Meet Dean A. A. Poyadue. Dean is many things to many people-a son, a husband, a college student, and an employee. He is also a man living with Down syndrome. Just Call Me Dean is his remarkable story, which he tells with a little help from his mom, Florene. Dean's innocence and wisdom will capture your heart as he takes you on a journey through the key events of his life, from early childhood to the present. Discover how, with a can-do attitude and the help of his family, Dean has conquered life's milestones-college, employment, marriage, independence, and more. Full of inspiration of anyone whose life is touched by someone with special needs, Just Call Me Dean seeks to help professionals enhance their empathy and skills. Parents of special needs can broaden their expectations for their own children as they learn of Dean's accomplishments. Finally, Dean's story can help educate the general public about the millions of Americans living with disabilities. Dean challenges us to seek out life's adventures. Are you up for the challenge?
Just Call Me Dean
And Don't Rain on My ParadeBy Florene Stewart Poyadue Dean A. A. PoyadueiUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2011 Florene Stewart Poyadue
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4620-3431-4Contents
Acknowledgments........................................ixPreface................................................xiiiFleeting Moment........................................xviiAn Introduction........................................xixChapter 1 0–6 Years of Age.......................1Chapter 2 6–12 Years of Age......................15Chapter 3 12–15 Years of Age.....................33Chapter 4 15–19 Years of Age.....................43Chapter 5 19–21 Years of Age.....................55Chapter 6 Bachelor Years...............................77Chapter 7 Forever After Years..........................101Epilogue A Word from My Mom............................115Today, as Always.......................................131
Chapter One
0–6 YEARS OF AGE
In the Beginning ...
I know that ladies do not like to talk about their birthdays, but my mom was forty-one years old when I was born. And if I had just waited seven more days inside of her, my birth date would have been the same as Mom and Dad's wedding anniversary. I think that would have been cool. But instead of crashing in on September 30, their very special day, I was born on September 23, 1975.
My dad named me Dean. I later learned that he had a lot of respect for two guys who were named Dean: Dean Rusk, who was secretary of state under President John F. Kennedy and President Lyndon B. Johnson, and Dean Atcheson, secretary of state under President Harry S. Truman. You can tell my dad knew from the beginning that I was going to be an important guy. My mom insisted on adding her father's name, Archibald, as my middle name because she said that he was a "can do" type of guy. The Catholic priest who christened me added the name Anthony, for that saint who is well known in the church. Not that I am a saint, mind you, but I had to have a saint's name attached to me according to Catholic traditions. Why didn't the priest just use Archibald?
During my christening ceremony, the priest said, "I am not sure that there is a Saint Archibald."
My mom feigned disappointment at the news, as she said, "Do you imply my dear departed father is not a saint?"
The priest made no reply; he just gave a weak smile and continued, "What other saint's name would you like?"
My dad stated proudly but matter-of-factly, "My middle name is Anthony." So, I am called Dean Archibald Anthony Poyadue, a name that I really like. I always try to remember to put my double A's in the middle whenever I am signing anything ... Dean A. A. Poyadue.
And yet, I do have one little regret: I wish they could have found it in their naming ritual to include "Salvadore." Now that is another great sounding name. I like it a lot, and it belonged to my other grandfather. I am very much into "family and traditions," so this will not be the last time Mom and Dad will hear, "Why don't I have Salvadore in my name?" Oh well, I had learned a good lesson early in life: you can't always "have it your way," as is promised at some fast food restaurants.
Now that I was older and had an official name like my sister and brothers before me, Mom took me to the neighbors' homes to introduce me as her "new bundle of joy." She told me that she spent some time on how that introduction would be played out. She settled on just saying, "This is my new son, Dean." She thought that since she did not use an adjective when introducing her last baby ("This is Jill, my genius"), she would not do so when introducing me (such as, "This is Dean, my Downs").
So I was introduced as simply Dean. Mom was determined that I was to be a part of the neighborhood and an integral part of, but not the whole heart of, the family. And if the neighbors or friends had any questions, my mom was eager to educate them all about Down syndrome, starting with the fact that there is no s on the word Down. The physician who identified this syndrome was Dr. Charles Langdon Down, and it is named after him.
About two or three months after my birth, Mom bumped into my pediatrician at the grocery store one day, and he gave her some "exciting" news as we were leaving. He said something like, "Blah, blah, blah ... the test was positive, he does have Down syndrome/ Trisomy 21. It is just plain Trisomy 21, not Mosaic Downs, or any abnormality of the parents' chromosomes. It just happens."
Mom quietly said, "Thanks," and we quickly headed for our car in the parking lot.
My mom is smart, and she's a nurse; so I think she already knew that "exciting" news report before the doctor told her. She seemed to take that "positive" test result as a sign to positively get started to work on my education. While my brothers and sister started school at about three years of age, I was enrolled in an Early Infant Stimulation class before I was three months old. I was so young that, of course I needed a parent right there in class with me. It seems that mom wanted to learn, as much as I needed to learn.
Did the doctors, nurses, and social workers tell my family about that early intervention program? Not really. My parents learned about it from other parents who had children with special needs. Alex's mom and John's mom told my mom about the class when they were at a parent support group meeting.
Alex's mom and John's mom seemed to know a lot about what was available to help me learn and grow. They seemed happy and eager to tell my mom all they knew. They explained that the Infant Stimulation class consisted of six to ten parents. The parents were almost always moms—not that dads could not come if they wanted. The class meetings were held at the home of one of the participating parents of a child with special needs.
The children had all kinds of special needs such as spina bifida, cerebral palsy, hydrocephalous, and other developmental disabilities. Some of them had become disabled through injury. And some of them were having problems, but they had no specific diagnosis. Parents of children in this last group seemed to have more concerns, confusion, and anger than many of the other parents. Many parents in this last group said that it was worse for them not having a specific diagnosis from which to plan for the future, or proceed with care and interventions for their children. Some said that there was just something very frustrating about "not knowing." For them, not having a name to attach to their child's problem had become a major problem itself.
Like the other kids (actually babies), I sat on Mom's lap, as she sat in a circle on the floor with the other parents and professional helpers at our Infant Stimulation class (it was also called "Atypical Infant Motivation"). They sang songs to us, exercised and massaged our arms and legs, or performed whatever activity was appropriate for helping the individual child progress or improve. They discussed all kinds of issues: health care, education, their feelings, concerns for spouses, our brothers and sisters and the rest of the family, our progress (or lack thereof), and services available. They were especially interested in discussing those services and cures that were not available that they so strongly wished for. They learned how to strengthen our bodies and minds, and perhaps to strengthen their own. These were parents helping each other, while helping us...
