This First Person column is written by Dylan Earis, a graduate of the University of Regina’s school of journalism. For more information about First Person stories, see the FAQ.
I recently moved out of my parents’ house. I am 30 years old.
I know plenty of adults move away from their parents. But the story of how I came to live independently is different, because I’m different.
I have cerebral palsy.
The disability affects everything I do. My left hand does not work. I can barely clench it into a fist. I walk with a cane and a pronounced limp. When I walk, I have real trouble changing direction. My vision is bad. The only thing I can see out of my left eye is colours.
Everything I do takes time and patience.
Throughout my life, my parents, especially my mom, did everything for me. I never had to cook and rarely had to clean. It was just easier for mom to do it. Something that might take me five minutes to do, she could get done in no time. It was how things were and I took it for granted, thinking they would always stay that way.
When I say my mom did everything for me, I do mean everything. For example, when I wanted ketchup on my food, Mom would put it on. I didn’t even have to reach for the bottle. Putting a hamburger on a bun? Forget about it. Mom’s got it.
Late last year, I decided it was time for a change.
I didn’t want to upset my mom, but I realized she wasn’t going to be around forever. I decided it was best to move out now while she is still around to help me learn the ropes of living by myself.
My mom was supportive of this decision. In fact, she was the one who found me the condo I’m living in.
Edie Earis says she did everything for her son, Dylan, who has cerebral palsy and can’t use his left hand, because she didn’t want to see him struggle.
She had her fears, mainly what would happen if I were to fall. She worried about me not being able to get up.
I understood her concern, but I pointed out that the last time I fell, she wasn’t physically capable of picking me up. I was able to get myself up by leaning on a bed and pushing myself up. The entire process took about 45 minutes.
The challenges I would face on my own were not lost on me.
How was I going to cook? Up until the day I moved out, I had never even used a microwave. I remember using the toaster once when I was seven, but I burned the toast! What was going to happen without mom to look over my shoulder?
However, my life has been about adapting to new challenges. Living alone would be the next challenge.
Cooking 101, Pop-Tart style
I was confident I could overcome any obstacle, not foreseeing that my Pop Tart breakfast would be my first big challenge.
My first day in my new condo started like any other. I woke up, dressed, got situated in my motorized wheelchair and rolled out into the hallway. So far, so good.
Before making my way into the kitchen, I looked toward the framed photo of Hulk Hogan I have hanging outside my bedroom to motivate me for what I was about to do.
What? You don’t have photos of Hulk Hogan proudly displayed in your house?
Hogan always talked about saying your prayers and eating your vitamins, but I don’t recall him saying anything about Pop-Tarts.
I put my Pop-Tarts in the state-of-the-art toaster my mom had bought me, but they popped out so fast one of them fell to the floor.
I was stunned.
I looked at part of my breakfast as it lay on the floor and wondered what to do. Normally, this would be a situation where I’d holler for mom and she’d fix the problem in no time flat.
But mom wasn’t there.
After staring at the pastry for several minutes, I decided to try to fix the situation myself.
I looked around the room and located one of the grabbing sticks I had recently purchased for a situation exactly like this. These sticks look normal, but come with a handy feature: claws at the end that allow you to grab items.
I opened the claws like a shark’s mouth, gingerly picked up the tart and dropped it on the counter.
I had done it.
Is this how firefighters feel when they rescue somebody using the Jaws of Life? I was on top of the world.
Since he has cerebral palsy, Dylan Earis says his mom used to take care of everything for him, from picking up things he dropped to putting ketchup on his bun. But the 30-year-old recently moved out on his own. He wrote about his experience, and shares it with his mother while our camera is rolling.
Since that day, I’ve learned to do more things. I used Google and YouTube to help me microwave a bag of popcorn. I looked on in amazement as the bag grew in size.
When I realized I hadn’t burned it, I felt like chef Gordon Ramsay.
Eventually, I hope to be able to use the stove. I keep picturing the scene from Mrs. Doubtfire where Robin Williams tries to cook dinner and ends up burning the front of his shirt.
But the fun I’m having living on my own and looking out for myself is bigger than any of my fears.
I always worried about my parents dying, not only because I would miss them, but because it would mean I’d have to fend for myself.
I no longer have that fear.
I know I’ll be just fine.
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