Personal care matters tell the tale. She sat up most of the day and felt good, except when she laughed. That elicited a wince, and required that she lie down. Attempting a shower, we saw exactly what positions caused the most pain, and realized that she will need assistance with bathing and toileting for at... Continue Reading →
My dreams of chilling in my daughter's dorm room and watching Gilmore Girls were dashed by the constant parade of friends and classmates in and out of her room. So far today, there have been eight visitors to this 12X13 room, some of whom have stayed and studied (kind of) and eaten meals and told... Continue Reading →
When I talk about my daughter having a disability, I get a lot of sad faces, murmurs of morose sympathy, and sorrowful eyes averted, so as not to look directly at the reality of being disabled. It's the last one that I wish I could fix. I don't care if people have pity, and I would... Continue Reading →
When my daughter was born, I was 25 years old, and thought I knew a thing or two about the world. I had been married a while, had a son, a college degree, and a Catholic faith that helped me make some sense of the world. I was determined to be the kind of person my... Continue Reading →
I saw this the other day. The phrase "like a girl" has influenced my thinking since I was young. With three older brothers, I've had cause to think about what it means to do anything "like a girl", and to consider why gender has been ascribed to activity, and why one gender is judged to... Continue Reading →
Meg Currell 