Inside Seka - The Platinum Princess of Porn Read Online Free PDF Page A

didn’t apologize about anything, and didn’t have the guts to talk about any of it. All I thought was, “When are they leaving?” I was angry and wanted to go back and play and I didn’t appreciate any of it. I didn’t want her to visit me again. I felt the same way about Terry. He could have said, “What about Dot?” He abandoned me, too. With the three kids out of their hair, they had moved to Florida.
    The home would have outings and field trips. They would take us swimming in a man-made lake because we didn’t have a pool. That was where I got really sick. I contracted spinal meningitis from contaminated water. When I went to bed, I was fine. I was tired because I had been in the sun and swimming all day. But when I tried to get out of bed the next morning, the only thing that could move were my eyes and mouth. Everybody was up getting dressed for school. The lady who was head of the house, Ms. Booker, stuck her head in the door and said, “Get up; you’re going to be late.”
    I said, “I can’t move. Really, I can’t move.” I was scared to death. I was wondering what the hell was going on. She grabbed one of the other girls and they tried to help me up. I was rushed to a local hospital.
    They put me in isolation and it frightened the hell out of me. Everybody wore hats, masks, gowns, and goggles. Even their shoes were covered. There was a door they would go through and a sanitary area where they’d put on their gowns. When my grandparents visited there was a chute and they actually had to throw their clothes down it to incinerate them. I felt like I was going to die.
    As I lay in bed, I kept thinking of my dad, who always loved to travel. He was always on a plane or a Greyhound bus. I dreamed of going to some of the places he told me about: France, England, the Nordic countries. He had a thing for blonde women. Maybe subconsciously, that’s why I became a blonde.
    One day a team of doctors came into the room and told me what I had. They actually said, “Four out of five people usually die from this.” Pretty blunt. Then they threw in that if someone survives, they’re usually brain-damaged, which could explain certain things about me. Ha! They told me they had to tap my spine to make me better. I had to lie on my stomach. They swabbed me down with alcohol and a horrible-smelling orange substance, and they brought in a huge tray. The needle on the tray looked ninety feet long. It was almost cartoonish. They said I could not move. I had to remain on my stomach for a really long time. I don’t remember it hurting, though. Maybe they gave me a painkiller, or maybe the fear squelched the pain. If things weren’t bad enough, the fluid kept re-contaminating itself and they had to do it two more times.
    My father would visit and stay all day in a mask and gown. He’d sleep in the chair next to my bed and it would be a comfort to me when I’d wake up in the morning and he’d still be there.
    When I finally got better, they told me I could never give blood because the virus remains dormant and can wake back up and be passed onto someone else. It’s a shame because I like to help people if I can, but I’ve never been able to donate.
    I was terrified the whole three weeks I was hospitalized. Yet, it wasn’t like I had a home to look forward to returning to.

My Aunt Shirley, who took me in. I love her so much. That’s me on the right, photobombing her.

My Uncle Hardy, who took in my sister and brother, standing next to my mother.

Me, my sister, and my brother in 1966 in the orphan’s facility in Wytheville.

3. Free
     
    Having my spine tapped repeatedly was like seeing the Grim Reaper three times. My reward for surviving was being sent back to Wytheville for several more numbing years. My only reprieve from the monotony was when family members would take me away for a bit of a vacation.
    My mother’s sister Anita, who we called Aunt Sis, was one of my favorite relatives. She was a spunky old