I was born in the Rotunda Hospital on June 5th,1932. There were nine children before me and twelve after me.
He is a very interesting case but also a hopeless one.
I was a little over a year old when they began to take to hospitals and clinics,convinced that there was something definitely wrong with me.
I know that his body is crippled but I'm sure his mind isn't.
Four years rolled by and I was now five, and still as helpless as a newborn baby.I could not speak or even mumble, nor could I sit up without support on my own.
Mother tells me how one day she had been sitting with me for hours in an upstairs room, showing me pictures out of a great big storybook.
Did you like it Chris ? Did you like the bears and the monkeys ?
It all seemed helpless. it looked as though there was some justification for my relatives' contention that I was an idiot and beyond help.They now spoke about an institution.
Maybe we should put him in a isntitution ?
My left foot apparently on its volition, reached out an very impolitely took the chalk out of my sister's hand.I held it tightly between my toes, and, acting on an impulse, made a scribble with it on the slate.
Can you draw the letter A Chrissty ? Can you draw it ?