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.

You Know You Have CP When...

I've decided to follow in Emma's footsteps, or treadmarks more accurately...

I got a new powerchair almost 3 months ago. I know, I know I have to back post the whole saga of how this came to be. It's rather comical. My new chair looks like this picture but not exactly. It is a Quantum Q6 Edge, just like the picture, but as most of you know everything is super customized.

Over the past 3 days there have been almost 2 dozen emails going back and forth between a Pride employee (they make the chair), my WHEELCHAIR dealer, the repair guy, their purchaser, my PT, and now a friend and my Dr, because I need some outside advice, about A JOYSTICK MOUNT. I know what you're thinking and it is totally ridiculous.

Tonight, like every Wednesday night I went to On Our Own and when it was my turn to speak during the support group I started out with

I had PT at 3:30 right before I came here, and there's all this drama with my dealer

Then I realized, I went OMG in my head, what that sounded like and very clearly changed the end of my sentence to

about my joystick mount for my chair. And there were so many emails she made me miss my bus and I had to call a cab, and I still got there on time but...

Humorous isn't it? My life is never dull.

I'm Leading a Walking Group!

We had a staff meeting on Wednesday for my branch of OOO and it was decided that we're finally going to be doing something about the expressed need for some more structured activities instead of just free time before our support group. OOO operates what are classified as "Wellness & Recovery Centers," so we were all thinking along the lines of "Wellness" type activities. Somehow we had no idea that OOO Inc has a wellness initiative now. I guess great minds think alike, or some such thing. So for example, now the 2nd Friday of every month someone is going to be leading meditation.

In the course of conversation I reminded people of the idea someone had expressed over a year ago about starting a walking group. Although that person had expressed the idea of getting a group together outside of center hours, now that it'll be light out, why don't we get a group together and go on a half hour walk before group on Wednesdays and walk around the grounds of the hospital? "I'LL LEAD IT!" I said.

I did this for several reasons:

1. As a substitute facilitator I get paid rather sporadically, and working even just 1/2hr per week regularly might possibly qualify me for benefits I wouldn't otherwise.
2. My Dr (physiatrist) wants me walking 20mins daily and even after my chair broke I still don't. I get paid a whopping $8/hr and somehow the $4/week for the half hr walk is motivation.
3. I did it for the gimmick of it. You'll see to the right a picture taken of me in 2007 in Israel wearing sunglasses, a hooded sweatshirt, ID badge, with my crutches. You don't usually think of someone who looks like that leading a walking group. I figured it'd get more people involved. You can't really say it's too strenuous for you. I loved the look on someone's face yesterday "You're leading the walking group???"

Someone else asked me if I'd be walking or taking my chair. I answered "It's a walking group." Seeing as I'm both leading and walking, people are going to be "keeping up" with my CP walking pace. I have a feeling no one else will be getting exercise but me. I'll be hyperventilating by the end, as I tend to do, and they'll be feeling like snails. But it meets my selfish goals.

Moms & Botox: What's the Deal? Or, Botox is Relatively PainLESS (and Botox Day is Like Christmas)

I've been meaning to post this since October when Tanis posted about Jumbly's botox appointment. She called the post The Steel-Toed Boots of Motherhood. I read it and thought about other moms that have written about botox, like Ellen and Kathryn. All three of their children have cerebral palsy, all three write about their children's botox appointments with angst, and I wonder why. I am somewhat flummoxed. I thought I wrote a post over a year ago, Botox Day: It's Like Christmas, but apparently I never did. OK, I don't know anything about Christmas (remember, I'm Jewish), but as my appointment gets near I start counting down the days.

In her next post Tanis writes that the day of the appointment was a soul crushing day for her. In 2009 Ellen wrote about being scared for Max. I don't know why Max's doctor puts him under general anesthesia for botox, I've never heard of that. I have heard of using conscious sedation for little children, like what was done with Ellie.

