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It amazes me what some people will do seeking after fame and fortune. We have an entire entertainment genre now based on just how much a person will tolerate for the chance of winning money and public attention. They will do things that they are mortally afraid of, eat things they wouldn't feed to their dogs, and will willingly sacrifice any shred of self-respect in that elusive pursuit of "standing out". I wonder, though, just how many of them would do something that would really make them stand out.
All around us, everyday, are heroes that will never get the kind of attention they should receive. They handle situations that most of us would be afraid of, and for which they had little or no preparation for. They are not lauded in the news, and if they are even compensated for what they do it is minimal at best. Too often, when we see them we look the other way because it makes us uncomfortable.
It's someone like the man who, with his wife, adopted a baby only to learn later the child was Developmentally Disabled. When the divorce came, his wife took the other children and left, but this man accepted the responsibility for the DD child and raised him on his own. That child is now an adult physically, but the man still cares for and remains responsible for him. If you find your five year old child a handful, imagine putting that same mind into the body of an adult man.
It's people like the couple who took custody of their grandson with Cerebral Palsy when the boy's mother turned her back on him. A couple that was also already still caring for an adult DD son. When they should be enjoying a relaxing retirement, they are not only raising their CP grandson, but another grandchild as well. They could have allowed the children to be fostered out by the system, but instead chose to shoulder a responsibility they did not have to accept.
Caring for a DD dependent isn't like raising a typical child. You don't look forward to when they become teenagers and are independent enough that you can leave them alone and go out for the evening. If you're fortunate, you can look forward to them being functional enough that they can either live independently someday, or possibly be a part of a group home where some supervision makes sure they don't have too many problems with day to day life. Too often, though, DD adults require constant supervision. It becomes a lifetime responsibility.
Most of us breathe a sigh of relief when we learn that our children are not DD, and when we learn of someone whose child is we are thankful that it didn't happen to us. Yet, this isn't like buying a car with a defect from the manufacturer. Children do not come with a warranty; we cannot return them to the dealer for a replacement. They do, however, come with the same kinds of needs that all children come with; the physical needs of being fed, cleansed, clothed and cared for; the emotional needs of being loved and paid attention to. Those needs carry right on into adulthood.
We have heroes all around us who, everyday, work past the discomforts we all feel when having to deal with someone who is different so that they can provide love and care for people. They are family members who were dealt a card that we are glad we weren't dealt, but rather than fold their hand and leave they stayed in the game. They are caregivers who are hired to help out, and who are often paid little more than minimum wage for doing a job most of us wouldn't do for thrice the pay. They are people who would likely not go on television and eat bugs or otherwise humiliate themselves, but who everyday accept humbling themselves in the service of others who cannot care for their own selves.
We roll out the Red Carpet for those who have sold their dignity for 15 minutes of "fame". It's sad that we do not roll it out for those who have devoted their lives in the service of ones most of us find "unlovable".
The people I have mentioned in this column are real; they are not hypothetical cases created for example. It is my privilege to know some of them personally, and it is humbling to wonder if I could handle what they do each day. This is my small way of saluting them; of expressing my admiration for their compassion. Sadly, it is nowhere near what they deserve.
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