I Can't Believe He Came Here Like That

Today I had the pleasure of making an unplanned trip to Wegmans. Have I ever said how much I like grocery shopping? Well Wegmans is at the top of my list. If you know me and know my eating habits of the last 6+ months, you wouldn't have been surprised to see me buying 6 Green Giant veggie boxes. People always ask me if I need help when I'm reaching for frozen food, being that most of the time the angles that they are placed into the cases make me have to shift around a lot in order to reach them. I only stand up as a last resort, sometimes passing on something that is too high up, as I'd have to place my basket on the floor in order to do so, and picking it back up if it happens to be full is way more of a challenge then reaching the food while sitting down.

I noticed voices to the left of me, a family discussing which veggies to buy, but as I was both heavily concentrating on wiggling free a box of broccoli with cheese sauce and totaling up the cost of my basket, I didn't pay them any mind. Besides, I didn't get the vibe that there were little children staring at me and they seemed too involved in veggie picking to bother to ask me if I needed help (a relief).

Like any good driver though, when I had my 6 boxes and backed away from the case I turned my head left to make sure I wouldn't run into them. Standing there with his parents was a boy around 14 using a reverse walker. I didn't look at him long enough to notice what his clothes looked like, if he was wearing AFOs, or if the hand grips of his walker were red (they most likely are). I only noticed out of the corner of my eye that he most definitely has CP. I was too focused on repeating "$18.71, $18.71" in my head to think I cared.

[image description: the walker with the red handles, although mine didn't have those hip positioning pads]

Except I did care. The first thought that came into my head was I can't believe he came here like that. The next was, no wonder they understood that I didn't need help... Then I wondered why I thought such a seemingly negative thing about the boy. It was totally a transference thing. Did his parents force him to go grocery shopping against his will? Was he insecure and embarrassed, is he sick to death of preschoolers staring?

I would never have gone out in public using a walker without putting up a fight. People might think I'm r------d. People I'll never see again... But that used to matter to me. I wasn't that kind of cripple, and I didn't want anyone thinking I was.

Then on my way home more thoughts came into my head: Did his parents force him there? Did they force the exercise on him? Doctors have "prescribed" grocery shopping to me in my life. Does he not like his chair? Has he used a walker since he was a toddler so that after over a decade he's OK with it? I have used one only here and there. Did he like not walk until he was 10; has he bought into the "people who walk are better, I'll use my chair over my dead body" rhetoric? Been there done that.

Then I felt sorry for him. Wegmans is the biggest grocery store I've ever been to. As I have trouble finding things and often have to walk back and forth around the store or up and down the same aisle three times in order to find things, I have gone there on foot and left not being able to stand for the rest of the day. Does he not have a powerchair? Is he mortified at the thought of his parents pushing him in public? I most certainly was at that age. He doesn't have to go home and collapse tonight. I didn't.

See what I mean, transference? I was having flashbacks to 1999. All I can hope was that they were flashing forward, noticing that I was alone, doing my shopping independently, and wondering how I got there. Did I drive, take paratransit? I actually had rolled the mile and a quarter from the last place I was, and then took the train to the bus and rolled the last 2 blocks home.

Do his parents have more hope for his future now then they did before we bumped into each other? Do they see less dependence for their son and more independence? Do they wonder if I live alone? The only exchange we had was the mom offering to close the freezer door for me as I was backing away "Oh, I've got it," I said for the 9001th time. That was before I saw her son. Neither of us said anything after. Was the kid looking at me in horror, swearing to himself that he'd never be caught dead grocery shopping in a chair? Flashback, 1999: I would have said that exact thing to myself.

I've certainly grown in the last half of my life, as I obviously don't think that now, and for that I am thankful. But it makes me wonder why all these thoughts came into my head so quickly. Why my memories of these things are so vivid, while memories most people treasure, like summer camp are harder to bring to the surface. Is this a shared experience among people who were born with their disability? Because I thought only people who had serious trauma have flashbacks...

