Thumb Sucking

I have told this story at least a million times and I thought that maybe I should write it down for posterity’s sake. This is my story, how it was told to me and how I remember it.

When I was six months old I started sucking my thumb. At least that is what I am told, I don’t remember being six months old. Sometime after that I started twirling my hair while I sucked my thumb. Then at some point I began to pull my hair right out of my head.

Now this part I remember. I know exactly why I pulled my hair out, that doesn’t mean that it makes sense, but I know why I did it. I pulled my hair out with my right hand, put it in my left hand, and curled it in my fingers so that when I sucked my left thumb it would tickle my nose. Like I said, it doesn’t make sense.

This went on for several years, and as you can imagine, I didn’t have much hair. Well, I did have some hair, because I could not pull it out on the hairline, it hurt too bad, so I looked a bit like a monk. I am sure kids made fun of me, but I don’t remember if they did. My mom gave me a buzz cut thinking that if I didn’t have any hair to pull out I would stop, but it didn’t work, I just pulled out the short little pieces. My mom was so worried that people would tease me that she bought me a wig. The only thing I remember about the wig is that I didn’t like it because it scratched my bare head.
My mom took me to all sorts of doctors and even to a psychiatrist. I was diagnosed with “Trichotillamania” a compulsive hair pulling disorder; a disorder that can be treated, but not necessarily cured. The doctors and my parents tried everything they could think of to get me to stop sucking my thumb and pulling out my hair. But nothing worked.

My mom really started to panic when it was almost time for me to start Kindergarten. At this point my mom turned to the only one that could really help me, the Lord. I am sure that she had been praying for me all along, but it was getting to be crunch time and she was desperate. She told me that she and Dad would pray together for me and then she would pray on her own after that. Who knows how many hours she spent on her knees praying for some help, a miracle or cure for me.

Then the fateful day came. I must have been 4 years old. It was a warm summer day. Mom and Dad went to visit some neighbors and I went to play at my cousin’s house with my siblings. They had a great back yard to play in. There was a little wooden playhouse that was two stories! Two stories only because it had a flat roof and there was a ladder on the side so we could climb on top. We were playing store and using leaves from the two big trees as our money. (I guess money does grow on trees). So I had a handful of money and I decided to go “upstairs.” I remember it was difficult to climb the ladder with all that money. My cousin offered to hold my money for me while I climbed up, but I was no dummy. I proceeded to climb the ladder one handed. I almost made it to the top when I lost my balance and I fell and landed on my left side, on my thumb sucking hand. I don’t remember what happened between the fall and the trip to the hospital. I was told that my oldest brother and sister ran down to the neighbors to tell my parents what happened. My Dads friend, Dr. Hooker, was the doctor at the ER when we got there. My dad was with me when I had the x-ray taken of my arm. I remember his hand was in the x-ray with mine, he was holding my hand. Dr. Hooker informed my Dad that my arm was broken and that I would need to have a cast. My Dad told Dr. Hooker about my thumb sucking problem and asked him if he would cast my thumb all the way to the tip. I left the hospital with an extraordinary cast.

I was told later that my mom was crying uncontrollably and my dad said to her “Marcia, it is just a broken arm. She is going to be fine.” But my mom felt totally responsible for my broken arm. She prayed so hard that I would stop sucking my thumb, she felt like she had taken a hammer to my arm. But at the same time she was so thankful that it was just a broken arm and that my hand did not get cut off in some freak accident.

Since I couldn’t suck my thumb, what with my extraordinary cast, I stopped pulling my hair. Turns out that my hair pulling was triggered by my thumb sucking. So my Moms prayer was answered. It was a miracle. I never pulled my hair out again. I was cured of a disorder that doesn’t have a cure. By the time I started Kindergarten my hair had grown in with no trace of any problem. I am so thankful to my Mom and the Lord that I don’t have to deal with that disorder as an adult.