hardly sit still. My transportation was arranged. My bags were packed. And my swimming gear was stowed, everything including extra towels for me to sit on so I wouldn’t slide out of my wheelchair when I was wet. Family and friends stopped by to wish me well.
The excitement was too much. Come 6:00 a.m., I was still wide awake, wondering what the next month would be like. In the morning I left for a week of training at the University of Windsor in preparation for the Games.
A couple of hours later, Doug, Canada’s head coach, handed me a package. “Your uniform, Willows.”
This is really happening.
Pretty much exhausted, I slept well that night. And it’s a good thing too. The organizers had prepared a full schedule. Two hours of swimming before breakfast. An hour of slalom, an hour of field events and an hour or two of soccer before supper.
“I think you should take Friday off,” Vicki, my coach, suggested.
I frowned at her and shook my head.
“Debbie...”
“Fine.”
It was probably for the best. Having cerebral palsy (CP) meant I tired easily at the best of times. (Cerebral palsy is a neurological disorder caused by damage to the motor control centres of the developing brain either before or during birth. It neither worsens with time nor is contagious.)
On Saturday the athletes and their coaches boarded one bus while the other was filled with our equipment: two wheelchairs for each athlete, one everyday chair and another sports specific chair; spare parts; etc. We drove to Detroit so we could catch a plane to Newark. When we exited the airport, my heart began to pump faster. My eyes widened. The Paralympic Games bus was waiting for us.
After making our way through the congested New York streets, we arrived on Long Island. Immediately, the athletes went through an accreditation process. An official photographer took our pictures. After the day of travel, I looked like the dog’s breakfast.
“Wear your ID at all times.”
I sighed. Just one more thing to take in stride.
The thrill of practicing at the venues where the Games would take place was offset by the intimidation of being examined by a therapist and two doctors I’d never met before. This was part of the classification process. My muscles tensed and my mind raced, but I knew it was necessary. Each athlete’s disability is different, and the Paralympic Committee wanted to ensure the playing field was as fair as possible. Talk about sensory overload.
“President Reagan is coming to the opening ceremonies. We’re going to have to frisk those in wheelchairs and have those of you who can walk pass through a metal detector.”
Are you kidding me?
Though I understood the importance of tight security, because I have spastic limbs that don’t always do what I want them to it was very difficult to co-operate while being frisked. It was quite the process, but after approximately four hours, the 1,750 Paralympians and their coaches were cleared. The Games could begin.
“And now the team from Canada.”
What a thrill to enter Olympic Stadium with my teammates, 14,000 spectators in the stands! It was a good thing I was sitting down or I might have collapsed.
“Are you Debbie Willows?” asked a member of the British men’s team. He pointed toward the fence. “Your parents are over there.”
I don’t think he heard my thanks as Vicki propelled my wheelchair in their direction.
“Everything’s all right,” I said to the member of SWAT who stepped in front of me. (As I mentioned, there was security everywhere.)
“I didn’t think you were coming until the 18th,” I said to my mom and dad.
“They let me start my vacation early,” Dad said. “It isn’t every high school teacher who has a daughter in the Paralympic Games.”
After hugging my parents, I rejoined my fellow athletes.
Over the following 12 days, records would be broken, some dreams fulfilled and others shattered. Undoubtedly, people’s lives would be changed forever.
My heart began to race as the flags were raised and the torch was lit. Breathless, I realized I was representing my country. But even more importantly, as a Christian, I was also representing my God. What a show! What a day! What a dream come true!
The next day, I rolled up to the starting position, took the boccia ball, and tossed it toward the jack. Boccia is played by those with CP and other similar disabilities. Athletes throw a red or blue leather ball as close as possible to a white ball or “jack” on the court of a gym floor. My arms don’t always co-operate; the ball doesn’t always go where I want it to. That day, however, was a good day—a very good day. I sat as tall as I could and thrust my shoulders back as they placed the bronze medal around my neck.
The course was laid out the following day for the wheelchair slalom. The event is judged on accuracy and speed. This would be difficult at the best of times, but with strangers watching and heart pounding, I had to rein in my racing thoughts and focus on the course. I was the only competitor driving my chair by mouth, and although I didn’t win a medal, I did come in fourth.
“I’d like to relax in the pool,” I said to Vicki later that day.
“I think that’s a good idea.”
My body began to relax, but my mind was uncooperative. What am I doing here? Who do I think I am? I can’t handle it anymore. Then I remembered the truth. I was a Paralympic athlete. I had been selected to represent my country on the international stage. I could finish what I’d started.
The new day brought a new outlook. The turmoil in my stomach was caused by excitement, not fear or uncertainty. Vicki held my feet, and I waited for the gun to go off. I felt so free in the water. No wheelchairs. No restrictions. No limitations. With all the strength and control I could muster, I pushed off and gave it my all. Twenty-five metres and one minute, seventeen seconds later, I set a new world record for the freestyle.
Yahoo!
Wait! What?
The pool was divided in two lengthwise. I needed my father’s and Vicki’s assistance to exit the water. What I expected was their help. What I didn’t expect was to be thrown back into the water on the far side of the divider where there was more room to help me out. After the exhilaration of winning gold, it was a rude awakening, one I look back on with a smile.
On Saturday I participated in two field events. I won second in the precision throw and third in the distance throw, which is something like shot put. Another day and two more medals.
The next day I was waiting for the soccer game to begin. My coach had gone to get us some food, and I realized I needed to use the washroom. What could I do? There was no way I could manage on my own, and Vicki would not be back for a while.
My mom. She could take me. She’d done it thousands of times before, but this was different.
“I’m sorry,” said the police officer, “but your mother doesn’t have the proper clearance.”
“Clearance?
