Growing up.
This, I’m pretty sure is my first grade picture. It would have been about 1968 and I was 6 or 7. This was after I spent the most of a year as an in and out patient that underwent open heart surgery at Oshner Clinic in New Orleans, Louisiana. I’m told the surgery I had could be done noninvasively today but I literally had my chest splayed open. Today they don’t even always attempt to correct this anymore until absolutely necessary. The surgery was called patent ductus if you want to research it more.
I’m talking about this because even though there were some traumatic moments associated with this time in my life, I look at this as one of the more defining parts of my life. Yes, there were difficult moments. I remember waking after surgery and I’m in the ICU. it’s sterile and there’s a mister smashed to my face. I could move but very little. I could look up and see through the double doors that had windows at the top my whole family just happened to be peering in at that moment. I remember I cried and then crapped myself in that bed. A nurse was there pretty quickly and cleaned me up. I remember she said “the teenager in the next bed just did the same thing.” For some reason I asked “what’s he in here for?” She said ” a motorcycle accident”.
There were other difficult times. I remember experiencing the pain and weakness. There were lots of trips for xrays and checkups and concern to make sure I never got sick, meaning I had to stay away from other kids. My mortality never quite occurred to my as this child, even when learning my friend and neighbor living down the street had the same surgery at the same time; he acquired an infection after his surgery and never made it home. One thing I can still say to this day is that I can’t stand to be in a hospital or doctor’s office. It gives me among the greatest of anxieties that I’ve experienced.
But there were other things that I carry with me that even more define who I’ve become. I had sooo much attention as a patient in this hospital. Most of my parents families were from New Orleans. They visited me all the time. I even got visits and presents from astronauts. The doctors and nurses, even with the poking and prodding, were also very kind to me. There were kids in the hospital that I remember playing with. I don’t look back on this as anything other than a positive experience.
When it was deemed that I was recovered enough, my mother enrolled my in the competitive swimming program in Nassau Bay, Texas. There were times I didn’t like the kids grossing out on my scars but this introduction lead to a lifetime of pretty intense physical activity. It’s only recently, that at 55 years old, I’ve begun to realize that some things may have to change.
Please stop by may page periodically. I’ll have other stories that build on this one as well as other aspects of this time period.
Thanks,
Chris
I remember the first time I tried out for the swim team. My best friend at the time was my next door neighbor, Doug Scott. His father was an astronaut that would walk on the moon. I had the lane next to the side of the pool. Doug was in the lane next to me. I couldn’t swim but a few yards at a time without stopping and grabbing hold of the side of the pool.
In just a matter of a few years, I was swimming a mile just for warmup. My older brother was already a national class backstroker whose main rival was Ron Paul, Jr. I really liked swimming but, since I was small for my age I really never had any events that I could truly compete in. I was a great long distance swimmer but there were no long distance events for kids my age. It taught me though what it felt like to get into the zone. I remember being able to monitor my heartbeat for every 100 yards I swam. I still carry this experience with me.
I also started springboard diving a little later. It was there I met another good friend, Scott. Eventually diving would dominate my life for several years.