Držite li život u svojim rukama?

divna žena
radila ja priču o njoj na času...sa sve fotkom

ono što me je zapanjilo je da su klinci "otkinuli"
mene je, moram priznati, dok sam spremala čas podilazila jeza od njihove reakcije...shame on me za sumnju

izmedju ostalog, ustanova u kojoj je živela kao mala nije baš nudila ljubav na poklon...bilo je tu i zlostavljača, upečatljiv mi je bio deo u kome ona priča kako je jedan od njih imao pastime da uživa u nečemu što liči na kuglanje...

isečak iz njene knjige "my life in my hands" (malko uprošćenja verzija da bi klinci mogli da čitaju, a da ne tražim sad po kompu)

It was April 8 1965, the day after I was born. My mother lay alone in a small room at the hospital in Burton-upon-Trent. She had been sedated by the hospital staff and couldn't think very clearly. All she knew was that she'd been brought in to have her baby in hospital because it had been in breech position. She couldn't remember anything about the birth, but she did remember that she had come into hospital to have a baby. Where was the baby now? Why hadn't they brought it in for her to see?
She could hear the sounds of hospital life outside her door and once or twice a nurse came in to check on her. Later in the day a cleaner came in to tidy up and mop the floor. She looked at my mother lying in her hospital bed and noticed that she was awake. "Can you hear all that screaming down the corridor? That's a baby that's just been born. She's in a terrible state. She's got no arms or legs and there's a big red mark all across her face. It's a horrible looking thing. The nurses say she'll die in a day or two, or else be a cabbage for the rest of her life. There's a bit of a panic going on. They don't know what to do. Neither do the doctors. I expect they're waiting for it to die."
Of course, the baby was me, but my mother didn't know that. Not at first.
My mother was released from hospital and a week later went to see her regular GP. She found enough courage to ask the doctor about me. His response was direct and to the point. He told my mother it would be best if I were looked after by the state and that she should put me out of her mind.
So there I was. Alison Lapper, aged one week. With no arms. And my legs had no knees, just the thigh bone ending in my feet, which weren't quite right, either.
Sometime before I was seven weeks old, I was shipped to a children's home where I remained for the whole of my childhood. We were about 250 children with a variety of impairments. The staff called us "the strange little creatures". By the age of one or two I think we all somehow knew we had been abandoned and, in varying degrees, we were traumatised by the fact. Even though some of the children had parents who visited them from time to time, they weren't necessarily happy occasions.

The nursing staff had been taught that it was not advisable to get close to the children, so they were not very affectionate or loving. Mostly we children looked to each other for friendship. I had two special friends, Peter Hull and Tara Flood. Peter had no legs, just his upper torso and two pointy stumps for arms. He was persistent and loyal. As an adult he won gold and silver medals for swimming at the Paralympics. Tara had short, legs and arm stumps. She was the "bright one", destined for university and a top-flight career. We became a close-knit trio of adventurers and mischief-makers.

I was coming up to my fourth birthday in the spring and had been visiting the Tates since I was two and a half. I was completely settled in with them and they were very comfortable with having me. So much, so that they made inquiries with the authorities, to find out whether they could adopt me. I don't think the authorities at the home had any objection. They knew my mother had given me up at birth and had made no contact since. Of course, the authorities would have to contact my mother because she would be required to sign the adoption papers.

…got a taxi back to the hotel where we were staying. We took the lift to our room, but when Fran had shut the door behind him, he turned to me with an odd expression on his face. "You're mine now and you'll do as I tell you!" he said in his broad Lancashire accent. It took me a second to realise he wasn't joking. And that was when the relationship changed.
He didn't want me to go to college. He didn't like me going out. He didn't like my friends and didn't like it when I went out with them. After a few months I went to see a marriage guidance counsellor, but Fran refused point blank to come with me to any of the appointments.

