Scared

The Essay.

I’m not normal. I can’t ever use a jackhammer or an ab stimulator. I also shouldn’t use a CB-radio to contact any of the truck drivers on my Facebook friend list. It’s not smart for me to play with arc welding equipment or to touch electric pet containment fences. I must seriously reconsider removing unwanted facial (or body) hair with electrolysis. Extracorporeal shock-wave lithotripsy is not on my bucket list and I won’t be playing with tasers any time soon. I am not allowed to use metal detectors so I must face the reality that I’ll never be able to stroll along the beach in search of the Oak Island treasure that may have washed up on the shore via excess tides caused by climate change.

I am Robot Boy. I have a pacemaker. I’ve had it since I was four years old. I don’t know life any other way besides being denied magnets in school, having to miss certain scientific field trips, not playing contact sports like my friends, and not being able to ride the cool roller coasters at Six Flags because the G-Force is so high it could dislodge one of the pacemaker leads attached to my heart.  I have to hold my cell phone on my right side because my pacemaker is on my left. Imagine a life of only right-sided cellular use. Never mind. I’ll just tell you it’s difficult. You’d think my lowest point was staying in the hospital, sick with second-degree arrhythmia after having my pacemaker replaced. It wasn’t. My lowest was when I stood outside the gates of the county fair while my friends waltzed through the newly-installed metal-detecting security gates. I stood outside for what seemed like forever, waiting for the elusive security officer who was promised to have had specialized training to scan those with medical implants. After all, everyone knows one wave of the wand in the wrong direction could send me to the emergency room, or worse, it could cause my demise. Now THAT would be embarrassing.

I’m 100% dependent on a two-inch metal computerized device implanted in my body. This means my heart doesn’t beat on its own. I was born with a genetic defect called NKX2.5, which is a mutation that causes an interruption in the fetal development of the heart. This caused my heart to stop beating a long time ago. My mother and sister suffer from the same defect and also have pacemakers. In reality, it scares me to know that my heart doesn’t work without the pacemaker. I’m constantly faced with the reality of death and I’ve just begun to live. I don’t want to live by What if? 

What if I stand too close to the lawnmower? What if something happens when I’m using jumper cables? What if I can’t do something? There is too much burden in that phrase. Instead, I try to turn my circumstance into something positive. I’ve figured out how to go from what I can’t do to what I can do. One of the best things that happened to me was being told I couldn’t play contact sports because it gave my parents the idea to put a golf club in my hands at a young age. This one change gave my life direction. I developed a passion for the game, which I hope to play in college, and I learned many life lessons. I’ve experienced things that would never have been possible had I been born with a normal heart. I’ve met extraordinary people who all exemplify bravery, resilience, and character. Many of these people, like me, were considered not normal at some point in their lives. 

Over time, I’ve learned to like being Robot Boy.

I may not be normal, but it’s not like I was dying to use a jackhammer anyways.