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ChildrenOfGod

ChildrenOfGod

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Published by alainvallee1

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Published by: alainvallee1 on Nov 18, 2012
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02/07/2013

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CHILDRENOFGOD
Who are these children? To me, these are children who have been destroyed by life, bybeing abused by adults or sometimes both. They are remarkable humans because unknown tothem laid the greatest talents on earth. These are buried under their sufferings and the ruins of themselves. These gifts can be musicals, visuals or any other way chosen by
"
GOD
"
.
I calledthem
"
CHILDRENOFGOD
".
 How can I know it? I was one of those children whose live has been destroyed. At twelve
years old, I’ve been
in a car accident with my dad and my brother. My dad died in the accident.While he was driving heart palpitations caused him to lose control of the wheel. The car hit arock on the side of the highway and the impact made the steering wheel crush his chest. If thepalpitations had not killed him, the impact of the wheel on his thorax did. My brother Ronaldhad two minor fractures, one at jaw and the other at the elbow. As for me, physical damage wasmore serious. I had both of my femurs fractured, one internal and the other external. My brotherwas admitted at the Hospital of Granby but not being sufficiently equipped to deal with me, asbrothers we have been transfer in Montreal at the Ste-Justine Hospital for children. It was at thetime the best Hospital for children care and is still today. There, they took great care of us.I spent the first three weeks in the hospital ward
"
I
ntensive
C
are
U
nit
"
with metal rodsinserted in my legs below the knee. These rods were attached to weights so that the legs do notmove and that the bones repaired. I have no recollection of these first few weeks because thenurses told me that when I was under the influence of morphine during this time. At any time of the day or the night, I could shriek to death in extreme pain. They told me that the doctors hadprescribed me morphine at doses that a child can tolerate, so that I would no longer react to thatpain. It was successful. Incidentally, one of the side effects of morphine is that the subject is notaware of his condition or of his environment. I only remember waking up one day in a greenroom with other patients, my bed was moved and I was transferred to another room, whereRonald was already installed, for the next two weeks. During this time, some events occurredthat will have an essential meaning later in my life. The first was that mom told me that Gilles,t
hat’s how she called dad
, had die in the accident, I was also declared dead but was resuscitate tolife with
"
CPR
"
care by a witness at the scene of the accident with both my legs broken.First, to set the record straight right now, I was in complete shock. I was unable to feelor express any feelings of any kind. All those who visited me, including my family werestrangers. I felt invisible to everyone around me. I did not exist except physically. Today, thisis called "
 post-traumatic shock
" but forty years ago it was considered as an abnormal condition.
 
 
I heard the nurses talking among them. This is normal when you care about your patientsand showed that they cared about me.
The doctors didn’
t understand why I had no reactions orfeelings for anything or for anybody. That exceeded their understandings. So they werethinking about keeping me for longer observation instead of letting me go back home. I knew Iwas under scrutiny because regularly a nurse was standing at the door, a notepad in hand,looking at me and writing on it. I knew it was about me, but not what kind of observations itwas. When I asked, the answer was always "
Oh, we
’ 
 re just writing notes. That
’ 
 s all 
".This confirmed me that they considered very seriously keeping me for even more tests andobservations. I had become a subject of study very peculiar indeed. After all these tests, I wouldbe considered too abnormal to live a life outside the hospital system. The doctors would neverlet me out of their hands. I would have no life and I would end up in an asylum or in a cemetery.I have a confession to do. Even though I could not feel or express anything I was able to think.This indifference that they had register had form a cone of silence around me that gave me theimpression that I had all the time in the world to realize my situation. So I used my mind toobserve everything that was happening. Because I knew that I was not crazy.At that precise moment, I chose to act like a normal patient would. I expressed interest andfeelings for others. I read some books in their library and everyone,
 
"
everyone
 
except me
" wasvery happy. At last, in the name of the known normality, I acted like a patient whom recovershis capacities. Except that in myself, I just felt one thing. Something terrible has been done tome. A terrible injustice that I could neither understand nor describe but only feels because it wasdone to me. And by I do not know who neither know what. I just felt dead inside. Like I was amovie with my life outside me. With that atrocious feeling that nothing would never matter tome. Still, I had the feeling that something could be done, I just did not know what or how. Irefused with all my strength to believe that my life was over. I chose to wait and see. This untilI have the information that I needed for my case. Because that was what I became for thedoctors, a case.At the end of these five weeks at the hospital, male nurses under the supervision of thedoctor put me in a cast around the legs from the waist to the toes. While they were doing theplastering, the nurses discussed with the doctor to see if a vent hole should be open behind theleft knee where I had an open wound so it would be cleaned regularly. The doctor chose not todo so because it would be too easy to break the plaster if a hole it was done in it. Thus bycleaning, disinfecting and protecting the wound now, the risk of infection should become veryminor and thus there would be little chance for the gangrene to develop. The nurses told himthat it would be very dangerous to move me as is if the cast break. It would be easier to do so if itwas reinforced. They finally put a piece of sawn broomstick of twenty inches long and plasteredit diagonally across my legs. I could be carefully lift when the plaster would be dry and movedto the doctor
s office.
 
 
I thought that everything was normal until I saw the thickness of my medical file. Thesheets of size 8.5" X 14" formed a pile thicker than
the Webster’s
dictionary. My reaction hasbeen "
Wow, my case is so thick, I must be an important case
"
 .
I was in complete shock.My doctor asked me if I was okay. I said, "
Yes
"
 .
He then told me that plaster they put onme would stay for the three following weeks, I should then return here to have the cast remove.Then I had to stay 3 more weeks in bed without moving so my bones would mend at their best.At this point, I would be given crutches that I could use to get around in the house and find back some use of my legs. At my last appointment, he will give me his opinion on my health.Back at home, for the everyday routine, I ate, did my schoolwork and was attended for basiccare (hygiene). I also received a few family visits. I had so much time that it seemedinterminable to me. What happens when you have all the time in the world? You think a lot.There is nothing else to do, therefore we do associations. One erroneous I did was this "
 Dad  killed me and I killed him because we both died in the accident
"
 .
Nobody at home had any ideaof my real situation. Therefore, I waited more than anyone.One day, Mom told me "
You will go for your last visit to the hospital Friday and then wewill know your real situation is
"
 .
I remember that mom could not take a day off that day. Mybrother Daniel came with me to the hospital as my legal guardian. Finally something washappening.My doctor was a man who spoke in a quiet voice. I felt like I was really important to him.At the last visit, I saw that the thickness of my file had changed a lot. The stack had decreasedwhich showed me that my case had evolved. Slowly, I walked from the wheelchair to sit in thechair in front of him.He said "
 I didn’t know
you could walk. Is it painful?
"I had the feeling that to do so without pain was what surprised him the most. I told him no.I stopped using the crutches because they have been wrongly adjust to me and it was hurting toomuch under my armpits so after once I never used them. I forced myself to walk back and forthfrom the bedroom to the bathroom."
 No doctor, it
’ 
 s just that
couldn’t 
stay on the first floor where my room and the bathroom are located and becoming bore to death so I went down to the ground floor where the kitchen and living room are located. I saw my family, I ate there and I was watching TV.The more I used the stairs to go up and down was the best because I exercised my legs to be more flexible and then it was then much easier to walk, that
’ 
 s all 
".Just between us, I can tell you that I used the stairs a lot, often for no reason just because itwas good for my legs and it was fun too. Apart from reading books, doing my schoolwork andwatching TV, it was the only activity I had.

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