A Lesson In Figure And Ground
I have always been fascinated by the concept of figure and ground. I have always seen the both the vase and the faces. I have always appreciated the way visual artists turn figure and ground on its ear in the pursuit of challenging our perception of the world. I have always appreciated the way composers create music that moves in and through figure and ground in a playful take on harmony and dissonance. I have always appreciated the way playwrights use dialogue to explore the figure and ground of relationships. Our eyes and ears and hearts dance between figure and ground everyday as we move through life.
Turner syndrome has been both figure and ground in my life. Turner syndrome is a genetic condition that affects girls and women. It is a frequent cause of miscarriages. The most consistent features of Turner syndrome are short stature, lack of ovarian development, and kidney and heart issues. After my diagnosis at the age of 15, it became ground for my choices. In a state of complete denial, other than the medical necessities such as frequent doctor visits, hormone replacement therapy, blood draws, and bone scans, I was a typical teenager. The figure of my life at that point was driving, working at a pizza restaurant, high school theatre, and hanging out. I never talked about Tuner syndrome. After I read a few things my endocrinologist suggested, I did not look any further. Scared to death of what they said I looked like and would (or would not) become, I allowed my condition to stay the ground of my life. To learn I was infertile (a typical result of Turner syndrome) at 15 forced the figure of a future of easily achieved biological motherhood from my sight at an early age.
Turner syndrome remained ground as a young adult. I still never talked about it except annually with my gynecologist, and with a few boyfriends when the discussion of wanting to have families would come up. If I trusted them enough to tell them, I would talk. Most of the time I would just skip the Turner syndrome story and say how much I love children, simply choosing not to enter in to an educational opportunity that would expose something so personal. I wanted to be normal and was not sure what that would look like if people knew.
Educating doctors was another way Turner syndrome became figure in my life during this time. Most doctors don’t know much about Turner syndrome. The questions generally started after I revealed I was on hormone replacement therapy. I saw the same gynecologist that was my gynecologist when I was diagnosed every year so I would not have to explain. It was the other doctors who looked at me sideways. The ER doctor I saw after a car accident. The doctor in the campus medical center who prescribed an antibiotic for bronchitis. I always thought they should already know about Turner syndrome, but I guess doctors learn an encyclopedia of genetic syndromes in medical school and it is hard to keep all of them straight.
At 36, Turner syndrome became a figure in my life. Finishing a Ph.D. did not convince me I was smart. Finishing a marathon did not convince me I was healthy. After having written about my diagnosis in a writing class, I decided to participate in an NIH study. The study made it clear Turner syndrome had been both figure and ground in my life the entire time. The study, and subsequent essay about the experience, changed my life. The silence was broken.
Figure and ground rely on each other. One cannot exist without the other. They dance together. They are the tapestry. They are the symphony. Turner syndrome was ground in my life when I wanted to protect myself from pain. Tuner syndrome was ground in my life when I wanted to be normal. Turner syndrome was ground in my life when I did not have the words to talk about life and death. That conversation is what ultimately happens when the honest truth of a genetic condition is discussed. Turner syndrome became figure in my life when I found the strength to not let the diagnosis, prognosis, and statistics define who I am and what I might become. Turner syndrome became figure in my life when I first learned to love myself, all of myself. Turner syndrome became figure in my life when I realized our stories are as vital to our existence as breath, and Turner syndrome is a part of my story.
Originally published at www.katiesteedly.com on October 4, 2018.