Acceptance

My stepfather is turning 60 and my brother is turning 30 five days apart. My stepfather didn't have any children until he was 54 (us) so you should see him doing family stuff. All he wants for his 60th birthday is to go to Las Vegas with his family, me, my brother, his wife, my mom, and my grandma. It's kinda sad he doesn't want his family to come too, but that's another story.

After the debacle where we went to Hawaii in 2010 and all we took was my dilapidated Quickie, every time this idea has been mentioned, all I can say is "my chair, my chair, my chair..." Having traveled twice independently with a powerchair (all the other times were with a manual), most recently 5 weeks ago, I know the drill and can do this confidently.

I'm happy to report that my parents are ok with this; that they've thought through some of the logistics and recognize the importance of my independence. They understand the utter frustration I felt in Hawaii, and care that I can enjoy myself as much as possible.

My mobility has declined over the past 4 years, and I feel like my ability to walk was somewhat subconsciously tied to my independence. At least it was in my head... I'm concerned that my mother is upset with me on some level. She put a lot of time, energy, and money into something I'm letting slip away. Am I leading the life she wanted for me? I think so, but it's different then either of us could have imagined.

We sat at dinner and my parents (who have been to Las Vegas, I haven't) told me of all the places I would need my chair. It sounds like I'll be sitting all day. I can't just use it to get somewhere and then dump it in the corner -- it was $13,000 afterall. And they're ok with that, which leaves me kind of shocked. Oddly I am not ok with it. I am thinking of the physical pain this causes, the exacerbation of my spasticity. But I'll figure something out. My brother doesn't take his ritilan when he goes on vacations, and he's always had fun with this stuff. He can drive my chair.

Over the years my chair has become a part of me, an extension of my independence, and after all I did to actively fight it, I guess I'm still surprisingly having to revaluate my identity to include it. Why else would I think this was so odd?

I'm a wheelchair user, and that's ok.

A Positive Observation

[Image description: The chicken boxty I had for dinner. Boxty is a very delicious Irish dish.]

My parents stopped to take me to dinner the other day on their way home from visiting my grandma, as I'm not at all out of the way. We decided to go someplace new to them, someplace I hadn't been in about 4 or 5 years. Right as we pulled into one of the accessible spots a minivan pulled into the other one. I watched as an older lady and a PA got a manual wheelchair out of the trunk. For those of you who don't know, I check out chairs like some people check out cars. It was a very crappy chair, which was obviously custom (a shame... If you're going to go through insurance approval and all...) as the frame was blue, and it was an Invacare. I didn't notice if it was a foldable chair or a rigid frame as I was concentrating on getting out of the car, but as it had swing away foot rests and a sling back I imagine it was foldable. I didn't get a chance to see the wheelchair user.

We went into the restaurant and got seated, and they came in right after and got seated diagonal from us. I checked out the woman in the chair, who must have been in her 40s. "Why isn't she in a powerchair," I thought? I'm not sure if she has CP or if she had a TBI or a stroke when she was too old to have it classified as CP, (when babies have strokes they call it CP) but I imagine she has CP, and regardless would be perfectly capable of handling a joystick.

As soon as the three of them got settled, the woman turned to the person who seated them, and asked him what his name is. "My name is Wendy, she said in perfectly understandable "CP speech," if you know what I mean. "I'm very happy you're here." To which he replied, "I'm very happy you're here."

She repeated this exchange as soon as the waitress showed up, even before she had a chance to say anything, and again when another restaurant staff showed up.

Hmmm... I thought. What a clever idea. I also noticed out of the corner of my eye that her PA had put on a bib. I'm sure being in your 40s and wearing a bib, coupled with the fact that you're being pushed by a PA wearing scrubs (ICK! if I had a PA I'd make them wear jeans to go out to eat) often if not always puts her in a situation where she's ignored. Where people look at the people she's with as if she's not even there and ask them what she would like to eat. Although my CP is significant enough that there's no way I'd ever pass, I seldom find myself in this situation, and found it to be a great way to break down a frustrating communication barrier... which leaves me wondering if any of you use this strategy or a similar one? Just curious...

A Quote

Found on the main page of the website of a therapeutic riding place somewhere in the state of Maryland. I won't out them. Also found in at least one of their newsletters (I only looked at one).

