When I was about 1 year old, I was diagnosed with bilateral congenital hip dislocation. My parents didn’t suspect of anything wrong until I started to walk. I was put in a cast for more than a year, to make the bones fit in the right place. I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t play. My grandmother used to bring me to the kitchen table, and I would listen to the radio and play with the silverware while she cooked. She was my best friend. And I could sing every song they played on the radio.
I think that’s why I’m a little quiet and shy. At the time I should be running and playing with the other kids, I had to play alone. I had a cousin who came to play with me once in a while. Her favorite toy was always the one she saw in my hands. And I couldn’t run after her.
After that my life was a series of doctors, trips and X-rays. The cast didn’t fix my bones, and we often travelled to Rio or São Paulo (we lived in Curitiba then) looking for a doctor who knew what to do. Then more casts, then braces, and no result.
I think most of my childhood was normal. Of course I couldn’t run like the other kids, but I went to school, I helped my mother sometimes at home, and sometimes I even went out to buy bread or any other small things she would need.
One day, when I was 9 years old, I was going to buy bread, I heard a woman say to her daughter when I passed by them, "Poor girl. She’s a cripple."
I’m not sure if this word in English expresses the same exact meaning of the word she used in Portuguese.
I was surprised by what I had just heard. I had no idea that this was how people saw me. I never saw myself as such. My parents never treated me as such.
Thinking about it now, I can imagine how they must have suffered, how they must have tried to protect me. Even so, they always taught me to be independent.
I continued on my way, but those words wouldn’t go out of my mind. So, that’s what the world thought I was.Fortunately, I never settled for that. I knew that they were wrong.
I can’t say that those words didn’t hurt me. They did. I didn’t know how to fight, I didn’t know what to do.
It took me some time to learn that my attitude would show them who I really was. You can’t fight against what people think. The only way to prove they’re wrong is to show them what you really are.. Little by little. Day by day. It takes longer. But it works.
I found out that there are many cripples with perfect bodies and minds. They are very good at finding excuses not to do what they should do. Always complaining. Always showing the world how unfortunate they are. That’s their choice. Not mine.
I never felt sorry for myself, and I never let anybody feel sorry for me. It’s a waste of time, and I have better things to do.
It happened other times. Some people would even try to offend me. But then I was already prepared for that.
I’ve noticed that many people are just incapable of looking in the eyes of someone who has a physical problem. They just don’t know how to deal with it, and they try to protect themselves from feelings they can’t handle. And they end up making you invisible. They prefer not to see. They forget you have feelings. They really don’t think you have feelings. I guess they think you’re so busy being a cripple that you wouldn’t have time to talk, to smile, to have ideas.
I know these people NEVER meant to hurt me. It’s just that they don’t know what else to do.
Finally, after countless doctors and X-rays, I was operated when I was 11, and my hips were fixed, in November 1971. After the surgery, I used another cast for 3 months, until the bones consolidated.
When Christmas came, the whole family came to celebrate in our house. I couldn’t walk, so my parents decided to put me in the living room couch, so I could participate in the party. Cousins, uncles, aunts, they would all come from one room to another, and avoided to look when they passed by me.
They wouldn’t want me to see in their eyes how sorry they were. And when our eyes crossed, they wouldn’t know what to say.
I know how it feels to be invisible. I know how it feels not to be seen as a person.
When I first watched the Elephant Man, I didn’t just cry. I sobbed! I knew exactly how he felt. And I admired his courage.
All this I just told you, Dave, is part of me. Part of what I am.
It all made me grow to be the person I am today. And I think I am a much better person than I would be if I hadn’t had those experiences.
I’m not bitter. I’m not sorry. I had the strength to overcome everything. I love life. I love people. I love to see beauty wherever it is. I love that little girl I once was. (sometimes I just wish I could hug her and kiss her and tell her it’s all right) And most of all, I love myself. I WON!
Dave,
you told me not to hold back. I’m not holding back, as you can see. God knows what it took me to write this. Very few people have heard this story. But I think I’ve been built around those sad experiences, and anyone who wants to know me should know them.
