‘Everyone is special’
One day while I was teaching in Broome, one of the students suddenly sat bolt upright with a brain wave. I said “Mandy, are you OK?” She replied, “Everyone is special!” She went on to explain that everyone has a special talent that can be used in this life. The idea inspired her so much that she went home that night and returned the next day with a beautifully written poem on the topic; I only wish I would have kept it.
When I think back, I used to wrack my brains trying to find out my hidden talent and thankfully I discovered it when I was 15. Competing in the athletics carnival at St. Leos College was a big deal and we all strove for the blue coloured cardboard heart that displayed – ‘first’. I was never much good at athletics and usually only competed in the minor division running races, the marching and the tug-o-war. But today was to be my moment of glory. Being tall and skinny I was entered the high jump event and the main rival was the champion for many years – Greg Phillips. I really surprised myself by making it to the last 3 competitors and I thought. “Beauty, I’m going to get a yellow heart for third”. My pleasure was heightened when the other kid bombed out and now it was just Greg and me. The bar was raised to a new record of 5 feet 3 and half inches. Greg was starting to put on a bit of condition by now and missed all three attempts. I had quite a spring and felt delirious when I cleared the height using the scissors technique. By that stage, the Western Roll was only used by serious school athletes and no one had heard of the Flosbery Flop. I received the blue heart for first and got my name in the College record books.
Later that year, I went to Coleraine in Western Victoria for my usual holiday on the farm with my uncles and grandpa. It was a working holiday so grandpa took me down to the town to buy heavy ‘hobnail’ boots from Ayers store and a straw hat from Ubters. We then laboured for days carting in sheaved hay. One fateful day, we all headed off after lunch to cart another load in. Jack and Ballie had already hopped through the barb wired fence and were on their way to the hay stack. It was then that I was hit with a brilliant idea. I yelled out across the paddock. “Hey, look here, I’m going to jump this fence!” It seemed no challenge at all and not anywhere near 5 feet. Besides, I was now a high jump champion. Jack yelled “NO!!!!” But it was too late, my mind was made up. I forgot about my morning fatigue and the hobnail boots and started my approach. The first leg was up over the barbed wire but as fate had it, my second boot clipped the top barb and I headed for the ground. You know when something horrible is going to happen, time seems to stand still. Seconds drag out and as I fell to the ground head first I thought – “this is not going to be good”. Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to put my arm out and as I hit the ground I heard a loud crack. Ballie had broken into a gallop at this stage and when he arrived at the scene he rebuked me. “You stupid idiot, we told you not to jump”. But seeing my tears and the obvious injury to my elbow, his heart was soon softened.
Jack took me down to the hospital to see Dr. Wain. He took an X-ray and immediately concluded that my elbow was shattered and proceeded to put plaster casting on my arm. To my surprise it wasn’t the usual 90 degree cast but more like a 30 degree angle. By the time he had finished my wrist hung out limply from just below my chin. I must say, I didn’t really leave it immobile and by the time I returned to Melbourne the caste had a fair share of grass seeds and dirt inside. It was pretty embarrassing trying to explain to Mum what had happened and soon it was time to get the caste off. When I entered the surgery in Wantirna road the local GP, Dr. McFadzgen audibly gasped. “Who did that?” I told him that I had got it set in the country and as he removed the caste the grass seeds fell out and I realized what he meant. My arm was frozen and I was shocked when he matter of factly said. “Sony, you may loose your arm.” My blood ran cold as he wrote out a script to book me into the Mitcham hospital for an operation.
It wasn’t long before I fronted up and I was told to strip off and put on a long white robe and I was quite embarrassed when the nurse said “undies too!” I was wheeled into the threatre on a trolley and looked up at the huge dish like light. The surgeon then leaned over me and said. “I’m giving you an anesthetic so I want you to count to ten”. I thought - I’m going to buck the system here and stay awake. I think I only got to two and I was out to it. In what seemed like a couple of seconds I was conscious again and resumed counting: three …four………five. I then realized that a few hours had passed and I was back in the general ward receiving strange looks from other startled patients. My arm was straight again but I was told it would begin to freeze up again unless I did physiotherapy. This meant going to the arcade in Ringwood and doing lots of exercises every day – squeezing tennis balls, standing against a wall and pressing my arm back etc. The arm never got back to being completely straight and I don’t have an elbow bone anymore. My burgeoning high jump career was rerailed and I had to look for other abilities that ‘made me special’.