Kathryn thinks that people who think botox is not painful are out of their mind [look at the picture below, it's a teeny, tiny needle]. Jenni and I must be out of our minds then. Kathryn, have you ever had botox? How do you know? She seems to think that the pain produced from a botox shot is 100x worse then a tetanus shot. No, Kathryn, it's not. Tetanus shots are worse. To me, botox shots hurt about the same or less then a flu shot.

I understand that these kids are 7 and 8, and that when I first started getting botox regularly I was 20. I did have botox a few times when I was somewhat younger and unconscious, during surgery, but doing it that way makes it hard to determine whether improvements are from botox or surgery. I also had botox once when I was 18, although hardly any, I think just in my thighs and opted for the numbing cream.

I fully support the use of numbing cream, conscious sedation, distraction like bubbles or I Spy books, or sheer bribery like ice cream, money, or a trip to the toy store for little kids. I might suggest calling in a child life specialist. Getting upwards of 8 shots is a lot for a kid to take. I would have been a wreak at 7 and 8. But for the last five years I haven't opted for anything for pain management. Botox is my pain management. It's a g-d send. I just don't have the patience for EMLA. Having to wait for paratransit to take me to/from my appointment tries my patience enough. Waiting for Emla to kick in might put me over the edge.

OK, OK, I'm being rather misleading. Botox is injected all over my body every 6 months. I get it in 8 muscles, and because they are rather large muscles my physiatrist spreads the shots out and injects more then 1 spot. Of course I feel it. Of course, just like getting blood drawn or a flu shot, my natural CP reaction is that my whole body tenses up even before the needle even hits my flesh. Try telling someone with spastic CP to relax. It ain't happening.

Fortunately, I was told by Dr Gormley, of Gillette, that in the case of botox, tensing the area actually makes it easier for the physiatrist to find / access the correct muscle. Score one for spasticity! Of course it hurts when the needle is in my flesh, but as soon as it is out there is no longer any pain. It doesn't linger. I don't walk out of the hospital in pain. There is some very minor discomfort, but as my current physiatrist suggests, going for a walk afterwards not only helps work the botox into your muscles and helps it to take effect sooner, it also makes that discomfort go away sooner. What do you do if you can't walk? I don't know. Ask your physiatrist.

I always wonder why my doctor always has this look of guilt or something on her face when she is giving me botox. I'm sure the look on my face isn't pretty. I do always utter multiple OWWWs during the appointment. But I always wonder why she doesn't focus on the tremendous amount of pain that she is saving me. Or why she doesn't focus on the giant smile that I'm sure is plastered on my face most of the times she walks into the room. She's there to give me BOTOX! I'm a botox junky. Dr. Alter is one of my favorite people. She's totally got me strung out on the stuff :-)

She should hear the way I talk to other people anticipatorily about botox, with that smile on my face. Or maybe I should tell her that in the weeks leading up to "botox day" I go to bed thinking about botox the way most Christian kids think about Santa Claus (I think I have told her that actually). I'm sure little kids getting botox don't think of it this way, but I know of at least one other person my age (coincidentally a patient of Dr. Gormley) who looks forward to it, although I'm not sure if she looks forward to it as much as I do.

So I wonder why these moms look at botox with such angst, while I look at it as somewhat joyous in a way. Yes, I am injecting diluted botulism all over my body, almost from head to toe (from shoulder to calf), and yes, I'm fully aware that botulism in it's pure form is a lethal form of food poisoning, having done a report on it 8 years ago for 11th grade chemistry class. But the pain I otherwise have, especially from panic attacks, is unbearable. Although I'd like another option, I've rationalized the food poisoning. Why can't mothers?

How to Survive Therapy: Tips 9-16 Cheryl Style

9) If you're in the kind of therapeutic relationship where the therapist generally runs the show, decides what to talk about, and you just go along with it, BUT one week you have something you need to say that you're sure won't be on the agenda...

