Like most five-year-olds, I hated getting shots. When I went to live with my foster, then adoptive parents; I remember being taken to the clinic for immunizations and a physical. In the moment, the five-year old me was fixated on the several jabs that I received that day. However, one other comment that the nurse made during the process etched itself in my memory. “It looks like he has an appendix scar on the left side of his belly”.
I knew it was there because every time I looked in the mirror after bath time, I could see it. “Oh, he’s fine”, my adoptive father told her. Past that, there was no inquiry as to why I had this scar. Surviving adult family members from my birth family were never asked.
Fast forward to my junior high years and during my sports physical our family doctor commented, “his blood pressure is a little on the high side”. “Oh, he’s fine”, said my adoptive father once again. I not only remember that comment but the puzzled look on the doctor’s face that accompanied it.
Later on, during football season of my 8th grade year, I began to experience sharp pains in my lower back on the right side. These were originally dismissed as “growing pains”. Eventually, when the pain didn’t subside, I was taken in for x-rays. The doctors found what they thought was the cause of the pain. “He has an enlarged vertebrae in his lower back”.
I could have told them at that time about all the instances that my adoptive father got carried away with the paddle and missed high on the intended target. He certainly wasn’t going to tell them about it. Oddly enough, he ceased with the non-stop corporal punishment for things; that in the moment, I didn’t know what I had done wrong. I don’t think that he stopped out of fear for causing spinal damage but for fear of being caught. Later x-rays revealed that the vertebrae had gone back to normal, but the occasional sharp pain persisted.
In my late 20’s, I had to submit a urine sample for a life insurance policy. “You’re leaking an excessive amount of protein into your urine”. What was originally diagnosed as “nephrotic syndrome” later uncovered that I was missing the kidney from my left side. I finally knew why I had that scar on my lower left abdomen; I had a nephrectomy as an infant.
Reflection
“Oh, he’s fine”. This short phrase encompasses so much. I heard it a lot growing up and after a while, I started to believe it too. The only thing was that it put me into a mindset of denial; especially when it came to adopting a healthy lifestyle and dealing with chronic health issues.
In a way, it transferred a very unhealthy view of my overall value from my adoptive parents right into my own psyche. Perhaps they held that very negative view of their own health and for them, that was the accepted norm. However, not knowing about how to preserve my solitary kidney will cost me dearly.
I’m not upset about the loss of my left kidney; it’s genetics and it happens. What I take issue with is having a chronic health issue which showed itself in the form of symptoms, and then having those symptoms ignored. Well, I wasn’t fine, and no one bothered checking as to why. I find it incomprehensible that I went through the system and no one said a word. Valued you say? It’s rather hard to convince me that I was seen as anything more than the human version of a “mulligan”.
It’s taken me a lifetime to piece together what should have been common knowledge all along. From the nurse in the public health clinic, to the family doctor that showed concern about my elevated blood pressure, and to my current diagnosis which has me hovering between Stage 3b and Stage 4 kidney disease; a little concern early on would have gone a long way.
Not only was the negligence wrong but teaching a child who has self-esteem issues, just to shrug things off is even worse. Negligence is in the moment, but the mindset lasts a lifetime.