"Weighed Down"

I do not know where I came from. One day, I showed up on the doorstep of a family. The authorities thought I was about a year old when I was found. While they attempted to locate my parents, they put me in the foster care system. Thus began my continuous journey moving from one placement to another. As a toddler, I spent much of my time crying. Some days I was continually sobbing, other days outright screaming. I was taken to the doctor several times over the years. Blood was taken, tests were run, questions were asked, but no satisfactory answer was given, or a specific diagnosis found. Eventually, trips to the specialists stopped. The official reason the doctor had listed was a bogus diagnosis, but the real reason was the costs I was incurring. Drugs were prescribed, more for the benefit of the adults than for me. Drugs kept me quiet. Later, it was found that the adults were overdosing me, and I was removed from that placement. I had to be weaned from the drug which was more hellish than the pain.

As I got older, I would try to physically move as little as possible as movement made the pain worse. I was called lazy by many foster parents, teachers, really most of the adults with whom I ever interacted. The worst placement was on a farm. They were looking for free labor. I was expected to do morning chores before school. I did not have a problem with these chores as the pain was still manageable enough in the morning to do these things. After school chores, however, were a total beast. After having spent all day in school with the pain mounting, all I wanted to do when I got to the house was lay down to get some relief. Not to be, however. Most days I could not finish my assigned chores. I was then expected to make up these tasks over the weekend. My body was unable to take it, and I would blackout from the pain. After a few of those blackouts, I was removed from that placement.

Existing is painful. Walking is even more painful. Running I try not to do if possible. The end of the day is worse than the beginning of the day. The pain starts the day as a dull ache. A dull ache that gets worse as the day goes on or the more active I am. At the beginning of the day, the pain takes up a corner of the room. As the day progresses, the pain takes up a quarter of the room, then half the room. The room is eventually filled with the pain until it is the only thing you can think about. The time it takes to get to the pain-filled room is dependent on a few things such as how much time I spend upright and moving. Walking becomes harder, like I am walking through two feet of snow. It reminds me also of watching those cartoons where the giant is walking in slow motion, and you can hear his feet hitting the ground. Except that for me, the sound is the reverberation of pain up my leg.

The only relief I get from the pain is when I am in water. There is no pounding in my legs, the pain subsides, and I can notice the world around me. The first time I went swimming, I was 10 years old. The adults in that placement were kind. They thought knowing how to swim was a necessary life skill. I went to my first lesson, sitting on the side of the pool, listening to the safety instructions. We were then shown how to safely get into the pool. I eased myself into the water which was so cold I gasped audibly. Once I got over the initial shock of the cold, however, I noticed how much lighter I felt. The pain eased. My muscles relaxed, and my bones did not feel like lead. I felt how everyone else must feel. Once the lesson was over, I headed over to the stairs to exit the pool. With each step I took to emerge from the water, the weight returned, the pain returned though more bearable after the brief relief. The adults had big smiles on their faces, “We’ve never seen you smile before!”

Throughout my time in that placement, the adults tried to get me to the pool as much as possible. My whole demeanor began to change after spending so much more time in the water. I talked to people and came out of my shell. I was able to focus more during school (some days were better than others). I was able to focus while reading and do homework because my mind was not always preoccupied with coping with my pain. That placement was one of my longer ones. The mother ended up getting cancer though, and they stopped doing the foster care thing.

My next two placements were short and excruciating. Knowing the source of relief from the pain and not having access to it was agonizing. No matter how much I pleaded with the adults in those placements, I was not able to go to a pool. Without relief from the pain, I began to return to my zombie-like state, focusing my energy once again on the all-consuming mental effort of not allowing the pain to overwhelm me. My improved grades fell dramatically. My chatter slowly faded to nothing. I once again became a shell of a human being.

After the second placement, my current caseworker set up a meeting with me. (Having had numerous caseworkers over the years, I no longer kept count.) She was newer at her job, still hopeful that she could make a difference in the lives of children. She asked me what I thought she should know when looking for my next placement.

“Some place I can swim,” I said.

“Swim? That your placement has a pool?” she asked.

