My galloping art life...Part I

Besides the dwarfism, I was born with three other things:  a deep abiding passion for horses, art, and a indomitable spirit.  From an early age I began putting horses on paper.  But NEVER any bridles, halters, or fences though.  Just free, galloping horses...always.

Perhaps this may have something to do with living in such a challenging body.🐎😃🐎

When I was seventeen a art gallery asked to represent me...the youngest ever at the time.  The gallery also sponsored my first print series...ahem...wait for it:  of 

a galloping horse!🐎😂🐎  

Soon my story featured in a newspaper the first time.  Unbelievable.  I was being focused on, NOT because I was a Little Person, but because of my talent.  To me, this was incredibly awesome.

So I was all stoked to major in art in college.  Only the advisor told me we artists should major in something 
else more dependable.  I then chose the other passion of mine:  Theatre!  What could be more dependable than Theatre, right?!!😂

Actually, I majored in Theatre Set Design, which tends 
to be a bit more dependable than the acting realm.  Set Design, like painting on huge canvas and wood flats, before the amazing computer graphics came along.  Besides, majoring in Set Design involved art classes too!😃

However, school kept getting interrupted by spine surgeries, walking again, supporting myself, a horse, and all that stuff.  Nevertheless, I persevered.😃

And what a plunging...Part I

W. C. Fields once said, "This old world is a very tough place, and you're darn lucky if you can get out of it alive."  And this world IS a very tough place, indeed.  We ALL have tough challenges.  Tough challenges need tough faith, in however one believes.  Often it is easier said than done.  I tend to take a deep breath and PLUNGE forth.  Sometimes I've PLUNGED BACKWARDS though, but sometimes, the plunge forth is sweet, oh, so amazingly sweet.

My last horse, Patches, was a foal in dire need of being rescued when he came into my life.  How he came into my life is quite a story too, for a later blog.  In the late 1980's following spine surgery...I had to learn to walk again for the second time, but was darn grateful I could.  Still there were complications, so I traveled to Johns-Hopkins to see the world renown Dr. Kopits, who devoted his career to Little People.  That I got to see him at all was the result of a plunge I made.  Due to the severity of my condition, he asked if I could move to Baltimore.  "Yes, of course!  I will go to my money tree!  No problem!"  I reminded him I came with a horse and cat package.😏  Financially, there was just no way.  Impossible.

After I returned to Kentucky, I had this idea, but shoved it away.  Everything could go wrong.  Yet the idea persisted.  I would ride Patches 10 miles, involve the media, and seek pledges for each mile.  If I plunged BACK trying this, the media would be right there to show it, so I HAD to shove the crazy idea aside.

Then I was given a nudge.  More like a huge SHOVE.😮  I was moving Patches from one farm to one closer to my home.  One day, leaving the farm I had him at, it suddenly came to me out of nowhere, to clock the miles from one farm to the other.  I did.  The distance...was...EXACTLY...10...MILES!

I took a deep breath, and PLUNGED forth.

My next blog will share what happened next...😉

My horse Bashum and Oakey Doak...Part I

My horse Bashum, was a lovely brown, black, and white pinto horse and like all of mine, I loved him dearly.  And Bashum and I happened to acquire a very special friend who hated the color red, who attached himself to us...  

One of my fellow boarders had purchased some goats, and kept them in a pen near the barn.  Only one of them decided he preferred being with Bashum instead, and kept escaping from the pen just to be with him...until finally he was with Bashum for good.

I had a feeling this would be coming...one day I received a call from John, who owned the goats.

"Adelaide, how are you doing?"
"Hanging in there!  And YOU?"
"I'm doing the same."

Then silence.

"Uh John, what's up?"

"Well...I uh...you see...uh...someone bought my goats...but since I couldn't catch the one attached to Bashum, I decided to give him to you.  Besides, EVERYONE is saying it would be such a shame to separate those two anyway..."

So this is how Adelaide became the proud owner of a very obsessed little black goat named Oakey Doak who hated the color red.  To be honest, I had already grown very attached to the little squirt anyway.  Obviously Bashum adored him.  It was so charming to call Bashum when I would arrive at the farm, and see him galloping to me with dear little Oakey Doak coming right behind him as fast as he could.

Oakey Doak went everywhere Bashum and I rode...though off the farm I limited the distances out of concern for the little one.   

Often well meaning people would stop and ask if I knew there was a goat following us.  DUH.

Now goats can sometimes be territorial, and Oakey Doak was no exception.  He would go bonkers if he saw his reflection in a shiny car...which then meant attacking it with his little horns.  None of us at the farm had shiny cars, so I didn't know Oakey Doak had this desire to seriously injure his reflection...until the first time this happened (thankfully without any damage!) to someone's Mercedes which DEFINITELY was not at the farm.  From then on I kept him on a lead rope while riding off farm.  Did I say the little fart also did not like the color red yet?

Please continue to Part II to see what Oakey Doak got us into one day...

Kindergarten learning...