Although many afflictions cannot be “cured”, nearly anyone may be healed.

I'm speechless...

A Conversation with My Family Part 2

Same morning as the last post. Same brunch. Somehow we're in a conversation that turns briefly to London, and then briefly to a specific museum in London, where my stepfather mentions he bought a book for $20 that is now extremely rare and is worth $300. My parents are like that, they have all kinds of "shit" in their house that isn't shit at all. You might look at that book at a yard sale and give me $2 for it. I don't even know which one it is, but I'll know to look for it. It's the same with their dishes, they're into Fiestaware. They might have a $300 plate lying around.

So I look at them both and say

"When you're old and demented we'll bring in an appraiser so we can sell your dishes and things and pay for your home attendants. Because of course we have to pay them a living wage..."

This sets me off on a tangent about someone I know who gets paid crap under the table, to which my mom responded about a close friend who paid her mom's/ mom-in-law's attendants very well. But then she went

"Start with the sterling sliver it's worth [tens of thousands $] retail, so you'll probably get [I forget what she said]"

Is this the kind of conversations other 26 year old daughters have with their 54 year old mothers, or is it just me? It's what happens when you get involved with worker rights I guess...

A Conversation with My Family Part 1

Yesterday was my mother's 54th birthday. I took the bus home Saturday night after work, and a few hours earlier my brother flew in overnight from New Mexico, where he's living in a hotel for a few months. Sunday morning we went to brunch. My parents have never owned a mini van, because my mom is scared of them, but because my stepfather was in a car accident and my mom's best friend is in California for the entire month of February, we're borrowing her's. At some point during the morning, my mom looks at my brother and says

"Jason, help Cheryl with the door."

To which I snap

"I don't need help with the door. Don't you know etiquette? You don't help someone unless they say 'I need help with the door'."

She could have said "Do you need help with the door?" That's different.

On the way home we stopped at a Japanese grocery store. We're parked right in front of the door. Why go to the ramp built onto the access aisle a few spaces away? Except I can't do curbs, which they all know full well, and everyone just got out of the car and walked into the store without any regard to me. One of them had the store door open before I even had the car door closed. The parking spaces had those stupid barriers that keep the front of your car from being close to or on top of the curb, so they were too far away to lean on, which I'm sure at least one of them noticed.

"HEY!" I said, a slight bit exasperated. I should learn to keep my mouth shut...

I'll Let The Words Speak for Themselves

Swiped from Deborah. I need to visit your blog more often...

Intersections

Some editions of the Disability Blog Carnival have talked about intersections. The intersection between disability and feminism or religion for example. I've always had a hard time with these and usually skip those.

But today, today I learned something about the intersection of bipolar and CP that is invaluable to me. I shouldn't go to the gym when I'm manic. But of course I wasn't manic in the least this morning. I got home though and the first thought that came into my head was "I feel like death." Not anywhere near the way I felt like death here, but on that spectrum. I haven't slept in 2 days. And even before then I was sleeping enough but it wasn't quality sleep. I was tired but AWAKE! A feeling I HATE! And when I got home I was both more revved up and more worn out. OOPS...

I've realized that there's a delicate balance of energy expenditure when you have CP. Don't use enough and you won't get good quality sleep. You also won't produce enough serotonin. Your body wasn't meant to be sedentary. Use too much and you'll be nonfunctional. Yes this is true for any human being, but for us spazes the tipping point is more sensitive, the balance more precarious. Ok, not new news, but manic episodes can be like bowling balls, and I realized today that I should try very hard not to nudge the ball towards the pins. A spaz does not fall down gracefully, but rather with a thud :-D

My lack of sleep will gently nudge that ball. Each morning I wake up early pushes the ball closer and closer to the pins. So why tempt things? Why expend any more energy then I have to? As much as I need to go to the gym, my personal trainer appointment was probably a bad idea. As much as I need to keep moving (if I wasn't typing I'd be fidgeting), I need to try to keep still. I need to counterbalance the lack of sleep. Slow down the ball, not speed it up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had put in a call to my latest psychiatrist yesterday to discuss something different, but of course said, "I'm going away on Friday and I'm manic. what do I do?" instead.