Call / text / email them, whatever their preferred method, enough in advance that you're SURE they saw it, and simply say "I have something specific I want to talk about this week." They'll be so curious about what it is, and so shocked at your unusual behavior that they'll ask you what it is first thing and you'll have plenty of time to talk.

10) Use students with CAUTION.

They're cheaper (or sometimes free) but the quality you get is iffy. The first student I saw was clueless. The second was GREAT! [Not to say that this hasn't happened to me with licensed professionals also] The other thing you have to consider is that you'll end up having to get a new therapist every year or every other year. Are you OK with explaining your history over and over?

11) If a therapist thinks that antagonizing you / pushing your buttons is good therapeutic motivation, chew that one over.

Maybe it is, but maybe they're reinforcing negative behaviors you'd like to curb.

12) If a therapist utters the words "people like you," or "those people," repeatedly, or even just once, FIND ANOTHER THERAPIST!

Back to the putting people in boxes thing, but HOW ABLEIST!!!! ICK! And PATRONIZING! I'm not a diagnosis, I'M A PERSON! G-d damn it! There is no person like me! Treat me! Help me! NOT my diagnosis! Can you tell I have baggage???

If your reading this blog chances are you have some grasp of the medical, social, charity models of disability. Way to medicalize! Not everyone knows disability theory of course, but some people just innately know NOT to medicalize people. FIND THEM!

13) Take your medication. Or don't. But then try yoga or something...

My point in this is not to be all, bow down to big pharma. The idea of being forcibly medicated sends chills down my spine. My point is that you need something to put you / keep you in balance, be it a mood stabilizer or an acupuncturist. Therapy works best in conjunction with things. Someone I know swears by his chiropractor, another by transcendental meditation, and another swims 10hrs / week. Do it with pills or without. Whatever floats your boat.

Feel like your treatment team is being too forceful, intentionally giving you a one sided picture of things, (especially of DANGEROUS things like ECT), or is even just the tinyist bit vague? Antagonize them. One pdoc suggested maybe I try a medication that, after searching the interwebs, I discovered has a possible side affect of muscle spasm with pain. I thought I was the crazy one. He's crazy for even considering this medication for someone with a diagnosis of spastic CP.

14) JOIN A PEER SUPPORT GROUP!

In addition to the yoga, time with furry creatures (a favorite of mine), or whatnot.

Who has the money to go to 6hrs of therapy a week? What therapist wants to see you everyday of the week? Unfortunately, they won't let you stay past an hr. Sometimes you need more then an hour in one sitting. Try searching for a DBSA affiliated group. My group is open 2.5hrs twice a week for unstructured time, followed by a 90min support group both days AND is open a 3rd day for a 2hr WRAP session. It'll get you through hopefully... My therapist might be more grateful then I am...

Don't be nervous to find out that there aren't any licensed professionals present at a peer run support group. "They're" not as crazy as you think, and can share more honest stories then a professional can. Plus, peers don't tend to medicalize.

15) If your therapist can't coordinate with your other treating professionals, DITCH THEM!

I'm not even talking about keeping in touch with my botox doc aka pain doc aka physiatrist (the technical term) because that is so complicated (Um, NOT! See #2). Let's start with the most basic and work up to that one. I once had a therapist and a pdoc who had never heard of each other, nor made any attempt to contact each other. Now if that isn't essential, I don't know what is...

16) Lastly, if you happen to find someone who is email savvy, is actually interested in what you have to say, DOESN'T medicalize or make you want to punch a wall, will willingly coordinate with other treating professionals, AND is open to your ideas for alternative treatments, HOLD ONTO THEM. They're a rare breed...

Pain

I just found out the other day that this past Wednesday through today a multidisciplinary pain management conference was held in Las Vegas. Why it's called Pain Week when it's only 4 days I don't know. That's half of a week.

PAINWeek is the only national pain conference that has been developed to meet the educational needs of physicians, nursing professionals, physician assistants, dentists, pharmacists, psychologists, and podiatrists.