“Or at least willing to take me to a pool on a regular basis,” I said.

The caseworker found me a placement close to the local YMCA. They had a pool that I was allowed to walk to most days. Once I was older and could try out for the school swim team, I did. I made the team, but the adults in my placement at the time made it clear to me that I was responsible for finding my own rides to and from practices and meets. My swim coach took pity on me once I explained the situation to him. He found me a ride with another kid, Charlie.

Charlie's dad was a doctor, a specialist who made lots of money. Charlie's mom had died when he was little. Charlie’s dad made so much money that Charlie had his own chauffeur. The best thing out of this whole situation was Charlie himself. I finally had a friend. Charlie was different, too, though not in the same way as me. Charlie was a hemophiliac which means his blood does not clot like it should. Any bump or bruise could be dangerous for Charlie. When he was younger, he used to wear a helmet to school. Every year, the nurse would have Charlie stand in front of the school and have this talk about hitting, pinching, or bumping Charlie was not only rude because we should not be doing those things to anyone, but it could be life threatening to Charlie. Charlie became the ‘handle with care’ kid. Nobody made fun of Charlie, but he was not rolling in friends either. The only sport he could participate without the expectation of being bumped, hit, or falling to the ground was swimming. Charlie had an outdoor pool, but his father also built an indoor pool. Charlie could swim all year round then.

Since we were together so much for practice and were both starved for companionship, we became fast friends. I spent most of my free time at Charlie’s house with as much as possible spent in a pool. Obviously, I cannot live in a pool, but the reduction of pain opened a life for me that I had not thought possible. Because we spent so much time together, Charlie figured out something was up with me. I suppose I did not help my situation when I was doing homework a lot of times with my body half in and half out of the water. One incident prompted a slew of questions from Charlie though.

When leaving the pool, I need to take a minute or two to mentally prepare myself for the marked difference my body feels on land versus the water. I would not describe it as pain. The best way to describe is a heaviness as if weight is being thrown onto your back. Like I said, it is not painful, right away anyway, but it is an adjustment. One day we were splashing around in the pool. Charlie quickly got out of the pool, and I followed him, forgetting my condition. The lack of mental preparation for leaving the water stopped me in my tracks. Yes, I mean that quite literally. I felt like my legs were hardening in cement like in those old cartoons. I am not exactly sure what my face was doing, but it alarmed Charlie. He returned laughing when I did not follow him. His laughter died when he saw my face, “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” I assured Charlie that I was fine, just stubbed my toe on the way out of the pool. Charlie sat me down and asked if we were friends.

“Of course, we’re friends.”

“Then what is going on with you? Don’t lie to me.”

I hesitated. The determined look on Charlie’s face made me explain everything to him. He sat there and listened to me intently watching my face. When I finished my story, he suggested telling his father.

“Why?”

“Maybe he can help.”

I told Charlie that I had no desire to repeat my childhood. I made Charlie promise not to tell his father, and Charlie reluctantly agreed.

A few weeks later, a similar incident occurred at a swim meet. I had to exit the pool quickly, and I did not have time to properly prepare myself. I grimaced as I got out of the pool and bent over as my body adjusted to solid ground. When I stood up, I saw Charlie’s father with his eyes boring into me. I nodded at him and walked away wondering what that look was all about.

Charlie showed up outside my house the Saturday afternoon following the meet. He was agitated and when I asked him what was wrong, he hold me to pack a bag.

“Pack a bag? Why? Are we going somewhere?” I asked smiling.

“No,” he said, not returning the smile. “Not us. You. You need to leave now.”

“Why?”

“My father. He knows. After that last swim meet, he asked me lots of questions. I tried to divert his attention, but he was persistent. After the questions, he went into his study and made a call. I could hear bits and pieces of the conversation. My father somehow got hold of your old medical records, all the tests you had done as a child. Something in them caused quite a stir with him and some colleagues. My father kept repeating the word ‘gravity’ for some reason.”

“Gravity?” I replied incredulously.

“Yeah, I don’t know why. It doesn’t matter why right now. They are coming for you.”