"When did this start? I just saw you."

"Today," I simply answered. I wanted her to think I woke up this way, not that it started 3hrs before she called. I needed her take me seriously.

But she didn't take me seriously. Not enough time. "How do you know?"

How do I articulate it within a 7min phone call, most of which was spent telling her why she can't prescribe anything a psychiatrist would prescribe as the 1st line of defense. Tried them. Don't work. It's taken me well over an hour to write this post; to gather my thoughts.

All I could think of was "I feel like I was run over by a truck." I told her I didn't sleep for the past 2 days (me get up at 6:45? SCARY) and that I know I won't sleep tonight as I have too much energy. She wasn't any help to me because she doesn't understand the intersection of CP and bipolar. She doesn't understand the presentation of my atypical manic episodes and panic attacks. Heck I did say I was irritable for no reason the other day, didn't I? Although I really don't think this is what that stemmed from.

All I have to say to my shrink is "I feel like I was run over by a truck," and somehow she understands. She doesn't even have to say anything. Just a look. A look that says, Uh Huh. Add in 6:45am for good measure, and she'll say "you're probably right."

But my psychiatrist is the 4th psychiatrist who's told me that 6.5hrs of sleep sounded like enough sleep to her. She's the 4th psychiatrist to not understand that when I say that I need 9-10hrs of sleep I mean I need 9-10hrs of sleep a night. She's the 4th psychiatrist to apparently not have any training in chronic fatigue. Does she need to see me a mess to really understand?

I had 1 pdoc who still didn't understand. The pins were down, but the balls kept coming 1 after another without stopping. Couldn't get even 1 pin set up because they were coming so fast I had to keep my hand out of the way! Still she'd just throw up her hands, blame it on me. Blame me for trying to stop the balls using anything I could think up.

I'm trying to be proactive this time. Catch it before the 1st ball has started rolling. Right now it's just about to drop to the ground. Do something to stop it now! To put it back on the shelf, not down the lane.

So how do I know?

Well, I'm generally annoying when I'm manic, and after not being able to stop talking for the previous hour, and suddenly finding my mind racing about nothing in particular, no racing thoughts, just pent up mental energy, my brain screaming "DO SOMETHING!" I put the 2 together immediately and said to myself, OMG I'm manic! Make it stop now! Just those 2 things were enough, combined with the lack of sleep. Add in some long rambling emails within the last couple of days, and the length of this blog post (taken be about 2hrs to do) and you have the cherry on top!

Now is not a good time. Maybe later? After the 9 days straight where I have to be able to sit through meetings or airplane rides without constantly interrupting people, which I do all the time when I'm manic. OK? Can you do that for me brain? Pretty PLEEZZZE?

I Wish

Most of the time I like the fact that I'm crazy. I may quibble over the labels in my head -- am I really bipolar, or am I just depressed? Is my anxiety a seperate thing all together, or a package deal? -- but I generally like myself. Or at least I generally accept myself. That's not to say I don't set goals, don't want to be a better person, but I've always been at peace with my disabilities. Ask me as a kid if I could take a pill that'd cure my CP would I? And I don't think I've ever in my life said yes. I've been asked this question many times.

I've never said either out loud or in my head that I didn't want to have CP anymore. Maybe I wished I could do things like jump rope, but that's not the same thing. If someone told me I'd have to give up my disability to do it, I'm almost certain I would have said no. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I must have been 6 at the time. Somehow I've always known I'm a package deal.

What's this got to do with being crazy? Well sometimes I get so consumed by crazy, that I let out a sigh and/or an ARGH or a GAAAAHHHHH!!! in my head. Sometimes I say "Why do I have to be this crazy? I HATE BEING CRAZY!"

And then a half-second later I say "Don't say that! You don't hate being crazy!" Please tell me I'm not the only person that talks to herself in her head in the 3rd person...

What sparked this post was I was wondering to myself, why do I chastise myself? Who cares if I decide I hate being crazy? Why do I care? Because if I do truly hate being crazy, then I hate being me, and that's the worst thing to hate. I guess I somehow knew that when I was 6.