PAINWeek offers a diverse curriculum and multidisciplinary faculty who will present courses in the following areas: addiction, complementary & alternative medicine, geriatrics, health coaching, hypnosis, medical/legal, narcoterrorism, neurology, pain & chemical dependency, palliative care, pediatrics, pharmacology, physical medicine & rehabilitation, primary care, regional pain syndromes, and rheumatology.

So I thought I'd write a little about PAIN--something nobody likes.

One of the popular questions about CP that gets asked to me (whether in a formal awareness setting or not) is if it is something that hurts. Good question. My standard answer is "not unless I do something stupid" accompanied by a laugh on my part and a confused look on the part of others. I then go on to explain how I should not do things such as walk around with a heavy backpack or purse or blog while I'm in bed (guilty right now). But the truth is that CP does hurt. More days then not (like right now, um, blogging in bed, yeah...) I experience minor pain for at least a few minutes. It's so minor that I don't even notice it anymore. I get up out of bed in pain most days but by the time I am dressed it is gone. I just need to move a bit is all.

Most days (like right now, ahem, blogging in bed) my pain level is at a 1, not like after surgery, like after I had every bone in both my legs broken at the same time and my pain level might have been at a 15 had I not been kept completely numb from the waist down (epidurals ROCK!), or when I was at the apex of my anxiety issues and I would wake up in tears with a pain level of maybe a 12 (baclofen & botox helped the pain lesson some but not the intensity of the pulsing spasms).

When I was in high school I walked around with a heavy backpack all the time and thus had significant pain all the time. Unlike now, where it takes 14mos or more to go through a bottle of 30 2mg tabs of valium, it used to be standard for me to ask for a refill every 4-6mos (no wonder I was depressed). But even then I would have told someone "not unless I do something stupid" like let my backpack fill up with crap.

Before it was my back it was my right leg that used to hurt, although not all the time and not every day. When I was a kid we kept an industrial sized prescription bottle of children's liquid advil in the house (that was before it was OTC) because I could tolerate the taste and refused to take tylenol due to its taste. However, I'm not sure if I would have flat out told someone that CP hurts. Maybe I would have said "just sometimes."

When I went for botox 2 weeks ago they take your blood pressure and what not and it seems like a new standard question is "do you have any pain?" I laughed in my head the same as when I went for a follow up with my orthopedist a few years ago and the nurse asked me if I'd had any falls. "Nothing more then the usual," I answered this time. "I've been on my laptop in bed." [it puts my neck in not the best position] But seriously, I was there for botox, a pain procedure; of course I had to have been having some pain somewhere or I wouldn't have been there.

If to me pain is as synonymous with CP as falling is (it seems like falling goes with the kiddies and us old folk get the pain, but at least my frequent falling has stopped) why am I then so reluctant to admit to TABs that YES it DOES hurt (if even just a little)? This is not something I have thought about before. I gather I don't want people to associate CP as something negative, something fearful, something that makes my life bad, because it isn't. The truth of the matter is now that I'm out of high school and I don't have to carry around heavy backpacks ever again, pain isn't something I think about all that much.

Quote From the Drs Office

The other day I went for a botox appt, and you have to sit there forever. You get seen 1st and then it could easily take an hr for the botox to appear from the pharmacy downstairs. What gives? So of course the Dr goes off and sees someone else while you sit there and find people to text, or just stare at the wall, or whatever. This time he saw a little boy who rather obviously also has CP. I know this because it is standard procedure for a physiatrist to ask you to walk down the hall several times, first with shoes/assistive devices, then without, and my door was open.

It was after his last time, as he was walking back into his exam room that the boy turned to the Dr (out of my view) and said

"Dr N, why do you make me walk on the floor if it's dirty?"

I chuckled to myself. That's nothing I'd ever be concerned with. That, and well, there's dark carpet in the hall. You can't tell.

Chicken or Egg?

