Mi Mama Me Mima

 My mom is great. I know, every child believes their mother is great, but not every child has a mother like mine. My mom also has Neurofibromatosis, she was diagnosed when she was a teenager. Unlike me, she has not had to have multiple surgeries on account of her NF. However, she does have a lot more fibromas than I; but she also did have three kids by the time she was my age.

I asked my mom once if she would have had children if she knew that her NF would have been affected. Her response was simple. She said, "Yes."  I've also asked my mom if she would have still had me if she would have known that my NF would be more complicated. Again, her response was was simple. Once more she said, "Yes."

My mom has been by my side during all my surgeries. She is always the first person I ask for after waking up from an eight-hour surgery. She has slept on uncomfortable hospital beds and ate yucky hospital food all to be by my side. She has nursed me back to health when I have been sick. She has even removed stitches from my index finger.

My mom is great. She has done a fantastic job raising my brothers and me. She has taught me to never allow myself to believe that I am incapable of accomplishing my goals due to having NF. My mom is a beautiful, smart and talented woman that I one day hope to become. She is by far one of the strongest women I have had the privilege of knowing. After overcoming a divorce and financial difficulties, she is now graduating with her Master's degree in Counseling! I am proud to call her my mother!

Te amo Mima !

To My Brothers... Thank You !

When I was four my brother Andrés advised me to hit a bully over the head with my lunchbox. When I was seven, my brother Fransisco took me by the hand while pulling a boy by the arm to the vice principles office for being a bully. These are my brothers, always protecting me and making sure I am happy, smiling, and laughing.

I am the youngest of three, but I feel as if  I am the baby sister of ten brothers. My brother's friends have always treated me as their little sister and even now, at the age of 27, all of my ten brothers will do anything in their power to make sure that their little sister is happy, smiling, and laughing. 

Andrés being six years older than me has always had the ideal words to use whenever I am feeling upset with myself for having NF. He has this uncanny ability to turn any situation around by just saying, " Are you kidding me, Angela Lucia, you are letting that _____ (input curse word here) put you down? Do not let ______ waste you time. You know better than that." Yeah, I know it sounds like his punishing me for letting some ignorant idiot put me down. But in reality he is right; I allow people to put me down when I should not. 

Fransisco is only 18 months older than me. Therefore we went to school together. Hence, he has had to stand-up for me many many times. Fransisco has always been one of my biggest hero's because he has always protected me. In my eyes, he has also saved my life twice. When I was eight, I experienced two episodes of grand mal seizures. During my first episode, my brother and I were curled up in bed with our grandmother. She was telling us a bed time story.The next thing I remember my entire family was gathered around me and an EMT was kneeling next to me. I later found out that my brother ran to my dad whom is medically trained when my grandmother noticed I was not breathing. A few months later I had another episode, this time I remember waking up in the hospital. Again, my brother acted fast by calling 911 while my dad held me as I had my second seizure. 

Both my brothers have been a significant influence in my life. I would not be the woman I am today if it were not for them. They never treated me different or special for having NF or looking different. In fact, I grew up horsing around with them, rolling on the floor laughing due to tickle wars or just because. My brothers have always made me feel proud to be their sister, even when we argue and not get into stupid silly sibling fights. 

Thank you, brothers, for all that you do! 
Love you !!!

My Prosthetic Eye

Questions and Comments I have heard throughout my life:

"Did you get into a horrible car accident?"
"Were you burnt?"
"What happened to your face?"
"Oh, you're from South America, that explains it. People from South America tend to have strange diseases."
"Oh my God! That makeup looks amazing. I almost thought it was real."
" Don't worry honey, God loves you a lot."
" You have a big eye."
" You have one black eye and one green eye." 
" You will never have a boyfriend because you are not attractive." 

These are just a few of the questions and comments I have heard through out my life. It used to make me angry that people always thought that my face was the result of a freak accident.It is as if it is a lot more comprehensible to understand that a car accident caused my scars, verses being born with a disorder. Maybe because that means that it could have been them with NF or even their own child. I really don't know. At times it still hurts my feelings when I see that glazed look on peoples faces as if they just don't get it. How I was born looking this way... and survived.  I used to fall apart. I used to want to cry. I used to hate it. I used too... not anymore. 

Thankfully, I outgrow the phase in my life where I allowed the ignorance of others affect me. Now when I get rude questions or comments I simple smile. I am done explaining to ignorance, I just respond to questions by saying, " I was born this way." I smile and keep on living my life. 

~

So I have a prosthetic eye, I have had it since I was twelve. Even today, I can vividly remember my excitement for my glass eye, I was giddy with joy! I was excited because I was going to have two beautiful eyes. I did not care that one was fake and that my right eye would never look to my left. I was happy knowing that my prosthetic eye looked one hundred percent better than my real eye. 

The day I got my eye I went to my aunt and uncle's house. My aunt said something along the lines of " You look so pretty!" ( she said it in Spanish). 

I have always been proud of my eye. I like my eye!! 

Through out the years, I have gotten multiple eyes due to surgeries and grown up. I have all my prosthetic eyes. I keep them not only because they were costly but as a reminder of how far I have come! 

