Suzanne Hopkins was born in 1967with a condition called quadramembral amelia. “Quadra means "four,' ” she patiently explained to me, in a clear, confident voice, reminiscent of teachers or radio announcers. “Membral means "limbs,' and amelia means "they're not there.' ”

        Tuesday night, Ms. Hopkins was presented the Dixie Harmon Memorial Award at the Hyatt Regency, downtown. The honor was established by Independent Living Options last year in memory of Dixie Harmon, a woman who was quadriplegic and who, despite smallness of stature, had an enormous presence when speaking to legislators and industry about the rights of people with disabilities.

        Ms. Hopkins was not chosen for the legs and arms she never had, but for the remarkable strides toward independence she has made for herself and others.

        “Suzanne's very presence makes a powerful statement,” her co-worker Peter Elliott wrote in his nomination letter. “And the message is unmistakable: Anyone with the will and appropriate support system can function significantly beyond insurmountable limitations.”
       

Father an advocate

        Ms. Hopkins grew up in Columbus, where she attended a special elementary school for kids with disabilities. Her father, always a strong advocate for his daughter's independence, persuaded her public high school that it was time for her to be included in the same school with her neighbors. She got her first wheelchair in the ninth grade, shedding forever the artificial legs that she says were inefficient and awkward.

        Similarly, she shunned the use of a prosthetic hand in childhood. “It was heavy, put me off balance, and just wasn't me,” she explains. “I'm not ashamed of my body.”

        It is that very confidence in herself and her ability that has propelled her through an undergraduate degree at Wright State, marriage, a nine-year career and a master's degree from the University of San Francisco, completed by distance learning and six 10-day trips to the California campus.
       

Taking control of life

        In lieu of artificial limbs, Ms. Hopkins performs many tasks with what she has. “Her penmanship is absolutely beautiful,” commented Lin Laing, executive director of Independent Living Options (ILO), where Ms. Hopkins is employed. She writes with a pen held in her mouth and does it as comfortably as many with a pen in hand. With a simple mouth stick, devised years ago by her father, she turns on lights, stereo, and TV, or types at the keyboard on her desk.

        Clearly, there are countless things a woman without limbs can not do for herself. But independence, Ms. Hopkins proves, is a matter of managing and taking control of your life, not physically performing tasks.

        Her own life serves as example to those she advises and serves in her role as director of programs and personal assistant services at ILO. By hiring and managing personal care assistants, in other words, those things she is not able to do for herself — dressing, bathing, managing a household — are accomplished by directing others. She drives her motorized wheelchair with her shoulder and directs those applying her makeup by moving her face accordingly.

        “My mother taught me to have dignity, self-confidence and to hold my head high despite any limitations I may have,” Ms. Hopkins said. She learned the lesson well.

        What would she like people to know about her? First, that there is something wrong with a tax system that counts her need for a personal care assistant in the same category as hiring a nanny or gardener. And, secondly, she wishes that parents would teach their children to accept people who look physically different.

        While she is so accustomed to stares that she barely notices them any more, her world has held many who are able to look beyond her missing limbs.

Saw her on TV

        When Darren Hopkins saw her featured on the Phil Donahue show nine years ago, the Montgomery, Ala., computer technician was smitten. After a year, he finally wrote to her, and a long-distance courtship began. For eight years now, the two have been happily married.

        “Yes, I'm proud of her,” Mr. Hopkins said, standing near his wife's chair in the congratulatory crush following the award ceremony. “But I'm proud of her every day!”

       Contact Deborah Kendrick by phone: 673-4474; fax: 321-6430; e-mail: dkkendrick@earthlink.net.
       

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