Steps of faith

Steps of faith

At eleven years old I was given the opportunity of a pioneering surgical procedure, which would, it was hoped, enable me to walk. The medical team told me that it would be a very painful procedure, and that if I decided to take the opportunity I would have to be very brave. This is hard for a small child to take on board. It was to be a hamstring transplant operation on both my legs. How could I pass up the opportunity of learning to walk? It would be an incredible challenge, yet would give me the sense of dignity and normality that I longed for. No one wants to be crawling on hands and knees in their teenage years, if it can possibly be avoided. So I went into hospital in February 1962. I can remember that morning as though it were yesterday. Snow was falling in huge flakes, covering the ground quickly in a white blanket. Somehow it seemed very poignant looking out of the lounge window with my two brothers, one on either side of me. All of us forcing back the tears – mine of fear, wondering if I would ever see my home again. At this point in my life I had never been separated from my mother. The prospect of that alone was scary...