There was an article I read awhile ago, Too Much Internet Linked to Depression. Hmmm... I am definitely addicted to the internet. Ask this shrink or the last one. I also have a predisposition to pretty bad depressive episodes. Ask this shrink or the last one. Or this psychiatrist or the last 2. Or my physiatrist. So... which came first? The chicken or the egg? Do I go online because I'm depressed or does being online so much make me depressed?

Kara has 2 posts that talk about how blogging can increase social support. Even CNN says so. But this article isn't talking about blogging, it's talking about porn and gaming. It is possible to be an honest to g-d internet addict and not be into porn or gaming. I'm living breathing proof.

I think though that I am still using the internet just as much as I did when I was depressed all fall. The difference is that when I really have to go somewhere I go. Instead of checking my email making me late to class I now rush to school to check it there before class. The level of panic and urgency surrounding checking my email is still the same as it was, but I've gotten to the point where my brain now sees the panic and urgency surrounding getting to school on time as equally distressing. So I check my email at school instead of in my apt. If I were to get to school too late to do so I would lose it. That is where the addiction comes in.

I think an addiction is an addiction plain and simple, mood disorder or not. My mood disorder keeps me from being able to get up, dressed, and out. My addiction does not. So now instead of just sitting like a bump in front of a screen 24/7, it's when I don't have to be somewhere that I'm online now. I don't have to be at the gym. I don't have to be in bed at 10. I can be in bed at 12. I don't have to do my assignment early, I can finish it 12hrs before it is due. It's still done. I may be online until 2mins before class and then possibly as soon as 2mins after class. This still impacts my life to the point of being disruptive, even though I appear to be pretty functional. It's just that instead of preventing me from being able to get out or even dressed and showered, it's putting me into a sleep deficit. My bipolar didn't cause my addiction, but it does change its manifestation. Not if it impacts my life, but how.

An addiction is like a mood disorder in the "cousin" sense. Very similar but different enough. Just like my mood disorder, my addiction has always been and will always be in my brain. But my addiction is not bipolar. I don't think it was caused by anything in particular, I think it just is. It is not depression or mania; it is compulsion. I don't believe that my addiction and my mood disorder are a matter of 1st and 2nd, cause and effect. They aren't a vertical progression. They're horizontal. Does that make any sense?

My Life is a Boomerang

So my acupuncturist I was so happy to see, the one I was so happy had a $20 copay and was across the street from school, won't see me.

says you: why not?
says me: she says there's nothing she can do for me. says my issues are therapeutic issues so she kicked me back to my shrink.

The first guy I saw, who was way further away, did not say that, but I did not like him and will not go back. So do I see another acupuncturist or do I just give up? Right now I just want to cry or tear my hair out. Either one will do. See there is a history of this regarding me.

I kept being referred by professors to disability support services for school related anxiety. After I got diagnosed with bipolar II they bumped me off the case worker I'd been working with and onto the caseworker that handles the psyc students. She's an LCSW-C (the same thing my shrink is). Whole thing makes sense, right? Except she keeps telling me that my issues are therapeutic issues, not her issues, and every time I met with her she kicked me back to my shrink, leaving me with roadblocks she should be more equipped to deal with.

Then there's my physiatrist. The one doctor I have who is never allowed to retire (unless I die first). She's doing her job to the best of her ability, but it's not enough. She's supposed to be the one that coordinates everything, used to, can't anymore cause this is completely out of her element. The one piece she has complete control over is my pain management. Like I said, she's doing her job to the best of her ability, it's just not enough. She gives me as much botox as a person can have. I don't want it to kill me. She's given me pills that help, but they too have life threatening side effects if I take as much as I need when I'm in a serious anxiety crisis. She too says my pain has origins that are of therapeutic nature and kicks me back to my shrink. This at least is not her fault. She can't do anything else for me unless I want to die. This doesn't make it any less frustrating.

Oh and a sleep specialist, guess what he did? That's right... kicked me back to my shrink. At one point I had a crazy idea that maybe my shrink could coordinate with one of the shrinks that work at the counseling center at school. She was open to it, but they said they don't do that.

