God only knows how many other stories of neglect my parents have stashed away. Just waiting and anticipating the right moment (like Thanksgiving dinner) to share their horrific tales of parenthood.
Here are a few more 'events' from childhood that force me to ponder; am I a cat?:
- When I was five or six years old, I almost drowned. I did it again at the age of about eight and then again at the age of sixteen (can't blame them for that incident) while vacationing in Mexico.
- At the age of seven, I came down with Mononucleosis and ended up in hospital for about two weeks. At the same time, I had to have my tonsils out and then hemorrhaged shortly after the doctor sent me home. Let's just say, for Christmas that year, I wasn't wishing for new toys.
- When I was four years old, my Dad left me in his truck for a split second while the engine was running; I grabbed the gear stick and threw it into reverse. All I remember is my Dad and his friend chasing the truck, trying their best to stop it before it crashed into the car behind me. They were successful and VERY lucky. Or am I the lucky one?
My parents had me when they were very young and very stupid and probably very high. Like most other occurences in the 70's, I wasn't planned. I like to think that they did their best but when you know NOTHING about babies, how do you know what your 'best' is?
Each and every time I go to visit my parents I say the same thing: how did I survive you people?