In the late 1980's, a charming inspirational book, "All I Really Need To Know, I Learned In Kindergarten," by Robert Fulghum, came out becoming a #1 Bestseller.  At the beginning he shares a list of things we learn, which I will share in a moment.  Of course we all can come up with other things of our own we can add to the list too.

Long before I ever got to the kindergarten age, I had learned a lot.  I learned swear words.  You see my parents fought a lot and partied a lot.  And swore A LOT.  

So being the receptive three year old child I was, those words became MY vocabulary too.  How could they not?  I heard them constantly.

My babysitter, Mrs. Cassity, was an older lady I loved, who kept children in her home during the day.  Since swear words were a regular part of my vocabulary, they came out no matter where I was...but never to be mean or anything like that.  If my wooden block tower suddenly fell down, I would calmly say, "Oh f**k, I'll have to do it again."

Or, if a crayon broke, I would say, "Oh s$$t, my crayon just broke."  And if it was raining, I would say, "D**n, it's raining."  Now and then I would tearfully share with Mrs. Cassity, "My Mommy and Daddy had another BIG f**king fight last night and I couldn't sleep. Can I come live here?"

Thankfully, Mrs. Cassity understood I was only repeating the words I lived with, and did not punish me, which would have been very confusing for a three year old as to why I was being punished for words I heard all the time.  

She would instead let my father have it, who came to pick me up!

By the time I was four, she had gently, lovingly helped me understand the words were not nice words a child should say...and probably saved me from being kicked out of kindergarten later!

Mr. Fulghum said, "All I really need to know about how to live I learned in kindergarten..."

"Share everything.
Play fair.
Don't hit people.
Put things back where you found them.
Clean up your own messes.
Don't take things that are not yours.
Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
Wash your hands.
Flush the toilet.
Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
Live a balanced life...learn some, think some, draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work some.
Tap a nap every afternoon.
When you go out into the world, hold hands, and stay together.
Be aware of wonder.  Remember the little seed in a cup...the roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows why, but we are all like that.
Goldfish, hamsters and white mice and even the little seed, they all die.  So do we.
And remember the first word you learned...LOOK."

On the following page is Adelaide's "version..."😃

Keep your head held high...

Life is a stage,
So learn to play your part,
Keep your head held high,
And learn to bear its sorrows.
                           Palladius

Through the years I worked on many Theatre stages, from large famous ones to very small ones.  That Theatre has been such a wonderful constant in my life, is symbolic in a sense.  For you see, I have often found myself being an inspiration to others, quite unaware I was, upon the challenging stage my journey is on.

Twice I was told I wouldn't be able to walk again.  Twice, I didn't listen.  Earlier, I shared with you the second time this happened.

The first time I was only nineteen.

Ten hours into the surgery my neurosurgeons and orthopaedic surgeons ran into complications, through no fault of theirs.  Seven hours later they were done.  The next day, in ICU they were anxious to see if I had any movement in my legs, and asked me to move them.  Nothing happened.

I had a horse.  I was in school, and worked.  My artwork was selling.  I had a life.  Obviously, I would have adjusted to being paralyzed, but I wasn't ready to give up hope yet.  I kept focusing on my legs, and wouldn't let go of what it was like to ride or dance.  Then I heard about a six mile marathon scheduled for July 4th...two months away.  I had this crazy idea to at least be able to do the last mile of it...walking.  On my own.

My surgeon kindly reminded me, "But you can't move your legs!"

"No shit," I said.  "But I'm going to!  Watch me."

The ward I was on did not have any other young people at the time.  The other patients were up in age, recovering from hip or knee surgeries.  And some WERE indeed watching ME.

Slowly...ever so slowly...my toes, feet, legs began getting movement.  I was pouring everything into them to make them move.  My doctors were astounded.

One day my surgeon suddenly took me down to Physical Therapy.  He positioned me at one end of the parallel bars so I could hold onto them.  He thought at best I would manage one or two steps.  I managed to go all the way to the other end, and return.  He couldn't believe it!  However, it wasn't as easy as it sounds.

More in the next blog...😃

The funniest Baptism in history...

Though my family did not go to church, from early childhood on, I believed in God and treasure a loving God as I believe Him to be.

At age nineteen I began going to a dear church in the country, and was baptized.  It really was a very profound experience...but...BUT...sometimes the most hilarious unexpected things can happen to me.  Remember this...I am very buoyant in water.

I had become close friends with the pastor and his family, for we were the same age, and in school with many expenses.  Often on Sunday nights I would join them for fried egg and ketchup sandwiches while we shared hopes, tears, laughter, and dreams.

Several others were being baptized the same day I was, with a packed church.  This was a full immersion baptism, so the water was 3' deep.  I  LOVE WATER.  Oceans, swimming pools, lakes, creeks, I am in!

The church had just gotten new white baptism robes...mine being 7" longer than me.  And did I say I am very buoyant in water?

I was last.  I gathered as much of the excess robe in my hand as I could and stepped in...before the packed church watching, including my dear friend Jackie, who could laugh loud...really loud.

When I reached bottom the water quickly made me pop up like a cork, as a HUGE expanse of white material began rising to the top.

