Old Babies

If I learned anything the past few weeks at work, it's to count my blessings. I'm currently halfway through a 6-week rotation at the Wrentham Developmental Center (WDC), a state-run institution that houses 300 residents with mental retardation (MR) and developmental disabilities. The center is comprised of countless buildings and cottages on acres and acres of beautiful fields and farm land. The average age of the residents is 62, ranging from 33 to 99 years old. Most of them have been living there for 40+ years since they were young children. Although a handful are mildly retarded, most are classified as profound, and that is why they live in this facility- because they wouldn't be able to live out in the community.
Each one of them has a story, how and why they ended up here..and some are heartbreaking. Some have genetic conditions, like the 4 brothers that live at WDC, or the several sets of twins we have....others were abused as babies. One of the female residents was thrown down the stairs by her father when she was a baby, some were shaken to the point of brain damage. Some were beaten and molested as infants- and then dropped off at the center, never to be seen by their family again. One of the black male residents was injured at birth because during the 1950's the white doctor staffing refused to help the mother in labor...so she squatted on the floor to give birth. One of them fell out of the car when the door accidentally swung open after the vehicle made a sharp turn. One of them had a bad seizure as an adult in which he bit off a piece of his tongue and choked on it, causing anoxia leading to some brain damage. He is the brightest of them all, and had even served in the marines at one point. He lost his ability to speak after an operation on his trachea, and so types phrases in his little machine that verbalizes his statements. Still bitter about what happened to him, and not fitting in well knowing he's brighter than everyone else around him, he types phrases like "Marty is an @$$" referring to his roommate, and continuously hits repeat. When I first met him, he shook my hand and typed "I want to go home".
What really got me choked up was the time I visited the residents of Marion Moore Hall- the most severely retarded residents. Most in their 70s, they were the size of 5 year-olds. Some of them were sleeping in bassinets, all of them in diapers. One of the guys, built but short and in his mid-60s, was sitting on a high chair with his eyes closed,chewing on a toy-just like the way my baby brother Malik does. He is blind, and has the brain function of a 3 month old baby. Sitting on couches near him were several old men, each playing with their own stuffed animal. I had never seen anything like it, they were like grown babies. They were sucking their thumbs, they were swaddled, they were as pure and innocent...free of any sin. None of them has ever hurt anyone, done something wrong, said something that shouldn't have been said. I was sad for them and their families, but happy to think that they would all be in jannah someday..where they wouldn't have to be spoon-fed and bathed by others anymore. Where they can enjoy endless bounties from Allah, for not having a chance to live in this dunia.
The next time you call someone retarded...take a moment to think about what you're really saying. Thank Allah for giving you a functioning brain...for being able to feed yourself without choking, drink without aspirating, clean yourself without assistance, and live without constant monitoring. Alhamdulilah for the ability to think, the ability to do. Think about your potentials and make them happen. Don't let a neuron go wasted. Unlike the residents at Wrentham Developmental Center, we will be held accountable for our actions. As Ghandi once said, "The difference between what we do and what we are capable of doing would suffice to solve most of the world's problem."