It appears that I’ll have a visitor later today, a mutual aquaintance of myself and bridgett’s…
We have already done the obligatory cleaning, so no panicked rush to make the place presentable…
It could be fun…in an odd sort of way…
friends and family members will assume it is about them when it isn’t or even worse, assume it isn’t about them when it is…
So, I hereby state for the record that this is not about commenters here
Does anyone else with impairments/disabilities ever run ito the following scenario? I’d be interested in knowing…
You have able friends and or family. They call you.
From their perception, they have legitimate reasons to be stressed about issues abcd.
You *want* to be supportive. You want to be a good relative or friend. So you listen (and that’s a big deal for me, a learned behaviour to sometimes fer chrissake shut yer yap, and listen to what the other person is saying) and offer some possible solutions. (Not in a “You ought to” or “You must” way, but in a “Have you ever thought about?” way)
But, part of the time, inside your head you may be thinking…
“Jesus….[this person] has more money that God,” and they’re saying they have problems. Have they had to choose between rent and medical expenses? Have they had to sell personal possesions to eat that week as I have done? Have they had to play “Which chronic condition is least likely to **** with me if I stay in the house this month so can I forgo the medication for that particular condition? Are they living out of their car, as my roomate has done in the past?
Are they someone who is *out of work* and had their parent work with financing to *buy the out of work person a new house* next year?
Are they an able bodied person who is out of work and has no problem asking a relative to gut their savings to pay for their living expenses ?
Are they someone who has never considered the possibility that living with loneliness for 26 years as a single person, but with plenty of money to live on is *different* than someone who is lonely and living as a single person for the same amount of time either on disability or one paycheck away from eviction?
It just makes me a little more insane each time I hear these things….
And, *I’m* one of the goddamn lucky ones who work…
I hate to think of the kind of discussions able working people foist on the vast majority of those with impairments who are out of work/and/or unable to work.
Sometimes, our lives are just too different to look across that divide of privilege and make any kind of sense.
And, I’m perfectly willing to take heat from anyone without a job now who says to me WTF are *you* bitching about, you have a job! I’m okay with that…. I’m making 400.00 a month more than I did while on disability…that difference is actually eaten up by gas to get to and from work, and the fact that my prescriptions/doctors visits cost me 12o a month more out of pocket than they did while I was on disability.
So, stiff upper lip, away from family and by myself on T-day, had some fun with films et al…because we had a reservation at a decent place that stayed open on the holiday …
I never ate that turkey
I never ate that stuffing
I never had a salad or a bit of cranberry…
The ‘accessible’ apartment is on the second floor.
The elevator in my building was not working.
Everytime this happens (there have been three to five incidents in the last year.)
Safety comes to mind. If there was a fire or other damage, I could not exit the building.
It’s not so much that I couldn’t go some artificial place to eat,
I don’t like my freedom of movement curtailed by ….they need to take the elevator out and rebuild the s-o-b- from the ground up.
I can’t move out until August of 2009. But by gawd, I’ll be going then.
So, I thought I’d have a guilt free afternoon of indulging in them…and had rented some documentary about Bette Davis.
I also saw “The Miracle Worker” last week.
“Dark Victory,” about someones ‘heroic’ struggle against impending blindness…
A buncha cellioud wasted reinforcing the general public’s idea that life is no longer valuable if you have to navigate without conventional sight
only stops bothering me when it becomes clear the main character is fighting for her life, not just the loss of vision.
I know a lot of folk have issues with “The Miracle Worker,” as well…I’m concerned about it’s lack of accuracy regarding both Helen and Annie Sullivan….but…
Half a loaf is better than none….and words, learning…are great tools for handling life…They are *not* the messianic panacea that the film makes them out, but they are a way through.
At least (in the film) Annie wasn’t trying to attempt to have Helen speak.
And of course in both films, the caregivers and the folk with impairment are shown as ridiculously virtuous. (Yes, Helen is a fighter, but she calms right down, when the great Word, is brought down from Mt Olympus…(gag)
This year I have no plans for tomorow…I’m going out and eating some turkey after roomate gets off work…
But even though I’m horribly lonesome….I have to laugh.
Because of the gravy.
I have no idea what age I was. It was before I hit my teens.
There was the usual the jiggly cranberry with the can imprint or my ex aunt’s exhaustive but yummy cranberry relish that was much more labor intensive and tastier
Homemade whipped cream and pumpkin pie handled with master chef precision by my mother.
Excellent sage stuffing, in those days prepared in the bird, and then after when that was found to be dangerous in a separate dish…
And did we have the horrid milky casserole that *everyone I know* has some version of: green beans, cream of mushroom soup and the crunchy onions that year? I’m not certain. I was made to eat that on more than one occasion. It’s not really food. It’s evil and should be forgotten.
But, the gravy was either almost clear, or very oddly light brown…and to the perfectionist in the house, it should have been a deeper brown…so….
Green food coloring was added to the gravy. So, the gravy went from wimpy to pea soup green in a matter of moments.
You know those moments when someone you love has done something *hilarious* but you are actually trying to understand their side and *not burst out laughing* about it?
I tried. I tried the year it happened and was unsuccessful.
I’ve tried in years since not to burst out laughing when her sister tells it, and failed too.
And either that year or another, the turkey went from cold to burnt in less than 40 minutes because the meat thermometer was invaded by poltergeists or something.
I laughed at the time…because *every* thanksgiving cook has a story like that, and should forgive themselves…
We laughed about it and didn’t blame Mom…
(I have no shame about my lack of kitchen skillz as a teen and will someday tell the story of the green eggs scramble, or the soup that got vaccumed up with a new vaccum cleaner)
But for her, I’d imagine that it’s now one of the things she takes to heart and suffers over.
I guess that I think there’s *more* to celebrate if you don’t take your mistakes so seriously…