“I’m a fountain of blood, in the shape of a girl” – Bjork

I know what you’re thinking. You’re saying to yourself, ‘Is that a picture of a young Prince Valiant and Lady Rowanne?’ Nope… That’s just my mom making a bad choice for my haircut in the mid 70’s. It looks like she cut a perfect square out where my face is. Jesus. The LEAST she could have done is gave me a mop-top.
I could have told people that I was a McCartney fan EARLY.

The young lady in question is my sister Heather. I’ve mentioned her before, primarily highlighted in my Duh-Z-Do blog. If you’re curious to know what a Duh-Z-Do is, you can see that story here.

Heather was diagnosed with autism when she was between 2-3 years old or so. She’s considered a high functioning autistic, being able to speak and write. And boy… can she SPEAK. Any visit with her and you’ll soon see how talkative she is. She throws question after question after question at you like fastballs. Here are some examples of the stuff she’s asked me in the past:

“HOW BAD DO SKUNKS STINK WHEN THEY SPRAY?”

“WHAT WOULD MY NAME BE IF I WERE BORN A BOY?”

“HOW MUCH DO I LOVE GHOSTBUSTERS?”

“HOW MUCH DO YOU LOVE GHOSTBUSTERS?”

“WHAT HAPPENS IF I DRINK GASOLINE?”

“HOW BIG IS THE DEVIL’S SNOUT?”

She keeps going and going.

(Sidebar: She actually answered one of those questions herself, when she drank some gasoline out of a tank that some dumbass landscape guy left out. As it turns out, she didn’t care for it. It was just as bad when she drank some nail polish remover. The good news is that she survived both, and never asked the question again).

She’s fast, and as she got older she started to get sexual. It wasn’t unusual for her to attempt to grab a guy by the nuts. She went after the oilman once. And sometimes the ‘guy’ was ME. My wife wonders why my reaction time is so good. Try getting hit in the balls a few times… YOU TOO will find yourself aptly more dexterous.

When she wasn’t trying to hurt herself, or ME for that matter, she and I would play like most siblings would.

But she was on her own smiling about this fashion choice one Easter:

Even the fucking bunny was smiling. Yecccch.

As she got into her teens, she had this penchant of impersonating other students/patients. She’d call out a name of someone and start doing his or her ticks and quirks. She was the Rich Little of her special needs life skills school. Of course, it didn’t help that I egged her on. I’d ask her “Can you do so-and-so?” Then I’d give her a head start by doing them myself. What a prince I was. Not so valiant, I guess.

She also has a lowbrow sense of humor. She rarely laughs, but when she does it’s like DeNiro in Cape Fear. And the ONLY two things that will make her laugh are 1) When I hurt myself 2) When flatulence or poop is involved.
One time she re-wrote the chorus lyrics of “Up, Up and Away” by the Fifth Dimension. Here was her version:

“UP UP IN THE AAAAAAIIIRRR….. ‘CAUSE HEATHER DID A FART”.

(Sidebar: I’d still rather listen to that than light jazz).

One of Heather’s happiest and funniest moments in her life was when she pooped in the bath we were sharing. When were kids, we shared a bath regularly:

(Visual evidence of me being goofy since the get-go)

One night, she tells me she pooped! The hideous thing came up out of the water like a U-Boat, and of course started floating towards me! My OCD was as young as me, but it was THERE. I started screaming my head off as it sailed over! It was awful.
Fortunately, mom rescued me in time. I don’t need to tell you, that was the last fucking bath I took with her. Pomeroy swimming with turds is OUT of the question.

Doctors had told my mom back in the day that HP wouldn’t live past 13. Luckily for us they underestimated her greatly. She’ll be 35 this year!
Even as her guardian, I don’t get to see her as much as I’d like to with so much shit going on nowadays. Talking to her on the phone can be tough. She’ll ask 100 + questions in a row, sometimes the same questions again and again. When she’s ready to hang up, she doesn’t warn you. She just all of a sudden says:

“NOW BYE BYE!!!”

Sometimes I say that to friends now when I go to hang up. You should try it… it’s liberating.

But I love to get letters from her.. like this one:

Sometimes, sadly, she thinks that I can’t see her because of her behaviors. She can be self-abusive and her caregivers like to be around her during those times. HP is smart enough to know that. So, sometimes she’ll send a letter like this:

I was happy that she had a “good” day at my wedding. I was surprised when the staff at her home brought her by for a couple of hours. I didn’t expect it, and usually I hate surprises. (That’s another blog). In this case I was very pleased to see her.
My favorite moment of that night was when turned to her chaperone and asked:

“DO I HAVE TO DO NIGHTTIME CHORES NOW?”

Chaperone (laughing) answered:

“No Heather… you don’t have to do them here”.

HP replies:

“GOOD.”

It really made a great night even better having her there.
I love you HP.

Now bye bye.