So then what do I hate? I hate being consumed by crazy. I hate when my crazy becomes overwhelming. I hate that my crazy holds me back from doing what I want to do, while at the same time I do realize the opportunities it's giving me.

I'm at odds as to whether this is ok. Whether hating these things is the same or different then hating the crazy in and of itself. They're not concrete things to hate like jump ropes. If it is the same thing as hating my crazy, then it's not ok. It's not ok to hate yourself. You're stuck with yourself 24/7.

Is it wrong that I wish my life wasn't so hard, so frustrating, because of my crazy? I don't know, but I do.

I Love Using the Internet for Good

Right now, I'm irritable. I'm in one of those moods where it's everything and nothing. It's things I've complained about here before, and things I won't bother complaining about. I'm Just IRRITABLE! I'd blame it on the mood disorder, but you can't blame bipolar for everything. I think I'l have to blame "human being disorder."

Anyway, one of my new favorite things I discovered a few months ago is using the internet for peer support. And you're probably gonna say, "That's not new, such and such has had a website for 15 years!" But I argue there's a big difference in the value of support from people you actually know.

Where else is there to go for peer support in the wee hours of the night besides facebook? It's using the internet for good.

My November 10th status update from 1am when I couldn't sleep says "anxiety is worse then depression, but better then mania. Discuss." I'm glad I no longer remember what made me so anxious, but I tagged the first 10 people I could think of who identify as crazy and managed to start a meaningful discussion within 6mins.

Then there's my Oct 21st status from 12:17am "has a sudden fear of having a panic attack while I'm sleeping tonight. Not a completely irrational fear as I've had them before. Coping strategies anyone?" I didn't even think to tag people that time, and I still got a response in 2mins. About 25mins later, someone posted an idea I'd used successfully many, many times before, which has always worked. Don't know why I hadn't thought of it first, but I was able to sleep that night.

So I've decided to take this to my blog. What are some things you do when you're irritable that tend to help snap you out of it? Writing this is helping me!

and a very important PS -- I very rarely actually look at other people's FB pages as it fuels unwanted obsessive behaviors, but if you tag me in a status update in this genre, I'll be sure to add my 2 cents!

6 Questions on Passion

I've wished in the last year that I'd taken some time to be reflective / introspective about my life and after spotting this meme on Jay's blog I decided to take the opportunity.

What puts a smile on your face?

Following what makes you truly happy is a wonderful way to figuring out what you were put on Earth for. Think about something that you do or that perhaps you used to do that brings you total happiness!

Furry creatures like dogs, cats and horses, NOT mice or squrils or things like that. 18 months ago I was visiting my brother all the way in California and one of his cats curled up on the right side pillow and another curled up behind my bent knees. I tend to toss back and forth and sleep diagional so it was hard to get a deep sleep while trying not to disturb them, but they put me completely at peace. It's also hard to be at a barn with all the dogs and ponies without being as mobile (and short) as I was when I was a tween. It's hard for me to bend over to pet dogs, and it bothers me that over the years I made a consious decision to make my balance worse. I've been longing to bury my head in my ponies neck, but I've been too afraid s/he'll move and I'll fall over. I wish I didn't always feel like I have to keep my distance these days.

What do you find easy?

What we find easy for us to do, will be related to what we are passionate about. It’s very hard to hate something that is very easy for us!

Information and referal. I always pay attention when people mention resources and love, love, LOVE when I can hook someone up with agencies/services that solve their problems and improve their lives.

What sparks your creativity?

Think about something in your life where you seem to always expand its horizon, always coming up with new, fun, and exciting ideas relating to that subject. Whatever makes you creative is something that you are passionate about.

I haven't been super creative in years, since the last time I had an extended hypomanic episode :( It's sad because creativity is one of the things I value the most.

What do you like to talk about?

Most of the time, we aren’t aware of this. A good way to figure this out properly, is to ask your friends. Ask them what they believe you like to talk about the most, what topic makes your eyes brighten up, and changes your entire behaviour.

