Sandy remembers the moment she took her first steps. She was eight years old, newly moved from Niagara Falls to the bright and flashy entertainment capital of the world, Las Vegas. Before then, walking had been an impossibility. But something about that city—maybe the energy, maybe the change—gave her the push she needed.
Her mother had known since she was three that something was different. As a baby, Sandy couldn’t hold her balance; she’d tip forward or backward, never quite steady when her mother would try to help her stand. Eventually, doctors put a name to it: cerebral palsy. To this day, those two words have never gotten in the way of Sandy doing what she wants. When one path is blocked, she finds another way around!
Even now, when an injury, three slipped discs in her neck, has taken her ability to walk again, her independence remains. “If I could get out of this wheelchair, I’d have it made,” she remarks. But if there’s one thing she’s learned, it’s how to adapt. “I always find another way to do things. I can do whatever I try,” she says with complete confidence.
For now, her love for crosswords, cleaning, gardening, and the occasional casino visit—a thrill that takes her back to her Las Vegas roots—keeps her busy. Her faith grounds her, whether she’s sitting in a pew or streaming the Sunday service at home from her computer. Still, she loves speaking Italian, a language that once danced through the streets of her Niagara Falls neighborhood as a child.
Her hands used to be kept busy with sewing and baking—cakes, cookies, anything sweet—but time has slowed her down. Still, she prides herself on her independence. “I make my bed, I clean my room, I can sometimes still cook for myself,” she says. “I try to be as helpful as possible.”
When she first moved into an Aspire of WNY group home, she wasn’t sure she’d like it. Now, she can’t imagine it any other way. The staff is kind. The residents have become family. “I didn’t think I’d like it at first, but I do now.”
Growing up with CP, though, wasn’t always easy. She recalls a time when strangers used to laugh at her. With time though, she developed her own defense mechanisms. Now, if someone stares, she locks eyes with them, refusing to look away first. “I try to freak them out a bit,” she chuckles. “You just have to show them up.”
The biggest misconception about CP, she believes, is that people assume she doesn’t understand what’s going on around her. “They see us, and they forget about us,” she says. “I wish they would take more time to know us.”
And what would that look like? “They’d sit down and talk to you. Maybe invite you to do stuff.” Her church is just across the street from her house. She doesn’t get to go as often as she’d like, but when she does, people talk to her. They see her. And that means everything to her.
Through every challenge, Sandy has never backed down. “I like hard stuff,” she says. “Having CP is a challenge, but I like challenging things.” If there’s a way to do something, she’ll find it.
She credits her strength to her parents, who never let her take the easy way out. “They always made me try to do stuff. If I couldn’t do something, they would still make me try.” She misses them every day, but their lessons live on in her.
Her advice to others with CP? “Never give up and keep moving on.” And for those who want to be good allies, she offers this simple request: “Have a lot of patience and take time to get to know us.”
Sandy is living proof that resilience isn’t just about enduring, it’s about thriving. It’s in the way she finds joy in the smallest moments, the way she pushes back when the world underestimates her, the way she doesn’t just face challenges but embraces them. And if she catches you staring? Be warned, she’s got all the time in the world.
