Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Blogging against (dis)Ableism
It's "disablism" to the Brits, and "ableism" in the US, but in either case, it means the attitude of treating people with disabilities as fundamentally unequal. And on May 1, the Goldfish is once again leading the annual web campaign to highlight the problem.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Whiner
In 2002, a French woman was told by her doctor that she Ehlers Danlos syndrome and that her life over. Amazingly, rather than immediately hit him with the nearest blunt object, Clara Blanc has decided to fulfil his verdict by seeking death. She claims she isn't suicidal, but all the same, wants the right to demand that doctors administer lethal drugs whenever she wishes.
Clara, there's virtually no chance that you will ever read this, but if you do...
GET OVER YOUR DAMNED FOOL SELF!
Fuck's sake, girl, you've got crappy connective tissue. It makes life a bitch sometimes, doesn't it? But chances are that it isn't going to kill you. And you won't likely become more of a vegetable than you already have made yourself into with your self-pity festival. Yeah, you'll probably have to use a wheelchair at some point. Big whoopdedoo. There are people having bombs lobbed at them right now. Others are being attacked by sadists wielding machetes. Some people are being held in small, dark places, tortured and unknown. And every single one of them is fighting to live. You want to die? Do it yourself. Freaking wuss, can't even take responsibility for your own death, much less your life. You claim to want to be the arbitrator of your death? What makes you think you can do that when you won't be arbitrator of your life? You can't face up to the hard choices in life. You want everything easy, and when you found out that your life won't be easy, now you want to be guaranteed an easy death.
And look at the company you are keeping. Dignitas? The Hemlock Society by any other name is still a freaking death cult. They are nothing but bastards who see someone poised on the ledge, ready to leap, and begin shouting "Jump! Jump!" You need to make new friends. People who take life as they find it and live it, knowing this is their one shot. You have plenty of time to be dead, but only now to live.
Clara, there's virtually no chance that you will ever read this, but if you do...
GET OVER YOUR DAMNED FOOL SELF!
Fuck's sake, girl, you've got crappy connective tissue. It makes life a bitch sometimes, doesn't it? But chances are that it isn't going to kill you. And you won't likely become more of a vegetable than you already have made yourself into with your self-pity festival. Yeah, you'll probably have to use a wheelchair at some point. Big whoopdedoo. There are people having bombs lobbed at them right now. Others are being attacked by sadists wielding machetes. Some people are being held in small, dark places, tortured and unknown. And every single one of them is fighting to live. You want to die? Do it yourself. Freaking wuss, can't even take responsibility for your own death, much less your life. You claim to want to be the arbitrator of your death? What makes you think you can do that when you won't be arbitrator of your life? You can't face up to the hard choices in life. You want everything easy, and when you found out that your life won't be easy, now you want to be guaranteed an easy death.
And look at the company you are keeping. Dignitas? The Hemlock Society by any other name is still a freaking death cult. They are nothing but bastards who see someone poised on the ledge, ready to leap, and begin shouting "Jump! Jump!" You need to make new friends. People who take life as they find it and live it, knowing this is their one shot. You have plenty of time to be dead, but only now to live.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
What I've been up to lately
The great thing about having a blog titled "yet another never updated blog" is that no one is the least concerned when your posting drops off for days or weeks or months. Hey, I warned you in the title, didn't I? But I've had several ideas stewing for a while, just no time to develop them. But at last, the time is at hand, so to speak.
So why haven't I had any time? Well, I've been moving. It has taken me a month to do it, packing boxes and taking them to the new place in my tiny little car. One Tercel load a day makes for slow going. I did get a big truck rented and two healthy male friends to load and unload the truck for me over Easter weekend. Then there was the dreaded deposit clean-up. Thanks to family and friends for what help they could give. I know I was an absolute grouch by the end of it. But it is all for the best now. I'm closer to work, and have a housemate to split living costs and do the heavy lifting. Eventually, all the boxes will be unpacked, and I'll know where my earrings are again.
Moving was complicated, as was rather expected, by the decision of my right shoulder to go AWOL. It made driving lots of fun, too. It first fell out while driving home from work with MD. She plaintively begged, "Why are you jerking the car?" as her joints were jolted every few moments. "My shoulder is dislocated. It hurts to steer." "Oh. I'll fix it for you when we get to your place." And she did. I'm ashamed that I can't reduce my own shoulder. It's a skill that would come in handy quite often. Especially once the darn thing slips out, because while MD could get it into place for me, we both knew it wouldn't stay. A dislocation is followed for a couple of weeks with subluxations. Over and over again, I had to get people to reduce my shoulder. MD, the SIL, and My Dad (hmmm. He'd be MD also if I keep up with my routine abbreviation pattern. OK, he's My Father). Alright, then. MD, SIL, and MF are the only ones I know who have a feel for where a shoulder ought to be, and aren't afraid to put things where they ought to be. Other people...well, let's just say other people are squeamish. Since even most doctors act like reducing a joint is a major operation, I shouldn't be surprised.
And I'm glad it was just the one shoulder. Glad and surprised. I only had the usual swelling of my legs and subsequent pain, but not even my arches subluxed. Not even when I went to the zoo for my parents' 50th wedding anniversary! Wise choices in footwear make a big difference. And with that affirmation, I now plan to make a foray into the orthopedic shoe store to buy more ugly but supportive shoes, what with the older shoes being not only ugly but downright decrepit.