I like to complain about the injustuces in my world. The lack of housing vouchers, people like nursing facility social workers who purposely hide community resources, lack of knoweldge of affordable health care, for example. When I'm at On Our Own I frequently talk about depression, whether it's the things I'm not doing like dishes, or the things I am doing, like horseback riding and personal trainer appointments, or the rush I get from activism.

What makes you unafraid of failure?

When you do what you are passionate about, you have total confidence in your abilities. This makes you not worry about failing, because in your mind, how can you fail when you do what you love?

I'm always affraid of failing because I've failed so much in my life that I mostly expect to fail. Sometimes though I purposely go into something with very low expectations, like bowling, or horseback riding. I can't fail when I have realistic expectations.

What would you regret not having tried?

If you were at the end of your life, what would you regret not having pursued? What would you have liked to do, that you didn’t get a chance to?

I deeply regret not going back to school and not having been able to finish my degree when I was so close to being done. I wish I wasn't taking an extended break.

Communication, or, How People See You

So yesterday I attempted to discuss my communication difficulties with my shrink, however I did a crappy job of conveying what it was I wanted help trying to improve, because I have communication difficulties.

So then today I went to OOO, and I was like, well ok, I have to come up with something to talk about, so i might as well ask people how to rephrase what it was I had been trying to say. Except I'm afraid I didn't make much sense as I was kind of tongue tied and tripping over my words.

The thing I'm worst at ... well the thing I'm 2nd worst at, besides cleaning, is communication.

After which 2 people, one who has known me maybe 3 months give or take, the other though has known me about 2.5 years, both told me how great they thought I was at communicating. Well ooook.... my entire family will strongly disagree with you, but ooook...

Sometimes I wonder what people use as the basis for impressions, because I just don't get where this one came from!

Happy New Year!

I'm a Work in Progress: Work, School, & All That Jazz

I work for a non-profit organization that has 5 different locations. I currently work 2 days at 1 location and I'm on call a third evening a week at another which is much closer to my house. Between all of our locations we're open 6 days a week, but the most any one center is open is 4 days. I heard through the rumor mill that my location would be getting a grant to expand and offer more services, and we would be open more days. Yesterday it was confirmed by our executive director that my location would be open 7 days a week, meaning that current employees should be getting more hours and maybe some on call employees from other centers would get permanent hours. Although he wouldn't say anything specific other then that the expansion will begin in February.

This is really exciting news as another shift means a 50% pay increase which will allow me to be more financially independent, feel more like an adult. They're also the perfect hours for me. I don't have to be at work until 1pm, don't have to leave until 11:45am (to get somewhere 30mins away, paratransit, ARGH!), so I have my alarm set for 10am. It gives me an "excuse" for my chronic fatigue to not be perceived as laziness. "I'm never up that early, I work off hours."

I've also for the last 7.5 years wondered how I'm supposed to work enough to be completely financially independent and still have time to do the things that will keep me mentally and physically able to work. Right now I work Fri/Sat. If I can manage to work Thurs/Fri/Sat or Thurs/Fri/Sat/Sun this would allow me three weekdays for horseback riding, massage appointments, shrink appointments, and personal trainer time AND allow me to pay for them. I also have some meetings related to long term care reform that are conveniently held on my off days. Working weekend afternoon/evenings -- MY DREAM JOB!

I wouldn't mind mornings if they weren't so early in the day!

The problem? I want to work & be more financially sufficient but I also want to go back to school and finish my degree. I can't imagine fitting horseback riding, massage appointments, shrink appointments, personal trainer time AND working 24-35hrs/week, plus keeping up with my advocacy work, even if I take 1 class. I can't see fitting in a class with my current schedule without it being a once a week class. Maybe I could fit in a Mon/Wednes late afternoon class or a Tues/Thurs morning class? But when would I have time to do my homework? Would I have to wake up at 7:30am everyday to study for 2 or 3hrs? Would I have to go to the gym from 8-9pm? Would I collapse from exhaustion from constantly running around and getting a 1hr sleep deficit everyday? Because then I physically wouldn't be able to read, study. So would I have to quit working when I decide to go back to school? Then how do I pay for my horseback riding lessons, massage appointments, shrink appointments, and personal trainer time -- the supports that will keep me in school?