So I have a prosthetic eye. Everyone can tell that my right eye is not real, and those that act shocked when I say otherwise are just being nice. 

** Sorry that I am posting so late, I have had a crazy month at work. Thanks for reading**

First-double-blind Date

When I was sixteen, I went out on a very particular date, a date that has forever remained in my vivid memory. It was summer, my friend Catalina asked me one day on the bus ride home from school if she could give my number to her boyfriend's cousin because he was new in town. She told me that her boyfriend's cousin had just arrived from Mexico and wanted to meet a cute girl because he was lonely.

I was excited at the thought that I could very well have a boyfriend very soon! In my mind, I already had the fairy tale written even before speaking to my prince charming. -  Soon, I would come to realize that my version of the date was ten times better than the reality.- Within a few days, J. and I were talking. We spoke every day for about a week.

My parents knew I was talking to a boy that I did not know personally. They were okay with the idea of me talking to him but not with the notion of going out on a date with him alone. Therefore, my friend Catalina and her boyfriend would have to join J. and me on our date. Unfortunately, the week I was supposed to finally meet my prince charming Catalina and her boyfriend broke up.

I was devastated! Thankfully, we were back on when J. said he would bring a friend for my friend.
The BIG day finally arrived. Catalina and I were both nervous because we were about to go on dates with two complete strangers. All we knew were their names. It was around 3:30, and Catalina and I stood outside her driveway, waiting to be picked up.

Off at a distance, we saw this little green car. My friend starts laughing nervously and says to me, " Oh my God Angela! That better not be them! I hate green cars!" No sooner she finished expressing her dislike towards green cars when the car parks a few feet away from us, and two men step out and start walking towards us.
" Oh shit, Angela! This cannot be happening!" Catalina was in horror while I was trying to keep my heart from popping out of my chest.

By the time our dates approached us, we had stopped giggling and had already determined who we wanted our suitor to be. Unfortunately, we wanted the same guy.
 J. was around 5'6 and wore baggy clothes. His straight jet black hair was long and looked as if he used an entire gel bottle to glue his hair down. J. had dark brown eyes with tan skin to match.
N. was about 5'10 and wore clothing that was his size. He had short black hair, and light brown eyes, and deep olive skin.
The J. I pictured in my mind was not the J. standing in front of me.

After the initial shock had dissipated, Catalina and I were walked to the car, where N. and J. proceeded to sit in the front while she and I sat in the backseat ( we opened our own doors). Before driving to the movie theater N. and J. handed us a huge CD album filled with music that neither Catalina nor I liked.

Then N. and J. turned to Catalina and me and gave us two artificial potpourri roses with a tiny and equally hideous white teddy bear hanging from the stem. When we arrived at the movie theater, neither N. nor J. wanted to go up to the window to purchase the tickets. They were too shy due to not speaking English very well. They handed me the money, and I (the one who spoke the most English) bought the tickets. As if that wasn't bad enough, when we sat down in the theater, N. and J. sat next to each other, followed by Catalina and me. Not the best sitting arrangement for a double date if you ask me.

Following the move, we naturally went out to eat; instead of asking us where or what we wanted to eat, N. drove us to a fast food joint. At this point of the date, I was pretty disappointed because J. was paying more attention to my friend than to me. We ate the food back at Catalina's house. After the dinner was over, there was nothing more to do than to say our goodbyes. That in itself ended up being the most awkward part of the date. Instead of a quick hug, both N. and J. extended their hands and gave us a handshake.  To this day, I cannot wrap my head around that last aspect of the date.

The icing on the cake came a few days later when my friend Catalina informed me that J. had begun calling her wanting to go out on a date with her. My friend being loyal, ignored him. This story does have a happy ending; Catalina and N. dated for a few years.
As for me, I never spoke to J. again. 


 

Eye Patch, part 2

"I bet you could get a boyfriend fairly quickly if you wear an eye patch," said a family member once. About three months later I met my boyfriend... I was not wearing an eye patch.

 I have never been too keen on the idea of wearing an eye patch because I have never found a reason or need to wear one. Unfortunately, some of my family members believe that my life would be much easier if I covered my eye. They also believe that by wearing an eye patch it would make it easier for others to approach me because they would not feel awkward or uncomfortable when looking straight at me.

After years of arguments with various family members, I decided to give the eye patch a try. In the summer of 2013, while vacationing in Washington DC, I wore the eye patch on multiple occasions. I actually wrote a post about my experience and thoughts about it. The Patch was all about my one time experience wearing the eye patch at the party full of strangers. That summer I wore it two more times; once for a family Bar-B-Que and finally for a concert. Both times my godmother was very excited because she has always been very vocal when it came to me covering my eye.

 My godmother, her husband, my male cousin and my dad were all for me using an eye patch. They encouraged me to use the eye patch every day and to get them in as many colors as possible. I smiled and nodded because I felt defeated. I felt even more defeated when my father told me, " I have always thought you should use one. I do not know why you have not used it, but I think you should. You look beautiful when you wear one."  My father telling me that was a complete revelation because I always thought that he was against the idea. I mean, he always supported my stand when it came to eye patches.

