Wendy Murphy - Wendy Murphys Law: Whatever Can Go Wrong Can Be Made Right

I dedicate this book to my late father, J. Gerald Murphy, for all that he brought to my life.

I decided to embrace the challenge of writing this memoir for two reasons. The first was to find a true appreciation for the path I set out on, which has brought me to where I am today. We often get so caught up in our day-to-day life that we neglect to offer ourselves adequate time to reflect. It is our past that contributes to who we are, and it is in our reflection that we are better able to accept our current realities and adjust to them accordingly.

The second reason was to offer the challenges I have faced as an example to my readers of what the human spirit is capable of achieving once put to the test. And how never losing sight of the positive aspects of your life can make all the difference.

We are sometimes faced with hardships that can be overcome only when we choose not to be defeated. While many might see my challenges as extreme, it is in how we perceive what we are up against that determines how well we will handle it. I hope my story will inspire others to look for the promising side to every situation in life, while not discounting the lessons that can be learned through the simplest of experiences.

I woke in a struggle, gasping for air, choking on some foreign object lodged in my mouth, sticking down my throat. I tried to reach for the object to remove it but I felt my hands being held back. Someone was pressing their body weight against me. I opened my eyes to find my cousin Nancy in her hospital uniform, staring back at me, a look of fear on her face. Where was I? What were those pulsating sounds in the background, and what was I doing lying in an unfamiliar bed? I was feeling groggy, but an overwhelming sense of concern and discomfort was stealing over me.

Nancy composed herself and moved off me onto a chair next to the bed. Finally she was able to speak.

Theres nothing to worry about now, Wendy, she assured me, taking my hand. Youve been through surgery and all looks promising now. I just stopped by because I heard you were awake, but I have to get back to my floor before they miss me. Wendy, it is important that you lie still and not interfere with the machines that are helping you right now. I know your mom and dad will be here soon with more news for you.

Unable to speak, and in pain, I accepted her assurance. She leaned over and kissed my forehead before leaving the room.

Surgery? I thought. Whats going on? Nancy was a respiratory technician at the Toronto Western Hospital, so I knew I must be there. But why? Glancing around the room I could see I was not alone. There were a number of beds with people who appeared to be in serious condition, some with bandages covering their heads. All were connected to one or more machines.

What had happened to me?

***

My last recollection was leaving the restaurant in Fort Erie, Ontario. Grania, Don, and I had stopped for a quick bite to eat; a pizza before hitting the road for home. We had spent the long weekend at Sherkston Beach, on the shores of Lake Erie. A large group from our community in Malton, at least forty of us, had camped there. The grounds were lush with green forest surrounding campsites lined in endless rows, all with electrical outlets and barbeques as we enjoyed the weekend.

It was our second trip to Sherkston Beach that summer. The beaches were pristine, and we enjoyed long hours in the water and waves, which refreshed and cooled us from daytime temperatures that were above 30 degrees. When we were there we usually drove our vehicles right down to the water and parked them directly on the sand, playing the cars stereo to create more of an atmosphere. Songs like Bruce Springsteens Dancing in the Dark and Billy Idols Rebel Yell and Eyes Without a Face were heard often.

The locale took me back to my childhood, and our family visits to the east coast. Prince Edward Island was our usual destination, with Cavendish Beach my favourite place to visit. Cavendish was a forty-minute drive from where we would stay; the dirt roads brought a real sense of country to the trip. I recall the hours spent beachside clam digging and shell collecting; nothing was more fulfilling than cooking up the clams we were fortunate enough to dig. I will never forget the bitter taste of the oceans salt water, how we were all careful not to let the salt water sting our eyes. There was little chance of boredom: we children did our best to prolong the day.

When not swimming or collecting shells, we would all sit down to a packed lunch prepared by my mother, a feast that included a whole chicken, assorted sandwiches, and a combination of salads. My mothers potato and macaroni salads were always in demand.

I was born between my older sister, Kim, and younger brother, Jeff. The three of us children grew up in a modest home with a stay-at-home mom and a hardworking dad. Malton in those days was a predominantly Italian community. We had moved there from Jane and Dundas Street in Toronto, an area known as the Junction, when I was seven years old. Both my parents were from the east coast of Prince Edward Island originally, although they had moved to the big city of Toronto when they were younger, Dad at twenty-six and Mom at nineteen. It was often said I took on my mothers trait of going after what she wanted in life. I was always searching for new ways to challenge myself, and this took on many forms. I was relatively studious the latter part of high school, taking a more serious approach with time and money spent on math tutors. There was little I wouldnt try if it meant putting my abilities to the test, and that usually took on the form of physical activity. I ran three stairs at a time when getting around our two-storey home. I took little time to sit around and contemplate life; I was too busy living it.

While I was the middle child, I did not go through what most of us are said to experience the middle child syndrome. I was independent by nature and confident in my overall abilities. I did not feel in any way neglected as a child although at times I lived more in the silent shadows of my two siblings. I believe it was my confidence that sustained me, never really paying mind to any extra attention Kim or Jeff might have received. I was quite responsible and often put others before myself.