The joint problems in the legs have waited until this week. Both feet have been playing their "how much of a sprain can we create just standing here" game. And yesterday, my right knee tried to make a break for the back of my leg. I took this as a sign that I haven't been sleeping with enough pillows, so I bought a new one to prop me up better. I still need a new knee wedge, though. My old one is less a wedge and more a pancake. A bright pink pancake with square sides. Okay, not so much a pancake as a layer cake with icing for a six year old girl's birthday party. But with a stingy mom who only made one layer of cake. Still, sleeping propped up properly let me sleep for nearly 12 hours, off and on, and that has done wonders for my wandering kneecap.
I've completely lost track of where I was going with this. But in the days to come, I will update my book review on Short Bus, and talk about euthanasia. So, if you only read this blog when you remember to occassionally check, then check it a couple more times over the next week. I may even have a new picture of Raaaahr! Monster to share.
So why haven't I had any time? Well, I've been moving. It has taken me a month to do it, packing boxes and taking them to the new place in my tiny little car. One Tercel load a day makes for slow going. I did get a big truck rented and two healthy male friends to load and unload the truck for me over Easter weekend. Then there was the dreaded deposit clean-up. Thanks to family and friends for what help they could give. I know I was an absolute grouch by the end of it. But it is all for the best now. I'm closer to work, and have a housemate to split living costs and do the heavy lifting. Eventually, all the boxes will be unpacked, and I'll know where my earrings are again.
Moving was complicated, as was rather expected, by the decision of my right shoulder to go AWOL. It made driving lots of fun, too. It first fell out while driving home from work with MD. She plaintively begged, "Why are you jerking the car?" as her joints were jolted every few moments. "My shoulder is dislocated. It hurts to steer." "Oh. I'll fix it for you when we get to your place." And she did. I'm ashamed that I can't reduce my own shoulder. It's a skill that would come in handy quite often. Especially once the darn thing slips out, because while MD could get it into place for me, we both knew it wouldn't stay. A dislocation is followed for a couple of weeks with subluxations. Over and over again, I had to get people to reduce my shoulder. MD, the SIL, and My Dad (hmmm. He'd be MD also if I keep up with my routine abbreviation pattern. OK, he's My Father). Alright, then. MD, SIL, and MF are the only ones I know who have a feel for where a shoulder ought to be, and aren't afraid to put things where they ought to be. Other people...well, let's just say other people are squeamish. Since even most doctors act like reducing a joint is a major operation, I shouldn't be surprised.
And I'm glad it was just the one shoulder. Glad and surprised. I only had the usual swelling of my legs and subsequent pain, but not even my arches subluxed. Not even when I went to the zoo for my parents' 50th wedding anniversary! Wise choices in footwear make a big difference. And with that affirmation, I now plan to make a foray into the orthopedic shoe store to buy more ugly but supportive shoes, what with the older shoes being not only ugly but downright decrepit.
The joint problems in the legs have waited until this week. Both feet have been playing their "how much of a sprain can we create just standing here" game. And yesterday, my right knee tried to make a break for the back of my leg. I took this as a sign that I haven't been sleeping with enough pillows, so I bought a new one to prop me up better. I still need a new knee wedge, though. My old one is less a wedge and more a pancake. A bright pink pancake with square sides. Okay, not so much a pancake as a layer cake with icing for a six year old girl's birthday party. But with a stingy mom who only made one layer of cake. Still, sleeping propped up properly let me sleep for nearly 12 hours, off and on, and that has done wonders for my wandering kneecap.
I've completely lost track of where I was going with this. But in the days to come, I will update my book review on Short Bus, and talk about euthanasia. So, if you only read this blog when you remember to occassionally check, then check it a couple more times over the next week. I may even have a new picture of Raaaahr! Monster to share.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Shucks...
Girl, Dislocated has put me on her list. What list, you may ask? Why, this one:
So now I am forced, forced, I tell you, to update my blog again, despite its title. For the rules of this award are to pass along Kayla's blog link, and to point out 10 other excellent blogs. This is a really neat way of making sure smaller blogs get their kudos, so on to the winners' circle, in no particular order:
Well, you know what I've learned from doing this? I've learned that I really need to update my blog roll. And if you think I should be reading your blog, leave me a link. Then, maybe someday, I'll move your link from my bookmarks to my blog links.
So now I am forced, forced, I tell you, to update my blog again, despite its title. For the rules of this award are to pass along Kayla's blog link, and to point out 10 other excellent blogs. This is a really neat way of making sure smaller blogs get their kudos, so on to the winners' circle, in no particular order:
- Through Myself and Back Again
- Y Laurie
- Bums & Bellybuttons
- Screw Bronze!
- The Old Foodie--Lileks shows you pictures of horrible food. The Old Foodie shows you how to prepare it.
- Respectful Insolence
- Girl, Dislocated (Backatcha, Girl!)
- Crimes Against People with Disabilities--not a happy place, but a sadly necessary one.
- Polite Dissent
- In Sickness and In Health
Well, you know what I've learned from doing this? I've learned that I really need to update my blog roll. And if you think I should be reading your blog, leave me a link. Then, maybe someday, I'll move your link from my bookmarks to my blog links.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Elizabeth McClung in Japan
Anyone who isn't reading along with Elizabeth on her Dai Boken ("Big Adventure") is an ol' poopy head. Seriously, get yourself over to Screw Bronze! and read what may be the best ever disability travelogue on the web.
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