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Darra Adkins glides about her beautifully manicured
lawn aboard her scooter, accompanied by cherished
son Dennis and beloved five-year-old poodle Jam. |
"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade," states Darra
Adkins simply, the profundity of her philosophy
underscored by her reliance upon the scooter that is her
chief method of mobility since she lost the ability to
walk in 1997.
No saccharine for this girl's lemonade, her character
reveals the sincerity of her statement. She is
awe-inspiring. Grace under pressure. Determined.
Forthright. Caring. And somehow, a refreshing blend of
humility and flamboyance from which all her other
qualities spring, a delightful mystery of vitality and
endurance that displays itself as true joy in living.
One would never guess Darra is 51 this year, born to Tom
and Doris Copeland in Martin in 1951. Her salt and pepper
hair is spiked in fashionable defiance of age-normed
styles and she is likely to wear glitter about her eyes
that are themselves a complement of her frequent, bright
smile.
She learned at an early age the value of a positive
outlook; she started making lemonade when she was just
eight years old.
Darra was in the second grade when children began taking
the oral Salk vaccine to combat polio. Three rounds of
liquid vaccine dropped onto sugar cubes was required for
full protection from the dreaded disease, however, when
the time came for her third dose, the City of Martin was
in short supply. Officials decided, says Darra, to
vaccinate only two children in each family.
Darra drew straws with her younger brother and sister,
Brent and Tina, to see which of the three would receive
the sugar cubes this time; the other would wait for the
next shipment to arrive. While she waited, however, the
last outbreak of polio in 1959 laid claim on Darra, and
her lifetime challenge began.
"I remember it just like it was yesterday," she relates.
She was at school when she began feeling sick with a high
fever and headache similar to the flu. After obtaining
permission to go home, she walked the block and a half to
her house and lay down to rest. She took her final steps
that evening when she got up to go to the bathroom; when
she tried to get up to go back to bed, her legs failed her
and she fell to the floor.
A trip to the emergency room in Union City meant a spinal
tap after which the doctor advised Darra, in her mom's
presence, that she had polio.
"I went to pieces," says Darra, who was familiar with the
outcome of the disease, having known another child who
wore braces in order to walk.
Polio is a disease that attacks the central nervous
system, destroying nerves and leaving muscles unable to
respond. Though anyone can contract the disease (Franklin
Delano Roosevelt was stricken at the age of 39 in 1921)
most victims are children. Between five and ten percent of
polio victims suffer paralysis of breathing muscles, which
years ago meant spending time in an "iron lung" that acted
as a bellows to keep the lungs working.
Darra was placed in isolation for two weeks during which
she was packed in ice to bring her raging fever down, then
traveled to Memphis for a three-month stay at Lebonheur.
Electrical stimulation treatments, water therapy, and
conventional physical therapy helped Darra adjust to the
paralysis that affected primarily the muscles of her legs,
particularly the right side. After she was able to go
home, she went back to Memphis once a week for more
therapy. At home, she kept up with her studies with the
help of a "homebound" teacher.
She returned to school after a year and a half, her wheel
chair giving way in time to full-length braces that
enabled her to walk once more. When she graduated with her
class in 1969, she ranked seventh in her class.
At the University of Tennessee at Martin, Darra excelled
in her pre-med curriculum. Then, two quarters away from
graduation, as a (charter) member of the Mu Epsilon Delta
pre-medical co-ed fraternity, she had the opportunity to
observe a hysterectomy.
"I made it all the way through the surgery," she smiles,
"but when they were stitching her up I broke out in a
sweat and they carried me into the doctor's lounge and put
my head between my knees."
The doctor came into the lounge and, slapping Darra's leg,
assured her that he still became queasy at times. But the
experience was enough for Darra, and when she graduated
two quarters later she had acquired a certificate to
teach, with a major in chemistry and a psychology minor,
graduating in just three years in 1972.
Her first teaching job in 1972 took her to Somerville in
Fayette County where she taught English and Spanish during
her first year at Fayette Academy, a private school.
