I recently wrote a stry for the IFS council in Al. In a hurry, I left out the good times.

[evelyngayle]

FORTY YEARS WITH DOUGLAS 

 

 

 FORTY YEARS WITH DOUGLAS

Barely seventeen and six and a half months pregnant, I began having abdominal pains in the late evening of November 4^th, 1968. As the night wore on, so did the intensity of the pains. Finally my young husband, Mike, convinced me to call Dr. Partlow even

though it was way past bedtime. The good doctor told me to wait until seven a. m. and come to Druid City Hospital because it was probably a kidney problem. I did as instructed even though I was hurting so badly that I was crying. An hour and a half later, I gave birth to Michael Douglas McDonald, a pathetic tiny baby with forceps bruises on his little head.

 

We all thought everything was fine for about seven months, when Douglas was still unable to sit alone. Dr. Roy White said that he "was slow because he was born prematurely" and to be patient When my little darling was sixteen months old, Dr. White declared him to be mentally retarded.  Mike and I simply could not accept that because Douglas was speaking in sentences. So we got another doctor. His name was Jerry White, the most caring and knowledgeable pediatrician in Tuscaloosa.

 

I believe that it was before Douglas's second birthday when Dr. White ran some tests and discovered that he had cerebral palsy resulting from the brain damage at birth. Since I was still a dumb teenager, I felt that the affliction was temporary and refused to accept the severity of my child's disability. Before that I had never been around a baby. (Not since I was seven when my baby brother was born.)

 

At age three, Douglas was sent to Children's Hospital in Birmingham to get surgery. The muscles in his legs were very tight and needed released. I recall seeing a guard push the legs of some poor worn out mother off a coffee table in the waiting room. Of course there was nothing such as a Ronald McDonald house in 1971.

 

When Douglas approached four and was still not walking, I finally was convinced that I had a "little crippled boy". It wasn't until much later that it was obvious that not only did his legs not work properly; neither did his eyes and hands.

 

 Looking back, I was indeed a very strong young lady. Mike had already turned to alcoholism and gambling. He never cared for Douglas' needs back then as well as now. Rarely did the grandparents give me a break. But I loved my little boy more than life, as I now do. Back then, childcare for disabled children did not exist as far I as I knew. I got a job at Woolworth's during the hours he attended the eight a. m.  until two p.m. pre-school. All I remember about the small school is they gave physical therapy.

God blessed me with a healthy and bright baby boy in 1976. Douglas's brother was named Richard.  I believe it was good for Douglas to share my attention with another since I was probably enabling him to be more handicapped by literally carrying him every where. I am not sure how I managed to get Richard and Douglas to church and shopping before Richard began walking.

During this period, he began having seizures. Though it seemed like a nightmare, they abruptly stopped after a couple of years.

At six, Douglas was enrolled in Northington Elementary. He attended that school for the next six years. And attend was about all he did there. Though I believed in good faith the teachers were giving him an education of sorts; they were not. One told me that his vision was too poor for him to learn to read.

 I will never forget the year when Douglas was eleven and Richard was four. We left Douglas at Shriners Hospital in Greenville, South Carolina to have another surgery on his legs. Mike was drunk and abusive on the day of the surgery and I did not get to go see my son until the operation was over. Two weeks later, we brought him home with casts on both legs that were separated by an attached bar. A few days later, Mike went berserk and virtually tore the bathroom off our frame house, leaving us with no facilities.

That was the last straw and we left. At the time, I was attending college and had very little money. We had to move into an upstairs apartment. I suppose God gave me the strength to drag Douglas up and down the stairs.

 

In 1982, the same year both my parents died, I reconciled with Mike. By then, Douglas was enrolled in Oak Hill School for multi-handicapped students and Richard had started to school. Douglas had an amazing coach by the name of James Wilson that some how taught him to swim.

He made some good friends during those years. One was Michael Mason who had muscular dystrophy and died. About that time I noticed that I didn't have any normal children because Richard was gifted. The boys had a very good relationship (as they now have).

 

When Douglas was sixteen, he began having a serious behavior problem. Sometimes he was out of control with yelling and cursing for no good reason. After staying at the psychiatric ward, he was diagnosed with a mental illness. The doctor told me that he did not adapt to change. His daddy and I had separated again and he did not react very well. 

 In 1990, Douglas graduated from Oak Hill and moved on to a sheltered workshop at McGraw Activity center. There he learned daily living skills and how to do some simple work tasks. He continued with this until around 2001.

 He fell in love with Teresa Tangle. They talked on the phone a lot and went on dates (I carried them to the movie or bowling)  His next girlfriend was Jennifer Plowman of whom he still loves though her family no longer allows them to talk.

 

Although I had always worked somewhere, I had gotten a job with a State of Alabama mental illness institution where I stayed the next thirteen years. I felt a certain amount of financial independence and started divorce proceedings in 1992.  I finally  became a true single mother after eighteen months of court battles with Mike. I stayed single until 2001 when I married Maurice Carver and moved to Gordo. 

 

By then Douglas had moved to an apartment. We had obtained a Medicaid waiver that afforded him plenty of personal assistance. I believe he thinks those were the happiest times of his life.  He still talks about going back there. He became ill and was hospitalized   and was no longer able to live alone.

Shortly afterwards he was placed in a group home in Northport that became a nightmare. Douglas had always walked on his walker and did not have incontinent   problems. The owner of the home had him placed in a wheelchair and diapers. This caused him to have a swift decline.

It was then that I began a battle with the Volunteers of America who oversaw the group home.  Douglas had lost any independence that he ever had and I was about to have another nervous breakdown. I received no support from the 310 Board who could have helped him move. It seemed my relentless efforts to move him were ignored every way I turned. It became so bad that I was not allowed to talk to my son on the phone.

 

My health had declined to the point that I could not bring Douglas home with me to care for him. And I was not able to obtain legal guardianship. After I had called the police to the home and written the mental health commissioner, Douglas was placed in Partlow. The doctors there noticed that he had some serious digestion problems and sent him to DCH for surgery.

 

When he recovered, he moved to Fayette to Johnson Place where he now resides with eight others. He attends a day-hab program and we visit every weekend.

Richard is living in Denver with his wife who is expecting my first grandchild in a few weeks. Douglas and I plan to visit them in December. We are also going to the casino and spend the night for his birthday.

 

 I believe that Douglas, Richard and I are now content with our lives.

 

 

By Evelyn Smith McDonald Carver