Such are the dilemas of life...

Judgement

It's the end of the year. My insurance has an out of pocket maximum, after which point you no longer have copays for visits of any sort or medications. I received a $13,000 powerchair at the end of April, and unlike last year when we met the cap in Dec, this year all of a sudden in the beginning of July my whole family got practically free healthcare. We still had to pay the monthly premium, but we all began thinking up ways to capitalize on this. I continued to go to physical therapy past the point where it was useful, because it was free and a trainer costs $. After 6 or 7 years of talking myself out of getting new AFOs, because most years I've worn them less then half a dozen times, so what's the point, I got casted for a new pair last week, just under the wire. I also decided to try out a new primary care physician, since it'd been 14mos since my last physical, even though the plan had been to wait until April. I also managed by fate to get my annual follow up with my physiatrist moved from January to December.

Oddly both of those appointments, although not originally scheduled this way, ended up being yesterday. I really like my new primary care physician (PC), and even though I never plan on seeing her because I am the healthiest person I know, it's nice to know that I found someone I am comfortable with. Although I noticed slight judgement in her voice. If both of those appointments hadn't ended up on the same day I wouldn't have noticed the same judgement from my physiatrist, whom I have seen just over half my life.

PC doc who saw me walking down the hall, came in and almost immediately said "the baclofen & valium are for muscle spasms from cerebral palsy?" which wasn't noted on my paperwork because there wasn't a line next to "other."

"yes."

"What's the lamictal for?" I was a little surprised she didn't ask me if I had seizures, as 1 in 3 people with CP do. Maybe that was on the list and I didn't check it

"bipolar." That wasn't listed on the form either, so I had checked both depression and anxiety instead.

The next question she asked me was who my psychiatrist is, and then she asked me how I was doing in respect to that. My physiatrist asked me the same question although the conversation went like this. "J. M---. I have a new one again and I don't like her all that much either." And I got a look, which was fine then, but not the next one, when she asked me how I was doing. Actually, it was really the tone in her voice when she asked me. She has every right to give me all the looks she wants. I didn't name this blog "Uppity Crip" for nothing. She knows half the time she tells me not to do something I do it anyway. Flashback to my Aug appt: "You really should have consulted me before you did that." "I did. I didn't like your answer." :-)

Anyway, the tone in her voice was the same tone I'd gotten that morning. It was as if to say that I'm not capable of doing what I should be doing, that I don't know. It was as if to say that people with this diagnosis don't have the capacity to make responsible, smart decisions. That we're all a mess 100% of the time. PC doc doesn't have a right to make that judgement. The other one knows just how much of a mess I've been over the years, but I'd still like some credit.

I mentioned this to my shrink this afternoon in less words, and she gave me a look. It was a different look. It maybe had a hint of exasperation. So I replied with "I know what I should be doing..." Infer from that what you will, but I do try.

This isn't enough to send me looking for another PC doc, because it was a tone of concern from both of them, not a tone of fear. Not a tone of "all people with this diagnosis are violent," but to me it was still a tone of well meaning prejudice.

Well meaning prejudice, you ask? How can there be such a thing as a well meaning prejudice? Well meaning prejudices are "permissible prejudices," statements or thoughts that are so ingrained in society that they are taken for granted as truth. Mary Johnson does a fantastic job of discussing permissible prejudices as they relate to disability in her book Disability Awareness -- Do it Right! The inferiority of black people used to be a permissible prejudice. Now even racists know that society frowns upon them even if they don't give a damn about it. See this page for the definition of a permissible prejudice as it relates to homophobia. In my google search I noticed people referring to homophobia as the last permissible prejudice. What about prejudices against fat people? What about ableism, which encompasses every disability, including this one? I beg to differ with that blanket statement.

It rubbed me the wrong way, being judged by smart people who I'd hope would know better. But if they really don't know better, if they had no clue they were giving off a vibe, is it really right for me to judge them for judging me? It's what I'm trying to figure out, but I so far have no conclusion. Because if you really know me and you judge me on the basis of me being me, you might be right, even if it doesn't feel good.