"I wasn't certified in English and Spanish, that was
crazy," she says. The following year she "was" the science
department. "Freshman science, biology, chemistry, physics
- whatever they offered, I taught it," she says.
An ad for a teacher in Marvel, Arkansas offering a yearly
salary of $8,900 was nearly twice the $4,500 per year she
made at Fayette Academy, so, she says, "I packed all my
stuff in my little car and took off to Marvel."
There, she taught eighth grade math with a waiver, as her
area of certification was science and psychology.
She was preparing to accompany students on a band trip as
a supervisor when she was introduced to a former Marvel
student and friend of the band director, Dennis Adkins,
who was helping load equipment for the trip. After just
one week of dating, 18-year-old Dennis asked 22-year-old
Darra to marry him.
"That was in October and we got married in January," Darra
says.
Dennis dreamed of becoming a police officer, so the couple
moved to Little Rock where he could take advantage of the
city's "excellent training" as a member of their police
department. Darra taught science in a Catholic girls'
school.
Darra's homesickness led the couple to move to McKenzie in
1976 where Dennis began working with the local police
force. With no teaching jobs available, Darra tried her
hand at selling burial insurance, a job that was too
demanding for her tender heart.
Visiting in people's homes, she says, "When there were
three or four kids running around and I could tell they
didn't have enough food to eat it was hard to ask them to
buy burial insurance."
The following year, Darra began working in the McKenzie
Elementary School as a special education aide. When the
high school chemistry teacher left in April, however, she
was able to finish out the year teaching chemistry at the
high school.
In the fall, pregnant, Darra went back to the elementary
school and her old job as a special ed aide, as
Superintendent Joe Williams felt it was best for her
during her pregnancy.
She worked right up until labor began at school on
November 7. "I had the school in an uproar that day,"
laughs Darra, "Mr. Rogers (the principal) wanted me to get
out of there and go to the doctor so he wouldn't have to
deliver a baby."
Unconcerned with her contractions as the baby was not due
for two more weeks, Darra nevertheless took Mr. Rogers'
advise to call the doctor and ended up having little
Dennis, Jr. that evening.
Darra's eyes light up at the mention of her son. Married
to the former Brandi Burcham of McKenzie, Dennis is the
father of Darra's first grandbaby, Hannah, who was born on
December 31 last year. Dennis attends vocational school in
addition to working as a welder at J & J Auto Racing.
"He comes by almost every day; he just pops in for a
minute or calls. I don't know what I'd do without him,
he's a sweet thing," Darra says with obvious pride.
As a baby, Dennis was the first grandchild in the family,
and Darra's mom, Doris, "was partial to him," says Darra.
"She helped me with him and taught me how to give him a
bath and all the things that new mothers do."
Tragically, after three heart attacks, Doris died at the
age of 50 when Dennis was just five years old.
"I really miss her and he does, too," Darra says, while
also expressing appreciation for her stepmother Carolyn,
who, she says "has been real good for our family."
The year after Dennis was born, Darra returned to teaching
chemistry, physics and physical science at the high school
until, 20 years into her career in the McKenzie School
System, a fall changed her life's direction.
"In November 1996 I fell while climbing some steps and hit
my back on the concrete steps," Darra explains. "I tried
to treat it with therapy and I tried to continue to work,
but by January I was in so much pain I couldn't stand it."
Her last day of work was January 15, 1997.
She and Dennis had divorced in 1995. A subsequent marriage
was in the process of falling apart even as Darra endured
the physical pain that prompted back surgery in 1997. Her
divorce was final in 1998.
Surgery at Vanderbilt Hospital in Nashville resulted in
the fusion and decompression of almost the entire length
of Darra's spine in a 14 and a half hour operation during
which two 11-inch Harrington rods were screwed and wired
into place along each side of her spinal column.
The surgery was a risk Darra was willing to make, having
been advised her spine had splintered in places where her
back had contacted the concrete steps, a condition that
could lead to a severed spine and full quadriplegia.
"I didn't want that, so I had the surgery," Darra says.