Again, I’m not sad, and I’m not unhappy. I don't think the world owe me anything. So, don’t be sad or unhappy for me.
I’ll be lighter in the next messages, I promise!
Love,
Neysa
I think that’s why I’m a little quiet and shy. At the time I should be running and playing with the other kids, I had to play alone. I had a cousin who came to play with me once in a while. Her favorite toy was always the one she saw in my hands. And I couldn’t run after her.
After that my life was a series of doctors, trips and X-rays. The cast didn’t fix my bones, and we often travelled to Rio or São Paulo (we lived in Curitiba then) looking for a doctor who knew what to do. Then more casts, then braces, and no result.
I think most of my childhood was normal. Of course I couldn’t run like the other kids, but I went to school, I helped my mother sometimes at home, and sometimes I even went out to buy bread or any other small things she would need.
One day, when I was 9 years old, I was going to buy bread, I heard a woman say to her daughter when I passed by them, "Poor girl. She’s a cripple."
I’m not sure if this word in English expresses the same exact meaning of the word she used in Portuguese.
I was surprised by what I had just heard. I had no idea that this was how people saw me. I never saw myself as such. My parents never treated me as such.
Thinking about it now, I can imagine how they must have suffered, how they must have tried to protect me. Even so, they always taught me to be independent.
I continued on my way, but those words wouldn’t go out of my mind. So, that’s what the world thought I was.Fortunately, I never settled for that. I knew that they were wrong.
I can’t say that those words didn’t hurt me. They did. I didn’t know how to fight, I didn’t know what to do.
It took me some time to learn that my attitude would show them who I really was. You can’t fight against what people think. The only way to prove they’re wrong is to show them what you really are.. Little by little. Day by day. It takes longer. But it works.
I found out that there are many cripples with perfect bodies and minds. They are very good at finding excuses not to do what they should do. Always complaining. Always showing the world how unfortunate they are. That’s their choice. Not mine.
I never felt sorry for myself, and I never let anybody feel sorry for me. It’s a waste of time, and I have better things to do.
It happened other times. Some people would even try to offend me. But then I was already prepared for that.
I’ve noticed that many people are just incapable of looking in the eyes of someone who has a physical problem. They just don’t know how to deal with it, and they try to protect themselves from feelings they can’t handle. And they end up making you invisible. They prefer not to see. They forget you have feelings. They really don’t think you have feelings. I guess they think you’re so busy being a cripple that you wouldn’t have time to talk, to smile, to have ideas.
I know these people NEVER meant to hurt me. It’s just that they don’t know what else to do.
Finally, after countless doctors and X-rays, I was operated when I was 11, and my hips were fixed, in November 1971. After the surgery, I used another cast for 3 months, until the bones consolidated.
When Christmas came, the whole family came to celebrate in our house. I couldn’t walk, so my parents decided to put me in the living room couch, so I could participate in the party. Cousins, uncles, aunts, they would all come from one room to another, and avoided to look when they passed by me.
They wouldn’t want me to see in their eyes how sorry they were. And when our eyes crossed, they wouldn’t know what to say.
I know how it feels to be invisible. I know how it feels not to be seen as a person.
When I first watched the Elephant Man, I didn’t just cry. I sobbed! I knew exactly how he felt. And I admired his courage.
All this I just told you, Dave, is part of me. Part of what I am.
It all made me grow to be the person I am today. And I think I am a much better person than I would be if I hadn’t had those experiences.
I’m not bitter. I’m not sorry. I had the strength to overcome everything. I love life. I love people. I love to see beauty wherever it is. I love that little girl I once was. (sometimes I just wish I could hug her and kiss her and tell her it’s all right) And most of all, I love myself. I WON!
Dave,
you told me not to hold back. I’m not holding back, as you can see. God knows what it took me to write this. Very few people have heard this story. But I think I’ve been built around those sad experiences, and anyone who wants to know me should know them.
Again, I’m not sad, and I’m not unhappy. I don't think the world owe me anything. So, don’t be sad or unhappy for me.
I’ll be lighter in the next messages, I promise!
Love,
Neysa
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