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My Accident:
I have not always been disabled. When I was younger I wrestled for the Haddon Township Hawks. I acted like any child would at age 11. On October 22, 1992 I was playing at a friend’s house near my own. Because we were bored, I said to my friend “Why don’t we do your dad a favor and rake the leaves in your yard.” We raked the leaves near a platform in his backyard. When we were done, we decided to jump off the platform into the leaves. I told my friend to pretend like he was shooting me, and I'd fall back. As I walked to the edge of the platform, one of the boards I was standing on began to tip, throwing me head first into the leaves. I remember falling; everything seemed like slow motion as I fell. Once I hit the ground I could hear the board fall in the background. When I hit the ground, I broke my neck instantly paralyzing me. When I say instantly I mean not even two seconds after the fall I tried to get up but couldn't. Not only were my motor abilities paralyzed, but my breathing stopped. I tried to yell but couldn't because I was unable to draw a breath. That fall changed my life because from that moment on I would spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair.
My friend thought I was kidding. He jumped off the platform and rolled me out of the leaves. I was not really scared, but just really confused. The thing that came to mind was my friend needed to get help for me. Only thing I could do was mouth, "Go get your sister." He realized what I was trying to say and ran to get his sister. I remember lying on my back staring at the sky. I can still feel the cold damp ground on the back of my neck. I can still see looking at the sky through the bare trees in his yard. I just started thinking what was happening, is this a nightmare?
Probably two minute after the fall I passed out due to a lack of oxygen. By the time his sister got to me she had noticed I was in bad shape. She told my friend to call my house to inform my family. They had just sat down to dinner when the phone rang. My sister Maria answered the phone and was told the news. My sister told my family, "Tony got hurt." My Dad told my sister to go get me.
When she got to my friends house and saw I was unconscious and that my friends sister was performing CPR she became scared. Maria ran inside to their phone to call home. This time my Mom answered. My father knew there was something serious just from the look on my Mom's face. He shot up from his chair throwing it into the wall. He rushed out of the house into the car. He panicked so quickly he forgot to take my mother with him. My father took over CPR when he got there. My father had learned CPR from the TV show "Rescue 911."
About twenty minutes after the fall I woke up in an ambulance. I couldn’t talk because I had a tube that went into my mouth and down my throat to help me breath. I tried to sit up but I couldn’t. I was totally paralyzed. Whenever I become scared, or angry I clench my teeth. I was crushing the tube with my teeth. The medic said, "If you keep clamping that tube you'll be unable to breath." I was on my back on a stretcher, my mother was by my head near the front of the ambulance I had never seen her so scared in my life.
When I arrived at Cooper Hospital, they took me into the emergency room right away. There were about five doctors working on me at once. None of them were telling me what was wrong, or what they were doing. I was so scared that I passed out. When I woke up again, I did not know where I was or what was happening to me. I was terrified. The room was pitch black. In the background I could hear a machine beep every second. Each beep represented my heart beat. Once again I tried to get up, or scream for help but couldn't. I started to panic that the machines beeps were getting quicker. My heart rate was out of control because I was working myself up. The beeps woke my father up who was sleeping in a rocking chair. He ran over and he was holding the only way I could communicate. Through a letter board. Someone would point to a letter and I would blink when they pointed to the right letter.
The first sentence I spelled was, "I'm sorry." He said, "Why are you sorry?" I replied, "I'm sorry I never told you I loved you." Before I got hurt I was the type of person who never said how I felt about people. I had to tell someone how I felt about them, because I thought I was going to die. I thought if I didn't tell someone before I died my life would have been a waste.
II. Home Sweet Hospital:
What reminds you of home? Is it the place you grew up? How about your family and friends? Or could it just be your safe place? Most of you probably think it's all of the above? Well this isn't a test; it’s a reality check. Imagine you're eleven years old, and have to spend months from home in a hospital. How would you react? Well, I'll tell you what I went through, and how I got to where I am today.
After I fell, I was rushed to Cooper Hospital in Camden, New Jersey. My fears began here. Day after day I spent lying on my back in a rotating bed. The bed rotated every five minutes from one side to the other. The reason for this bed was to clear the pneumonia developed from constant mucus filling my lungs. My lungs were having a difficult time adapting to the ventilator. Causing my lungs to produce excessive amounts of secretions. Thankfully my pneumonia cleared up in a matter of weeks.
