For better or worse, I was born in the 60s, in 1967 to be precise, just three months before the Greek Junta, January 1967. I was born in Athens, and I spent my first years, until the age of two-three if my memory serves me, in the countryside, in a village in Arkadia.
I was born with a relatively visible and severe motor disability dubbed as follows: birth defect which is also called kyphoscoliosis. In simple terms, I don’t have a left leg, so one limb less, plus, I was born with acute kyphosis and scoliosis, which means that my spinal cord is not straight but bend at an angle of about ninety degrees. Pretty big number for scoliosis.
As years passed, I found out that they did not give me to my mother right after birth, apparently I don’t know, I guess they didn’t want to upset her, scare her and so on. I also learned that doctors back then gave my parents the options of euthanasia, of being given for lab experiments or adoption. My parents decided to give me a chance and took me home.
Sure, I recall being rather bold and stubborn because, despite the fact that I lacked one leg, I have been told that I strolled around the whole village with one foot and my left hand as leg replacement going wherever my parents were, in fields or jobs; wherever they were, I was there and met them. In those days, villages were rough places, no streets and many noes stacked together. I guess I must have been quite a tough child and had a strong “backbone” so to speak.
At the age of four, we started visiting hospitals and came in Athens to see what future holds for me as I grew up. We visited almost all institutions – hospitals and both my uncles and their doctors recommended the Patriotic Institute for Social Welfare and Understanding (PIKPA) of Voula. Back then, it operated as establishment, it had a physiotherapy clinic, some doctors, nurses but no operation rooms or stuff like that. It was just an ordinary establishment, that also had a school. From the age of four up until seven, I stayed at PIKPA in Voula, I grew up there. It was there that I spent my childhood.
There were twelve wards at the establishment. They began with transfers, where there were month-old babies, right after birth, as many parents could not raise or accept the disabled child [sic] and many babies were found in trash cans, brought there and abandoned, never to be taken back. Ages varied from zero and reached, let’s say forty or fifty.
I remember when we went to the wards as kiddies and older girls sort of adopted us. There you go, you had a miniature of a fully-fledged family. In other words, you had your guardian. This meant that if other children teased you, the girls protected you, scolded them and so on.
Many children packed together, and when you are four-five-six-seven years old you cried at nights, you asked for your parents and especially your mother. This was the saddest thing, having bottled-up feelings from the institution, saying: “Why do I have to be here and not with my family?”.
I had to undergo some operations as scoliosis kept getting worse, I had not put any prosthetics and medicine had to help me somehow in order to stop scoliosis and be able to put an artificial limb. For there was a risk to bend so much that my life would be in danger.
We had no operating rooms or such facilities at PIKPA in Voula, therefore we were transferred to PIKPA in Penteli which indeed had a few. At the age of eleven to twelve, if I’m not mistaken, as I was a very weak child, I had to grow up a bit in order to undergo spinal fusion. They put a metal rod across my spinal cord, from the neck and all the way down.
The surgery had been completed successfully. Admittedly, I was bedridden for a year in a full body cast. About two months after that operation, which was rather painful, I had to undergo another on my left hip, to place an artificial limb, so that I could stand up, walk and, in other words, level up. From crawling on the floor, I had to stand up on both feet. And so it turned out. That surgery, or the cast to be precise, took three months. One thing is certain, I endured so much pain etc. but I stood my ground and managed to overcome it. After both surgeries were over, specialists, that is to say orthopaedics, built an artificial limb which I put on and finally I was able to walk. Talk about progress, from crawling with one hand and one foot, to this.
It was beyond words for an eleven - twelve-year-old kid. However, I recall that having a full body cast all the time led to some serious itchiness! Whatever Halloween toys I had, such as swords and other stuff, I used them to stick under the cast with various tricks I invented in order to scratch myself. I can also recall that when they removed the cast, they used a saw to cut it (yep, there were only saws back then for this), it came out in one piece, and I could not retain my body in standing position. I cannot describe how lightweight it felt.
I kept on with my elementary school and managed to finish it there, at PIKPA in Penteli. Whatever was to be done medically, it was done. Science did its duty. Now, it was time that my family took over or that something else happened.