Cerebral Palsy, and I am here to share my experiences dealing with my disability as I am getting older.

First let me make it clear that from this point on that cerebral palsy, no matter what form you are going through, is not going to be referred to as a Disability. It will be known as a "difability". I came up with this word today, because I was feeling a little down about myself, and the recent developments in regards to my mobility, and independence. There are a few factors that have also contributed to my current state.

When I was born, I was born three months early. My mom was really sick, and my father was absent. At birth, I weighed less than 2lbs, and was diagnosed with Hydrocephalus. I was the first baby to have a VP shunt put into my head to save my life.

However, the complications didn't stop there. They discovered that my tiny heart had small holes them. They had to give me open heart surgery before I was even a year old. I spent the first year of my life in a hospital in Denver, Colorado. Of course, my mom was by my side the whole time.

I can't imagine what my mother thought when she realized that her first born wasn't developing like a normal baby should have been. At a year and half old, the doctors diagnosed me with Spastic Cerebral palsy, and told my mother that if I lived, it wouldn't be past the age of five, and I would never walk.

Being a baby, and too young to remember, I don't know how Mom coped with this news. I remember one time she told me that she hated God for doing this to her. For giving her a child to take care of that was going to need care for the rest of her life. And I promise you, this is a woman, for as long as I've known her, has been a strong Christian woman, so hearing that part made me really think, you know?

My mother went about taking care of me, oxygen tank, seizures and all. For the most part, I was a normal baby. I didn't like having my diaper changed, I didn't like the oxygen. (I used to pull it off!) . But she says I was a happy baby, and rarely into trouble for doing anything normal babies do.

I guess around the time before I turned 2, Mom started taking me to special therapists that worked with children that had various neuromuscular disorders. This included orthopedics. I had one therapist that stood out. I don't remember his name, but I remember, vaguely, what he did for me. You see, I was so small that a lot of the walkers they wanted me to use were too light. So he went home, and built a stroller for me to use out of wood, and I would push my Kermit the Frog in it. Easter Sunday, 1983 at the age of 2 years old, I walked to my mother for the first time.

To Be Continued.....