To make matters worse I had a tube in my mouth, and down my throat in order for me to breathe. So I was unable to speak. I had so many questions to ask, and things to say but couldn't. The only way of communication was by someone pointing to a letter on an alphabetical board. When they would point to a letter I'd blink to indicate that's the let I wanted. It became very frustrating because I'm a terrible speller. People had a very tough time understanding my vocabulary. At times it would take minutes to say stuff like "Hi" or "I love you."
About two weeks after my fall the doctors decided to perform a tracheotomy on me. They made a little hole in the center of my neck, near my Adams apple. The hole was from my neck to my trachea tube. They then insert a disposable tube called a trachea. The benefit of having a trachea is I was able to eat, drink, and speak while the ventilator still breathes for me.
It was actually pretty funny with the trachea at first. I had to learn how to speak again. What little voice I could get out made me sound like a frog. I'm not saying it was easier to speak with the trachea instead of the letter board. I still at times had to still use the board. It took me months to increase my speaking skills.
I began to be home sick about a month after my fall. They began to stop sedating me, which is when the nightmares began. I had never been away from my family. My Dad worked all day, and my Mom stayed home to take care of the children. I didn't get to see my family as much as I needed.
I could barely sleep in the hospital. I was missing my bed, and room. Not only that there were babies crying all night. It would get so bad that I would just shutdown from sleep depravation. The sad thing is I wouldn't let myself sleep long in fear of being alone. I'd wake up sweating, and screaming for my parents. I was so petrified of being alone that I had my home phone number taped to my chest so anytime I'd wake up like that the nurses would call home, and my Dad would rush over.
The thing that scared my parents, and I the most was there were people with my similar injury dying practically next to me. I really wasn't scared, but curious. That was my first expedience of death. I think the part that scared my parents the most was I asking, "Am I going to die like this?" Now that I'm older I realized how hard that must have been for my parents to answer that. I hope my children never ask me that, because I wouldn't want to choose between lying and telling them the truth.
I spent approximately a month in Cooper Hospital. In mid November, I was transferred to Alfred I. Dupont Institute of Rehabilitation for Children in Delaware. This hospital was my home for the next six months. I was forty-five minutes from my friends, family, and home. At age eleven, you can't survive without these three things. Especially, around the holidays. I only was able to see my family on weekends, and holidays. I basically was around strangers most of my days. My family did try there hardest to be there for me. Every time they were there it was the greatest feeling.
Every minute they were there they pushed me to do anything I was able to do. It was kind of a supportive therapy for me and an update of my abilities for them. The doctors and nurses always said, "You're pushing him too hard." My family and I disagreed totally. There is nothing "too hard" in this world. As long as you have these goals set in your mind they are accomplishable. I set goals all my life, some I still haven't accomplished, but before I die they will. I believe when you stop setting goals/dreams for yourself you're close to death.
As for my friends, I didn't see them. I had lost my friends (So I thought). That was the hardest thing for me to overcome. I would cry all the time because I couldn't face the thought of my friends doing things without me. It was extremely hard to survive without any friends. I gave up on life almost. Until one day, two months after my accident.
I remember it like it was yesterday. The night before the therapists had been trying me in a motorized wheelchair. The next morning I got up early in the wheelchair. I drove out of my room into the unit hallway, and parked by a window. Staring out the window I saw kids around my age playing with their friends. I just remember thinking I'm never going to play with my friends again. I began to cry, but something in my head said turn your chair. When I turned my chair left there was my best friend Brian, and his Dad walking up the hallway to see me. That was the first day in months that I smiled.
This amazing guy came every holiday, and anytime he didn't have school to visit me. It's impressive because most kids want to play with their friends, not visit them in the hospital. He wasn't like that at all. The best part about it was he never pitied me. Suddenly life was worth living again knowing I still had a friend.
Over these months I still went to school. It was a little classroom with computers for each student. This is where my life of computers began. My home school was sending examples of what my classmates were doing. I always flew through the work my teachers gave me. This was odd because I use to struggle with my work in school before I got hurt. My grades went from borderline failure, to high honors. I guess I just was very lazy. It took me to become disabled to realize I have a brain; maybe I should start using it.
With my spare time I learned everything about computers and devices useful for the disabled. I even gave my opinions on what devices would be suitable for some students. I monitored their computers as well. By the time I left the hospital I had surpassed the teachers’ skills in computers.
Not only did I have school, but I also had my therapies as well. I was different from other patients the therapists said. Reason being I had more physical abilities. Most importantly I had the mental strength to want to do better for myself. Therapists came to me with idea of different types of physical actives, and exercises. I would also suggest techniques on doing their ideas just to make it more challenging for myself.
