Sitting here my first morning back
From holidays realizing that 2 weeks ago i was in unfamiliar territory. Travelling with the inability to walk much, due to an injuries sustained 8 months previous in a horse riding accident which left me with a rare injury to my hip (a repetitive type motion injury). Most of my walking is with a limp or sometimes dragging my foot and the feeling like I tennis ball lump ) caused from internal scaring) in my hip that constantly rubs when i walk causing inflammation and pain. Sometimes I think it’s all in my head sometimes the pain is so bad I feel sadness in my heart and a terrible realization that this could very well be my life now. If Doctors don’t know if it will get better, how am I suppose to know if I should fight the pain or accept my life. If the Doctors don’t know if walking will make the injury worse how am I suppose to deal or accept this. It’s this uncertainty that causes me the most grief.
I use forearm crutches to help yet often feel these hinder my ability, putting excess pressure on my shoulder ( that I also broke in accident) and my lower back that now due to my limp and way I stand gives me grief. The inability to carry things also , the needing to watch for holes in the ground and my newest revelation marble polished floors which makes you feel like your ice skating as the crutches slide on the floor. My crutches are bright pink (what on earth was I thinking) so if I wanted to blend in and have no one notice I was using crutches why on earth did I buy bright pink crutches. Pink crutches are a statement “hello I’m here”! Not exactly the statement I was aiming for.
Where my love, have you gone
Should I call out your name, are you too
Far away to hear my voice.
Would you know my name,
Am I any longer a familiar voice
Would you turn your head or look away.
I held your hand as it grew cold
Your familiar touch was lost in a moment
Your eyes held a stare as if glazed with time itself
You were there but then you were gone
You slipped away without a sound
Where, my love, have you gone
We had talked of this many times before
I always thought I was prepared
I was with you, together, now I am alone
Did I see you or did I blink
For that moment, that instant, I had not prepared
Where, my love, have you gone.
by Danny Bazil Riley
Received the The Dubose and Dorothy Heyward Society Prize
You Have No Idea
As a person living with a disability, you may not think twice about the things you do to
compensate. Or, you may not give a second thought to the impact you have on others
involved in your life. I’ve read articles and seen videos where the presenter is disabled
and doesn’t want to be viewed as inspirational or as a motivational poster child. My
brother and I talk about the 3-legged squirrel and how he does what he has to and knows no different. But to us, it’s really cool and pretty amazing. So, like it or not, I can tell you first hand, you have the power to motivate and inspire others. Here’s a little poem on the effect that my brother Steve has on me.
I realize that “disabled” doesn’t necessarily mean “not abled.” In many ways you are more able than me. But the lines between the two are blurred, and I don’t know when it’s OK for me to use my able-ness to assist you with your disabled-ness.
As we simultaneously approach the entrance to the grocery, should I hold the door open for your wheelchair? Push carts out of the way to ease your path? I know you can manage these things yourself…so is it insulting for me to offer an assist? What should I do?
Now I Understand...
Basically, M and I were on a motorcycle trip and on the last morning I woke up and my back hurt. Took some pain pills and lay down for an extra hour and then woke up to shower. Lifted my right leg and it went numb. We decided that a 900 pound bike with a 175 pound passenger and 100 pounds of luggage plus me on a numb leg and having to stop a minimum of 12 times (we counted them) was unlikely to work well. SO, we called Enterprise (they pick you up) and left the motorcycle at the motel who was quite gracious and let us park it immediately under a light in full view of the front desk.
What is the meaning of being Disabled?
I have been asked to write a piece for my friend's web site. This is my attempt to pen with my heart the things I have seen which are to me nothing short of miraculous. Disability Road denotes that there is something to be traversed and a destination that must be reached.
A Rest Stop along Disability Road where voyagers get an opportunity to share
stories and read about other
travelers from their perspective
and in their words.