Differently Abled....
So first, I'm going to tell you that I'm posting from my iPad so I'm not sure how well this will work.
It's been a while since I posted, more than anything because I'm having paperwork issues with my medical care and my coverge has been all fucked up and therefore I've been stretching my meds and I just plain don't feel right. In fact, I feel like shit. But that's not the reason for the post today. I got to thinking about thinks the other day while I was laying around doing very little because it hurts too bad to move. What does "disabled" really mean anymore?
If you were to see me on the street, in makeup and normal clothes, you'd never know. In fact once in a parking lot when I used my disabled placard for a handicapped spot I was yelled at by an old fat black woman accusig me of using my grannie's car. That same old fat woman also happened to swoop and take the only working scooter thing in the store because she was too fat to walk. My diseases (there are many) are mostly invisible to the naked eye. Does that mean I have less of a right to use things placed for disabled people such as the motorized carts, the handicapped parking spots, the reduced price train ticket, those kinds of things. Do I deserve the seat at the front of the bus reserved for the elderly and disabled?
On a good day, probably not. My good days now are fewer and farther between. As much as I don't want it to, this body fails me. And these services are so abused by people that truly don't need them that it makes it hard to get them when you do. If someone sees me pick up my (underweight for his age) son, they assume I must be faking the spinal pain, it doesn't seem to cross anyones mind that i pick him up and push through that pain because he did not deserve a broken mother, so the days my arms work, no matter how bad it hurts I will hold my baby.
One of those great things about heart failure? No one knows unless you tell them. I tell people because my life revolves around keeping myself off the transplant list and alive. So its a pretty major topic in my life.
Maybe I didn't really know where this was going when I started writing it, but I'm just frustrated. Living in a house full of people that treat you as if even they are not sure how much of your pain you fake or embellish or whatever. The part that hurts the most about that is that these are all people who have listened to doctor after doctor explain that I am indeed not well. I guess its denial,lol.
On that super cheery note, mama bear is due again in about 3 weeks, you'll all see pics when they get here. I have a couple of tutorials to put together and I keep saying I'm going to get the sewing machine out and make some maxi dresses and skirts for me and M. AND I still have reviews to do !
but until next time ~
J
It's been a while since I posted, more than anything because I'm having paperwork issues with my medical care and my coverge has been all fucked up and therefore I've been stretching my meds and I just plain don't feel right. In fact, I feel like shit. But that's not the reason for the post today. I got to thinking about thinks the other day while I was laying around doing very little because it hurts too bad to move. What does "disabled" really mean anymore?
If you were to see me on the street, in makeup and normal clothes, you'd never know. In fact once in a parking lot when I used my disabled placard for a handicapped spot I was yelled at by an old fat black woman accusig me of using my grannie's car. That same old fat woman also happened to swoop and take the only working scooter thing in the store because she was too fat to walk. My diseases (there are many) are mostly invisible to the naked eye. Does that mean I have less of a right to use things placed for disabled people such as the motorized carts, the handicapped parking spots, the reduced price train ticket, those kinds of things. Do I deserve the seat at the front of the bus reserved for the elderly and disabled?
On a good day, probably not. My good days now are fewer and farther between. As much as I don't want it to, this body fails me. And these services are so abused by people that truly don't need them that it makes it hard to get them when you do. If someone sees me pick up my (underweight for his age) son, they assume I must be faking the spinal pain, it doesn't seem to cross anyones mind that i pick him up and push through that pain because he did not deserve a broken mother, so the days my arms work, no matter how bad it hurts I will hold my baby.
One of those great things about heart failure? No one knows unless you tell them. I tell people because my life revolves around keeping myself off the transplant list and alive. So its a pretty major topic in my life.
Maybe I didn't really know where this was going when I started writing it, but I'm just frustrated. Living in a house full of people that treat you as if even they are not sure how much of your pain you fake or embellish or whatever. The part that hurts the most about that is that these are all people who have listened to doctor after doctor explain that I am indeed not well. I guess its denial,lol.
On that super cheery note, mama bear is due again in about 3 weeks, you'll all see pics when they get here. I have a couple of tutorials to put together and I keep saying I'm going to get the sewing machine out and make some maxi dresses and skirts for me and M. AND I still have reviews to do !
but until next time ~
J
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