Broken And Laughing About It

I’ve been reading a lot of posts about people figuring life/themselves out. Some of them I find a bit cliche, and some of them make me a bit jealous. I think I know myself pretty well, but I wish I knew more.

Unlike a lot of people my age, I know EXACTLY what I want to do when I grow up, and like a lot of people’s my future is precarious. Music isn’t exactly the easiest industry to go into, and my disability complicates things. I have epilepsy, which is controlled by meds on top of MD. I’m also very near sighted. Besides that, common sense often eludes me and I don’t know too much about how the world actually works.

Sometimes I just have to take a step away from myself and laugh. I’m so broken. I’m also special. When I was diagnosed with Muscular Dystrophy as a baby, the doctors told my parents that it was because they both had the same defective gene and they had better odds of getting struck by lightning than meeting each other.

After they did some tests it was determined that I had 3-5 years to live. My mom prayed incessantly for weeks until someone from the hospital called and said they messed up the test results and they had actually reported someone else’s results. They said that I would be pretty normal other than not being able to walk. They’ve been trying for years to figure out exactly what I have, but I’ve stumped the best doctors and the most advanced genetic testing. I actually find it funny. I think I’m God’s little anomaly.

I guess I shouldn’t worry too much about the future because my Father has taken darn good care of me so far. I’ve never felt bad about being a busted piece of work. When I was in elementary school the other kids thought I was awesome because I got to ride a trike around in the building. I can give people rides on the back of my wheelchair, which is a good deal faster than walking, and I get awesome seats at concerts. Most importantly, I can skip lines at Canobie Lake Park.

Because in my world guinea pigs can fly!

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