My current WIP is completely different than anything I’ve written. This one is dear to my heart and I feel it’s important that I write this story. In my day job, I’m a physical therapist so I’ve had the privilege of working with many patients with neurological impairments. “My Perfect Imperfections” is from the POV of a girl with Cerebral Palsy. At the very least, I hope to bring some knowledge and inspiration to the readers. Here’s the prologue:

“Congratulations! You have beautiful little girls. Oh and by the way, one of the twins has Cerebral Palsy.”

I always wondered how the doctors broke the news to my parents about my diagnosis. I used to visualize the whole scenario.

“What are you talking about, Doctor? What does that even mean?” I could picture my mom asking, her eyes filling with tears.

“Well, is this curable? What is the prognosis?” Dad would ask, always the practical one, looking for answers.

“I know this is a lot to take in. It’s a neurological disorder. There are things we can do to help. Lily can go through intense physical, occupational, and speech therapy. Actually, she’ll probably need therapy most of her life. I have pamphlets I can give you…and you can read information about Cerebral Palsy. Oh, and I can give you references to some really great support groups. I mean you’ll be surprised how many parents have to go through this type of thing.” The doctor would ramble on and on, never really answering the questions directly.

Dad probably got angry, his voice getting louder. “Look, Doc, I just asked if she’s going to get better. That’s all I want to know!”

Mom most likely started crying quietly to herself, knowing in her heart why the doctor was being vague. I could see both leaving the doctor’s office with more questions than answers, fearing their lives had just turned upside down.

 *****

My name is Elizabeth Skye Cooper. Well, most people just call me Lily. I am eighteen years old, and I have Cerebral Palsy. What exactly is Cerebral Palsy? According to Webster, it is a disability resulting from damage to the brain before, during, or shortly after birth and outwardly manifested by muscular incoordination and speech disturbances.

Blah, blah, blah. I hate stupid definitions.

I’ll tell you what I know of Cerebral Palsy. It sucks. I can’t move my body the way I want to move it. I’m mostly confined to my wheelchair because I can’t walk without assistance. I can’t even feed myself since my arm is not able to bring the damn food to my mouth because of my inability to coordinate my muscles. I know what I want my arm to do, but it won’t cooperate no matter how hard I try. Didn’t I tell you it sucks?

But I’ve lived with it for eighteen years. And nobody understands my body more than me. None of those doctors, none of those therapists, not even my family. And through the years, I’ve learned to make the most out of it. I actually can drive my wheelchair and talk with my communication device.

But it hasn’t been easy. No, it hasn’t been easy.