I wore it once more when I came home from DC. I went out to a bar with one of my best girlfriends, who has always said that she supports me either way but that she does not think I need to use one.My experience that night was not very different than the times I went out with friends without an eye patch. Men looked at me. Some approached me while others just stared and kept on walking.
That night I was approached by a fairly nice man. We spoke and danced for about half an hour. He did ask why I wore the patch, but not being satisfied with my response he reached out to my face and tried to remove my eye patch! I have never before had anyone touch my face or my eye to see if it was real or fake. I was in complete shock! I slapped his hand off. I did not know what else to do or say. I simply walked away.

I attempted to wear my eye patch on other occasions, but I would always end up taking it off before I left the house. Point blank, I do not like it! I met the love of my life with out wearing an eye patch. I work for a prominent non-profit and have never had a problem with not wearing an eye patch.
My godmother, her husband, and my cousin all said that with an eye patch I would find a boyfriend in no time and it would be easier for me to find a job. Hmm makes me wonder just how superficial my family can be. It is kind of sad that some of my family members are so adamant about me using an eye patch while it is my friends that only say, "I do not need one."

                       

2014 Summary

                   


It is the final day of 2014! I can not believe another year has come and gone! This has been a year of growth in various levels for me. I began 2014 as a college graduate not knowing what road to take next. I applied for jobs, looked into various Master Programs and still did not know what exactly I wanted to accomplish.

Then in March, my aunt informed me that our local Crisis Center was in need of bilingual employees. I did not hesitate to contact the Crisis Center for more information. I honestly was a shocked how everything fell into place.  I called the Crisis Center on a Friday afternoon and was invited to meet the staff on the following Monday.  I was called on Wednesday for an interview and was hired on Friday! By far, this is the best job I have ever held.  I go to work knowing that my coworkers have my back, and I have theirs.

This year, I also had the great opportunity to participate in two campaigns for the Children's Tumor Foundation (CTF). I am extremely honored for the opportunity because  I was able to share my story with countless individuals and families that are living with NF. I hope that by sharing my story, I can inspire faith in others living with NF.

I am very grateful for the amazing year I had and only hope that 2015 brings me as much.
I would like to take the time to thank all my readers. This year I did not write as many posts,+ but I have made a New Years Resolution to write more in 2015.


Good bye 2014.....

The Mistaken Whistle

Whether women like to admit it or not getting compliments, winks, waves, and even honks as we walk down the street boosts our self-confidence. By obtaining this reaction by complete strangers reaffirms that we are attractive and beautiful. Now don't get me wrong, at times these honks and whistles are not welcomed because they become perverse ( but that's another story). 

Like many women, I too have experienced men honking, winking, and/or whistling as I am walking down the street. But my experience of this goes a step further. Many times the men that do this see me first from behind and when they drive in front of me and see my face what a flirtation turned into an insult.  Not too long ago I was walking my dog Ki-Bo around the neighborhood when a car that was behind me slowed his speed enough to get a good look at me. When the driver of the car poked his head out of his car and saw me his words were, " Uh, never mind." 

I smiled and laughed inside because I knew he was not worth me getting all worked up over an insignificant stranger. Besides, I sure as heck know that I am beautiful and way too good for a guy that drives a dirty, rusty old pickup. Did I mention the driver matched the description of the car? 

I used to get all worked up and bothered when I experienced similar situations like the one I just described.  I used to let it bother me, I used to cry... a lot.  My brother Fransisco has had to patch up my heart many times because on multiple occasions a classmate said something that truly hurt my feelings. He would take one look at me and know that some idiot kid in school made a rude comment about me. He would hug me tight and give me a huge kiss, then he would sing, You're  So Beautiful, he would sing one particular verse over and over again until I would laugh and stop crying. He would then whip my tears and say something stupid about the person that made me feel like crap. 

High school was tough because when my girlfriends had boyfriends and secret admirers, I was shunned and made to feel less worthy of affection and attention from the opposite sex. Two of the worst encounters that till this day I remember as vividly as if it were yesterday occurred while I was in school.  The first, I was walking, and I could hear two boys making comments about me, I remember I was wearing a skirt that day, and since I was on the swim team I was tanner than usual. I was not 100 percent sure that they were talking to me so I looked over my shoulder and the two male students stopped in their tracks and began to laugh in my face. I was hurt, but it did not affect me as much as the second encounter did.
The second encounter occurred when I  was  walking to class, this time two male students were approaching me as they got closer to me I heard them laughing and one said, " Dang she is f****** ugly!"  I crumbled inside. When the bell rang dismissing school, I ran towards the bus stop to search for my brother, as soon as I saw my him I ran towards him and began to cry. He dropped his backpack and just held me. I remember his friends just stood there trying to figure out what had happened to me.  When we got on the bus, and I recomposed myself enough to tell him and his friends what happened, they all became livid. My brother and his friends wanted me to describe the boys to they could " take care of it." Needless to say, I was unable to describe them. My brother held me the entire ride home comforting me as he and his friends kept telling me that I was beautiful and that those guys were worthless.

Now when a guy decides to take back, his "Cat call" I simply don't care.