It seems that cerebral palsy in all of its idiosyncrasies, has always been (and will always be) that pestering little brother that I never had. He constantly follows me around everywhere and anywhere and just when I think I've lost sight of him, there he is again, trying to piss me off with any number of his tactics: making me fall down, grabbing my hand and making me spill something, cracking open my mouth so that I drool, making me have an accident for God knows what reason, and most of all, at the end of the day, making me tired. He makes my orthopedic system weak, uptight, high-strung, and just plain angry. He embarrasses me in front of a lot of people (especially my peers) and obstinately refuses without hesitation to end his relentless attitude towards making his presence known to everyone in the room. He plops me in a wheelchair, forcing me to put up with the ignorant attitudes of people of all ages who stare, patronize, and treat me like a two year old. He constantly talks to me and even when I try and cover up his mouth, he keeps talking... and talking... and talking... and talking. He seems to have also unfortunately acquired the ability to easily coax my nerves into sending little uncalled for electroshock impulses to my fibers. It wasn't until a neurologist appointment in February that I had found out he had went to my nerves too. As if the unnerving muscular anxiety wasn't enough, he made it so much so that he makes them shake, twist, jerk, and feel like they are going to explode. He has made me give up on my dreams of becoming a dancer.
Those are the things that make me angry. But then I have to remember that behind every punk, there is a sweetheart. There are times when people have approached me with the prospect of having us separated since he causes me so much distress. However, I wouldn't want that. That being said, I would not have had the opportunity to be immersed in such a rich and enthralling communal culture that has forever changed me. I would not have had the chance to meet some of the greatest people in my life. I would have not learned how to think craftily, critically, and on my feet. I would have not learned the art of satire as precisely as I have. I would have not aced almost every anatomy test I've ever taken. I would have not gotten treated like royalty at Disney World. I wouldn't have the liberty of handicap parking or disability benefits. He has kept me safe in some respects when I had times of unnerving impulsivity and rebellion. He has made me stronger and at times, more happy at the deepest roots of my core.
