Signed by Elena Dale Donne: My sister Lizzie.
We often read the story of "instant greatness"-saving mankind from almost irresistible danger. But for a person, the victory at that moment is the persistence of life. She is my sister, Liz.
Lizzie is my sister-and my brother Jean's sister-but I always feel like my little sister. She was born deaf, cerebral palsy and autistic. She doesn't talk. I or anyone else can only communicate with her through hand-in-hand sign language. She'll hug you. She will smile. She will kiss you.
Think about your daily life. You wake up, make some preparations, get yourself something to eat, drive or rely on other means of transportation to go to work, you finish your work, go home or go out for dinner, and then enter the night. For most people, this is daily life without thinking. It is natural for you to cook for yourself. Talk to people around you and express your opinions, and you will do it naturally.
Daily self-control gives many of us a sense of pride and accomplishment. When you are young, you will imagine the day when you are completely independent-choose your own life and pursue your dreams.
Lizzie's daily routine is the same as most people's, but nothing is done independently. Her typical day starts at 8 am-when my mother wakes her up from bed. Mother will feed Lizze breakfast every morning and give her medicine for various diseases. On weekdays, my mother will drive her to Mary Campbell Center-that place is like a school or a day care center, if you can imagine-where she swims and does other things every day. Mom takes her home at 3 pm. If the weather is fine, Lizzie will take a golf cart, or my parents will push her around in a wheelchair.
She likes to stay outdoors; She likes the wind. Feeling is one of her few feelings. Something as simple as "a windy day" can make her extremely happy because she can feel it.
Her day ended with a big family dinner. At an early age, she can eat quite a lot of food. Later, when we grow up, we will joke that we should clean up the dishes, or Lizzie will help us solve it.
When Jean and I were young, we didn't realize that Lizzie was different. She is a superstar in our family. I think this is the charm of children-this is their life. However, as you grow up and participate more in this world, you will begin to distinguish between "ordinary" and "different". When my friends came to play, I knew Lizzie was a little different. I feel her feelings through their eyes and pay attention to their reaction to a person with special needs. My parents must explain to me that when Lizzie was born, she was a little different from most people. But they also emphasized her amazing things and everything she has accomplished-the small achievements that we all take for granted.
As a child, I tried my best to understand it, but I was still afraid sometimes. The scariest thing is to see a doctor. Lizzie has been in and out of the hospital. With a patient like Lizzie, it is impossible for children to understand all the medical details. When you are young, if people you know and love go to the hospital, the first thought that pops into your mind is that they are going to die. This has always been the source of my fear. Fortunately, I still have Jean, who has experienced the same feeling as me. That's when my intimate relationship with him began. Our parents did an excellent job in answering our questions and telling us the situation. Honesty helped us eliminate our fears.
Liz has had more than 20 operations. Many-at least at first-are eye operations. When she was a child, she could hardly see anything As time went on, she was completely out of sight. Those operations didn't come back. Then she suffered from spina bifida and had an operation lasting 15 hours. The number of trips to and from the hospital is really countless.
My parents have gone through everything they can with Lizzie-and at the same time, somehow, they are still able to raise Gene and me-unbelievable. A child with special needs will be a kind of pressure for any family, but I just saw my mother carrying everything gracefully. She took care of her like a newborn for 30 years. Lizzie is still using diapers, so my mother and father are still changing diapers every day. They've been through so much-those surgeries, different diseases. When they wake up every day, they are ready to do whatever they can for her, which is quite impressive. What you can do for love is amazing.
There are many misunderstandings about people with special needs. I think people's fear of the unknown-the idea that if you touch them, they may collapse-leads to the way they treat people with physical or mental disabilities. This is no different from people's attitude towards patients; They are afraid to interact with them because they think patients are vulnerable. This is not true. Like everyone else, they are beautiful and multifaceted people-they are just experiencing the world and expressing themselves in different ways.
I often see people who meet izzie for the first time. They are not sure how to interact with her. She can't see me. She can't hear me. How the hell am I supposed to say hello to her? I tried to set an example for them and show them how we communicate with each other. When they get used to it, they can do the same. It is important to remember that communication with her is based on the sensory functions she still has; She may smell your hair, she may grab you and gently pull your hair, or she may touch your head with her tongue.
Among them, the most important lesson that Lizzie taught me is that communication is far more than language. This lesson transcends all our relationships. Changed the way I communicate with people close to me. Language is very important, but behavior-practice and action-is above everything else. Sometimes giving a big hug is far more important than saying anything.
This also makes it very, very difficult to leave Lizzie. You can't just communicate through Skype when you miss her. I can't text her. You can't call her. This is very difficult. If I want to communicate with her, I must be by her side-she needs to touch me. Or, smell me. I'll set her picture as the background of my mobile phone so that I can see her all the time. In the WNBA offseason-when many players choose to play overseas, I choose not to go because of her to a large extent. Similarly, she was an important factor in my decision to play for the University of Delaware-in my own backyard-and my home was with her.
She made me a different person. She is a constant landscape in my eyes. I suffer from Lyme disease and am currently receiving routine treatment, including taking a handful of medicine every morning. As an athlete, my body and its performance gave me a job. I am often exhausted by Lyme disease and depressed about my health. It's hard. But when I think about my own situation-how tired I am and how terrible my illness is-I think of Lizzie. How lucky I am to have my health now, and how lucky I am to have my body and mind to do what I can. She inspired me. All the hardships I have experienced can't compare with what she has suffered. Look at the things that make her happy. ..
The wind.
That's her world.
From my childhood to now, people's attitude towards the disabled, both physically and mentally, has been much better, and they have gradually chosen a better way of communication. Here, I must commend the Special Olympics for its contribution in this regard. You must involve people with special needs in the community. Don't hide them; Let them know how incredible they are and how important they are to society. Give them strength. I will do this with my foundation, Elena Dale Dorne Charity Foundation.
She never said a word to me, but Lizzie taught me more than anyone in my life.
This is her strong point.