She walked into the hospital on March 9, 1997, and has not
walked again. She requires intravenous lidocaine treatment
for pain and takes morphine three times a day to help
control the pain that was not relieved by surgery.
Worse, she has fought a continuous battle against a
surgery-induced staph infection acquired during the
fourteen hours she lay "wide open" on the operating table.
"It happens, it happens all the time to people," Darra
says softly.
It is happening with increasing frequency in hospitals
across the nation, according to a Chicago Tribune report
showing "about 103,000 deaths linked to hospital
infections in 2000 - a figure 14 percent higher than
government estimates - and in which nearly 75 percent of
the deaths were preventable."
Two years of powerful antibiotic treatments have also
taken their toll on Darra, whose body warns her with fever
and exhaustion when she has gone too far.
Periodic blood work ensures safe levels of the strong
antibiotics vacomycin and levicin that somewhat control
the infection that Darra explains "hides" behind the
hardware along her spine and "spreads like slime" until
once more reduced by the treatments.
"I lost a lot when I had that surgery; it really took a
toll on me; it completely changed my lifestyle," Darra
says.
In addition to her teaching career, she had worked at Dr.
Whitehead's Dental Office as his office receptionist for
ten years.
"I was teaching, working in the dental office, cleaning
house, and taking care of my family," she says, "I can't
do any of that anymore; I'm not pain free enough to work
at any kind of job."
A member of the McKenzie City Council since 1988, Darra
continues her duties as a council member, now in her
fourth term, accompanied occasionally by friend and
helpmate Carol Scruggs.
She counts as a great blessing the friendship she found in
Carol, a nurse she met while undergoing rehabilitation
after the surgery at NHC, a nursing home and
rehabilitation hospital in Milan.
When Darra was discharged by workman's compensation
insurance management after three months, before she was
able to care for her needs, Carol was worried.
"She would leave work after working seven-to-seven - and
it would be later than that when she got off - then she
would come by here on her way home to Greenfield from
Milan," Darra said of Carol's continuing care and concern.
After a few weeks, it grew late by the time Carol would be
ready to go home and Darra suggested, "Why not spend the
night instead of going all the way home so late?"
In time, it was easier just to move in.
"My family just adopted her and she been living with me
ever since," says Darra happily.
Carol, who had lost her parents and had no close relatives
and no children after a marriage of 21 years ended in
divorce, was equally happy about the arrangement,
especially since experiencing recent set backs in her own
health.
"She helps me do things I'm not able to do and takes me to
doctor's appointments," Darra explains, "Then last year
when she was diagnosed with cancer and had to have surgery
and chemo I took care of her. We have a real close
friendship; she's a fine person. She takes care of me and
I take care of her."
The friends like to shop and travel and are saving their
money for a cruise next year, "probably to somewhere in
the Caribbean." The year after that, Disneyworld in
Florida is their destination.
In the meantime, Carol was notified last week that her
cancer is out of remission and she is once more undergoing
treatments to hold it at bay.
"We've been praying hard, praying hard," Darra says
firmly, "I believe in the power of prayer."
Darra enjoys cooking and does a lot of reading. For the
past three or four years, she has taken up gardening and
is able to pot plants and work in the flowers that grown
alongside the ramp at the side of her home on Stonewall
Street. She teaches adult Sunday School classes at Henry
Methodist Church and all in all "stays relatively busy."
She often rides her scooter to City Council meetings,
greeting neighbors along the way, and can drive her car -
which has been modified with hand controls - allowing her
more independence in grocery shopping, a chore made easier
thanks to the assistance of employees at the store.
She uses her cell phone to call inside and obtain
assistance in unloading her wheelchair, then uses a
child-sized grocery cart to do her shopping. When she
arrives back home, her scooter is waiting for her to slide
onto, and she is "ready to go again!", taking her bags in
a few at a time.
Says perpetually-positive Darra, "You can always find
something good out of every bad thing that happens; I
believe God doesn't give more than you can handle."
Darra's father and stepmother, Tim Carolyn Copeland,
reside in Martin. Her brother, Brent, lives in Fort Smith,
Arkansas, and sister, Tina Brewer lives in Martin. |
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