On April 28th, 1993 I was discharged from AIDI. I was ready to start my life over. It was my second chance to make an impression. I wanted nothing more then for people to know if I could do this, they could too.
III. The Educator:
On April 28th, 1993 I was discharged from the hospital. After spending six months away from home in the hospitals' I learned a lot of things. I leaned things about the disabled, grades having meaning, computers, and most importantly respect. I was ready to start my life over again.
I had to wait until the beginning of September to go back to school. I was really very excited. My parents feared something about me going back to school. They feared I wouldn't be able to take the staring or criticism from my classmates. So they gave me two options. Either to take the chance of going back to regular school or be home schooled. I said, "I want to be treated like a normal person, and go back to my old school."
I remember being so excited for my first day that I couldn't sleep. I noticed the change immediately. My old friends ignored me; people stared, and talked behind my back. By the end of the day I was so upset. I remember everyone went out for recess except my best friend Brian. He was by my side since I first got hurt. He noticed I was upset and knew why. He said, "Tone, you know why everyone seems to be ignoring you? Well, they're not, they're just scared. They are unsure what the same is, and exactly what's different. You need to teach us."
The next day I went to my health teacher and said, "I'm tired of being treated differently. I need to teach my classmates about the disabled, and to let them know how important respect is." Three days later I taught my class how I got hurt, and what I went through. I got them to realize I'm the same person inside. I wanted them to feel comfortable so I allowed them to ask me any question on their mind.
It took me about a month to teach every kid in my school, which are approximately six hundred students. Word of the impact I set on the students got around town. Soon other schools started asking if I could do the same.
In high school I did the same. We had a major problem with students fighting, disrespecting teachers...ECT. The school thought if I were to educate the students it may change their altitudes. When I began to teach everyone was attentive. It shocked the teachers to know how different they acted. My talks to those kids made a big impression on them. I've gotten phone calls from parents thanking me.
My senior goal in high school was to educate every student in my district (forty-five hundred students, one hundred classes, in nine schools). It took me from October 1999, to June 2000. I not only did it for myself but I did it to be sure that any student would have a fare chance of not being insulted for any reason. I hope to think I was successful.
Out of surprise at graduation my principal mentioned me in his farewell speech. He said, "The saddest thing that will be missed is the heart of this class, and that is Tony Tassogloy. To see how much one student has touched the lives of thousands, and never asked anything in return will be sorely missed."
Even though I'm a graduate of Haddon Township I'm still asked to teach the students of my town. This year alone I've taught over twenty-five classes. I don't look at it as a job, but as confidence builder for myself. I have enjoyed doing it, and always will. I think it’s the smartest thing I've ever chosen to do.
IV. The Goal-fighter
With my type of injury I shouldn't be able to move, breath, or feel sensation; however, I can do all three. I've written to doctors saying, "Why am I different from other quadriplegics? How am I able to move, breath, and feel sensations when others in my condition can't?" I get the same answer back from every doctor, "Mr. Tassogloy, we don't even understand how you survived the night of your accident."
Even in the rehabilitation hospital doctors judged my abilities. I would move and the doctor called it a spasm. I mean, I almost gave up. Cause every time I tried to prove any of my abilities of hope, they would throw it back in my face. I started to believe what they were saying.
Until one day I said, "My doctor's may have given up on me, but I haven't." I started pushing myself to gain back what I could. The physical and occupational therapists had a field day on me. They got to try things they had dreamed of doing with their other patients.
At the time I got hurt, spinal rehabilitation was rarely new thing. People with spinal injuries were immediately set a limit to what they could do. With my state of mind I broke limits never touched by children in my condition. For people to see a quadriplegic playing wheelchair hockey, soccer, archery, etc. was impossible to the eyes.
When I went back to the hospital for a visit in 99' the therapist's showed me a slide show. The hospital's therapist's show this slide show to the parents of a child coming to the hospital. The slide show shows what the hospital has done for the children. Just about every slide had me doing something. It was really very inspiring to see how far I've come.
It made me appreciate that if I put my mind to something I could accomplish anything... Now ten years later my motor-skills have progressed amazingly, I have full sensation, and I only use my ventilator when I'm tired. I think I've done pretty well for myself. I'm not a quitter, never have, never will. Yes, I believe one day I'll walk again. I just have to continue fighting for that goal.
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Edited by TonysWoman2451, 30 November 2005 - 01:02 AM.
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