“What?! Now?”

“I don’t know. I just know that they want to run more tests on you and are very eager to find you.”

“They can’t do that, can they?” I was sure they would need my permission, but the look on Charlie’s face scared me. The realization dawned on me that I was near the time of aging out of the system. I had no one to look out for me, and I could easily disappear into the dark abyss of nothingness because there would be no one looking for me, no one asking questions about me.

“Where am I going to go? I know no one, have no one. Do you have a plan?”

“I have camping supplies in the car. I am going to take you to a campground tonight. That one that has a pool. Just keep your head down for a few days, and I will see if I can get more information.”

I hesitated. “Please,” Charlie pleaded.

I went into the house and asked the adults about spending the next couple of days with Charlie. Permission was given, and I packed a bag. I went outside and got into Charlie’s car. We drove an hour or so to the campground. Charlie took care of checking me in. He drove to the campsite and helped me set up the tent. He also unpacked a bunch of other supplies for me. Before he left, Charlie handed me a small duffel bag. “Put this somewhere safe,” he said.

“Why?”

He unzipped it. The bag was filled with cash and a small tin. “What’s in the tin?” I asked.

Charlie sighed before opening it. Inside was a needle and a vial of strong pain meds. “Please don’t use it unless you absolutely must,” he said.

I looked at Charlie. There was a pleading in his eyes. I gave him a small smile and took the bag from him. “Sure thing,” I said.

Charlie looked around the campsite before looking back at me. “I will return, my friend. I promise.”

I nodded with a smile. Charlie smiled back at me before giving me a hug. He squeezed me though I could not return the favor. He slowly walked back to his car. He waved as he drove away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

That night I lay back looking up at the stars thinking about the hard truths of my current situation. The doctors wanted to run tests on me. I thought back to the haze of my childhood, days or even weeks going by of which I had no recollection. The drugs caused me to see everything in a fog. I did not want to return to that time. Nor did I want to endure the prodding and poking that usually occurred. What other option was I left with? Run? Where? The only person I had was Charlie. Nowhere to go. No one to go to. Did I really want to spend the rest of my life on the run? That thought did not appeal to me either. There was, of course, another option, though most people would not even consider it. I did not like any of these choices. Not at all, but what was a person without family or friends of standing to do?

I inhaled deeply and let out my breath slowly. I decided to sleep on it. I put dirt over the fire and got into my tent.

The next morning, I got up and made myself breakfast. I was enjoying the sounds of the forest when I noticed the sound of water in the background. I finished eating and went looking for the water that was making that sound. It did not take me long to find the small waterfall that was making the noise. I walked downstream for a while, noticing that the water began to move much more slowly. It reminded me of the lazy river that Charlie talked about, the ride from Disney World. I stood there for a moment before nodding my head. This will do just fine, I thought.

I headed back to my campsite. I pulled out a sheet of paper, and I wrote Charlie a letter. In it, I told Charlie not to blame himself, that my choice was not his fault. I told him how much I appreciated his friendship, that we were as brothers. I am not sure that I adequately explained things, I told him, but I needed him to know that he was my best friend and that he would not have trouble finding another one. I put the finished letter into an envelope and wrote out Charlie’s address, hoping that the letter would find him. I placed the letter on the pillow in my tent so it could be easily seen. I pulled the duffel bag from its hiding place and dug out the small tin. I placed the bag back where it had been. I had put a clue in the P.S. of the letter so that Charlie could find the bag later.

I put on my swimsuit, grabbed the tin, and headed to the lazy river. I sat on the edge of water listening to its sounds and the sounds around me. The sun was high in the clear blue sky. Inhaling deeply, I looked around my surroundings. Opening the tin, I pulled out the needle and the vial. I filled the needle with a generous dose of pain medication. I walked into the river before taking the needle and placing it carefully into my vein, emptying its contents. Taking a deep breath, I laid back into the water. The slowly moving river gently carried me downstream as the medicine began to take effect. The combination of the water and the medicine made me feel as if I was weightless. Closing my eyes, I smiled as I was finally no longer weighed down.