A Wonderful Life
 

I have always felt I've led a wonderful life, even through the rough times.  I was born in 1952 and at the age of two was diagnosed with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis.  I had a brace on one leg and walked on crutches for many years.  I despised having my picture taken because of that and this is one of the few that exists.  My parents were not rich people by far and I want to take this opportunity to thank them for all the money and effort they expended on health care for me.  I love you, Mom and Daddy.

I've been a Daddy's girl all my life, and this is one of his favorite pics.  I may look like a wee scottish lassie, but the Gypsy attitude is starting to appear!


 


As I got older, I got healthier and through my Mother's determination that doctors weren't going to turn me into a bedridden invalid, I got to lead a very normal life.  Preppie too!  Cheerleading in Junior High with my friends Karen and Debbie!


 

Made it through high school with relatively little effort ... my philosophy of life at that time.  It was the days of wide legged jeans, impeachment hearings, and dance music.  Hey... that sounds familiar!!
Senior pic circa 1975 ... love that flippy 'do!


 

In 1977, I was married for the first time.  We were young and foolish and mostly concerned with having a good time.  In 1979, my husband bought himself a birthday present I was dead set against ... a pekingnese puppy.  I thought the breed was one of the ugliest, but promptly fell in the love with the pup and he became MY dog.  We named him Boogee; it was what a friend of our's sister with Down's Syndrome called him and I thought it was quite affectionate.

We eventually got a female puppy and bred the peke's for a few years.  Boogee remained my favorite though and after my divorce in 1982, I begged to keep him, but was never granted that wish.  Boogee was hit by a car and killed in my ex's driveway in 1985.  He is buried in the Big Levels Game Reserve in Sherando, VA..... and I think of him often.  You may think I'm silly or overdramatic here, but I truly loved that spoiled rotten dog.
 

In 1981, my son Kyle was born weighing 9 1/2 lbs.  Yes, a C Section is a wonderful thing..... lol.  He was quite the chubbo as a toddler and a very very happy child.  He is currently a junior in high school, plays football, and generally has a good time .. I know, he takes after his mother.


 
 

In 1983, I married my second husband, a man as extremely different from my first husband as I could find.  We were married for 7 years until that infamous itch took its toll..... lol.  In 1985, my daughter Leanna was born and during the first three months of her life I would gladly have traded her in for a rabid wolverine.  If she was awake and not being fed, she was crying.  Then out of desperation I poked a spoonful of applesauce in her mouth and her disposition changed overnight; she has been a wonderful pleasant child ever since.


 
 

In 1991, my second marriage ended and we moved back to my hometown.  I have a vision disorder that makes it impossible for me to drive at night, so I felt it best that I live close to my family.  Considering my sister and brother in law live next door and my parents live less than 5 minutes away, I think I succeeded.


My sister Beth, on the right, and me..
 


Mom and Daddy at Christmas.... Mom up and doing and Daddy sitting and watching.... in other words, the status quo.... lol
 
 

We have a dog again, an SPCA mutt named Teddy Bear.  She is the best!  She stays during the day with  my mother while we're at work/school... so we call her the granddog.  I made a vow to get any dog I'll ever have from the SPCA ever since I heard a story on Paul Harvey's radio program about a pound worker who took an animal home each night, fed and played with it before it was put to sleep the next day.  Still brings me to tears to think of it.  We also inherited a cat named Shadow from a neighbor who was moving.  He is a wonderful pet except when he wants attention; this is when I'm sure his real name is Crybaby.


 

In 1982, I was diagnosed as having inflammatory glaucoma... unusual in a relatively young person.  For a few years, it was kept under control by medication but eventually that mode of treatment failed.  In 1986, I began undergoing what turned into a series of several operations to save my sight.  I consider Dr. Robert C. Allen, now of the Medical College of Virginia, to be my guardian angel sent from heaven.  This man began our doctor patient relationship by telling me he made it a policy to never get emotionally involved with his patients; 5 surgeries later he was sitting at my bedside, holding my hand and promising me he would not let me go blind.  He was true to his word.  When I needed him again in 1993, he was there for me again, this time restoring near perfect vision to my right eye.  Unfortunately, the vision was lost in my left eye as my condition was not diagnosed in time; but I am extremely thankful that I can still see at all.  I am taking this opportunity to preach to you all.... if you have not had a vision examination in the last 2 years.. GET YOUR BUTT TO THE DOC RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!
Thank you.... drive through..... lol
 

I think I have blabbed long enough.  One last thank you to my family, my friends, both online and real life, and to God for allowing me this glorious journey called life.  Love to you all, be well and be kind to one another.

"In the long run, all that matters is what was true and truly felt and how we treated one another."     - Designing Women... LOL

Love,
Gypsy


 
 

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