By this time I was floating and trying to look in control at the same time.  Ron could immediately see we were rapidly losing control...both in the water, and trying not to laugh.  Nevertheless, we had to continue.  He managed to guide me over to him, and asked the right questions I responded to, and then...AND THEN...came the moment to dip my head beneath the water by laying me backwards...not good.  Remember I am very buoyant now with a HUGE expanse of white robe?

Ron laid me back and before he could react my legs went flying out of the water straight up in the air.  By the way, I should say I thankfully did have a bathing suit on.

He first had to raise my head back up, then quickly managed to put my legs back down, but white robe material was everywhere floating and I had to grab onto him to keep from popping out again.

So much for being in control.  We lost it.

Please continue to see what happens...

The Goldfish Caper...

Sometimes when one is hospitalized for a long period, one can make a friend for a lifetime.  When my blood counts were plunging out of control, my doctors wanted to try a new drug that went into the bone marrow.  So I was admitted to a pediatric cancer ward in my twenties.

However, there was another young man my age named Michael, who was battling leukemia, like most on the ward, much younger than us.  We immediately bonded and became the "pied pipers" of the ward.

Years prior to this I had read the beautiful book written by Doris Lund, detailing her amazing son's leukemia battle.  Eric was diagnosed at 17, fought hard, yet died age 22, in 1972.

One of the things Eric did once while hospitalized for a long while, was to put a live goldfish in what looked like a glass I.V. bottle...then attach a line which appeared to go in his arm.  When his team of doctors came in, they saw him uncharacteristically hunkered down in bed.  They asked what was wrong.  Eric replied, "I'm feeling very scaly. "  That's when the doctors then noticed the goldfish, and loved it.

So this brings it back to Michael and I...

When we both weren't desperately ill from the treatments we were getting, we found ways to keep ourselves going, and the whole ward going, with courage and laughter.  Since the ward was kept in very sterle conditions we were isolated, so moments of laughter in the midst of hell could go a long way.

One day I told Michael about Eric, and that was all it took.  We had to try to do what we then called the Goldfish Caper.  In the Blog ahead will be what happened...

The journey of a thousand miles...

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.    -Lao Tzu

The journey of a thousand miles actually begins with having the courage TO take that first single step.

There are approximately 200 types of dwarfism with Achondroplasia being the most common.  Almost all obviously affect the bone structure, cartilage, and connective tissues...with 4'10" the maximum amount of height.

Eighty percent of us come from families with no history of dwarfism whatsoever, as in my case.

However, the jury is still out on which type of dwarfism I have...though I certainly have some of the Achondroplasia characteristics.  In fact, how I met Dr. Kopits and became his patient, was because I had an appointment to see his colleague, the dear geneticist Dr. McKusick at Johns-Hopkins.  Though I recovered from the bleed out and paralysis during my most recent spine surgery at that time, I was having severe problems with plummeting blood counts.  My doctors were hoping if we could nail down which type of dwarfism I have, we could possibly solve the blood count issues.  Also learn if other Little People had the same problem.  

The only thing was though, I had just been in the hospital for months while learning to walk again, missed work all that time, and gone through what savings I had.  I didn't know yet how I was going to get to Baltimore, and stay for one day and two nights.  With a courageous leap of faith, I took that single step anyway, and made the arrangements needed.  The next day I found a envelope someone put under my door.  An anonymous donor provided the airline ticket and the money to cover the room near Johns-Hopkins.

Dr. Kopits was such an extraordinary doctor for Little People, he had a waiting list of one to two years.  When I scheduled my appointment for Dr. McKusick, I learned it just happened to be a day Dr. Kopits was at Johns-Hopkins seeing patients.  I was hopeful to simply get to meet him.

I flew to Baltimore, and saw Dr. McKusick early the next morning.  As soon as I saw him, he got very excited.  He immediately noticed my hands, feet, and longish extremities.  Remember, I hadn't met any other Little People yet to know I was "unique" in this way.  Besides being on the "tall" side of dwarfism, my hands and feet are average size.  I can wear regular shoes.  Many Little People cannot and my heart aches for them deeply.  

Dr. McKusick flipped out when he learned I played the piano, was an artist, and Theatre Set Designer.
And then...AND THEN...when he learned I owned and rode horses, his jaw dropped.  At that point, he suddenly got up, grabbed my hand, and began dragging me (I had to go with my hand) for his colleagues to see.  And you guessed it...one of those just happened to be Dr. Kopits.

"Steven!  Look!  Look at her hands and feet!" Dr. McKusick said.  "She plays the piano and she's an artist!  And SHE OWNS AND RIDES HORSES BAREBACK!"

Before Dr. McKusick dragged me on, I managed to say to Dr. Kopits with laughter, "I had hoped to...oops!  Gotta go!  So happy to meet youuu!"

Dear sweet Dr. McKusick...when he completed his impromptu show and tell, had me sit down in the busy corridor.  After he walked away, Dr. Kopits and he began talking together...and looking my way.

The next blog will have what happened...