After an episode of violence, Alison got scared of him and filed for divorce.
She tried to have a baby four times and lost them all.
She got pregnant again, in 1999 and although her boyfriend didn’t want the baby, and despite her fear of having a deformed child, she decided to go for it and gave birth to a healthy boy. She employed a nurse when he was a baby, but she is independent and she’d like to keep it that way.
She graduated from the University of Brighton in 1994 with a first class honours degree in Fine Art.

isekoh tekst...eto kad se žuri
evo linka
my life in my hands

Alison je divna zena i majka. Treba o takvim ljudinama od ljudi i govoriti i pisati, jer price o njihovim zivotima mogu mnogo da pomognu u svemu, posebno u razbijanju prdrasuda (prica kod Gordane) o hendikepiranim licima. Zapravo, ko je ovde hendikepiran?
Ima jos jakih ljudi koji zive zivot.

stvarno oduzima dah. Hvala Vam, nisam znala za nju.

Prica je divna. Ima jos dosa takvih prica. Trebalo bi ih cesce citati, narocito onda kada pomislimo kako nemamo snage za dalje.

posle ovoga je stvarno sramotno žaliti se na smešne probleme koji nas "more" i "zagorčavaju" nam živote. Voleo bih da imam samo jedan mali deo energije ovih divnih žena.

www.ivanbevc.blogspot.com

Vrlo zanimljive tekstove postavljas. Evo drugi put kako nisam cula za osobu o kojoj pises. Ova prica me je odusevila. Divim se ljudima koji su u stanju da prevazidju svoje nedostatke. Moje borbe mi se cine tako nevazne i sitne u poredjenju sa borbom koju Alison i ljudi slicni njoj moraju svakodnevno da vode. Setih se one recenice iz Biblije od koje se inace uvek jezim: Trazite a ne dobijate! I uvek se pitam trazim li(tragam li za) ja pravu stvar?
Ova prica otvara bezbroj pitanja koje ljudi moraju postaviti drustvu i bezbroj pitanja koje covek samom sebi mora da postavi.

mene je sad tako sramota... ovoj ženi se treba klanjati. ljudsko biće par ekselans.

..prvo da te pozdravim i podrzim kao autoricu na blogu b92...citala sam sve tvoje postove ali sam u nekoj frci i nisam stigla nista da komentarisem..a i velika je "ponuda" novih i starih blogera pa dok "prosetam" svuda da vidim sta ima...prodje vreme....
Nisam do sada cula nista o ovoj fantastticnoj zeni... To je upravo ono sto mi se najvise dopada na blogu..mogucnost da nesto saznam i naucim....i sebe podstaknem na razmisljanje...Sve sto si do sada napisala vise je nego intrigantno i podsticajno......
Posle ove price dopunjene linkovima svako treba da se zamisli i postavi sebi pitanje "Da li drzim zivot u svojim rukama?"...

PS Moram ti reci da sam prvo videla zoxterov post posvecen tebi...i nista mi nije bilo jasno....Kada mi je postalo jasno, mogu reci da sam ostala zgrozena....Pozdrav

Dunjice, kad ujutru budes videla sta ces vec videti, molim te da i dalje nastavis da pises. Nemoj dozvoliti da te neki frustrirani drkadzija odvrati od toga jer nisi u pitanju samo ti. Nadam se da ovde vecina ipak dolazi da se ne bi susretala sa duhovitostima nivoa Bore Corbe. Nadam se da takvih koji bi da se popisaju i na hendikepirane osobe ovde nema puno. Ne bi valjalo da je drugacije. Jedina vajda od ovog sto se desava na drugom blogu ce valjda biti to da ce autora pozvati za ucesnika sledeceg novogodisnjeg doceka kao glavnu zvezdu.

Čula sam za nju i ranije, pre 2-3 meseca, naravno, na blogu. Pa onda pročitala odlomak iz njene knjige. I još jednom pročitala, i još jednom pročitala.

A ovo sam pre neki dan dobila od kolege