My psychiatrist, well lets just say that in this case psychiatrist and shrink are one in the same. I'm being repeatedly kicked back to both of them. My psychiatrist was not doing her job so I ditched her in June, waited til I had a new one in place I was pretty sure I liked. New one is doing all he can as well, which is nothing. A decision was made to keep things status quo. He was open at least to trying something different, but when we did, those same life threatening side effects came back (some pain meds and anxiety meds are exactly the same).

What does all this mean? This means that my shrink can't do her job as well as she could if she wasn't responsible to cover everybody else's. We'd both like to kick some of my "therapeutic issues" to somebody else, but my supposed support system has turned into a perpetual boomerang. A person can't have a one person support system. One person isn't a system, it's a dyad (I guess it's 1.5 cause there is finally at least one person she actually coordinates with).

says you: but didn't you say you go to a support group?
says me: it's only a tiny chip off of a very large ice berg.

More on Service Dogs

Sunday's service dog post had me pineing for a service dog again. I've been pineing for a service dog for the last decade. I'd never heard of service dogs, only seeing eye dogs, but then I saw a Dateline story and there was a little person who had a tiny dog that would do things like hop inside the dryer and grab clothes from the back cause, well, little people have short arms. "How COOL" I thought. Jokingly out loud I said "I want one!" But like really, what do I need a service dog for? I can open my own doors, grab my own laundry, stand up and flick my own light switch. A dog can't help me get awkward things out of the oven or hoist giant bags of dirty laundry onto my lap to take downstairs.

[image description: 4 service dogs around a wheelchair]

Strangely, not long after (in 9th grade) my physiatrist brought up the service dog discussion unprompted. Lists can be as long as 5 years if you don't have an emergent need and she suggested a dog would be helpful in college.

Says you: for what??? You just said you don't need any help.
Says me: to carry my books.

For reasons I'd rather not discuss putting my name on a list was a no go for my mom. People have suggested putting my name on a list behind her back cause I wouldn't have to deal with the ramifications for 5 years, but it's something I just cannot do.

A dog could carry heavy things for me, but I just put them on the back of the chair. A dog could give me much needed daily exercise, or I could be lazy and walk it in the chair. At the very least I'd have to get dressed and go outside daily. A dog could help me get up if I fall outside where there is no furniture to assist, but that doesn't happen often. A dog could help me up curbs, or I could just walk to a curb cut or lean on a random person's car. A dog could help me pick things up from the floor when I'm standing, or I could just sit down to grab it. I don't have an emergent need for a dog.

I'm not saying I don't need a dog, I need a dog desperately. Just not a trained service dog. I feel like I'd be wasting highly trained skills that someone else needs more. I need a dog because I'm very often mildly to moderately depressed. I wouldn't be depressed if I had a dog to come home to everyday. Anyone who's ever seen me with Oreo can vouch for that. He runs to the door even before I am there. He can hear me from the hall. He doesn't even let me sit or get my coat off before jumping on me. The second I sit on the couch he becomes glued to me. Who wouldn't feel better? I once had to have an incredibly difficult conversation and he calmed my nerves. When I was even more then moderately depressed, he stayed on the couch for hours while I practically layed on top of him (it was too much effort to even sit up). He just knew. If I ever got a service dog I'd have to get a big one to do more physical tasks. What I want is a small dog to curl up on my chest while I lay on the couch after a bad day or ride around on my lap in the chair. Oreo is 8lbs. Perfect.

This brings me to the topic of psychiatric service dogs. I don't have social anxiety, PTSD, or agoraphobia. I'm very rarely very depressed. When my panic attacks and nightmares start again it would be a g-d send to have a dog by my side, but that isn't all the time. I don't know what training for a psychiatric service dog is, what it entails. I don't know if I need one. My building allows cats but not dogs. There is a seeing eye dog that's lived here for years. It'd be illegal to deny one. I can't afford a dog, but Canine Assistants provides help for food and vet bills.

