At school, she was once asked if she was Superman. Could she feel a punch to the face? Could she walk across burning coals as if she were walking on grass? Would it hurt if she were stabbed in the arm? The answers are no, no, yes, no. She can feel pressure and texture. She can feel a hug and a handshake. She felt her best friend, Katie, paint her toenails.
When Ashlyn started school, teachers watched her on the playground; one person was assigned to make sure she was O.K. at all times. The nurse washed her eyes and checked her shoes each time she came in from recess — what she called her “Nascar pit stop” — to make sure there was no sand that might cause another corneal abrasion or scratches on her feet.
“Her life story offers an amazing snapshot of how complicated a life can get without the guidance of pain,” [her primary doctor] Staud said. “Pain is a gift, and she doesn’t have it.”
once in kindergarten a girl asked me to write “super girl” on her arm since i was the only kid who could write so i wrote “shit” on her arm and i hid under the table for like 30 minutes then the teacher found me and yelled at me then called my parents and my dad laughed so hard he cried
- Person: What state do you live in?
- Me: Denial.
Goodnight everyone :)