I was born October 15, 1953. I was due to be born mid-January 1954, but more about that later. Being born three months premature created some problems. Perhaps the biggest problem of being born early was that I almost wasn't. A few years ago, an episode of Dateline NBC claimed that babies that were born three or more months premature during the early fifties had about a twenty percent survival rate. The fact that I weighed two pounds eleven ounces didn't help.
I was told that I was small enough to fit into a shoe box, which explains my unnatural fear of shoe boxes to this day. Having survived the odds of a premature birth, I now had to survive the prevailing medical knowledge of the day. In the early fifties, it was believed that premature babies needed to be in an environment of enriched oxygen during their first months. It was determined that I should be placed in an incubator with an elevated oxygen level for six months.
That treatment came to an abrupt end when my mother came in and saw that, as a result, the glass in the incubator had frosted over. Mother's intuition overruled medical advice. It was later determined that dozens of premature babies had suffered optic nerve damage as a result of this treatment. Once again, I had beaten the odds. But luck has a strange way of running out and the next of life's challenges would follow me for the rest of mine. I was a happy-go-lucky baby for about a year.
But about the time it was determined that I should be able to take my first steps, I couldn't. My premature birth had left me with a condition known as Cerebral Palsy. The doctors told my parents that I could crawl, be carried or pushed in a wheelchair, but I would never walk. An optimist sees the glass half full of water and a pessimist sees the glass half empty. A realist sees the glass, liquid and unlimited possibilities.
I have had an incredible journey over the past fifty years. Many people have expressed their feelings of how unfortunate it jadwal bola piala dunia must have been to have never walked or run. I can see their point, but I can't agree with them. I have acquired an insight and philosophy of life that I don't think I would have had if I had been physically normal. Still, there are times when I wonder what my life might have been like if I had waited out the clock another ninety days. I entered this world on a Thursday.
According to the old Mother Goose nursery rhyme, “Thursday's child has far to go." Another ninety days would have been January 11, 1954, a Monday. That same nursery rhyme states that, “Monday's child is fair of face.