I write blogs to tell my story. What I’ve discovered is it’s not my
story. It is the story of literally
anyone who’s screwed up, suffered unforeseen consequences, and tries to do
right and live with hope. And I’ve
learned that is the story of most of the people I meet in here.
“Jay”, my guest blogger, is one of those guys. Just turning 40, he’s been incarcerated since
1996. He shot and killed a man during a
drug deal gone bad. He was selling and
the “two customers” tried to rob him, shooting him twice. He returned fire, killing one man.
Jay is a leader in our college building. His earliest release will come in 2024;
still, he pays his own way for college (murderers are precluded from Federal
grants). He’s thoughtful and well
read. Five years ago he began tithing
(one tenth of his factory salary) to an orphanage in Kenya for children whose
parents died of AIDS.
The famous British playwright
Oscar Wilde said, “What seems to us bitter trials are often blessings in
disguise”. Meeting guys like Jay bear
that out for me.
In 1981, at the tender age of ten, I found myself in the
fight of my life. Unbeknownst to my family
and myself, I would be diagnosed with a rare form of cancer called “Astrocytoma”. Through an uncountable number of prayers and
superb team of doctors, I would overcome this life changing ailment to regain a
clean bill of health. Welcome to my story
of tragedy and triumph.
The Will to Walk
With everything in me, I fought to take that first
step. I can remember my mom saying “Come
on, John, you can do it”, with that piercing voice. With that, and the motivation to play
basketball again, I took that first step.
Life was good for me in 1981. I had a loving family of two brothers and
three sisters along with a jump shot that would not quit. It was late fall in Baltimore when my
basketball team, the “Calloway Tigers” were undefeated. We were in the fight of our lives. Down by two points with the clock running
out, my coach, Mr. Davis, yelled “John-John to the basket”. With hoop-dreams of basketball gods Magic, Bird,
Dr. J. and a future of my own, I dribbled past the first defender and moved
toward the rim. As I left my feet to
take the shot I didn’t know this jumper would be the beginning of a
life-changing event. Crashing down on
the defender’s foot, my ankle twisted as I fell to the floor. “Count the basket”, the ref yelled. As I lay there on the floor looking up at my
teammates, I could tell something was seriously wrong with my ankle.
I hobbled to school the following day with one thing on my
mind; the loss the team suffered because of my injury. I had left the game and we were unable to
come back. As I entered my classroom,
Mrs. Bloom my homeroom teacher asked, “John what’s going on with your leg?” I answered, “I hurt my ankle playing
basketball”. Later, Mrs. Bloom sent me
to see the school nurse. Upon examination,
the nurse informed me that I needed a test for scoliosis (curvature of the
spine). A notification letter was sent
to my mom revealing the medical exam results.
Surprisingly, the diagnosis for scoliosis was positive.
Kernan Hospital is a place that specializes in spinal cord
and brain injuries. Mom and I arrived
early one morning and were greeted by wall-to-wall people in the waiting
area. “Sign in, take a number and a seat”,
said the nurse. Scanning the room from
side to side, I noticed people with all sorts of injures. “John Hinson” announced the nurse, “please
follow me”.
As we made our way through the crowd at the end of the
hallway the doctor stood waiting to greet us.
“Hello” said Dr. Johnson. “I’ll
be performing a variety of test on you today, such as x-rays, c-scans and MRI’s”. After all the tests were performed, Dr.
Johnson returned to the room with a blank look across his face as he said, “Ms.
Hinson, I hate to inform you and your son with this bad news, but we have
located a tumor on John’s spine.”
“John, welcome to Johns Hopkins Hospital”, I’m Dr.
Smith. “I’ll be one of your doctors
during your stay with us.” Nervousness
started to set in as more doctors and nurses filled the room. From my hospital bed, I watched as my mom
began to cry. I remember saying to
myself, “Mom, don’t cry, I’ll be alright.”
As the anesthesia wore off, a cold hand rubbing my head
awakened me. “Hello, my baby”, Mom
said. “How do you feel?” In the hours that followed, Mom would share
the news with me about the surgery. The
doctors advised that my chance of a successful surgery was 50/50; not only was
this percentage given in reference to removing the tumor but also in me
regaining the ability to walk again. The
news crushed me. I could not imagine
never playing basketball again.
After the surgery, I was awakened by the soft voice of my
mom saying, “John-John, can you hear me?”
There I lay on my stomach crying from the pain caused by the surgery. Hours turned into days and days into
weeks. One day, as I attempted to sit
up, I was unable to turn over. I asked
my mom why I couldn’t move my legs. To
my surprise, her response was simple “Fight, Baby, Fight”. Those words defined my will to walk. I may not move as swiftly as before, nor run
or walk without a severe limp, but I am able to play the game I have always loved,
“Basketball”. 
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