I pine for a dog.

Crips Should Have Equal Opportunity to SEX

No, I'm not talking about prostitution, but I do have very strong views on crips and prostitution. Take a look. In fact, I'm not even talking about sex at all. I just wanted a title that'd get your attention :-) I'm talking about sex stores. Specifically, the sex store down the street. It has been in business longer then the 4 years I've lived in town and ever since they've been open (well before that actually) there's been this step to get in the door. A step that keeps wheelers from being able to enjoy their wares. Now a bunch of places on that strip of road have a step or 3 to get in, however more places have sloped their entrances without causing havoc to the sidewalk (that's one of the 2 main complaints to completing a pretty easy renovation. The other is people in wheelchairs don't come in here anyway. I wonder...).

Man do I wish the sex store would fix there entrance. Not that I would go in there, the place doesn't impress me at all, but it's the principal of the matter. It's the principal that crips should be able to rent dirty movies or buy dirty magazines or vibrators just like everybody else. Geez, I'm totally preaching to the choir here but sometimes a crip just wants to enjoy herself and I don't want anybody putting up barriers to my being able to should I choose!!!! ARGH!!!!

Thank you for letting me get that off my chest. It's something that's been on my nerves for 3 years, ever since I went in there with my 2 closest friends. I hadn't ever paid attention to the place before so the fact that there was this step outside hadn't registered. Thankfully we had ventured out with just my quickie that my friend and I had decided to share as opposed to both of us being in chairs. So I got up and the other friend hauled it into the store for us. However, I can't remember the last time I went somewhere with my quickie and I'm not about to lift a 200+ lb powerchair into the store. I could walk there if I really wanted to, but I doubt I'd have it in me to make the trek home afterward, and even if I did I don't want to support an establishment that spreads ableist assumptions that crips are asexual. WE'RE NOT!!!!

Why do I bring this up? I bring this up for a reason that has absolutely nothing to do with sex at all. I bring this up because I went to an acupuncturist last week. An acupuncturist who is also a physiatrist (NOT a mental health practitioner although sounds similar, click the link to see what one does, I highly recommend that every gimp finds a good one). She says she can do something for my knee that doesn't involve injecting toxic chemicals into it every 6mos (botox). I wasn't originally going there for my knee, in fact it never occurred to me to acupuncture my f---ed up knee, but OMG I'm all for less toxic chemicals.

Her working on my knee means me massaging my scar tissue every day. Can do. Will do. No prob. SUPER EXCITED actually (although not so super excited at the prospect of now having TWO physiatrists bugging the crap out of me). She said to use lotion, massage oil, whatever, even olive oil, cooking oil. I went to a talk on infant massage given at a child life conference and they also mentioned the olive/cooking oil thing. Apparently olive oil is really good for your skin, learned something new.

[image description: olive oil being poured onto a plate]

I gave the olive oil some thought but using my left hand to pour it into my right hand didn't thrill me. Turning that wrist in such a way as to not spill it on my clothes would be a bit hard. And although there is a better chance of keeping it in my left hand it's harder to hold the bottle with my right. It's a lose-lose. Olive oil is just too slippery and I'm afraid of it staining my clothes. So then what kind of lotion do I really want? Do I want something with the consistency of lotion or do I really want something more slippery? Are there things on the market with an in between consistency?

You know who might have something like that? You know who might know? THE SEX STORE. The sex store I can't get into (see the connection now?). I repeat my AAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!! I ended up going to Nordstroms Rack and getting vanilla creme hand & body lotion made by the Simple Pleasures line that is carried there, which I just LOVE anyway (I've been using their giant bottles of body wash for YEARS). I probably would have gotten that in the end anyway, but that's not the point. The point is that I want equal access to the sex store! Their location 3 towns up is accessible I believe, but I won't shop there. It's the principal of the matter...